Electra Rose
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Queen of the Sea and Sky 6
🕑 Added 2017-10-28 06:25:13 +0000 UTC“The opening bid is 300 thousand. Do I hear one bid? One bid! Two bids, three bids, four. 350! Can I get 350 on this?”
Brianna hooked her left ankle around the chair leg and tried not to look like she was being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic calling. She wasn't actually thrilled about being at an auction, but it was distantly pleasant. The room was beautiful, it was warm, and there were flocks of prettily dressed people having a good time. It was relaxing.
By contrast, Imile was positively sparkling. The jewels on her wrist flashed every time she raised her paddle-- and that happened fairly often. So far she had successfully bid on a statuette by some Dutch artist, but lost out on the painting she'd originally come for.
'She has a good attitude, though.' Brianna had to smile when she saw just how straight Imile's spine was. Her round chin was tilted attentively up to see over the crowd to the portly auctioneer on the platform. He was constantly moving around, nearly clowning for the audience. It was kinda fun to watch.
A small piece of wooden furniture went to the same man who had gotten Imile's painting. They were probably enemies now. She watched Imile's expression, but it was disappointingly clear of any obvious indications that revenge was internally being declared.
The auctioneer's assistant brought up a case of jewelry and started talking about the appraisal and minimum bid. Both numbers were high enough that Brianna could choose to dismiss them as fake if she just didn't think about it.
“This will be a choice auction,” the auctioneer said, and suddenly Imile's attention was sharp enough to cut glass.
Brianna leaned back in her seat and watched. Imile was practically vibrating with eagerness. God only knew what specific piece she was interested in. Maybe it was only the game of bidding that she liked. Either way, her hand was the second to shoot up. It was one of the rounds where initial bidding was fast and furious. It tapered down as only the most determined gritted their teeth while the price climbed. Imile and two other bidders settled into a grim rhythm. An older woman was the next to drop out when the auctioneer asked if she'd raise the bid to 9,000. Imile pushed her shoulders back and nodded at the same question.
'She's going to win,' Brianna predicted. 'She has her queenly face on. No one can win against Imile when she looks like that.' She fidgeted the point of her right heel into the lush blue carpet and then felt weirdly guilty. She put her feet together like the classy ladies around were doing.
The auctioneer looked to the only man left in the bidding pool. He gritted his jaw and raised once to 9,500. Imile breezily countered with 10,000, and then Imile was the winner of a case of mysteries. Auctions were ridiculous.
The auctioneer moved on to talking about the next item. Brianna leaned over and nudged Imile gently. “About the choice auction,” she whispered. "I have a question."
Imile looked over and she honestly seemed as intent as she had been on securing shiny things for her collection.
“That means that you get to look through the lot for things that you like, right?” Brianna checked. “You didn't buy everything-- you bought the right to buy any piece in there for 10,000.”
“Yes, that's right,” Imile murmured. She leaned in just that little bit closer and her perfume was something floral. “There's a cuff in there that I want for a collection I am curating.”
Brianna tried not to breathe because it was hella weird to sit around sniffing people. “And if you look and decide you want something else, you have to pay another 10,000.”
“Is this really your first auction?” Imile showed a flash of white teeth on only one side when she gave a sideways smile. “Yes, that's a choice auction.”
She swallowed, smiled, and leaned back out of Imile's personal bubble.
The auction wound down to an end. People stood up and began talking in the rows, crowding the exit lane. Brianna cast a jealous look up at the auctioneer and assistants who were hightailing it out, avoiding the crowds.
'I shouldn't be too green,' she remembered. 'They'll be stuck here forever talking to everyone who bought something.'
Perversely, that made her feel a little bad. But of course the workers couldn't just leave. It was their job. And it was pretty normal to be stuck at your place of employment longer than you wanted to be, so.
“Imile!”
She glanced at Imile's face, expecting her to spot the cheerful speaker. Imile didn't look around. She blinked, once, and then slowly turned to look at Brianna.
'Maybe she didn't hear? It was kinda distant.'
