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Marian ([info]sweetspring) wrote in [info]nevermore_logs,
@ 2021-04-16 19:51:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:maid marian, qebhet

WHO Marian & Qebhet (with some Art, and maybe some Stutely and Robin if they're around)
WHEN Friday afternoon
WHERE The Sly Fox
WHAT Welcome to my home, please submit to a polygraph and fingerprinting.
WARNINGS tba,



Slowly slowly slowly, Marian was trying to get back into a life that wasn't built around the Sheriff. She found herself angry at the lack of progress, at the walls she kept coming up against, at the ways he was still controlling her even though he was gone. (Guy had been quiet for a long time, and that made Marian anxious as well. Her entire existence had been spent with Guy, the Sheriff and Price John all sniffing around, and the only variables being which one would be the most obsessed at that moment and what form any obsession would take: would she be facing a cartoonish buffoon vying for her affections, or would she be facing a man who would send her to be tortured by demons until she broke? Depending on the decade, depending on the stories and the culture, all possibilities laid themselves out before her.)

But she'd gotten back into her gaming, replaying old games and feeling herself sink back into the familiar moves of a particularly challenging boss fight. Guy and the Sheriff, they were unpredictable, but in video games (no matter how hard) you could read your opponent. When this boss raised his hammer over his right shoulder, then there was about to be an area of attack and you needed to move back. When this boss sheathed his glowing sword he was doing a power up and you had a few open seconds to make your own attack or heal. Her real enemies had no such tells: they appeared from the shadows and they rarely fought fair.

What Marian really wanted right now was a job, but instead she was stuck in the horrible limbo of unemployment. Marian had never been very good at being idle, at not having some sort of purpose and reason to get up every day. She needed to be doing something: in Sherwood that had often been taking care of the camp and being everyone's mother, and in the modern world it came in the form of a career she could be proud of. She'd only just managed to drag herself out of the depressing 'lying on the couch all day using her breasts as a Cheeto shelf' period before the Sheriff had kidnapped her, and now she was back even further than Step One.

Which was why she'd invited Qebhet over, to avoid the lying on the couch all day and to try and remember what it was like to be a person, especially to someone who had reached out when they didn't need to. She and Qebhet had only met the once, and she'd never expected to even make an impression on the goddess. And yet the scarab was warm and real in her pocket.

When the text came through to say that Qebhet had arrived, Marian made her way downstairs. Spotting Art at the bar, Marian said, "she's here, be nice." But she also held up the sleep mask she'd brought down to show him - it was close enough to a blindfold but wouldn't catch in any of Qebhet's hair going on or coming off.

She unlocked the door open and smiled at the goddess on the other side. "Hi," she said and then showed her the blindfold. "Thank you for doing this." That part she said a little more quietly, not meant for Art's ears so much.



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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-18 02:47 pm UTC (link)
Marian was tempted to say that Art was all bark and no bite, but Art had plenty of bite of his own when it was needed. "Maybe we'll save the one on one duels for another day," Marian agreed with a nod, taking a sip from her beer.

"You work at a funeral home, was that right?" Marian wanted to get a better reading on Qebhet, to work out what her calling was in this modern world they were all moving through. They had gone on the hellhound hunt together, but she barely knew anything about Qebhet beyond that.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-18 11:44 pm UTC (link)
Qebhet nodded, taking a sip of her own beer. "My father's. He founded it when he first came to the city, about a hundred years ago. He likes continuity," she added, with a fond quirk of the lips. Qebhet rather took after Anubis in that way, finding comfort in ritual and routine, though never quite to his fastidious degree. "I've worked with him on and off since then."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-19 10:21 am UTC (link)
Marian had never had anything to do with death in her own mythos: she was a rescued damsel, a forest warrior, a Virgin Mary stand-in, or a May Queen: her stories all had an element of danger, but they were very much about Good overcoming Bad, and thus Life Goes On. "Your pantheon seems like a good one to be in for someone who likes continuity. How long was it that Ancient Egypt lasted?" Centuries, Marian was pretty sure. The sheer true ancientness of Qebhet's people made even Artemis - who Marian thought of as very old indeed - look like a newborn.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-19 11:08 am UTC (link)
"Almost three thousand years." Qebhet had never thought about it so, but she supposed there was some truth in what Marian said. Kemet had never been static – wars had raged and tyrants had risen and been overthrown, new gods had supplanted old ones and old gods had taken new forms, on and on, for thirty centuries – but it had endured, even as beyond its borders empires rose and fell. After three thousand years, perhaps they had an excuse for being a little stuck in their ways.

