The Elder Berry, Pt. 2
The Thankless Flower
“She’d hate it,” Berry smiled at Marsha, “It’s perfect.”
“That’s not a very high bar to meet considering how high her bar is.” Marsha sighed, looking around the tavern in question.
“Yes, but Ursa would be particularly displeased -isn’t that wonderful?” Berry grinned as he spoke, eagerly running his eyes over the place.
“Well, at least there’s that.” Marsha paused, looking from Berry’s unsettling smile to the building in question, “It’s not exactly grand, though.”
Berry slowly moved forward, leaving footprints in the dust as he stepped. Spinning back towards her, Berry gestured around them, an unholy smile on his face, “I disagree -once the dust is gone, it’ll be the seedy dive bar of my- our dreams!”
Marsha stood in the doorway, mildly surprised the ceiling hadn’t collapsed on them, and she took in the structure. Once, maybe, it had been beautiful. The double doors opened to the main dining room. The crown-molding on the ceiling made Marsha feel like she was in an abandoned theater -there were even metal frameworks on the walls that were reminiscent of the flourishes that Marsha would make when she had been forced to practice calligraphy. Though they were clouded and dusty, Marsha thought they were bronze. The rest of the bar was wooden, but all Marsha could see of that was a thick layer of grey dust settling itself on every surface. The room itself had two large windows, one on each side of the entryway, that looked out onto Raih Street. Had it not been for the incoming light, Marsha would not have noticed the rotting wood she was about to step on. Side-stepping, she finally fully made her way into the room.
“Imagine it, Marsha,” Berry leaned with one hand on a dust covered table, “It could be beau-AH!”
Marsha snortedd, she couldn’t help it. As soon as the table leg cracked, Berry toppled to the ground -his sleek black outfit now half coated in age old dust.
“Stop. Laughing.” Berry grunted as he flung his hand toward Marsha, a word of power muttered under his breath.
A sudden gust of wind blew from the back of the room, sending a tidal wave of dust directly at her. As it reached her, Marsha grinned, “Now, now, Berry-“ the wave passed through her now shimmering silhouette, leaving Marsha’s tidy clothes undisturbed, “That’s rather improper. What if you’d ruined my pants?”
Making a point, Marsha brushed her hands against her navy leather pants and straightening her pristinely white top. Marsha ran one hand along the line of her braid, an occasional strand of hair getting cut by her claw-like nails. Had she cared to listen to Berry’s grumbling, she might have been offended as he muttered something along the lines of ‘goddamn glorified ghost’.
Berry worked his way back up, trying not to open his mouth as chunks of dust flew threw the air. Marsha’s mouth twitched as a particularly hefty chunk landed at the corner of Berry’s lip. Attempting to wipe the dust from his face by running the back of his hand across his cheek -succeeding in spreading the dark mark across his cheek. Straightening his back, Berry grimaced at Marsha, “Well, no matter -it’s not as if I was planning on keeping the furniture anyway.”
Looking back over his shoulder, his eyes focusing on an area devoid of dust, Berry’s eyebrows shot up, “Ooooo it’s Iron Oak!”
Marsha followed his gaze to where several layers of dust had been removed by his spell and saw the grey-brown floor was now slightly less dust-grey. She was mildly surprised to see that the wood itself contributed to the intensity of the dust due to its own grey tones.
Berry continued walking around the room, headed to the far corner where a long bar stood detached from the wall. He ran a finger along the top, inspecting the wood, leaving a line in the dust as her went. Marsha stood, arms crossed, watching as Berry caught a glimpse of the fire place across the room. She watched as he began inspecting the old stone fixture. She watched, still, her eyes carefully following Berry as he crouched and stepped into the fireplace. Mouth clenched, she stared, her hands clutching tighter at her arms, as Berry stood inside the chimney trying to get to his full height. Marsha repressed a sigh and held hand over her eyes as Berry started to frantically make his way back out of the fireplace. Re-emerging, eyes wide, he coughed and frantically gestured at the fireplace, gasping as he uttered another word of power. Within a heartbeat, violet Wyldfire filled the stone.
Berry continued coughing, but Marsha could also hear a bestial scream flowing out of the chimney. And, after another second, a bat tried to make it’s way out into the main room -consumed by the fire and falling to the ground just as it escaped the fireplace. Marsha slid her hand down her face and looked at the soot covered man who had contracted her all those years ago.
“Did you even consider checking for bats before climbing into the fireplace of a deserted tavern?”
Berry shot Marsha a look, which she chose to take as ‘Why, Marsha, dearest, your foresight is impeccable. I should listen to you more. You are a genius.’
“We’re buying it,” Berry coughed out as he began patting himself down, trying to get as much dust and soot off of him as possible.
“Do we have to?”
Berry smiled maliciously, “Now we do.”
Marsha slid her eyes from Berry to the Wyldfire that was still producing a high pitched screech from within. The occasional bat tried to fly down the chimney instead of up to freedom. Marsha watched as they became consumed by the flames a quick as they appeared.
“Is this because a bat bit you? Are you on another quest for vengeance?”
“Excuse you? How dare you insinuate I would buy a building just to get revenge on a bat-“ Berry paused, glancing back to the fire with a grimace, “That not the only reason, anyway.”
Marsha’s face went still, she refused to even breathe. It was all she could do. Had she remained unfrozen she would have cackled -and cackling is rather disconcerting from a poltergeist. And that was without the accidental raising of the nearby dead. Once, long before she even met Berry, Marsha had released such a maniacal laugh that all the skeletons in the surrounding countryside had flocked to her -swords ready to cut into the living. She hadn’t meant for it to raise them, truly, but a genuine laugh and a maniacal laugh sound rather similar when Marsha makes them and it’s not her fault that she became a poltergeist -Marsha held a firm belief that her executioner was to blame. Though should one examine her mortal life, one might question that belief.
