Page 120 of Remnants: Disruption
“I apologize for my behavior, ma’am,” Mary says, and sounds like she genuinely means it. “Hiraeth–Arya is very special and I feared she may not be well after the funeral yesterday.”
“That’s–It’s fine,” Marla stutters, but Mary shakes her head.
“No, I was out of line. I apologize. It will never happen again.”
She turns on her heel, and strides from the yard, only glancing back once before disappearing into a red mist.
“Fuck,” Marla says, letting out a soft sob. “Fuck me.”
I turn and usher her back into the house.
“Oh, god,” she whispers, pacing the foyer. “Oh, god, Arya.”
Shadows wrap around her shoulders, pulling her to a stop.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. She’s being fucking weird, and I called her out.”
Marla lets out an incredulous, somewhat manic laugh.
“You called outtheBloody Mary? To her face?” She laughs again. “Of course you did. It’s what we talked about. You’d do the right thing no matter what.”
Marla wipes a shaky hand at her eyes, brushing tears from her fur.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, taking a step forward.
She takes the initiative and wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest.
“Does she do that often?” I ask, and Marla shakes her head.
“I’ve never even been that close to her before,” she says, voice muffled by my shirt. “Her power felt tangible.”
“Yeah,” I say, snorting. “It’s really difficult to ignore.”
“Ignore?” Marla asks, raising her face to meet mine. “Arya, I couldn’t even breathe, much less talk.”
I frown, but nod, pulling her close again.
“I’ll go see what she needs later. For now, go back to your drawing and finish it. I wish to be memorialized for the way I just saved you.”
That gets a small laugh out of her, and she nods, rubbing at her eyes and crashing back onto her seat again.
But the point is still salient. Mary’s power is strong on a normal day, but even I could feel something off. Whatever’s going on, the fluctuations nearly put Marla into a coma, and I can only imagine what it did to Ty.
For all of her bullshit, Bloody Mary isnotokay.
“Did she say funeral?” Marla asks, and I groan, slumping back into my seat as well.
“Percy’s,” I whisper, studying the floor.
Marla doesn’t ask if I want to talk about it.
“It only feels real now,” I say, rubbing my hands together. They feel dirty. Unclean. “I killed her, you know.”
The sketching stops, but I don’t look up.
“You didn’t. Omen did.”
“My shadows spiked her. I missed and they got her instead. I was untrained and weak.”
