Chapter Text
On Trissy’s tendril-squirming face, the corners of her mouth curled up.
...
Trissy, who had been reduced to a blob of flesh and blood, enveloped that shadow of order using her countless thick snake hair.
...
On December 3rd, 1350, the King of Loen George III Augustus was assassinated in the middle of a speech. The Capital of Capitals, Backlund, entered a state of shock and the whole Kingdom grieved. On December 4th, beneath that very same city, within a buried crumbled ruin two confused eyes opened.
...
It had been a week since Trissy woke up. Every fiber of her body hurt, yet she was alive. It made no sense, she remembered her body disintegrating, breaking down into useless chunks of meat. She had become the vessel of Divine Descend, her body should have been destroyed beyond repair. Yet she was hale and whole, if not for the lingering pain she would have believed it was all a dream.
A price is always exacted for what fate bestows... I may not know who saved me, but the miracle of resurrection cannot be free
...
The city of Backlund felt as though a dark curtain of melancholy was draped over it. The people were scared and uncertain, Intis had join the war against Loen. Trissy had wandered into the Bravehearts Bar, a simple stop to buy intelligence, she thought.
"Vessel…" "Of…" "Dirtiness…" "Darkness…" Four heads spoke one after another from inside a mirror hanging in the billiard room.
"Gehrman's messenger?!" Trissy half-shouted, as fear filled her heart, this was an angel.
"How..." "Are..." "You..." "Alive?..." She felt no hostility in the angel's tone yet Trissy felt terrified nonetheless.
...
She had, for the time being, joined the Rose School of Thought's Temperance faction, that resided in Backlund. It was a temporary arrangement, until she decided what to do with the unexpected continuity of her life. An opportunity to lay low and prevent the Demoness Sect from finding her out, with a group of people who, while she didn't trust, knew were reliable due to their connection to Gehrman.
...
It was not long after that a commission came, some Sanguine was looking into organizing a raid against the Rose School of Thought’s indulgence faction. Soon within a unassuming house a group was being assembled.
The Wraith Maric sat on a sofa, the Doll Sharron and the Despair Trissy were atop high stools. A rhythmic knocking announced the arrival of the rest of the team. The Sanguine entered together with ... Gehrman?! His eyes snapped to the Demoness, blinked, and lightly nodded, before pulling a silver harmonica and blowing into it. The last member of this bizarre gathering appeared, the Ancient Bane Messenger.
...
A Loenese port city in the West Balam had become the place of ambush. Beneath the bright silver rays of the Moon, a Sanguine Shaman stood petrified, strands of black hair were wrapped around his neck digging into flesh, the rest of his body wrapped in threads pumping curses. As though the Sun itself rose in the dead of night, a spear made of burning-white light condensed in the hands of Emlyn, the coup de grâce was his to deliver. The golden rays of light began to disappear, only dim crimson moonlight remained.
...
Trissy took no spoils, there simply weren't enough so the Ancient Bane offered golden coins or a favor. What do you expect me to do with thousands of gold coins. I can neither carry such amount of loose coins, nor is my residence actually secure enough to store them. She exhaled loudly and shook her hand, dismissing the suggestion.
"It's fine." Maybe doing good and receiving nothing in return is the path to redemption for villains The words she had spoken on that fateful day echoed in her mind. Isn’t the ending of a lovely story supposed to have all the bad guys die? For example, you, or me… Yet her suicide had not been her end, she felt like an actor in the wrong play.
Gehrman's cold eyes suddenly locked onto Trissy, who fearfully snapped her head in his direction. Why do I feel like prey right now... She bemoaned in her mind, but remained calm and asked "What is it Mr. Sparrow?"
Every gaze in the room fell upon him, as he slowly used his gloved hand reached into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a white letter. "I will give you a honorific name. Chant it this evening. Emlyn, you will be responsible for her, make sure she doesn't relapse." Red eyes widened in shock.
"What do you mean I will be responsible for her, she is an adult, is she not? Do I look like a nanny? I am a noble Sanguine, a Viscount, soon to be Earl!" Emlyn stood up, outraged at the notion, yet when Gehrman turned and stare through him, he faltered, flinched, and blanched all at the same time. Trissy would have laughed, had this matter not been directly tied to her immediate future.
"Miss Trissy has self-destructive, highly lethal tendencies. It would also be good for you to get outside more often, now that the Harvest Church is closed down, you must be spending all your time with those dolls of yours."
The face of so-called noble Sanguine abruptly turned pink, all his bravado giving way to embarrassment and shock. Why would Mr. World call him out so publicly! Before he could respond, Trissy lost the battle against herself and let out a muffled laugh.
...
In the evening of the very same day, inside a palace of fog and marble, a Demoness swore allegiance to an Evil God. In her hand she held a tarot card; a regal lady sat upon a throne, scepter in her hand and a wreath upon her head, it was 'The Empress'.
...
On the next day Trissy met up with Emlyn at his house, insisting on seeing "those dolls" of his. She wasn't exactly sure what to expect but this was not it. As her eyes swept across the bedroom-turned-gallery she felt her expectation shatter and sink. On the bed, sat rows of neatly arranged small dolls, while around the room, standing tall and proud were the larger ones. Each and every one of them was a piece of art, gorgeous and extravagant clothing adorned them all, their faces, though different, were all beautiful and strangely life-like.
"I expected something... more creepy, depraved even. This collection of yours is frankly speaking, above my expectations." Her focus shifted to one of the few dolls clad in armour, it was on first glace, the smallest one. She looked at the palm sized knight, it was actually silver plate. Then at the tallest one, golden locks of hair, eyes the same shade of red as Emlyn; the doll was dressed in a long and elaborate dress, the sleeves and collars were covered in lace and ribbons. Such apparel was befitting the high nobility of Loen, and he had commissioned it for a doll.
"You must be very attached to this hobby of yours, it's almost uncanny how alive the faces are. And their clothes, it's specifically picked out to compliment the dolls' features." Trissy's expressed her newfound admiration for her fellow Tarot Club member, even if she didn't quite understand what that meant yet.
Emlyn on the other hand looks intensely flustered, it was not common for someone to see the depths of his obsession, let alone compliment it.
"Could we, please, get on with it, there is nothing more to see here." He managed to keep his voice steady. "I am to be your ... guide-"
"And nanny!" She quipped with a cheeky grin, causing the Sanguine to exhale dramatically.
"And nanny indeed. Follow me to the living room, please."
And on this mundane September morning, The Empress Trissy learnt who the other Tarot Club cardholders were and their pathways, learnt of the impending Apocalypse, of the revelation by the apparently not so dead Sanguine Ancestor Lilith, of the Forsaken Land of the Gods, of The Creator and his Kings of Angels, of the betrayal against him and his death, of how his angels rose to divinity themselves, of the angels currently working against Mr. Fool, and of the angels under 'Him', of 'His' control over the native religion in the Rorsted Archipelago. She had to stop him from continuing, it was too much information at too quick a pace.
The 'Tarot Club', what an mundane name for such a terrifying organization. It was so much more than she had expected, yet at the same time all the pieces fit. Was it The Fool who resurrected me? What role has 'He' arranged for me to play? Part of her felt terrified at the prospect of once again being a pawn beneath a God or two. She looked to Emlyn, who was lost in thought. He seemed excited to be part of the Tarot club, excited to be working against the Apocalypse, whatever the truth may actually be behind the cryptic prophecies. There were red flags everywhere, but maybe, just maybe, there was not catch, and this was a real, authentic chance at redemption for her past atrocities. And even if it isn't... at least my mandated nanny is quite the interesting persona to be around.
...