Anathema In Blue

Chapter 7 - All Human

by LadyIridia, Rose_Director

Tags: #cw:noncon #dom:female #f/f #Human_Domestication_Guide #pov:bottom #pov:top #scifi #sub:female #artificial_intelligence #dom:internalized_imperialism #dom:plant #drug_play #drugs #f/nb #ownership_dynamics #petplay #sub:AI #sub:nb #transgender_characters

This one took a little longer too, because life is life, and sometimes you can't do thousands of words in a day. Still, I'm certain you'll all enjoy what these cuties are getting up to today, and next time, more Blue!

“What do you want?”

Cass stopped several steps short of the doorway, training her eyes on the faded yellow line, which was made up now of more scuff-marks than paint. KEEP BACK, it read in wide machine-painted blocks between every few meters of hazard-sign slashing. It was a warning as dated as the paint it was written in - what ordnance it had warned about had been stolen and sold before they ever got here.

She kept behind the line anyway. “Did I say I wanted something?”

Farah scoffed, and Cass was sure that had she been looking at her, she would have seen her throwing her head back in her signature variant of an eye-roll. “Nobody comes down here unless they’re looking to get stock, and if it was stock Callow had signed off on, you’d have grabbed it while I was off-shift and left the papers on the desk.” A rattling sound came from inside the magazine-turned-storeroom, as she set a box of supplies back on a shelf, and stepped past the half-meter-thick bulkhead. “So come on, spit it out. I’m not gonna judge.”

With a sigh, Cass acquiesced. Guilt nipped at her throat, because Farah wasn’t wrong - it wasn’t as if she got much in the way of social calls. Only people trying to sweet-talk her into an extra ration, or a new pair of socks a few months before their issue date. Cass wasn’t any better than the rest. “Alright, fine, I was hoping-”

“Christ, Cass, you don’t have to get so down when you’re talking with me. Just look at me like another fucking person, kay?”

Cass winced. She hadn’t quite known what persona to put on for this; the effortlessly-cool fighter-jock face she usually wore didn’t feel right, but coming in all soft and delicate would’ve looked pitying, and Farah deserved better than that. Would’ve been easier if you’d gotten to know her before she was useful to you, the guilt nagged. “Sorry. Right. Uh. How did…”

“Didn’t even need the wireframe to tell that you’re beating yourself up.” Farah let out an exasperated sigh, and stepped out over the line. Her hand settled on Cass’s shoulder, where she squeezed in a halfhearted reassurance that prompted Cass to meet her gaze. “You’re fine. We’re fine.”

That didn’t dismiss Cass’s guilt, but for Farah’s sake, she could try not to show it. She nodded, holding herself level with the narrow visor so brutally bolted to the upper half of Farah’s face. She’d heard rumors about the ‘hack-job’ that the girl’s old corp had done to her, but she’d never seen it this close up. Crude though it was, there was a beauty of sorts behind it, an incredibly intricate array of optical sensors behind tinted glass that she could quite nearly get lost in. She caught herself staring, not the pity-laden stares of the rest who kept their distance, but one that tinted her cheeks nonetheless when Farah quirked her head in a questioning gesture.

“Medicine,” Cass interrupted, finding her query preferable to having to explain what that had just been. “I need medicine, and… I can’t exactly go through Dr. Virgo to get it.” She shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Farah gave an understanding nod, taking a step back over the line and gesturing for Cass to follow her. “Don’t see what’s so complicated about not wanting Dr. Clammy-fingers tickling you up. What’s the poison? Acyclovir? Vibramycin?”

Cass followed her into the storeroom, a cramped and cluttered space that was still drastically more spacious than the closet at their last safehouse had been. Shelves on either side had been piled high with carefully-sorted boxes of spare parts - wiring harnesses, high-amperage fuses, purpose-made PCBs that had been painstakingly hacked into providing more useful functions. Twelve tubs in a line that were all labeled ‘Screw, Hx.3mm.’ What could they possibly need fifty thousand screws for?

“Uh, no, I don’t think? I haven’t even heard of any of those.” They rounded a row of shelves, and the next, Cass could see, were far more disconcertingly empty. Four ten-pound bags of pasta. Two of rice. A single canister of cocoa powder. Three shakers of paprika, out of some mega-mart’s spice aisle. The grow-beds, at least, had started putting out viable potatoes, but with how little salt there was left on the shelves, she doubted they’d be palatable for long.