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-19 11:16 am UTC (link)
"Even immortal," Marian said, after taking a drink from her beer, "that's a length of time I can't even imagine. My earliest stories are from the end of the sixteenth century. That's only four hundred years."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-19 12:44 pm UTC (link)
It was not the first time she'd heard the sentiment reflected. Greek gods, Hindu devas, Christian saints, immortals of folklore— her life stretched out on a scale that dwarfed them all, and somehow that brought an expectation of a corresponding wisdom or wit or power that her stumbling conversation could never hope to meet. Qebhet had seen the interest die in enough immortal faces over the years for the mention of age to make her stomach squirm just a little. "Years are only one measure of a life," she said. "One can help lot of people in four hundred years. That's what you and your friends do, isn't it? You must have touched so many lives."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-19 12:56 pm UTC (link)
"We try," Marian said, and even she could hear the genuine naked desire for that in her voice. "I hope we make a difference. I mean, I know we make a difference, but there's always the worry that it's not as much as it could be." She picked at the label on her beer, considering. "Usually I like to get jobs in IT departments of greedy multinational conglomerates, siphoning off undeserved wealth so it can go to better causes. But right now I'm just hiding out in my apartment, feeling bad about feeling bad. I'm not very good at not being of use," she admitted with a shrug.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-19 03:29 pm UTC (link)
It was strange to hear her own twisting doubts echoed in Marian's words. How that worry had preyed on her this past fortnight, with one boy dead and mutilated on her embalming table and another fleeing certain doom, both victims of godly violence, both beyond her capacity to help. (But not always so. Those months ago, when Hecate had first told her about Kaden— when the danger circling him had been yet a murmur and not a deafening crescendo— if she had been bolder, been stronger, been cleverer—)

"Being housebound is hard," Qebhet agreed; she knew it well from experience. She had been useless, those first weeks after she had dragged her body from the Mississippi River, a body new-made yet still blighted by the scars of fire and death. Closed doors had frightened her; open spaces, even more so. She had been small and fearful and yet, paradoxically, too large and ungainly to burrow and hide as her serpent's heart longed to do.

The listlessness had followed later, with the creeping return of quiet routine and the moulting of scarred skin (not an erasure – it would take two further moults to cleanse the stain of violence from her body; far longer to cleanse her soul). Idleness had stretched out into purposelessness, and though her hand had hovered over the door knob, it had shaken too badly to turn it. She couldn't serve the dead and bereaved if she couldn't set foot outside her home.

But, she'd discovered, she could do other things. Amulets, herbal preparations and remedies. Small magicks, small sciences. Not being able to shop or forage for ingredients herself had been an obstacle, but she'd made do. And the heavy veils and concealing clothes she'd worn to hide her scars had lent her an unintended air of credibility with clients expectant of an air of otherworldly mystery.

"Is there perhaps..." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "You must be skilled with computers, to be able to steal from companies under their noses. Could you use that skill in other ways, from home? Maybe you could... find out who needs help, or who is causing the harm? Everything starts with information."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-23 09:18 am UTC (link)
The things that Qebhet were talking about seemed a little more complicated than what she already did, but to be completely honest: what she did now was fairly complicated, it was just that she'd become very good at it over two decades of dedicated work.

"I've always been better at thieving than most other things," Marian admitted. "Rather an occupational hazard when you come from my stories. Mostly I'm looking forward to going back to protests and sit ins and generally standing up to the corrupt. Right now I don't feel like I could stand up to the slightly naughty, let alone the corrupt."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-23 10:00 am UTC (link)
Qebhet took a slow sip of her beer. An occupational hazard... she thought she understood. Being a funerary god came with a few of its own. Marian's method was technology, but her skill was in thievery. And thievery was not a job that could be done from the confines of the home. Nor was protest. At least, not usually. "I'm sorry," she said. "It must feel stifling."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-23 10:34 am UTC (link)
"It will get better," Marian said, and there was firm determination in her voice. "I have my boys and they love me, and so I know that soon enough I'll be right as rain. But," she added a little more quietly even though it was just the two of them there, "it is nice to see someone who isn't them once in a while."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-23 11:21 am UTC (link)
The corner of Qebhet's mouth curled upward. "Variety is a healthy thing," she agreed. The words were entirely diplomatic, but her eyes were warm with humour. Her expression softened as she added, "I can see they love you a great deal."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-23 11:26 am UTC (link)
"They do," Marian agreed, with a great deal of affection, unable to ever fully explain to anyone how deeply she felt for all of the Merry Men, how built into her DNA it was to protect and nurture them. "I try to look after them and keep them out of trouble, though I don't always succeed. "

