Amaranthine

Willow sat quietly, sipping tea she’d conjured out of nowhere, at a little wrought iron café table she’d conjured out of nowhere, pointedly ignoring Kennedy and her mother’s conversation.

“Dear,” Elizabeth said, placing a hand atop Kennedy’s where it rested on the old wood of an ornate chess set that sat in the middle of a venerable gazebo. That gazebo itself was nestled into an unwelcoming, if beautiful, hedge maze of black rose bushes, the gothic spires of Kennedy’s chosen Soul Palace visible above it’s thorns. “Do you need to talk to Elizabeth the mother, the Director, or…. the therapist?”

Her eyes tracked over the dour surroundings as she said the last few words, but they carried a twinkle within them that belied the joke. Kennedy snatched her hand away and scowled at her mother.

“You’re just jealous you can’t pull off my aesthetic,” Kennedy countered, with the kind of scowl you put on when you didn’t mean it. Her mother laughed, rich and throaty, the laugh she only let those close to her hear, or those she was trying to manipulate with a gift that had nothing to do with her Altered abilities.

“Honey,” she said, voice thick with playful condescension, “if your little girlfriend had walked into my office three months ago to find me in fishnets and lace, I don’t think she ever would have left. But fine, keep your pride, I prefer the professional look anyway.”

Kennedy felt those words in more than just her heart. She pressed her legs together, remembering the relief she felt when Cait had somehow turned her mother down….. and still feeling the disappointment, too.

God I am fucked up, she thought, as lightning crashed above in the cloudless sky of her soul.

Elizabeth grabbed her hand again, squeezing tightly. Kennedy met her eyes to find the confident veneer fallen away, replaced with the soft look of a concerned mother.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy, that… I never really got very good with boundaries, did I?” she asked. Kennedy laughed, pure and real. It was the understatement of the century. Elizabeth Swan hadn’t wanted kids. When she took a 15 year old Kennedy under her wing; it had been almost more out of curiosity than affection. Her ability had allowed her to know the right things to say, right things to do, and sometimes she’d followed where it led. But, as she so often did, she’d usually taken her own path.

“I still remember when Lira and I had our first fight, and your answer was two bottles of Patron, margarita mix, and Sorority Row,” Kennedy said, squeezing her mother’s hand in return. Elizabeth looked at her confused.

“And? That was the right answer!” she protested.

“Yeah,” Kennedy replied drily, “for 23 year old Kennedy it would be. 16 and only just getting over killing half of her sexually abusive family Kennedy, though?”

“Honestly, I don’t see where you’re going with this,” Elizabeth dismissed, “you felt better!”

If she was being honest with herself, she had kind of talked herself into her mother being right here, but that was irrelevant: one didn’t admit such things to their parents. Instead she rolled her eyes, met her mother’s soft gaze, and sighed.

“Honestly, mom, its fine,” she said, her grimace maybe not reinforcing the next words, though she meant them. “Cait and I…”

“Are in looooove,” Elizabeth teased, getting a real glare out of her daughter.

“Well, yeah,” Kennedy admitted as her glare broke to a blush, “but… I mean, we’re not exclusive…”

“Oh?” Elizabeth asked, her face suddenly going hard and ice cold. “If she’s sleeping around on you, -especially after turning me down-, well, between you and me, I have been having the Bunker Basement work on some very int—”

“What? No!” Kennedy stammered, then her eyes flicked to Willow, who was, if possible, ignoring the pair even more pointedly, “Well, yes, but also no, and- wait, you’re WHAT?”

“Shhhhhh, dear,” Elizabeth cooed, chuckling gently at her daughter’s flustered defense. “I am the last person you need to explain open relationships to.”

That focused Kennedy right the fuck back in.

“RIGHT!” she all but yelled. “You and Dawn! When even—”

“Oh, that?” The Director said, clearly not expecting Kennedy’s enthusiasm. “That’s not sexual, honey. Unfortunately, I am not what I believe is referred to as a ‘furry’. Plus, Dawn is hardly past losing the first love of her life. We have become very close, but I’d describe it as…. Platonic Life Partners.”

Kennedy squinted at her mother, trying her hardest to figure out if the woman was fucking with her. Elizabeth leaned in, face entirely earnest.

“Kennedy, if you think Cait has a history of commitment issues, you haven’t spent enough time reading the tabloids about the Black Swan. There is exactly one person in my life I have attached myself to fully, and without reservation. And I thank whoever is listening that I did each day.” She punctuated her statement with another squeeze of Kennedy’s hand, before scoffing, then standing and pulling into a hug. The hug contained more mom-boob to the face than Kennedy had ever wanted, but still the gesture hit home. She wiggled herself into a less compromising position, and returned the embrace. After the moment passed, they returned to their seats.

“So, uh,” Kennedy continued, “what I was trying to say, fuck this feels even more awkward now, is that, if you and Cait… it’d be okay…. You know?”

