Author Games Compilation [Cycle 2]

Task 7 • Truth [NB]

AUTHOR GAMES: THE ABSENT EMPRESS - QUARTERFINALS

Ebb and flow, the bitter sea. Wing beat.  

Ebb and flow, blood in her veins, pressing against bandages, pressing against clotted scabs. Nora's body sat stiff with very little to ease the sting of every scrape and the ache of every limb. What few aspects of life she did have to distract herself from these wounds delivered by the incarcerated Azazel were the landscape flying beneath them, a very tiny screen playing some low-budget film on the back of the seat in front of her, and airline food (including a pinch and glimmer of alcohol, even tossed into one of those classy glasses to promote drinking in moderation - because if she'd been given the whole bottle, she'd've chugged every damn sip down in the first half hour of the flight).

Moderation was best, though, she decided. Under one condition: if the plane started going down, she wouldn't hold back.

Lazily, and slightly buzzed between the ears, she turned her head towards the window and looked out across the ebb and flow of a bitter sea beneath them. They'd been flying a lot, lately - over Canada, through windows, to Japan. The one difference that the latter had with the other two, however, was the fact that something fresh and hopeful came along with it. Meaning. A goal. Somewhere in Japan, the Empress was being held captive - at least, per Azazel's testimony - and somewhere in Japan, Nora would get her reward and she'd be safe from the search and scour of anyone who might be out to find her. It was almost over. We're almost done.

The rim of a glass touched her lips slowly, stretching at the skin before dipping back to pour gold down her throat. It felt golden, too, in the way it tasted bad but was nonetheless hailed as luxury by its maker. And the sky was golden, too, in the way the sun clipped up over the end of the earth and said it no longer wanted to see this part of the world. Me too. But distantly there was a tiny dot, blackened by shadow and blackened by being. It flapped and swirled out there, far away. It could've been a gull. Nora didn't like, it, though. She drank harder. Okay, so maybe the birds are relevant. Okay.

Most recent victim of the ravens, Azazel would be sitting in darkness in a fully-lit room. They'd pecked his eyes out. Perhaps his superhuman makeup would bring sight back to him, perhaps it wouldn't. Nora pitied him, almost. Y'know, getting past the whole "he threw me out a window and tried to kill me with fire" deal. He'd given information. He'd given them a means to an end, even if it was involuntary. They were headed to Tokyo.

That, and his words still rang in her ears: "We could get rid of that host problem of yours. It's overwhelming you. It'll kill you."

She swallowed even though there was nothing left in her mouth to swallow besides saliva. This realization made her shake her head, and blink her eyes, and turn to the passing flight attendant (who didn't have much to do, given there were only a few passengers), and say, with a weary smile upon her lips, "Can you fill my cup again, please?"

The flight passed quickly. By the time their feet were on steady ground again, day had fallen to a blue dusk. Merle and Palila were there as well, and hurried the six tired members into a large van, where many of them nodded off. Those who didn't were simply quiet, looking up in quiet awe (as well as they could through tinted windows) at the passing city of Tokyo, where lights were bright and Nora wouldn't mind hiding for a little while. It was much like Los Angeles, but more anticipated. Probably for the tourists.

The advertisements were blinding, flashy, contexted by a language she had no hopes of understanding. Their trip, which Merle and Palila had promised would be a short one, was severely lengthened by traffic. They'd drive for a while, ignored by the sea of people waiting to cross, and then they'd stop for a while, waiting for the sea of people to cross. After the first two instances of this, Nora felt everything blurring together. The lights. The people. Alcohol did that sometimes.