Amaranthine

Cait was just as entranced by Kennedy as she was by the scintillating light of the soul she held in her hand. The way its light reflected in the fire orange of her eyes made them look like they danced with a fire that was more than just a convenient reference for color. She also looked a little like a mutant Hobbit with a ring, bur Cait chose to ignore that.

So, it was chance, then, that Cait even noticed her little purple friend changing.

Breastman always had a certain baseline of motion. While that sounded like it might be offputting, it was actually kind of nice; everything about his body screamed ambush predator. In a room with even low light, when he was still, he was nearly invisible, unnaturally so. The constant motion made him easy to track, broke whatever connection her hindbrain made between him and the things that had gone bump in the pre-historic dark.

This was all to say that when he went stock-still, it set off a long-resting alarm bell in Cait’s head. She tore her gaze from Kennedy, finally focusing on him. His maw gaped wide, that terrible eye made of a dying cosmos staring out.

Ah fuck.

Cait dove on him, acting without any real thought. She locked an arm over some of the quickly regrowing tentacle stubs, grabbing what whole one’s she could with her other arm as Breastman burst into frenzied motion beneath her.

Anyone, anyone else would have been ripped to shreds by the forces being exerted from within the non-consensual bear hug Cait had him wrapped in, but fortunately, Cait was 100% goddamn invincible. She was not, however, impregnable, either in her containment or ‘defenses’, so she groaned as angry tentacles Tried to invade her nostrils and ears, then quickly clenched her jaw, biting off the one that tried to jam itself down her mouth to kill her from the inside.

Based on Qi’s fiery kisses, Cait was pretty sure she was just as invulnerable in as she was out, but she less than psyched to find out if she could survive the kind of treatment Gwyn wished she could. She spit out the limp tentacle, gaining new respect for the heroic women that kept sucking after the job was ostensibly done, and beamed her panic at Kennedy as intensely as she could.

Her eyes locked on her girl, still entranced by the soul, as she felt a full tentacle escape her grasp. Kennedy’s eyes never even flicked to her, but with a certain kind of sadness on her face, Cait felt her let the soul go.

Breastman’s striking tentacle lost it’s wrath, slapping heavily into Kennedy’s hand just below where it had stopped. She looked at it, confused, then followed it to the tangled pair, confusion only growing.

-I’M GOOD, CAIT-, Breastman said. -I THINK. FUCK THAT WAS LIKE WINNIPEG.-

Cait could feel him, limp like jelly in her arms, and she finally relaxed, rolling off where she covered him on the ground and looking at him with concern.

-I’M SORRY,- he said, proving his text-to-speech had the ability to impart ‘I’m about to cry’ into its digital voice.

“I wonder if you’re what the Grim Reaper actually looks like,” Cait wondered absently.

…

WHAT?

Breastman’s speech had returned to being entirely hat-based in response to the non-sequitur.

“Ya know, scary monster, cosmic being, takes souls, makes sense in a lot of ways and belief systems,” Cait continued. The distraction was working, B-man rubbed a tentacle under his maw, indicating he was thinking about the dumb shit Cait was spouting.

ALWAYS KINDA THOUGHT I WAS A LANGOLIER

YOU KNOW

THE FUCKED UP MEATBALLS THAT EAT TIME

“Wouldn’t know,” Cait said, with a shrug and a smile. “Never made it more than halfway through that movie, boring as fuck.”

FAIR POINT

“Okay, so,” Kennedy said, clomping over to join them, “what was happening over here while I was holding the essence and entirety of another sentient being in my hand?”

“B-Man was trying to help,” Cait said, cutting in before her friend could out himself. “He doesn’t know your emotions like I do, thought he’d need to step in to help finish him off.”

Cait knew Kennedy knew she was lying. That was fine, she wasn’t lying for Kennedy’s benefit. She felt Breastman’s focus shift confusedly between the two women, before Kennedy shrugged, looking like she accepted the explanation as gospel truth. She sat down, leaning back against Cait, before she froze.

She looked up at Cait with… not fear, but concern and confusion.

