Emma: "Are you sure this is necessary?"

 

Rose: "You said you wanted to be a Vaeni didn’t you? That hesitation is exactly why you have to do this."

 

When Rose had first proposed that Emma take part in the Vaeni ritual, the latter felt no hesitation in accepting. 

 

That was nearly a month ago now, and nothing brings fear into clarity quite like proximity.

 

Emma: "I know, I know, I just…"

 

Emma laid back into Rose’s lap.

 

Emma: "Can you tell me we’ll be okay?"

 

Rose spoke softly as she stroked Emma’s hair.

 

Rose: "Of course my sweet, it’ll be over before you know it. We’ll both be okay, and soon enough you'll learn to love the you we'll build today."

 

Emma purred. As much as she was still terrified about what was about to happen, she also wasn't going to let this moment slip away.

 

The lovers were rocked to the side as the limousine turned east towards the old bridge, one of the last legs of their journey before their dark jaunt could truly begin. Normally any Vaeni car would have at least a few security vehicles to its front and back, but the nature of this particular affair made that impractical. The less witnesses the better. 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

An outsider to Vaeni family tradition might question the utility of this particular custom, “the cliff’s edge” as Rose called it. The family was already wealthy beyond imagination so they really didn’t need to do their own dirty work anymore, and insisting on an activity as… direct, as this one carried immense legal and psychological risks. Such risks are a real concern of course, even if coin is a compelling insurance, but there is a prudent reason the Vaeni kept this custom around through the centuries despite them, a utility which only a very particular approach could offer.

 

Irredeemability. 

 

As long as one still has a soul they will always be an outsider among Vaeni, an interloper with one foot in the outside world, a perpetual aspirant rather than a true member of the family. 

 

Only when you cross the line, when you jump the cliff's edge, when you do something so vile you could never forgive yourself, only then may you become one of them.

 

After all, anything less would leave a way back.

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

KSSSHHHHH

 

Zoey: “Fuck me!”

 

Unfortunately for Zoey, her wail was not a determined, fiery demand issued to a gorgeous and talented lover, but rather a frustrated outburst to give closure to the latest misfortune in her long, fruitless day. 

 

She broke a bowl. It was taking all the strength in her body not to yeet the glass remains at the wall.

 

 

The doorbell rings.

 

 

It was beyond fair to say at this point that the last thing Zoey Asher Williams wanted to do was entertain guests, particularly when one of them is the girlfriend of the ex she never really got over and didn’t know was coming until the day before the event, but c'est la vie…

 

 

After a few moments of the fastest sweeping to ever grace planet earth, Zoey greeted her guests with a bright and seemingly genuine smile. Emma returned the favor with an awkwardly short hug, while Rose merely stood back and, for some reason, locked the door behind her.

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

The night started slow, each member of the throuple chowing down on their lasagna with an attitude more suitable for a night alone than a dinner party. Emma stared down, looking afraid to meet Zoey’s eyes, while Zoey seemingly had far more interest in the taste of her meal than the guests she had prepared it for. Rose herself was alternating between attempts at unsuspicious nonchalance and peering at Emma with a look somewhere between a schoolgirl's first crush and an old lady’s final night with her chronically ill partner. 

 

 

Only when Rose was already nearly done with her plate did she finally, suddenly, break the silence.

 

Rose: "Zoey is it? I must say, your home is marvelously quaint, why, I’ve just met you and yet simply sitting here between these shy walls makes us feel almost intimate."

 

Rose’s voice and smile were sincere, or at least a sterling impression of sincere anyway. She wanted to reduce Zoey both for fun and as preparation for the main event, but she also didn’t want to be so obvious as to risk the poor damsel requesting her leave. 

 

Zoey’s smile was less genuine, and her voice rang more of wounded pride than true gratitude.

 

Zoey: “Oh wow, thanks Rose! Do tell, if we’re going to be “intimate” with each other here, something about yourself?”

 

 

Rose: “Oh, of course.”

 

 

Rose: “It’s hard for me to pin down my favorite architectural style since they tend to come in waves, but right now I’d say I have a preference for the Gothic Revival and Edwardian styles when it comes to grand constructions such as permanent bazaar’s or museums, while for family homes I prefer a more grounded and less symmetrical storybook style to facilitate a sense of wonder in everyday life.”

 

Zoey: “Oh, is my house like that, the “storybook style””

 

Rose: “Yeah!”

 

It wasn’t. 

 

Rose: “I mean, some of the details are a bit different for sure but overall it has some strong corollaries, very different from my parents which is just disgustingly pretentious.”

 

Rose spoke with the tone of gossip, slowly spilling the beans on how sad and pathetic Zoey’s life was compared to her own with the voice of a friend shittalking an outsider. Zoey nodded weakly and took sips of her tea rather than offer her own retorts.

 

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

At this point Rose and Zoey had been talking back at each other for a good 45 minutes, and by now Rose had ‘carelessly’ thrown in more insults then Emma could count in between her barrage of small talk and friendly remarks.

