It would probably seem strange to most people that Captain Erythrite considered the Rift a place of refuge, but for her, it was. The silence and calm of the place was comforting, and the youma mostly left her alone - though sometimes more feral ones would stop by and rub on her legs and be contented with a few scritches and a little energy as a snack, and go bounding off back into the crystal. It was a nice arrangement, for her and for them, even if every one that approached made her cringe as she remembered teeth and claws tearing her apart.
But here, there was no insane General to command them to attack her.
Thank God. If there was, this time, Erythrite suspected she wouldn't be nearly as lucky as she'd been. Surviving that encounter had been difficult, and it had left her scarred, physically and emotionally, but coming down to the Rift forced her to confront that fear. Conquer it. Youma were a natural and common part of Negaverse operations, and she needed to be more comfortable with them if she was going to continue her career as an officer.
There was much to reflect on in this place, and much time to reflect; a lone Captain wasn't an appealing enough snack to attract the more aggressive sort of youma, and she was more than capable of defending herself if it came down to that. As long as it wasn't another crowd of them.
“My my, you look lonely,” a voice said, from somewhere behind her, and Erythrite jumped up from the outcrop of crystal she’d been sitting on, spinning around to see who had addressed her. The voice was feminine, but the figure was - well, not entirely so. Like many youma it had no easily determinable gender, and it sort of reminded her of a poison dart frog, but on two legs, with fins on her hips and elbows, and a dramatic head frill. A strange creature that looked like it would be more at home in the ocean than here, in this barren desert, but then, youma came in all sorts of fascinating shapes and sizes.
“I, uhm,” Erythrite said, blinking slowly as she considered the youma in front of her. In her way (the Captain had decided she was probably female, with that voice and the way she stood) she was beautiful, particularly with the lovely coloration of her skin. “Do you come up to every Captain who hangs out down here?”
“Not many Captains do,” the youma replied. “Call me Peisithoe, dear,” she said, and she swaggered over, casually plopping down on the crystal and patting it. Without thinking, Erythrite sat down too.
“I’m Erythrite,” the Captain said, and then, “what’s it like down here?” The youma’s - Peisithoe’s - voice was calming, almost entrancing - it was nice, and it made it easy to want to talk to her.
“It’s boring, really.” Peisithoe sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbow on her thigh and her chin in her hand - such an oddly human thing to do. So many youma were so very much like people, it was almost unsettling.
“Why not go up to the surface?” Erythrite asked.
“And risk being dusted and having to wait around to reform? Or worse, risk a Princess’s tiara? With no officer to protect me? Oh, no no no, that wouldn’t do at all,” Peisithoe replied, shaking her head. “I could die, or get hurt, on my own like that.”
“I’d...never thought of it that way,” Erythrite admitted. To her, youma were monsters, the things that had torn her apart and given her scars all over her body. They weren’t thinking people who could get hurt and be afraid of pain. But Peisithoe was obviously a person, and she felt guilty for all the times she had thought of youma as tools.
“Few officers do, dearie, it’s alright,” Pei said, patting her on the cheek. “But tell me, why are you here? You can’t be thinking of getting a personal youma, can you? You would only be able to boss one of those terrible feral ones and they’re no fun, not for a classy lady like you.” Erythrite shook her head.
“No, it’s not that, I’m not...ready for a youma yet, I don’t think.” She said, and sighed. “I worry about my girlfriend. I...had her corrupted, and now...she’s lost everything, you know? Because of me. And she’s Chaos, and people will want to hurt her, and I can’t...I can’t keep an eye on her. I can’t be with her all the time. So she’s gonna get hurt and it’ll be my fault and I won’t be able to help her until it’s too late.”
Her fears were all too real. She’d found Serenity nearly dead once, from what had to have been a confrontation with another officer. And the Dark Mirror Court was vulnerable - everyone wanted them dead.
“...I may be able to help you with that,” Pei said, and she stood up. “Come with me.” She beckoned, and Erythrite followed, surprised. Why would this youma want to help her? But she let Pei lead her to a cave, of pure crystal, that glittered gracefully on the inside. The youma walked over to a protrusion, and lifted up a small object.
It was a hand-mirror, strangely dark and demonic-looking, with clouded glass.
“What is that?” Erythrite asked.
“A magic mirror, dearie! All you'll have to do is speak the name fo the person you're worried about, and if they're in danger it will clear and show them to you, and you can ride off to the rescue.” The youma smiled faintly. “And I’d be happy to give it to you. But…”
“But?” Erythrite asked.
“I’d like you to do something for me, first.” The youma said. “I want to see a piece of the world above. Bring me three beautiful things from there, and I’ll give you the mirror. Fair trade?”
“Fair trade,” Erythrite said. Even if it didn’t work, the mirror itself was lovely.
“Excellent.” Pei offered her hand, and Erythrite shook it.
Now all there was to do was to get what the youma had asked for.
[wc: 1,037 words]
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