Brianna opened her mouth to point it out-
“Where else would you like to go tonight?” Imile wrapped a companionable arm around her back and suddenly they were caught in the crowd trying to exit in another direction. "We are mildly overdressed but it might be enjoyable to see a film while we are already out."
"That sounds like a great idea," Brianna agreed hastily. She tried to remember, but- "I have no idea what is in theatres right now. What kind of movies do you like?" She cared a lot more about eating popcorn and watching explosions than she did about helping some stranger talk to Imile, so Brianna pretended she hadn't heard a thing. She was probably a bad person.
Imile hummed from the back of her throat. "Mysteries, adventure, scary movies."
Uh, yikes. Hell to the no on that. "Scary movies are a big no for me," Brianna said. "But mysteries and adventure sound great."
It didn't take too much longer to get out of the sociable crush. Imile managed to get the attention of one of the auction assistants and had them show her the lot she'd won the right to buy from. She took the cuff immediately, but lingered over a few other pieces.
“Brianna, what do you think?” Imile ran a finger over a cushioned case and beckoned her over.
She came reluctantly, hands flat against her side. “About the bracelet?” Brianna asked, looking at the closer of the two pieces Imile seemed to be interested in.
“Yes, do you like it?” Imile sounded contemplative. She tilted the bracelet, a fine silver piece with a sapphire. “I'm perpetually on the lookout for a piece that I will make something of a personal signature.” Her lips twisted with what seemed like an unfunny private joke. She gave Brianna a sidelong look. “It's difficult to make such a permanent decision. That's why I don't have any tattoos.”
Uh. Well. Brianna paused to stall for time to think. “It's good that there's no deadline for finding your signature accessories,” she said, feeling banal even as the words came out. She cleared her throat. “It's nice.” She stared into the stone. It didn't really make her feel anything. “To me, it doesn't seem particularly like you.”
“What do you mean?” Imile only sounded curious.
It took a while to put words to the aesthetic judgment. “I don't like the cut of the stone for you,” Brianna decided. “It's generic, inoffensive, unremarkable. Your clothes end to be sleek and keep a close silhouette. So... To me, it just seems more like a stone cut with a lower, flatter top would suit your personal style better.”
When she looked up, Imile's brows were raised. “Anything else?”
She shrugged and let herself look at the floor. “I'm ambivalent about the color. Blue is very neutral. You seem to prefer pinks and yellows. I do like the silver for you, though.”
“That was interesting,” Imile decided. “Thank you.” She closed the case with a snap and gestured over an assistant. “Would you put these with my purchases, please? I'll have them collected tomorrow morning with the payment. Thank you.”
With that, they left. Imile talked the whole time, walking very, very close. It was enough to make Brianna feel nervous. She matched the taps of her heels with Imile's and tried not to glance around too much where all the other patrons seemed to be chatting. It was almost like Imile was going out of her way to avoid the chance of an unexpected conversation.
'This was such a sideways experience.' Brianna went down the front stairs as carefully as possible. 'It was exactly like an indoor version of a farm auction. They sold different things, the people wore different clothes, and the norms are a bit different. But the social essentials are the same.'
The thing was... Brianna remembered what it had been like to be the tagalong to farm auctions as a kid. Her grandfather had taken the time to confer with every other little old man in the neighboring five states, as far as she could tell. Everybody knew everyone because there just weren't that many people who regularly came to the auctions.
The art auction community was probably the same. Judging by the insufferable crowding and cheerful gabbing, Brianna should have been politely following Imile around for a while, because a person wouldn't totally ignore all their friends just because they were with a different friend for the day. That is not how humans work. She was pretty certain.
'She doesn't like any of them,' Brianna realized. 'Inviting me was not a random choice. I am her shield against talking to all of these people.'
Ha. It was good to be useful. And- oh. Yeah, she'd totally ignored the woman calling her name earlier. For sure, Brianna decided. Something about that unsettled her and she wasn't sure why. Brianna wrestled with it throughout the ride to the movie theatre.