“If you’re having a problem down there, then that’s what we’ve got to treat it. Better than letting it necrotize. Anyway, hungry?” Farah reached out to her left as they went, snagging what looked to be a ration bar out of an already-open box. She tossed it to Cass without looking back, and Cass fumbled for a second to catch it.

Strawberry, the label read, and Cass somehow doubted it would seem appetizing even following a less uncomfortable line of conversation. She peeled it open regardless, and choked down a bite. Better than synthcubes. “That’s, uh, definitely not why I’m here.”

“Huh. And here I figured Callow’d been whipping it out again. Gods know he’s not clean.”

Cass grimaced and coughed, thankful that the ration bar was a little too pasty for her to properly choke on. “Fuck no, gross. I don’t lean that way, and even if I did, I’m pretty sure I’d take Myxa before I let that ass lay a hand on me.”

For what little appetite the ration bar had left Cass with, she still found herself immediately eating her words. Farah let out a soft grunt, as forty-five pounds of energetic fuzz landed square upon her shoulders, perching there as if having summitted a mountain. Both of Myxa’s hands cupped her cheeks affectionately, before dragging her hand up and beginning to trace rapid patterns across it. The rinan’s fingers moved too quickly for Cass to quite follow, but Farah seemed not to suffer the same issue. “Xe’s asking if that was an offer.”

“I. Uh. I mean,” Cass stammered, face now tinted a far deeper shade of red and any composure largely ruined, “I, well… Wait, are you even… Aren’t you, like…”

Myxa’s lips curled back in a learned imitation of a smile as Cass fumbled, broad incisors and molars alike far more visible than they would have been in any human expression. Much of the crew had found the expression unsettling, but as far as Cass was concerned, it was charming, if not exactly lust-inspiring. Again, Myxa crossed their hand over Farah’s, dexterous fingers on either side of their hand-scoop signing words in a language unheard.

“Fucking with you?” Farah finished Cass’s sentence, though certainly not with the words she intended to say. “Yeah, xe is.” She ruffled the thick tufts of fur behind Myxa’s ears, fingers curling to dig in and provide a scratching motion that certainly looked satisfying. “Besides, if this cute lil’ gremlin ever decides to put out, I’ve got first dibs.”

Cass decided quite intently not to think about how that would look. When that immediately failed, she settled for trying to conceal her blush behind a feigned itch on her cheek. Myxa was cute, she had to admit, and if anyone deserved xer, it was Farah. The two had been inseparable ever since they rescued the latter off a gas-mining station that had already been stripped for parts, ships, and what few people the execs decided were worth fleeing with.

While her mind wandered, Farah and Myxa traded a few more tactile gestures, flying too fast for Cass to bother trying to keep track of even if she could read them. “Alright,” Farah said, after permitting a few seconds to let Cass’s blush die down, “If you’re done imagining whether the carpet matches the canopy - xer words, I swear - then how about you tell me what you’re really here for, so people can go back to leaving us alone?”

Alright. Fine. Enough stressing over it, you have to ask sometime. Even so, a nervous tension grasped at Cass’s throat, as she finally got to her reason for coming. “Estradiol,” she managed, which came out rather more choked than it should have, “Uh, eight milligrams. I’d been rationing my own supply, but it kinda ran out a couple of weeks ago.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Cass preemptively winced. Half of her wished that she’d worn her sunglasses even down here in the bowels of the station, so that Farah couldn’t see the way her eyes instinctively sought an exit, before the other half recognized that she probably couldn’t make her out in such detail anyway. Still. What if she recognized what it was for, and she gave her that disgusted look, that one that said, I know what you are? What about when she told Callow, and he told the rest of the station, and she had nowhere to hide and nowhere to go except right into the waiting vines of their predators?

Farah remained silent for a moment, and Cass’s tension only grew. She was about to turn, to make an excuse, to try to shrug it off with an ‘I’m sorry I bothered you’ and make her escape, when Myxa bobbed xer head in an exaggerated nod, and scribbled a few seconds worth of gestures on Farah’s palm. “Well why didn’t you just start with that?” Farah blurted out a couple of seconds later, immediately turning around and beginning to walk down another aisle. As she did, Myxa leapt off her shoulder, springing up to a higher shelf, and pulling down three large, rattling bottles, which xe subsequently placed within Cass’s reach. “We’ve got years of the stuff in here. Take ‘em.”

