027 VOICE LIST ELEVEN

[deadliestviper]

[When Beatrix speaks her voice is hesitant, perhaps a little disturbed, for such a brief and pleasant message. Those who are aware both of her and the current date may be able to guess why.]
To whoever left them outside my door, thanks for the flowers.

[Private to Ben]
My warden informed me about your situation. Check in. [She knows he'll respond better to that than to an "I'm so sorry, are you okay?"]

[Private to Kon]
...Hey.

[Private to Iris]
I need you to let me into the pub.

Comments

[deadliestviper]

[Caught. As she pulls away a laugh catches in Bea's throat; it's brief and bitter, but it's there.]

Who says I'm drowning them? Rest assured all my sorrows are strong swimmers.

[routemistress]

[It only takes Iris a minute to hit up the bar and come back with two glasses and a jugful of something pink, exotically scented and floating with pineapple chunks and sprigs of lemon mint.]

Your Auntie Iris is a stronger one. I'll 'elp you old 'em down till they stop strugglin'.

[deadliestviper]

As long as you have the patience. [Not for a drinking binge, but for the inevitable sob story and awkward silence she's sure they'll steer into. Still, at least the Mai Tai looks lovely and she's more than ready for a decent drink.] How much rum is in that?

[routemistress]

...I'm more patient than I look, pet. And there's plenty. More where that came from, too.

That breach stirred something up, eh?

[deadliestviper]

I'd hope so, because in about fifteen minutes I'll be in no state to tell a clear story.

[She exhales, looking down at the two cocktails.] How much of it do you remember?

[routemistress]

Everything - that's one of me keepers, that breach. You were about ready to pop when I got distracted, though.

[deadliestviper]

Me too. [The thought visibly displeases her and she sips at the Mai Tai, glancing down at it instead of at the woman across from her.] Did you know I had the baby?

[routemistress]

[Iris' pirate self had wanted nothing to do with that end of the proceedings; her specialty was ending people, not beginning them.]

...I think I 'eard, but I skipped out on that part. Dare say you were too busy for an 'ead count, eh?

[deadliestviper]

[In most circumstances Beatrix would completely understand that sentiment, but – this was, if only for a few hours, her baby. The child she'd gotten to be a real mother to, if only fleetingly; the daughter she'd had instead of the girl killed back where she came from.]

Don't worry, I wasn't far gone enough to forget who watched me squeeze out a kid.

[routemistress]

My people 'aven't done it that way in a long time; okay, me other self were a bit more human, but it freaked 'er out a bit all the same.

[It's not exactly an apology; just Iris explaining her own standpoint. She refills the glasses and waits on the rest of the story.]

...you know, I never notice Sandoval much on the boat normally, but 'e were something else, all fierce and loyal, there.

[deadliestviper]

It freaked me out more than a little, too. [Beatrix gulps down a sizeable sip and looks back at Iris curiously.] How do your people do it? [It might explain why Narvin looked white as a ghost upon witnessing her daughter's birth.]

He was my friend there. We worked together. The Raven and the Viper. [This time she gazes into the depths of her glass before sipping.]

[routemistress]

Looms. Or there's other ways - remembrance tanks and such. Same principles, just not so much... bodily involvement, you know? I'd 'ave to rewrite meself a lot more'n I 'ave already to get preggers the oldfashioned way.

[She's half intrigued, half do not want, and it shows on her face.]

'Ave you talked to 'im much since we come back?

[deadliestviper]

Looms? Like the things you weave yarn on? What the hell is a remembrance tank?

[Beatrix just twists her mouth into a frown, scoffing as she does.] If you had a flood baby with someone on board you barely knew, would you talk to them much?

[routemistress]

Aye, only you weave your DNA. Remembrance tanks are designed for building someone whose existence 'as 'appened already, but you can use 'em to make someone new, I've seen it done.

[She raises an eyebrow at the question.]

I ever tell you Rorschach were me first flood baby? I were 'is mum in the Wonderland breach. Okay, 'e were a warthog, but that's Wonderland for you. 'E's still my boy.

[deadliestviper]

So in short, you make new babies on looms and you make clones in remembrance tanks.

[In response Bea shakes her head, laughing a little. She doesn't even make a crack about the short, smelly gruff guy.] I'm not talking about keeping a child from a port. I'm talking about keeping a father from a port.

[routemistress]

Oh, they're not clones; more like a new edition. There's no degradation, just ...well, never mind.

[Yeah, no cracks. Iris loves her smelly not-exactly-son.]

Some version of you and some version of 'im loved each other; that's not nothing. I've noticed none of us change that much.

[She looks down into her drink again.]

...all right, I've got a tiny bit of an ulterior motive there; Narvin's worried on account of 'e doesn't trust anyone and 'asn't got any friends. Now, I'm not matchmaking [yes, Iris, you are] - but you already know why 'e's worth makin' a friend of.

[deadliestviper]

Did I say there was any degradation in clones?

Cared about. That's a big leap from loving. [What the fuck, Iris.]

I don't know if I can make friends with him right now, Iris. It's too [depressing emotionally charged] weird.

[routemistress]

No. But there usually is, you know.

[Iris tilts her head, eyes glinting with curious interest.]

That's a very fine distinction, Bea my love, but I s'pose it's yours to make. I'm not suggesting you marry the bloke, but do you know anyone that couldn't use more friends?

[deadliestviper]

There might be. Kon's the first example of one I've run across.

Of course I know people who could use more friends. I just don't see why it's up to me.

[routemistress]

Depends 'ow many copies get run off, usually.

It's not, love. You're just the one I've got 'ere. This is why I love this boat, you know. All these paths not taken. It's 'ard work finding 'em off your own bat, even with a timeship and a feasibility generator - all right, I'm fairly convinced the Admiral does it by accident, but exploration's always been me biggest passion. I couldn't stick 'ere if we didn't get to do so much of it.

[deadliestviper]

Kon's all I need.

I... I don't think I understand.

[routemistress]

'E is a sweetheart, isn't 'e?

I mean all these lives that never 'appened. I might've gone me whole lifespan without ever finding out 'ow my life would've gone as a Wonderland Duchess with a son, or a crackpot pirate whose idea of a good time were a suicide-bomb prison break and who showed affection by aimin' for the less vital spots when she shot someone. I loved bein' those people.

[She swigs down the rest of her glass, refills it thoughtfully and continues, more quietly.]

I even got some good memories out of Bianca, and that's not a thing I ever thought could 'appen. She's haunted me for years, wondering 'ow I could've gone that way. Now I've got the memories of it all in me 'ead. She's not a fun person to remember being - mostly. But I learned something precious.

[deadliestviper]

He is. [And she gives a small, warm smile for the first time in the conversation.] He's a good boy.

There are feelings and memories and thoughts that shouldn't be had. [She holds out her own glass to be refreshed, and gulps down a significant amount of it.] ...Not everyone gets to learn something.

[routemistress]

[Iris is a little appalled at the idea of experiences that shouldn't be had, and it shows; but she loves Bea, and she stops and looks at her face thoughtfully before she speaks.]

That one 'urt, eh? I'm sorry, love.

[deadliestviper]

[Her face doesn't change, and her eyes don't even flicker as she looks back at Iris over the glass. Pain isn't to be shown, not to be dwelt on, and she's eager to move past it – but she doesn't deny it.]

It's like waking up in a panic and you can't sleep from the sheer horror of your dream no matter how you try to forget it. The dream wins, your reality loses, and the whole day you're vaguely disturbed by its memory.

I wish I'd slept through this one.