'I don't care that she's unsociable,' Brianna decided. 'That would be hypocritical. I don't know, it's just... It's kind of sad. A little lonely. It's unusual that there wasn't a single one of Imile's peers there who she wanted to at least say hello to.'
They found a movie that Brianna had never heard of. The poster was suitably idiotic, with a woman holding a telephone, an explosion, and a door opening in the distance. The box office worker said that it wasn't a horror movie, and that was good enough for them to buy the tickets. It really was a dumb movie, but it was fun to watch implausible spy things. At one point a ladies' book club foiled a kidnapping ring by getting into a brawl. It only made a little sense in context.
They got back in very late, but they were both too giddy to want to go to bed. They ended up making cookies in Imile's kitchen. They stood around drinking bottles of the really cheap, soda-ish alcohol coolers until they pulled the cookies out of the oven.
"This way." Imile gestured with one hotpad, totteringly dangerous in her heels.
Brianna gave her and the pan of molten cookies a wide berth as she passed, clutching the bottles they were currently drinking. She gasped when she saw Imile's living room, but it turned into an ugly cackling laugh.
"I don't understand." Imile set down the scorching tray, barely remembering to shed a hotpad to protect the table first. She frowned, and she was much more expressive when she was halfway to drunk. "What is so funny about my house? Is it the curtains? They're awful. I'll throw them out the window tomorrow."
"You guys lied to us." Brianna giggled. "You said that the service up here is terrible." She gestured at the television.
"I never lied about that," Imile said primly. She tossed her hair and set down two wine glasses from a cupboard. "The signal is very bad. But I have a large library of movies and tv shows. Would you like to see some British murder mysteries, where some nosy old ladies solve crime?"
"I would like that a lot," Brianna said. She kicked off her heels and sat on the couch. "I would like that a lot. That sounds exactly like a thing I would enjoy. You have great taste in television, Imile."
"I am refined," she said with towering dignity. Then she opened a wooden cupboard door to pull out a bottle of -
"Is that gin?" Brianna sat up straight. "We are going to drink gin out of wine glasses? Who are you, woman?" She cackled again and it was hard to stop.
"I'm a lady." Imile sat on the back of the couch and crossed her ankles. If you don't want any-"
"No, no." Brianna held out her wineglass. "I'm thirsty and we have a lot of tv to watch."
They passed time drinking heavily and giving increasingly witchy cackles at the television. The first show that Imile tried was one that she knew, with two elderly gardeners fighting crime. They changed over to a series with a really angry housebound man and his handsome assistant, and then tried a Scandanivian thing that neither of them understood at all.
Honestly, Brianna lost track of time, but she sailed past the point of tiredness to the comfortable euphoria that came six hours after bedtime. And then they both crashed.
Brianna let her head loll on the back of the couch and considered unfolding her legs. She'd sat on them and it was unfun. “Hey, Imile.”
There was a sniff and a humming sound.
Imile's ceiling was light blue. God, painting ceilings was awful. It was the absolute worst chore. Brianna scowled at the mere concept of that much neck pain. Then she remembered that she'd been trying to say something. Uh. “You've been here for like, ever, right?”
“An eternity,” Imile said, in a really bad horror movie accent.
Brianna threw a pillow in her general direction on principle. She didn't hear where it landed, but Imile didn't sound wounded. So it probably didn't connect. “Are you a C-list vampire?”
“I'm an A-list witch. Spooky spooky.” A foot nudged Brianna's side. She roused grumpily and immediately shut the tiny crack she'd opened her eyes. When had she closed them? “Hey, look. I said spooky spooky.”
Brianna peeled her eyes open to see that Imile was wiggling her fingers in a way that was moderately frightening at best. She grunted and let her head hit the back of the couch.
“Hey.” Imile dug her toes into Brianna's side again. “I am terrifying. I bring destruction and fear unto the peasants from my boat. Is my job. My passion. Hobby. Boooo.”
“Ah!” Brianna said, because she was a supportive friend. She was rewarded with a sloppy pat on the ankle. “You put a bad spell on me.”