Cass stared, dumbfounded even beyond the wall of fear that had finally begun to crumble. “Just like that?” Every time before, it had been such a battle. Corporate counselors and letters and doctors needing four follow-up appointments just to let her stay on meds she’d already been taking for years, fighting with new ones every time the company decided to change its healthcare agreements, the judgemental stares of anyone and everyone who knew exactly why she was getting these pills… And she hadn’t had to deal with a word of it. “Are you sure?”

Farah laughed, more vibrant for her husky voice, a laugh that seemed to ring in each of the metal shelves that surrounded them. “You see any post-menopausal ladies marching around up there? We’ve got the stock, and nobody who’s likely to want it before we’re dead and gone. Might as well give it to someone in need.”

At that, Cass laughed too, driven entirely by relief, and she couldn’t help but express that laugh in some attempt at humor. “Hey, careful. That kind of talk would’ve gotten you court-martialed in the ACN. ‘Communist rhetoric’ and all.” As she spoke, she hefted the bottles, which might have nearly deserved the term jugs of estradiol, staring at the labels with still-fading shock. There had to be enough here to keep her going for a decade. Farah was just giving this to her?

It was Myxa rather than Farah who answered both her joke and her shock. “Well, the ACN can get bent,” Farah translated, as Myxa wrote xer words across her palm. “And their rhetoric, and their damn politics.”

Myxa slipped down from xer perch, curling xer tail around Cass’s leg, and Farah took over. “Look,” she said, clapping her hand onto Cass’s shoulder, “All that stuff? Everyone who did that shit to you? To us? They’re gone, now, either plant food, or scattered to some fuck-off place on the edge of the universe. And with them gone, maybe we can start to look after one another, yeah?” The genuine warmth in her voice coaxed Cass’s eyes up to meet her visor, a smile playing at her lips beneath it. “Look. It doesn’t matter what your deal is. Who am I to judge you for not being,” she snorted and gestured up towards her head, “All natural? We’re all human, and that’s what matters. Humans have to stick together.”

Right. All human. That, at least, was something she couldn’t change, and it was probably better that way. It kept her from wanting it. She drew in a breath both to thank Farah and to calm her beating heart, when she was interrupted by the scuffle of a rather irritated-looking Myxa climbing back up onto Farah’s shoulder.

Again, Farah laughed, and reached up to offer an appeasing scratch beneath xer chin. “Yeah, you get a pass, pal. You get a pass.”

“So yeah, they weren’t bad. Not all bad, at least.” Cass shrugged, a gesture which was made rather more difficult by the restrictive harness Lysanthae had wrapped her in. “I’ve heard the horror stories about some of the other rebel cells, but my friends, when they found out, and they all eventually did, they understood. Even Callow, prick that he was, didn’t have a lot to say.” She lowered her voice in an imitation of a masculine tone that she’d forgotten how to use half a decade ago. “‘Just make sure it doesn’t affect your flying.’”

She’d expected so much worse. Part of her was ashamed of that, whispering that if she’d really cared about her fellow fighters, that she’d have gotten to know them well enough to realize that they’d accept her. The rest of her conceded that her fear was founded in reality; as if in direct protest to the Affini’s general stance of openness and acceptance, many rebels had turned to prejudice and often outright bigotry towards their nonconforming peers. Some, she’d heard whispers during fleeting connections to the overnet, would go so far as to imprison or execute the unwise few that came out. They’d decided that ‘people like her’ were too much of a risk, too likely to become turncoats over the promise of a life of acceptance.

That, of course, was what her fears had exaggerated every last rebel to be. Farah had been the first to prove her wrong, and certainly not the last. More than a few had left her with promises that if anyone did come for her, they’d stand between them with gun in hand. “Most of them,” she said, “They were the kind of people that made it feel like the war was worth trying to win. Like there was some part of humanity good enough to save.”

And then I betrayed them. She squirmed uncomfortably, to the point that Lysanthae must have been able to tell, for she began to stroke Cass’s cheek in a calming gesture. Cass tried to reassure herself. They tried to turn Blue into a weapon. I did what I had to to save it. It still felt wrong, not merely in an ethical sense, but as if it was entirely out-of-line with her entire understanding of her friends. For Callow, sure, she could see it, but for Farah, for Antoine, for Jess? It didn’t fit.