“Cait, I’m not linked to you,” she said.

“Yeah, it feels weird, fix it,” Cait demanded, pulling her in close and giving a genial stroke along the scales of her arm.

“No, Cait, I’m not linked to you. How the fuck did you warn me?” Kennedy asked, and the realization hit that Cait had been beaming panic to her out of habit, along a connection that hadn’t existed.

“Uhhhhh…..”

“Yeah, ‘uhhh’ is fuckin’ right!” Kennedy mocked, laughing at Cait’s stupor. She bumped her head back against Cait’s shoulder, messy bun bouncing against the taut muscle. “Less rules by the fucking day. Try it again,” she commanded.

Cait’s eyes traced the line of Kennedy’s scales down the side of her neck, devouring the contrast between soft, pale skin and gemstone scale where armor met flesh. She let a burst of lust leave her, it was usually her strongest emotion after all.

Kennedy followed her eyes, smirked, and elbowed her in the side. She blew a strand of hair out of her face in resignation.

“Nothing,” she reported, “and I know exactly what you’re trying to send. Thiiiis is probably gonna be a Willow joint to figure out.”

“Indeed,” Willow agreed, suddenly above and behind them, without any noticable motion having occurred. They both jumped, but at some point, it was going to start being on them. She always did that.

“Yeah, very creepy Willow,” Kennedy sighed. “Any helpful input?”

Willow laughed, surprisingly normal and good natured.

“Fuck you, Kennedy, I’m the whole reason you could kill that big bastard,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “But yes, whatever that was, it wasn’t imagined. I saw a transient link form between you too in the moment before Breastman struck.”

-AGAIN, SORRY ABOUT THAT-

“Feh,” Willow said absently, waving him off, “not all souls are worth saving.”

“I don’t know….” Kennedy said, trailing off in thought about what she’d felt from that soul once it’d left his body. “Goliath wasn’t a good guy,” she continued after a moment, “but… but what I took out of him wasn’t bad. I don’t really know how to explain it. Its like being in a body with that much power was crushing his soul, warping it. Jesus It feels dumb to ask this, but has the soul of an Altered Madman ever been studied.”

“No,” Willow responded, suddenly looking thoughtful, and a little worried. “No, it never has. I’m as capable of a combat Animancer as you’ll find, and even I would have been ripped to shreds in close combat with that monster”

“Why didn’t you burn his soul out at range? Like that guy with the rocks?” Kennedy asked.

“Not all souls are created equal,” Willow said with that soft, mysterious smile, “much more so in the World of the Waves. I was flaying it with everything I had, but without your direct efforts it wouldn’t have been enough.”

“Yeesh, flaying?” Cait said, cringing back a bit, “I know it’s hypocritical, given all the extrajudicial murder I’ve been up to today, but Soul Flaying sounds like something out of 40k, and there aren’t any good guys in 40k.”

“I don’t know what that means, Cait,” Willow said, giving her a shrug regardless, “but needs must. Punching certainly wasn’t going to take Goliath down.”

“That is a good point,” Cait surrendered. It was the first time she’d hit something and felt no give at all since getting her new tech.

“In any case,” Willow continued, “that wasn’t the eschatological war crime you’re worried about. Kennedy showed mercy. Goliath ended up wherever he was going to go, regardless of how he was sent there.”

Cait felt Kennedy relax a bit against her, releasing a tension neither had noticed.

“I was doing much the same,” Willow explained, “once it became clear we were dealing with addicts, rather than evil. Speaking of, what are we going to do about that?”

She gestured at the enormous canister of gory ‘Juice’ glass window in its front showing it was full near to bursting. And, while it might have been an optical illusion, seeming to ever so slightly move.

“Be kinda fun to see if I’m immune to steroid side effects now,” Cait volunteered, drawing a scowl from Kennedy that turned to horror as she continued; “Plus, I drank worse in college.”

“You didn’t,” Kennedy squeaked, more of a hopeful demand than a question.

All Cait gave her in response was a slight, knowing smile, one she hoped carried a hint of mystery