 

Rose: "The next time you go to Europe, I beg of you, make a stop in Portugal. The whole continent of course is rich in palaces and castles, but the Iberian ones are the best since the warmer climate means the Kings of old were able to put more effort into grand outdoor displays and beauty in general rather than climatic necessity, not to mention the blending of Moorish and Romanesque styles. The wine of course is just…"

 

Rose raised her right hand to her lips and made an impression of a ‘chef’s kiss’. 

 

Zoey was not amused, but from either conflict aversion or genuinely not being sure whether Rose was doing it on purpose or not simply smiled and weakly complimented her on her travels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emma literally snapped her fingers to snap herself out of the train of thought, and then glanced at Rose with her best “I’m fucking terrified we need to get out of here we need to stop I can’t do this aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” face.

 

Unfortunately for Emma, that’s not how Rose interpreted the mix of snapping and then immediately glancing in her direction.

 

 

Rose slightly nodded at Emma, and then returned her gaze to Zoey.

 

Rose: “Zoey?”

 

Zoey: “Yeah?”

 

Rose took a deep breath.

 

Rose: “Before what follows, I just want you to know that you're truly a terrible conversation partner, genuinely from the bottom of my heart. You have nothing interesting to say and your compliments are so generic I wouldn’t be surprised if you ripped them from stock image captions and fortune cookies, not to mention your dress has more in common with my pajamas than the kind of fabric befitting a meeting with polite company. Oh, and your blush is clearly as rushed as your efforts to clean up your obnoxiously messy kitchen, not that I can blame you I suppose given your clearly disastrous, disorganized, poor life. Those bags under your eyes don’t lie.”

 

Zoey: “Ge-”

 

Rose: “”Get out?” Fat chance hag!”

 

Rose grabbed the knife lying peacefully in the leftover lasagna.

 

Rose: "We’ll be staying in your sad little suburban crackhouse as long as we feel like, and trust me…”

 

Rose sidestepped the table and now had the knife directly in Zoey’s face, with the latter walking backwards towards the wall slowly as Rose followed her.

 

Rose: "This isn’t the kind of storybook with a Prince Charming to sweep you away."

 

 

Zoey looked like she was suppressing a panic attack.

 

Zoey: “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Rose I didn’t mean to offend you I really would have cleaned up better if I had more time but I got home late from work and there was just so much to do and I’m sorry I’m really really sorry I can learn to be better I can clean I can clean right now I can give you better compliments I-

 

Rose semi-lightly poked her with the knife and then giggled before commanding Zoey’s silence in the most sarcastic tone imaginable. 

 

 

 

Rose: “Want me to let you in on a little secret? Everything in society, every institution, every ideal, every pathetic claim by lesser beings such as yourself to an objective moral universe is and always was a lie. A sweet lie, to make it all bearable, but a lie all the same. Human rights? All the ink and paper in the world can’t stop me from doing anything I will with your body when I have a weapon and you don’t. Law? Now I’m just humoring myself.” Hell, even property! (mock laughter) Perhaps technically this is ‘your’ knife I suppose, but that won't do you much good here."

 

Rose: “No, the truth, the real truth that miscreants like you will never understand, is that there is nothing in this universe except power. For all their ‘merit’ , every idea, every person, every object which achieves any sort of victory does it through power, and those that stand on the other side, well, they melt like flesh to a knife.”

 

Zoey finally broke eye contact with her assailant to stare desperately at Emma. It did her no good.

 

Rose laughed.

 

Rose: "Oh honey, you still think she’s on your side? She betrayed you a long time ago, hell she chose you for this because of how much you used to mean to her. If you think she’ll have compassion, or even pity, for a puny, feeble, dull, plain, has been bum such as yourself then I don’t even know what to tell you. I mean, I would tell you you're beyond saving but well, I think we both know that’s true regardless.”

 

 

 

 

Rose turned to face Emma, while still keeping one eye on the prisoner.

 

Rose: Emma? While I’m sure me and Zoey are going to become, shall we say, intimately acquainted soon, given this is your ceremony I’d say it's only fair you draw first blood.

 

 

Emma took the first step forward,

 

 

and then another,

 

 

and then another,

 

 

and then, around half way across the room, utterly fell apart.

 

I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | 

I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this | I can’t do this 

 

Emma screamed as loud as she could. It didn’t do anything of course, she already knew the Vaeni’s had emptied the whole street leading up to the night through everything from rigged free cruise ship tickets to fumigation to a million other tricks, but she wasn’t trying to change the situation. She just needed to scream. 

 

Rose saw that Emma was suffering, and, after only a few seconds of delay to knock Zoey out with a container of classified military-grade spray she’d brought in case things went as horribly wrong as she expected they might, she ran to comfort Emma in her time of crisis. The two would end up holding each other for hours until eventually falling asleep in each other's arms, by then having been carried to their safe and soft bedchambers. 

 

Zoey woke up some time later, she had no way of knowing how long, in a dark bunker with nothing but sex toys to entertain her. She would be left there for somewhere between days and months, there was no day/night cycle to give her any reference point for time anymore, before a pair of shadowy figures finally came to visit her. 

 

They didn’t look kind.