Cass sighed. She was getting distracted. “Anyway, like I said, I’ve got all my gender stuff well and figured out these days. “Femme, but not too femme, and I’m pretty happy with the parts that I’ve got right now. Wouldn’t mind a little more definition up here,” She cupped her hands around her chest, “But-” and promptly gasped as Lysanthae did the same. They seemed softer than an hour ago, more suited to groping and caressing, the piercing thorn-tips having retracted within. A shuddering breath turned to mewling whines, as Cass felt a singular vine slip in through the neck of her gown, teasing and toying at unprotected flesh.

“If that’s what pleases you, pet, then I can certainly help you fill these out a little more. Though, make no mistake, I certainly enjoy them as they are. So sensitive!” Lysanthae chuckled, and where before it had seemed to wash over Cass in waves, now, wrapped in vines as she was, it built inside her, a song sung in her very bones. “Of course, some of that is a result of those wonderful drugs filling your bloodstream, tainting my every touch to turn you into my wordless, whimpering mess.”

She squeezed, Cass gasped, which in the space of a breath became a moan, and Lysanthae rewarded it with whispered praise. “That’s a good girl. I do so love the noises you make.”

“Miss Lysanthae!” Cass protested, in a drawn-out, decidedly feminine squeal. “You- That’s…”

“Exactly what a sweet girl like you deserves? You’re exactly right, darling.” Lysanthae pulled one hand back, enough to cup Cass’s chin and tilt her gaze up to meet the inverted visage of her owner. “At least, that is what I am presuming you meant to say. You couldn’t possibly be trying to tell me what I can and can’t do with my property, could you?”

All attempts at further protest fell apart on Cassiopeia’s lips, every scrap of thought that remained suddenly awash in stupefied, submissive shock. Would Miss Lysanthae’s words ever stop having that effect on her? Cass doubted it, near entirely convinced that from here, they were only going to get stronger. She was only going to fall further. Those tendrils that had begun to wrap their way into her mind would only dig deeper and deeper until every touch, every whisper, every so much as glance from her owner would send her spiraling helpless bliss.

A day ago, that line of thought would have terrified her. That fear was still there, a tiny needling in the back of her awareness, but even a few hours in Miss Lysanthae’s presence had been enough to prostrate Cass’s terror on its knees before her desire. If she was to fear, it would be by Her command, and not the whims of her own mind.

“Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

Drat. Miss Lysanthae had been saying something, hadn’t she? Cass hadn’t even realized how far her awareness had drifted until the moment that the question roused her. “I, ah, yes, Miss Lysanthae,” she replied, figuring that whatever had been asked of her, compliance was likely what Lysanthae desired of her.

It seemed she had guessed right, as Lysanthae let out a pleased purr, once more ruffling Cass’s hair in a gesture of praise. “Wonderful,” she said, with an air of smugness about her, “I do so look forward to putting you in some proper companion dresses. My floret deserves to be elegant and adorable, as is befitting of me.”

Wait, what? Cass immediately felt her stomach twist, not in a discomforting way, but one that heralded a greater degree of embarrassment than she’d already felt. What had she just agreed to?

She didn’t have time to puzzle it out, as Lysanthae once more stole her attention away. “Now, if you’re with me again, why don’t you take a moment to look over your new home?” Without further ado, her vines slackened, the strands that had been slightly obscuring Cass’s vision peeled away, and she felt her feet settle gently back onto the floor.

Cass held her breath as she took it in. The propaganda had had plenty to say about affini hab units, and so it didn’t come entirely as a surprise, but seeing a possibly-staged broadcast and actually being welcomed home into one were hardly comparable experiences. It was cavernous, the ceiling nearly high enough to trigger some sense of agoraphobia that she’d developed in the cramped quarters of rebel stations. The furniture seemed scaled to match, far better sized for her owner than for her, and yet it seemed that the hab had already been configured with convenient stepping-points and stools to assist Cass in getting around the leviathan’s lair.

“I took the liberty of having some floret aids installed,” Lysanthae explained, as Cass began to poke around a kitchen where she could barely see the tops of the counters. “My friends were happy to print and install them while we were out. If there’s anything that you find it lacking, do let me know, and perhaps I’ll print it for you.” She smiled down, and the sight of her towering over Cass alone was enough to send shivers down her spine. “Or explain to you why a sweet little floret like you doesn’t need what you were asking for.”