Add more details of Marsha raising the ghouls, how, when being directed, etc.
Holding out her hands, Marsha hummed. Her magic was unlike Berry’s. She didn’t use incantations, the dead had no use of mortal words, and while she was gesturing on accession it wasn’t necessary for the dark miracle she was performing. If someone living were to stumble upon her ritual, they would simply think of it as necromancy. In truth, it was. But Marsha preferred to call it Birth. For she was God, and she was building her own Adam. In her mind she saw the scattered bones of long dead men buried deep underground, she could feel the death that sprung from them. Calling to them, she re-built their bodies. Granting them skin as blue as hers, she left out all the bits one would need to survive – a heart, organs in general. She gave them lungs for which to speak, arms and legs to work, and eyes and hears to obey. That was all she would grant these ghouls. When the bodies were built in her mind she again called to the bones, dragging them up towards the surface by sheer will. As they emerged, the bones began shifting -fusing back together. Growing at the surface was skin stretched thin, covering the bareness of the bones. Soon enough there were three haunting men looming in front of Marsha, groaning lightly as they took in the reality of their reanimation. Ghouls. They weren’t truly the same -they had no memories, no sense of being, no will of their own. Not yet, Marsha thought to herself.
Turning away from her creations, she grabbed three bags from the ground. Carelessly, she flung them back to the ghouls.
“Dress, and when you are done we will leave this place.” Marsha turned back around, supervising the clumsy creatures as they figured out how to control a corporeal body again.
Soon enough, the group had left the well-groomed cemetery and arrived at a dirty tavern. Upon seeing it again, Marsha grimaced and pulled out a box of cleaning supplies. Sliding it towards the ghouls, she waved around the room, “See the dirt? Make it go away. Don’t mess up anything wooden or metal, just wipe those down.”
As they each grabbed something from the box, Marsha sat down and watched. Occasionally she would sharpen her nails, or peel some skin. Eventually she decided to enter suspended animation and recover some of her magical reservoir while she waited. Marsha closed her eyes. When she opened them again only a moment had passed for her, but the world had continued on and a full day had passed. Marsha watched as her ghouls finished scrubbing the tavern clean. Even with three of them, it had taken them a full day to wipe down the loose dust. Now, they scrubbed at the years old grime. Standing, her heels clacked on the hardwood as she passed through the room, as she approached the ghouls she could feel their fear -their resentment -but above all, she felt their adoration for their master. Marsha ignored them, for now, and stepped behind the bar to get to the kitchen access.
Berry was sitting, stacking cards into a tower, when the door opened and pushed a gust of air across the room. Silently, the cards collapsed onto the table. Berry narrowed his eyes and whipped his head up, “You absolu- Oh! Marsha!”
Immediately, Berry softened his gaze and dropped his snarl, “I was expecting it to be one of those fools, they keep barging in here and disrupting my game.”
Marsha sat in the chair opposite him and glanced at the pile of cards, “I don’t think it counts as a game if there’s no way to win.”
Marsha let a heartbeat pass, as if debating if she should continue, until she gestured at the door behind her, “Besides, don’t be so thankless. They’re the ones doing the dirty work-“ Marsha paused, “Literally.”
Berry huffed, “Well, I’m just saying they could knock.”
“Stop insulting them just because you can’t figure out how to build a proper card castle. Besides, you know sentience takes time.”
“You know how I feel about ghouls.” Berry shivered, muttering, “Abominations.”
“What,” Marsha half-grinned. Berry felt a chill spread across the table, and as Marsha spoke again she exhaled a cloud of vapor, “do they offend your sensibilities?”
Berry waved his hand, letting the disgust slide off his face, “Don’t be ridiculous -I’m not some flower who gets offended by necromantic constructs. I mean, I hired you. But you have to admit they’re rather stupid.”
“Ah, I beg to disagree,” Marsha collected the cards as she spoke, her voice measured, “You’re quite a thankless flower -the ghouls aren’t so different from me. We simply grow at different rates, and intelligence takes a while to manifest.”
Scoffing, Berry reached for the deck of cards in her hands, “That’s ridiculous -it’s not like they even have free will -not with you around. All you have to do is look at them and they’re under your control.”
Marsha pulled her hand back, dodging Berry’s recovery attempt. She bent the cards and let them spill across the table again, “You’re like these cards, you know?”
Berry looked into the blackness where Marsha’s eyes should have been and held his tongue, waiting for her to continue.
“With patience, you were built into a magnificent castle,” Marsha tilted two cards up against each other, “But all it will take is a particularly strong wind-“Marsha blew lightly, toppling the cards, “And you could be one of those ghouls. And then you would know.”
Berry crossed his arms, abandoning the cards to Marsha’s will, “That’s a bit rude -what makes you think I wouldn’t be a poltergeist?”
Marsha let another smile loose, “Berry, you haven’t got half the hate it requires. Maybe once, maybe in your prime, but now? No, what’s left of your hatred you’ve already satisfied with vengeance. No more loose ends.”
Berry started, and Marsha held up a hand, “You could only dream of death turning you into me. Much like I could only dream of life turning me into you.”
Berry leaned back in his seat, “You know, I just meant they could knock.”
Marsha gave him a flat look. Berry raised both his hands, letting the mild offense drop away.
“Fine, fine. Call me a thankless flower-” pausing, a grin slowly spread across Berry’s face, “No, call this place a thankless flower – The Thankless Flower.”
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