The grin her mother was giving her was further into the ‘shit-eating’ spectrum than Kennedy had ever seen on her, and she heard a muffled giggle from Willow’s direction. When she turned to glare at the witch, however, she found her face still placid, gently sipping at that steaming cup of tea.

“Message received, Kennedy,” Elizabeth laughed, drawing Kennedy’s gaze back to her. The woman was looking over Kennedy’s soulscape, curiosity written on her face “I do wonder what Cait’s version of this looks like…..”

Kennedy thought of the Amazon, who had been instructed in no uncertain terms to wander in the hedge maze and not listen in. It seemed she’d obeyed. Kennedy had been keeping in touch with their link, and she was pretty sure Cait wouldn’t have been able to suppress some very strong reactions to what had just been discussed.

“Honestly?” Kennedy grinned, remembered the steamy cosmic baths inside Cait. “It’s fuckin’ nice.”

She flashed a welcoming signal to Cait over their link, then frowned at the crashing sounds coming from the rose bushes. A few seconds later, Cait Kool-Aid Man’d her way through a hedge wall, shaking leaves, petals and thorns off of herself. She smiled at the women, ruffled Willow’s hair (who visibly hated it), and joined them at the chess set. A chair materialized behind her legs, pushing at her legs until she sat.

The Director gave her a smile at once polite and sultry, casually placing a hand so far up Cait’s thigh that Kennedy actually watched Cait’s mind break a bit, eyes darting from the hand, to Kennedy, to the Director, and continuing that circuit like a one-woman NASCAR race.

No-one did anything to alleviate that for her. Instead, Kennedy sat back comfortably, kicking one boot up onto Cait’s other leg, while her mother turned back to Kennedy, continuing the conversation.

“Remind me again why your little friend is here with us to begin with,” she asked Kennedy, who had to tear herself away from enjoying the growing horny panic on Cait’s face to answer.

“Uh….” She said, realizing she didn’t have a good answer.

“Bullshit,” Willow hissed, outing herself once and for all as eavesdropping, but also providing all the needed explanation.

“Mmmm,” The Director agreed, eyes finally flicking back to Cait to give her a cursory once over. Her lip curled up microscopically, into the ghost of an approving smirk. “Well, at least she makes good décor.”

Just as quickly, her focus was back on Kennedy.

“So, I can’t imagine that little admission was why you had Willow make a collect call to my soul, interesting a conversation as it was,” Elizabeth stated.

“No,” Kennedy sighed, “It wasn’t. Look, mom, we’re gonna need back up here. This city is a fucking mess. One of The Council got taken in by Fait, and its tough to tell whether the corruption spread from there, or built to that, but regardless, its everywhere. They’ve got real Altered gangs, like we used to in your day, monsters in the streets, and a horde at the gates. To be honest, none of it is really a threat to us, at least I don’t think so, but….”

“But you can’t be everywhere at once,” The Director finished for her. “Don’t worry, Kennedy, I’d known this was a possibility. I do have a list of people we can spare. You’ve confirmed the Ironhides have been dealt with?”

“Yes,” Kennedy answered.

“Good, that opens up who I am willing to send considerably. Most of our heavy hitters have diverted to the southern border, but we have plenty of rank and file Guardians more or less cooling their heels.”

“No Rodeo Squad then?” Cait asked resignedly. Kennedy knew she’d been hoping to get back to the DnD game Claudio was running for her and Breastman, but it didn’t sound like that would be in the cards.

“No Rodeo Squad,” Elizabeth chuckled. “However, a couple of familiar names. I can send Eyebite and Dust Devil within the next couple of hours. Who else…. Bullwhip has been aching to get out, but is no warfighter, I’ll send him… Cantrip and Hat Trick can earn their keep for once…. No matter, I’ll finalize things and give people their marching orders. Tell The Council to expect new arrivals within the day. Is anyone in your group with them?”

“Lira and Gwyn, Samsara can port to one of them,” Kennedy answered.

“Excellent,” Elizabeth said, and Kennedy heard her hand slap against Cait’s bare thigh in punctuation. Kennedy had to suppress the giggle Cait’s wide eyed stare threatened to coax out of her. “Sounds as though we have a plan.”

“That it does,” agreed Kennedy, then gave her mom the kind of broad, warm smile it always surprised people to see on her face. “Thank you, for listening.”

Her mother smirked, and judging by Cait’s face, her hand worked its way just a little higher.

“My pleasure as always, daughter. Willow?”

The witch ‘looked up’ from her tea and a book she was pretending to read, and nodded at Elizabeth. Her eyes flashed silver-white, and The Director was gone.

The soulscape was silent now, save for a strangled, high pitched noise that seemed to be emanating from the vicinity of Cait’s throat. It built in pitch and volume, before it finally exploded out of the Amazon’s throat.

“Whaaat the FU—”