Though she barely processed the words, Cass understood them nonetheless. Atomic compilers. Modular habs. Space, comfort, all the luxuries one could ask for. All just more affini miracle tech. It was too much for her to process, too much for her to accept. She barely even remembered getting to the hab, having let Lysanthae carry her home from the restaurant in her vines. Now, she was being told that this place, all of this, was her home, no corporate slavery, soul-blackening warfighting, or silver price required?

No, there was a silver price, she reminded herself. It was simply one she’d already paid.

Before her thoughts could spiral back into that reprimanding guilt, Lysanthae’s tendrils found her, and wicked them away like water on glass. Once more, her vines bound limbs and mind alike, a steady beat in the back of Cass’s mind guiding her thoughts back into order. “I know, petal,” Lysanthae soothed, as she carried Cass over to the ungodly-oversized couch. “It’s quite a lot for you to take in. You’ve never had this much before, and on some level, you must realize, you aren’t going to have any less than this ever again.”

Together, they settled back into the plush fabric, and it engulfed Lysanthae like she had engulfed her floret. Lysanthae continued to speak, apparently sensing Cass’s desire to remain silent lest she break whatever spell had deluded her into believing that this could be anything but some twisted joke. “Certainly, it’s hard for you to accept that this is your home, but you will accept it, whatever that nagging voice in the back of your mind says. After all,” Her vines constricted, as much a hug as it was an assertion of control, “My voice speaks louder in your mind than your own does.”

Fuck. Cass shivered, and the startling chill that accompanied it only led her to sink further back into Lysanthae’s warmth. That device, that voice, it was powerful. Unimaginably so. Already, it felt hard to resist, and she couldn’t help but imagine that soon, it would become impossible to refuse. It was as if the voice speaking directly to her mind was that of a… No, Cass thought. I’m not going to let my thoughts go that far.

Seemingly noticing the sudden flicker of tension, Lysanthae parted her vines enough to look down onto Cass. Cass shied away, only to find a tendril on her cheek guiding her gaze back to her Owner. “Sweet thing,” She said, eyes dancing with faint blues behind violet, “Don’t feel that you need to hide your feelings from me. Won’t you tell me what it is that’s troubling you?”

Where to start? The hab that was more than she’d ever deserved? The enemy of her people that she now so eagerly had embraced the touch of? That friend of Lysanthae’s having taken Blue away to be ‘domesticated by a more gentle touch’? Or perhaps, the terrifying mountain of desire that had been quickly carving itself into monuments to Lysanthae’s will? That, of all of this, seemed the most overwhelming, and yet it was the first she found coaxed from her lips.

“Miss Lysanthae?” Cass asked, voice wavering, eyes still caught in the blue undertones of their mirror, “It’s… okay for me to want this, right?”

Lysanthae’s response was immediate, and underscored by a thrumming in her core that matched the pulse of her eyes. “Of course it is, Cassiopeia. You are bringing harm to nobody, and happiness to at least two. I want to give this to you easily as much as you want to indulge in it. You will enjoy it far more than you ever did your previous life, and have greater opportunity to better yourself and the universe we inhabit by my hand and will than you ever did by your own. What reason then remains for you not to be permitted to desire this fate?”

Tension fled Cass’s body as she listened, each breath seeming to let more of those stormcloud thoughts flow away into Lysanthae’s eyes. She was fairly certain that there was more influencing her right now than words alone, but what did it matter? Oh no, she’s manipulating me into feeling better about myself. How terrible. “Maybe I don’t deserve it,” she ventured, a weak attempt at a protest that she didn’t even expect Lysanthae to permit.

“And who are you to decide what you do and do not deserve?” A finger parted strands of hair above Cass’s ear, opposite her head from the flower that had been tucked against her. “The nature of your previous society has skewed your sense of self-worth far beyond what you can be permitted to accept. Simply put, you do not get to determine your value, because it does not coincide with what I determine your value to be.”

Cass whimpered. From an egalitarian standpoint, the argument was flawed, but there was nothing equal about their dynamic, was there? Lysanthae had decided her fate, and for Cass to question whether she was worthy of it was to go above her station.

Her acceptance of that point seemed to be evident upon her face, as Lysanthae’s smile turned to one of smug satisfaction. “Do you have any other protests that you wish for me to strip the foundation out from?” She asked, patient as ever.