“And now you are mine.” Imile sounded satisfied about that. Like, so satisfied that it was kind of flattering.
She had to smile. “I wanted to ask you what you know about ghosts.”
“Because I am a scary witch,” Imile said agreeably. “Do go on.” Glass clinked.
She rolled her eyes and wondered where her drink was. Maybe it was safer to lose it. “Because you're a museum director.” She ignored the unhappy, surprised sound that Imile made. “Actually, you said….” Brianna frowned, trying to remember. Fuck. Imile has said a lot of words. Not all of them were relevant to this. Huh. “Red Lady has some shoes.” Then she rubbed at the side of her head. “Alleged shoes.”
“Nonsensical shoes,” Imile said unhappily. She sniffed. “I had such good plans to find a name that fit on the passenger roster. Nefarious plans to register her with the historical society, therefore bringing us one step close to being the official most haunted boa- building? Site. Site. I'm foiled.”
Brianna made an empathetic sound and wondered what the old lady on the tv screen was talking about. It sounded like she'd found the murderer. She was saying something about a bear. “What if it does make sense?” she wondered. “Maybe the shoes are so reasonable.”
Imile made an 'ugh' sound.
She chose to translate that into words as “Please, do go on my dear friend.” Accordingly, Brianna hauled her body up and managed to free her tingly legs. She rubbed at her knees to encourage the pins and needles to leave. “The Red Lady doesn't follow the usual rules, right? Or maybe we just misunderstood the rules.”
Imile was piled against the opposite arm of the couch, legs splayed in a way that would have been indecent if she had worn a skirt instead of pink slacks. She kind of looked like she had been dropped from a height and hadn't found the energy to rearrange her limbs yet.
“Maybe the shoe were hers, but she just didn't bring them on the cruise where she died.” Brianna covered the yawn. “and… her possession being in the place she died was enough to make her show up? But, like, she has more connection to the ship than to the shoes. So when the shoes left, she stayed there.”
“And perhaps that is why her behavior changed when the shoes left?” Imile said. She sounded a little more awake than before, perking up with curiosity. “There's nothing for evidence one way or the other, I don't think I have ever heard of a case of a ghost having two bindings.”
“But the way she was when she was attached to the shoes was different than the way she is now,” Brianna suggested. Hey, it was starting to seem kinda reasonable. “And that's why you said she dances all the time but I've never seen it.”
“Yes.” Imile's tone was odd. “Brianna, what do you do with her?”
She nodded, and then remembered that was incorrect. She shrugged. “Not that much. She likes to listen to music. And I talk. Sometimes she had opinions about what I say. Sometimes I try to ask her questions but she's like, really confused.” Brianna rubbed at her headache. She felt so scattered. “Doesn't remember where she's from or anything. I want to help her.”
“Oh.” Cushions moved when Imile settled back into the couch. She sounded less interested now. “Sorry you can't see the shoes.” Imile's voice dropped. “I could get you pictures, if you're curious. But the shoes are unavailable.”
“That would be good,” Brianna agreed.
She must have fallen asleep. The tv was repeating the title screen's sequences when Brianna opened her eyes next. Imile was curled up in a way that was going to mean serious neck pain. She winced in sympathy and nudged the other woman awake. Imile roused enough to bundle up Brianna's discarded clothing and walk her to the door. They parted sleepily. For some reason they shook hands at the door which was pretty weird.
Brianna didn't really remember getting back to her own room, although she had the vague sense that she had some kind of conversation with Miho before crawling into her bed.
________________
Sometime in the early hours, Brianna asked Imile about the Red Lady's shoes again. Er. The shoes that were possibly associated with the Red Lady, more like. If the Lady hadn't gone with them when the shoes went to a museum, there was probably no connection. But she just kept thinking about it, and feeling like it had to be meaningful.
They probably didn't mean anything at all, but she wanted to check. It was the only real clue they had.
Imile clearly thought it was a long shot, but when Brianna woke up in the morning there was a yellow envelope with glossy, high quality photos of some truly ancient and sad pointe shoes from the 1800s. They looked absolutely torturous, actually.
