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A Polite Visitor

Summary:

Angela gets a visitor who wants to talk about God.

Notes:

Thanks to Onnastik for the beta!

(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)

Work Text:

When Angela hears knocking at her door, she idly wonders if it's a neighbour, or a client. She's not been going hungry these days, but of course she'll always be polite to a potential customer. It helps to have a big network, always tasty targets delivered to her door without even having to look for them. Sometimes investigators come by themselves. They're a nice change of diet, when they happen to be rude.

When she compares her life to other avatars she's met through the years, she really thinks she’s made a very nice life.

The woman Angela opens her door to is of medium height, but she's impressively muscular. She wears a loose, short-sleeved dress and her biceps are on display. The rest of her body isn't, though, and Angela thinks she can see extra limbs crawling under the dress, trying to stay close to the rest of her body.

"Miss Angela?" she asks. As she looks around and sees the jigsaw puzzles, her face brightens. "I've heard so many good things about you, can we talk for a while?"

All in all, she has seen worse visitors.

"Do you want a cup of coffee, my girl?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but... It's not good for my training regimen."

Angela finds her a tiny bit picky. "Herbal tea, then?"

"Yes, please!"

After they're settled on both sides of the living room table, Angela finally asks:"What is your name? And why are you here?"

"I'm Marie," the girl answers. "And I want you to know the time has come! We're awakening our God! Will you come with us?"

It sounds like a much-repeated sentence, but still bursting with sincerity. Angela almost envies the woman her innocence.

"What are you planning?" she asks.

Marie explains about the lost church of a cult of the Flesh, with historical references about how it is one of the older strongholds of a God that wasn't fully born yet. That it's time for the next step. As she explains, waving her arms to demonstrate, Angela can see her extra arms become animated under the dress too.

Angela wonders if you can really create a God. The funny thing is, when she was a child, even younger than the woman in front of her, she thought she had. She thought the wonders she felt in her soul when the hunger came for the first time belonged to her only.

"How did you meet It?" she asks.

Marie tells her about a bodybuilding club, about a man named Jared who read a book about the truth of the world, and Angela already knows she will tell nothing to her in exchange, even if she asks.

She didn't create her God, but at least she found It all by herself.

(It was war and food was scarce. Bad things happened to people who were stealing food. It was normal.

Angela knew she wouldn't feel bad about being the one who made the bad things happen. But she didn't know she would feel so euphoric, and not only because for once, she could eat as much as she wanted. The thief had so much meat on him. She was able to keep him alive for a long time. She even had mercy, giving him some of his own guts to chew on. She kept all the best parts for herself, especially the fingers. It was only right. She was young and foolish and didn't understand. It was perfect.)

And then Marie asks her to come to their aid again, and there's a part of Angela that dreams of blood and viscera filling the horizon, with a red moon above it.

She thinks that maybe she's still foolish, though no longer young, and she wants to see if there's more to it, always more. She loves her life. But the Hunger can never be satiated, not the love that comes with it.

But she also feels in her guts, where her God is, that she doesn't want it this way, with someone else's idea involving so much animal flesh, and so little human fear. Maybe, after all, every one of them is alone in this. Maybe no dream is ever shared. Or maybe she's too proud.

"It was nice to think of an old woman, girl. But this is not for me."

If she came, she would fight for her vision. She wouldn't follow. Maybe that's what their God wants, them all tearing each other up. But maybe it's not. Maybe she would get in the way of something holy.

"I know it's not how you usually work," Marie cajoles. "But there will be many people to eat for you there too!"

"Just go away," Angela says again.

She was aiming to be intimidating. It's usually so easy to achieve. This woman knows her body. She knows she would be eaten muscle by muscle, sinew by sinew, not only organ by organ, so slowly, and she has these interesting additional ones... But she looks longingly at Angela's last jigsaw puzzle, and it's possible she would like it, and just replace them, piece by piece.

Ah, Angela envies her idealistic youth again. Her joints are creaking a bit, but they are hers, and she's used to them, and she would fight the hunger for them and be scarier than it is.

Maybe that's the core difference between them. Marie’s belief is all about every flesh being equal, a huge, shifting mass. Angela’s is about it not being replaceable. In a way, they cancel each other out. Marie doesn’t seem to notice, but Angela doesn’t want to point it out, because she has no time for a too-upright girl accusing her of yielding to the Desolation.

Marie leaves with an hopeful goodbye. Angela won’t have any difficulty in smothering the seed of regret. It’s just another thing you can eat.