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-23 12:10 pm UTC (link)
"Another occupational hazard of being a hero?" Qebhet suggested with a smile. Trouble and conflict always seemed to follow the heroes of stories. She supposed nobody wanted to read about heroes who stayed home and did crosswords.

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-25 01:43 am UTC (link)
Marian smiled back. "There's a lot of them," she agreed. "Half of them have done some sort of prison time, for one. I've avoided that myself, and I'd like to keep it that way. But probably less of that in your line of work?"

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-25 03:05 am UTC (link)
Qebhet laughed softly. "Oh, much less," she agreed. Even if she had been inclined to fight Robin for the honour, she would have made a poor Merry Man. She had never been a rebel; she lived quietly and kept to her traditions, the need to uphold the cosmic balance that was ma'at ingrained deeply within her core. (And yet, could it not be said that balance was what the Merry Men fought for, too? Rebelling against the isfet that infected society? Perhaps that was why she found herself liking them.) "We have to falsify documents sometimes. We look after immortals when they die. So... technically I've stolen some bodies...?" She made a face, realising as she said it how it sounded. "Sorry. Was that too dark?"

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-25 11:56 am UTC (link)
Marian almost laughed at Qebhet's worry, but people didn't like it when you laughed at them. "Not at all," she assured her. "The complications of our kind dying means I'm glad there's someone like you on the end of it."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-25 01:02 pm UTC (link)
"It's a hard journey," Qebhet nodded, her gaze dipping momentarily to the bottle clasped between her hands. "I've had to make it alone before. If I can ease the path for others, I will."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-26 02:17 am UTC (link)
"I'm sorry," Marian frowned, the idea of having to walk through death alone a bleak one. But that was how so many had to do it, wasn't it? Death for many was a solitary path. "I've been fortunate enough to have never died. Almost a lot of times, probably should have died quite a few, but so far I've always slipped free."

She'd thought with the demon a few months ago she was going to die, she'd been so sure of it. But she'd been that sure of it at other times as well, when other men had chosen to make her the object of their anger or control or fear, breaking themselves against her like a stormfront, cutting through to her soul until death felt inevitable. But every time she had survived. She had fought against the shadow of death and she had lived. Maybe Marian couldn't die. Maybe it was impossible for her.

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-26 08:08 am UTC (link)
Qebhet bit down on her lip. When death was not a permanent condition, almost died and should have died took on a more chilling cast. Even mortals considered death a mercy sometimes. Especially under the relentless pain of torture.

Marian, she knew, had been tortured in her captivity. That she'd escaped death in all those weeks of terror— not every god would consider her fortunate.

"Survival can be a hard journey, too," she said, looking up. "After death released me... I didn't feel safe leaving my home, either. Not for a long while. That's not to... I don't mean to compare. But I know, for me, it was..."

Like being trapped in a burning building all over again. Standing in a room slowly filling with smoke, never knowing whether the door was her escape, or whether it was the only thing between her and the inferno.

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-26 08:12 am UTC (link)
Marian reached out and gently her hand on Qebhet's, a show of sympathy and comradery. "We've all got things that hurt and leave their scars," she said, squeezing the hand softly. "Doesn't make one worse than another."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-26 09:20 am UTC (link)
Qebhet ducked her head in a small nod, relieved she hadn't overstepped, grateful for the gentle squeeze of Marian's hand. "Exactly so. And our scars are not the same, but... I know it can be hard. And frustrating. And if ever you want help or company, I offer mine."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-28 03:38 am UTC (link)
"I don't know how you could help," Marian admitted with a shrug, "but I like the company." She took another sip of her quickly disappearing beer. "So, Qebhet, what do you do for fun in the modern world?"