Was there? Certainly nothing that she couldn’t shoot down as entirely irrational herself. “I think,” Cass began, after a breath to collect her thoughts, “That this is the point that I shout something about the ‘Spirit of Free Terra’, or my ‘duty to humanity’. Somehow, though, I don’t think you’re going to let that fly.”

“‘Free Terra’ might as well have meant ‘free for us to take,’” Lysanthae replied, another chuckle brought forth from her chest like the resonating thrum of a string bass. “So, no, darling, that particular argument doesn’t hold any water. And as for your duty to your humanity?” Her strands fell silent, only for that voice to light up like a lightning-flash and thunder in Cassiopeia’s mind. “Who’s to say that you’re going to be human by the time that I’m done with you?”

Cass heard her own involuntary gasp before she realized that she’d made one, felt the unfocusing of her eyes only in the aftermath of the wave of shock and want that had rippled across her. That was possible? It wasn’t as if she’d never dreamt of it, but to change such a fundamental aspect of herself was a fantasy, and a particularly guilty one at that. Her gender was one thing - people had done that, been doing that for centuries. But it was like Farah had said - at least they were all human.

Even if she were willing to throw it all away, there were two ways one could end up as something other than a baseline human: either have an absolute shitload of money, to buy cosmetic gene therapies and body-mods, or sell their skin to a corporation for them to fill you full of so many augs that you were made more of tech than tissue. After that, they’d still be working the rest of their unnaturally-extended lifespan to pay the corp off.

Here Lysanthae was, not merely implying it was possible, not merely offering it - freely given, Cass could presume, based on the apparent complete lack of currency or capitalism in Affini society - but actively threatening to take Cass’s humanity and make something better of it. Truly, it was appropriate, for someone who had so willingly betrayed her species. Cass’s stomach twisted. Wanting it felt so wrong, and yet, she needed it. She needed Lysanthae to take what she once had been, to spill the ichor of her humanity out upon an altar to Her, and in answer to that tithe not offered but freely given, to bestow upon her a gift of otherness-

“I take it that you like that idea, petal?”

She loved it. She hated it. She was terrified of it, and yet the mere thought blanketed her in comfort and hope. She wanted to banish the idea, to call ‘Red’ and tell Lysanthae to never suggest it or so much as think of it again. She couldn’t handle the idea of having hope like this.

“Please, Miss Lysanthae. I…” Cass found herself choking on her words, trying to get past the lump in her throat and tightness in her heart that told her this just wasn’t allowed. “I can’t have it be my choice. I can’t. If I did, I’d be betraying them.” She hiccuped, forcing in a shuddering breath. “Fuck. Frost. Sorry, Miss Lysanthae. I already betrayed them. I betrayed them. I betrayed them, and now they’re all…”

“Living better lives,” Lysanthae chose a new point of conclusion for Cass’s spiraling train of thought. “Safer, more comfortable, less of a danger to themselves and to others. And soon, petal, they’ll be happier as well. In a week, I doubt they’ll resent you for this in the slightest.”

Cass nearly laughed at her own thoughts being echoed back. Of course they wouldn’t. They’d probably be delighted at seeing whatever Lysanthae decided to turn her into, how inhuman it would be. They’d accept it with the same docile eagerness that a floret would accept anything they were told to be excited over. “The people they were would hate me for it, though.”

She hadn’t even noticed the tension that had built in her shoulders until Lysanthae’s tendrils began massaging it away. “The people you knew were hurting. Lost. Frightened. The kindest of animals will lash out when its foot is caught in a trap. They will heal, we will make sure that they heal, and when they do, they will be grateful for the help you led them to find.” The vines pressed further into Cass’s shoulders, emphasizing Lysanthae’s words. “And you, Cassiopeia, are going to be healed as well. Healed of the scars they have wrought upon you, healed of the loneliness that weighs on you, healed of the humanity that you wear like blood-drenched furs, still clinging to the belief that it will shield you from the cold.”

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. “It’s inevitable,” she continued. “Beyond your control. You’ve shown me what you need, and I will not let you deny it to yourself. I will hurt you if I must, in the name of helping you, but by the end you will be grateful for it.” Flowers blossomed all along her vines, ribbons of lavender cascading down like falling water. A sweetness filled the air, not the artificially saccharine tinge to a station’s air fresheners, but a mellow whisper of a scent that caressed Cass’s mind as gently as Lysanthae’s vines did her body. Lysanthae was right. It was so easy to accept that She was right. Cassiopeia didn’t have a choice. How could she possibly blame herself?

