The Sisters of the Woods Ch.7

Geniveve led the way through the house, taking them up at least two levels. It was difficult to tell because they went down as often as they went up to move around large obstructions. The house really did feel like a dozen people had started building it at once and then just never talked to one another about what they were doing.

Turning down yet another hall, Geniveve stopped at what Nic would have called a closet, only for the door to swing open to reveal another set of stairs. They curved to the right, vanishing around the corner and leaving only gentle shafts of sunlight beaming through some unseen window.

“Just up there,” Geniveve said.

Nic nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. She did so, alighting on the stairs with deliberate steps, hugging the right wall far more than needed. He only discovered why when he moved to follow and produced a loud creaking noise when he put weight down on the first step. It sounded like the thing was about to cave in under his foot.

“Right, sorry,” Geniveve said. “They do that, just, ignore the noise. They’re safe, I promise.”

Nic was dubious but did as she said, wincing as the next step produced a second, somehow even harsher creak. The third step produced much the same, as did the fourth and fifth. Seemingly every step had something to say as they climbed, and those things were all very embarrassing.

Geniveve wasn’t doing much better. Though her light feet weren’t triggering the steps, Nic could practically feel discomfort radiating off her. Once or twice, he caught her glancing back, but always looked away before either of them could say anything. Though for once Nic almost wished the dreaded silence would return.

After an eternity and a half, their torment finally ended as they reached the top of the stairs. No door awaited them, just an open landing into a modest space. Not small by any means but unusual, the walls having strange shapes and contours that followed no clear pattern. Nic was reminded of a crawlspace, what was left over in between the actual rooms when you were done building them.

It looked nice though, clear effort having gone into filling the oblong shapes. One corner of the room was dominated by a walk-in closet, a folding screen serving as a privacy door. Another held a bookshelf, arranged along the three walls of a nook. A third was what Nic broadly guessed was her workspace, a tilted desk with a terminal built into its surface.

On the other side of the room lay Geniveve’s bed, a queen mattress neatly made up with lavender sheets and enough pillows to fall into and never find your way back out. It sat below the room’s only window, bright flowers hanging around the outside frame like a wreath.

Returning his attention to the moment, Nic looked over at Geniveve. She had barely moved from the door, having taken a keen interest in the bookshelf without looking at it.

“So, where do you want these?” Nic asked, hefting the boxes in his hands.

 She jumped yet again, Nic genuinely starting to wonder if she had actual dissociation issues, then turned to gesture at the workspace.

“There,” she said too quickly. “Anywhere there is fine.”

Nic nodded, moving over to place the boxes on the floor next to the desk. He was too slow with one hand, getting his fingertips trapped under the edge, making him yelp as he pulled them free. Geniveve was at his side in an instant, her eyes suddenly much more focused with worry.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just caught my fingers,” Nic said, shaking his hand in a futile effort to dislodge the pain. “What’s even in these anyway? They’re heavy?”

Geniveve’s demeanor changed once again, though at least this time she remained present.

“I, um, that is, it’s just a, you know-”

She carried on for a few seconds longer, getting nowhere in the sentence.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me,” Nic said. “I don’t need to-”

“No!” she interrupted, her fluster not at all going away in the slightest. “It, it’s paint.”

“Paint?” Nic asked, looking back at the boxes. “That’s a lot of paint.”

“Yes, well, sorta, here I’ll show you.”

She walked over to the boxes and ran a finger along the side, breaking a seal and popping the top open. Three clear plastic containers sat within, each filled with a thick white paste. While it certainly looked like paint to Nic’s eyes, it also seemed to be moving, small waves washing across the surface at random.

“Is it supposed to be doing that?” Nic asked.

Geniveve nodded. “It’s memetic.”

Nic’s eyebrows shot up at that. Memetic materials were not at all uncommon in Ronteele. A simple swarm of microscopic bots contained within a lightweight substrate, usually dubbed paint or pigment depending on the brand. At the touch of a button, it could be reconfigured into any shape or texture the user desired, repainting buildings or changing the display of a sign in the blink of an eye. Fast and cheaper in the long run, only requiring the occasional top up of raw material and magical re-binding to keep the bot swarm from collapsing on itself.

“Huh,” Nic said. “Thinking of redecorating or something?”

“No, no, it’s for…”

She trailed off, her eyes drifting away towards the space behind her desk. Nic turned to follow her gaze, quickly spotting a large cloth thrown over something boxy.