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-28 08:32 am UTC (link)
"Well... I like swimming," said Qebhet, "and reading. And... I walk? In the city?" Her diffidence leaked into her voice, giving it an uncertain inflection. She knew they weren't the most exciting of hobbies. "I like... exploring. It's amazing how you can live so long in a place and still find more to discover. And Harlem has changed so much since I was first here."

And her dead would often speak to her with such feeling of their city. There was no single New York, Qebhet had learned: every person had their own, a unique terrain overlaying a common street map, with places and landmarks coloured by memory and emotion. She listened when they talked, and, when she could, she liked to go wandering and try to perceive the places they'd loved through their eyes.

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-29 07:20 am UTC (link)
"I know what you mean about exploring," Marian said. "Like me, you lived in a time when big cities weren't anything like this place. There's always something new. I've only been in New York for-" she paused to check her maths. "Almost three years, and I don't think it's possible to see everything in that time."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-30 12:36 am UTC (link)
Qebhet smiled. "I first came to New York in 1922. My father had just opened our funeral home then. I've lived in many other places since, but it's to New York I always return. It's... like you said, so great and dense, it's like a thousand cities in one. Did you know there's a sanitation garage in East Harlem with a museum inside? It's been there for thirty years and I never knew. One of the sanitation workers, he collects the perfectly good things that people throw away, cleans them and repairs them and puts them on display. It's beautiful."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-30 09:31 am UTC (link)
"See," Marian said, feeling like this really proved her point. "I didn't know about that at all. People throw away so many usual things in this day and age, it's ridiculous. Our consumeristic culture always saying to replace and upgrade instead of repair." But that wasn't the rant Qebhet had come here for, and so Marian stopped it with a knowing but apologetic look. "But since 1922? That's amazing, I've never stayed in one place so long. I'm always scared someone will start asking too many questions."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-04-30 10:51 am UTC (link)
Qebhet met Marian's look of apology with a small grin. The thought had struck her, too, wandering between crowded displays of pristine crockery and glassware, children's toys and family photos. What a waste, that all of it had ended up in the trash – but what a wonderful thing that somebody had seen fit to salvage it.

"I'm surprised nobody ever has," she admitted. "It helps that we're a family funeral home, I think. I can leave for a few years and come back as a daughter or niece, fresh out of mortuary school." Her grin crept wider, amusement touching her eyes. "Lots of people tell me I look just like my aunt, though."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-04-30 12:13 pm UTC (link)
"I suppose it's easier for them to accept that you look exactly like your 'aunt' instead of understanding that you haven't aged a day." It made complete sense, really. Human brains always looked for the explanation that made the most sense, that fit their view of the world. "Every time I leave a place I'm too paranoid to return, even though I always get myself so attached to people."

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[info]coolwaters
2021-05-01 11:25 am UTC (link)
"It's hard sometimes," Qebhet agreed. "The lies we have to tell. We live in their world, but we can never be truly a part of it." Not that she was one to talk. Most of the people she befriended were already dead. It wasn't quite the same thing. "You have your boys, though. That must help."

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[info]sweetspring
2021-05-01 02:03 pm UTC (link)
"It does," Marian agreed, warmth in her voice. "I don't know where I'd be without those boys." Well, she knew exactly where she'd be without them right now. She'd be in a house in Arizona, being the perfect little wife to a monster, sinking deeper and deeper into whatever hell that was. "They look out for me, but I look out for them too. I've gotten so used to feeling like it's my job to keep an eye on them, but I like that feeling. Are there other Egyptians around? Or is it just you and your father local?"

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[info]coolwaters
2021-05-02 04:53 am UTC (link)
Qebhet gave a little half-shrug. "They come and go. It's been only the two of us for a few years now. My brother prefers to stay nearer the desert."

She couldn't rightly call herself lonely. She had friends here, good friends. She had the dead to keep her company. She had her cats and her snake. And not all the gods of her homeland were the most... relaxing company. Still— on foreign soil, under a foreign sky, among gods far too young to ever have seen the barque of the Sun sail the arched canopy of Nut, or watched the dance of the twinned ikhem-sek around the celestial north pole— there was a certain familiar ease in spending time with those who had been reared under the same stars was you.

But this wasn't the time to dwell. After another sip of her beer, she added, "My cousin Seshat lives in Philadelphia, though, so I see her a lot. She's the one who helped me with your scarab. She's a goddess of writing, so engraving is one of her specialties."

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