Her senses dulled and sharpened with every breath she took, a delayed fuzzing-over of her mind that she slipped back into every time she felt as if she was on the verge of coming out of it. “It’s going to be okay, petal,” Lysanthae was assuring her, and Cass felt it as truly as she heard it. “I promise you, from the depths of my core, that it will all be okay.”

Cass nodded. Cass understood. Lysanthae was going to make everything alright. Even if she didn’t believe it before, and even if she couldn’t believe it tomorrow, today it was her Truth. “Your fight is over,” Lysanthae thought for her, and Cass whined her agreement. Her fight was over. “Your life is about to begin.” Her life was about to begin. “You deserve for it to be a happy one.” She deserved a happy life. She deserved to truly live.

“And you’re coming back to me now, dear, aren’t you? Feeling a little better for me with every blink, a little more aware with every pulse. That’s right.”

The haze cleared. Cass’s eyes focused again, and found a point of fixation on the beautiful fractal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. She looked deeper into it, picking out colors that she didn’t have names for from the shards of glass-like material that had been so trivially sculpted into this work of art. As her mind sharpened to resemble the tessellated fragments, a wetness upon her cheek came vaguely to her attention; she wiped her lips, but found the dampness to be one brought not of unawareness, but openness. Oh. That was what the strange lightness in her chest was. Catharsis.

“Feeling better, my precious girl?”

Cass blinked the tears loose, letting the droplets that still clung to her eyelids cascade freely down into vines that tenderly wiped them away. “I think so.” She bobbed her head in an attempt at a nod, but the swaying of the world proved too much stimulation for her to handle, and so she settled for a slight tilt. “A… lot better, actually. I think I needed you to tell me that.” Without even really considering it, Cass blindly searched above her, finding Lysanthae’s absurdly oversized hand and wrapping her fingers around a single one of the plant’s digits. “Did you just…”

The tickle of flowers on the back of Cass’s hand forewarned of the vines that crept down her arm, wrapping it so thoroughly that the flesh below was hardly visible. Each caress pulled Cass further into comfort, each patch of skin covered reminding her of just how peacefully at Lysanthae’s mercy she was. “Just what, Cassie?”

“Hypnotize me?”

Lysanthae’s lips met the top of Cass’s head, and a spark of warmth blossomed there, building into static tingles down through her chest. She left the kiss a moment to settle, before answering in a tone that felt more than the slightest bit condescending. “Hardly, darling, and most of that was cheating. I simply loosened up those fears with a little something sweet.” Another kiss, and Cass visibly shivered. “It did, of course, leave you in a trance state, but it hardly compares to what more direct means would induce.”

Oh. Cass let her shoulders fall again, her head dipping back into Lysanthae’s embrace. That shouldn’t have disappointed her, but there that feeling was, brewing in the back of her mind. But did it have to be? Surely, if Lysanthae knew, she would do something about it, right? Frightened animal instinct balked at such eager collaboration, but Cass pushed said instinct down. It was going to happen one way or another; it was entirely out of her control. She wasn’t doing anything traitorous by embracing it.

Her voice still wavered as she beseeched her owner. “Will you? Soon? Today? …Please?”

Cassiopeia didn’t need Lysanthae to tell her the answer; she could feel it in Her core, in the ravenous grasping of the coils around her feet, in the sudden warmth and sweetness that came with a predatory blush. “How could I ever say no to such a polite floret in such obvious need?” Lysanthae said anyway, a growl beneath every seductive syllable.

All at once, She began to uncoil from Cass, eliciting a whimper nearly too high for Cass’s typical deep pitch. Before Cass could begin to worry, however, Lysanthae reassured her. “Now now, darling, I won’t be gone long.” She broke contact properly, and Cass did her best to steady herself, suddenly feeling shockingly more lucid, and with that lucidity came a vivid and stinging awareness of the distance between them. Lysanthae seemed to notice it as keenly as her, as She ruffled Cass’s hair and continued, “I know, I know. You’re already growing so dependent on my touch, aren’t you? Since we’re going to do this, though, I insist that we do it properly. I’ll only need a short while to prepare myself, and you should take the opportunity to, mmm, come a little bit back into your own head.”

She slipped away through a door in the back of the living room, closing it behind her, but her voice was no less clear for it. “After all, it will be the last chance you get.”

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