“For that?” Nic offered, gesturing at the object.

Geniveve nodded, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” she paused, seeming to gather her courage. “It’s my project. For the show.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “Can I see it?”

“Uh, uh,” Geniveve struggled for words, cycling rapidly through all her previous actions in a grand flurry of fluster. “It’s, well it’s not really done yet, and I don’t know if it’s even, that is, I, hm.” She stopped, drawing a breath before finally managing to meet his eye. “Do you really want to see?”

A strange feeling overtook Nic as he met her gaze in turn, one he couldn’t explain but which emerged on his face as a smile and a nod.

“I do.”

That got a full fledged blush out of Geniveve and she practically spun on her heel to turn away from him. She crossed the room, Nic following close on her heel until they both stood before the mystery project. Without a word Geniveve reached out and grabbed the cloth, though stopped to glance back at Nic.

“Just, promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” Nic said, wondering why such a thing was necessary. It seemed to satisfy Geniveve regardless and she pulled back the cloth to reveal what lay beneath.

It was a painting. A large one, the canvas longer than Nic’s full arm span and tall enough that Geniveve would only just be able to reach the top edge stood on tiptoe. Its surface, once pure white, now depicted several figures stood together in a line spaced evenly across the canvas. They were obviously the Croires’, their heights and figures reproduced perfectly, Renee holding Estelle and Selene emerging from her twin’s shadow.

Strangely, Geniveve hadn’t included herself in the lineup. Instead, there was a woman in the middle Nic didn’t recognize. Taller than the others by a considerable margin, standing with an easy confidence that Nic found intimidating even in reproduction.

Or at least that was the vibe he was getting. It was difficult to tell when none of the figures had faces. There was space for them to be added, perfectly proportioned blanks on the head, but no detail had yet been painted, not even skin tone. It was as if their identities had been worn away, mannequins awaiting that last spark of life.

“You painted this?” Nic asked.

Geniveve nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Nic said, turning back at the faceless figures. “It’s very, um-”

“It’s not done,” Geniveve interrupted.

Nic let out a low breath, eternally grateful to whatever had taken mercy on him. If Geniveve noticed she didn’t say anything about it, instead running a finger over the forehead of what Nic guessed was her own likeness.

“Is that what the paint is for?” Nic asked. Geniveve shook her head.

“No, I have plenty of that,” she said. “It’s the pigment I need, for the right colour and to fuel the spells.”

“You don’t have?” Nic asked.

“No,” Geniveve said. “I ran out of time to get the materials. I’ll probably just finish it with normal paint.”

“What do you need?” Nic pressed. “Maybe we have it at Greytower.”

Geniveve shook her head. “Doubtful, it needs heart sap.”

Nic wracked his brain trying to recall if he knew what that was. Alchemistry had never been his strongest subject, nor was it Orlin’s. Most of what he knew came from random Net adventures and the few times it had come up in books or games.

“You can’t just order it?” Nic asked.

“Not in time, it’s rare stuff.”

Something about that tripped a memory in Nic’s brain.

“Wait, doesn’t heart sap mostly come from the fae wilds?”

“Mostly,” Geniveve said. “Why?”

“Well, isn’t there a colony of pixies living out in your woods?”

For a moment Geniveve just stood there blinking, uncomprehending of what had been said. Then, like a sunrise, realization spread across her face, her gaze drifting over to the window and the trees beyond.

“Oh…”

“Will that not work?” Nic asked, worried he’d said something wrong.

“No!” Geniveve all but shouted, eyes snapping back to him. “No, you’re right. They’ll definitely have it.” She paused, eyes drifting back to the painting. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Hey, you thought of it now,” Nic said. “Do you know where we can go to meet them?”

She looked back at him in confusion.

“Sorry?” she asked.

“Well, we can’t exactly get it from the pixies if we don’t go to the pixies.”

“I, I guess not,” Geniveve said, a small smile crossing her lips before she turned away from Nic.

“So, do you know where to go?”

Geniveve was quiet for a long moment, beginning to rub the back of her arm again before turning to face him. The smile was gone.

“Yeah, but first we need to get something from-”

She stopped, looking weirdly uncertain.

“From…?”

“From my sister.”

Nic smiled, despite himself, at just how singularly undescriptive that was.

“Which one?”

Geniveve wasn’t smiling when she answered.     

“The one you haven’t met yet.”

*

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