A story of immortal beings, psychic powers, the Endtimes, and feathers.
As soon as she had grown accustomed to
the lull of automobiles, the surplus of rain and propaganda posters, and lounging
around in a worn down parlor filled with two decades worth of readings, the
door next to her flew open as company barged through.
“Serepta, what are you wearing this
afternoon?” a nagging voice muttered over the tops of food crates.
Scarcely looking above her tattered
newspaper, the girl saw two uniformed men—an officer and chef—crossing the hall
into her kitchen. She looked down at a buttoned up blouse and pencil skirt in a
dull brown color as she folded away her collection of old news articles.
“The ensemble Odin bought me last
Sunday. Why? And what are you two up to?”
“We can’t tell you, or it won’t be a
surprise,” the auburn-haired chef currently called Paulo stated as he dropped
the crates sloppily onto the floor, scratching pieces of varnish away.
“We’re throwing you a welcome home
party,” the other man stated dryly.
“Damn it, Horus!”
Serepta felt little need to halt whatever
antics they were up to, for once stopped, they would only conceive a stranger
idea to subject her to.
“I know you’ve been back for a month
now, but we’ve yet to throw you a proper party to meet the neighbors and other
humans. Besides, we haven’t thrown a decent party in five years! I finally met
a girl worth my time, and I want to entertain her sometime before she dies.”
“You don’t need to throw a party every
time you want to sleep with a girl.”
Paulo turned to Horus, a tall, tan man
with brown hair always combed neatly back. While Horus concerned himself with
unpacking numerous jars and bags, he missed the livid expression his companion
struggled to withhold.
Without hesitation, Serepta continued,
“Has it really been five years since your last ‘conquest’?”
“Five years is NOT a long time!
Especially when neither of you seem to have EVER had any type of love interest
whatsoever!” Even when Paulo was frustrated or angered, Serepta only found his copper
colored curls and dotted freckles humorous if not slightly adorable. There was
a sudden tinge of anger in herself when he assumed she’d never loved anyone.
Crossing her gangly hands about her chest, she slumped back into her sofa and
spoke.
“Five years is a very long time for a
human, especially when they are
trapped in a sanitarium for three times that long…Nonetheless, I am here now,
though it has been a month. Why are we celebrating so late?”
Paulo picked up one of the many
newspapers lying about and smacked at Horus. Horus immediately raised a hand
and crushed the frail parchment.
“I told
you a month was too long!”
“Shut up, Paulo.” He replied sharply as
he showered the kitchen with newspaper confetti.
“Stop messing up my kitchen! And I have
not read that paper yet!” Serepta stood up and began to catch some of the large
floating pieces still with words and dates visible. This paper in particular
was from seven years ago.
“Yeah, well I bought this house for you
and all of those papers. I say you owe me the favor of vacating for a couple of
hours so Paulo can prepare his precious welcome home party or ceremony of
anticipated intercourse.”
“You can’t throw a party here. There’s
not enough room.”
Horus answered by picking up one of the
bundles of newspapers filling the room.
“No! I still need to catch up on
eighteen more years! There were a lot of happenings I was unaware of. And all
of the new technologies!” Serepta stepped in front of a paper column that
almost touched the ceiling. Horus extended his hands to her and his bronze eyes
had begun developing a green tint.
“Here’s all you need to know about the
last twenty years to save you from spending another twenty years trying to
catch up. There was a lot of new science and inventions and ideas that became
obsolete almost as soon as the humans developed them. Some people got angry and
killed each other. One of those people was very important to the humans, so
guess what? Say it!” Horus’s normally pursed lips had spread widely and his
excited eyes were even more iridescently emerald.
“There’s a war going on…” Serepta mumbled monotonously.
“Say it with more cheer! There’s a war goin’ on! And it’s a mighty big one
at that! I can feel it! You should be more excited. It could be the Endtimes!”
“Well it’s not the Endtimes if we
haven’t found the Other yet.”
Horus frowned like a small child denied
a fanciful wish. “We don’t have to
find him in order for the humans to mess things up further. And that reminds
me, go put on that white dress I gave you for the Sisterhood*.”
“What!” Serepta gasped and poked her
boney finger against the fastenings of his army jacket. “You promised that I
didn’t have to help out with your deceptive propaganda plots to send more of
those humans to their premature death!”
“First off, death is never premature. Just hand out those
damn feathers for two hours, read your card then come back here when we’re
ready. It’s up to those men if they join the fight or not,” Horus turned away
to yell at Paulo for dropping a basket of fruit before turning back to her, “I
know you don’t want to be out there alone again. But if you want the humans to
stop throwing you into sanatoriums, try acting like them for once. If anything
happens, I’ll find you. I always find
you.”