She took the envelope with her to breakfast and thought it over while people moved and chatted around her. Brianna nearly got minestrone on it, so she ended up putting the envelope under her chair for safekeeping while she finished eating.
She wandered the halls aimlessly after that, not sure what she ought to do with her time. It was her day off, but she didn't particularly want to hang around. She could go back to her room and try to sleep some more, or go to the employee lounge to fiddle around on her phone. Maybe she could ask to hang around in the archives and read a bit. She could go and bother Brendan in the kitchen- she hadn't done that in a few days.
That sounded best, actually.
Brianna killed time by harassing Brendan. They bitched for a while about the crowding in his precious kitchens- there was some internship going on that he was beyond scandalized about. After an hour he shooed her away so that he could focus on the desserts he was making. She stole a bowl of fruit as she went and took it down to the lounge.
The big TV there was being used to watch a football game, which was a kind of torture she was disinterested in. But she hung around anyway because it was pleasant to hear the happy bickering from her coworkers. The game ended around 9pm- a lot of her coworkers were apparently deciding to skip dinner in order to see the thrilling conclusion. One of the teams lost. The other one won. It was exactly as Brianna would have predicted. She kicked her feet up and scrolled through social media. Someone's baby had done something adorable and it was well-documented. Ah, her university roommate had a dog now. Brianna wrote congratulations and then binged on news articles.
She was the last one on the lounge when she decided she was bored. That was probably because it was past midnight and most of her coworkers worked a regular 9-5 type schedule. She took a long, luxurious bath, changed into her most comfortable pajamas, and decided to be a bit stupid.
No one saw her on her walk to the exhibit area, and her passcode worked just fine to get her in even though it was her day off. She crept in and poked around in the dark, smiling at all the ghost business she usually missed while she was in rehearsals. A lot of them were getting ready for bed. She saw a glowing couple sneaking off into the Turkish baths and resisted the temptation to be a creep. It was rude to stare, even if no one knew that you were there.
'I hope she'll be around tonight.'
There was no way to predict it. Brianna let herself into the kitchen and poured some water. She took it out into the ballroom and settled in to wait. It wouldn't be much longer now, either way.
She spent some time watching the moon drift until she felt a chill. Brianna frowned reflexively and set down her drink so that she could put one hand in her nightrobe. The other hand was occupied holding the folder, still.
When she turned around, the Red Lady was waiting. She perched on the edge of the stage, looking light and fey. She was staring open-mouthed, as though she could hardly believe that Brianna was there. When she saw that Brianna had noticed her, Red tilted her chin up and looked away haughtily.
'She did miss me.'
She felt a smile well up, even as she put her hands behind her back with the folder. “I'm sorry I didn't come last night,” Brianna said. She knew she didn't sound that sorry, but it was hard to work up proper apologies when she was feeling excited about what she had to show off.
She contemplated it, but Red nodded once. She stood. Her skirts arranged themselves in a ridiculously regal fashion.
“I think these were yours.” Brianna brought around the folder and held out the photos from inside. She watched Red's expression, feeling excitement build as the ghost drifted closer.
Red gave her a questioning look. When Brianna only smiled back, Red swept her hands up. The paper lifted out of Brianna's grip and tilted so that Red could read it easily. She gave Brianna one last curious glance as glossy, thick photo paper fell to rest just barely on her fingertips. She tilted her head slightly as she looked. Her brow furrowed. She glanced up at Brianna.
“Do you recognize them?” She felt a thrill of nervousness. “I... They're ballet shoes. Old fashioned ones. We think they might have been yours because you started showing up at the same time as the shoes.” Brianna tucked her left ankle behind her right. “You dance, don't you?” Her tone wasn't as sure as she'd hoped it would come out. Imile had said... but Brianna had never seen any indication, other than how graceful Lady was.
Red met her gaze. Her eyes were widening. She began to smile. It was like dawn rising- she was sparkling, white and orange pinpoints floating around her face.
“Yes!” Brianna had just barely enough decorum not to fist-pump.
Red laughed. It was silent, but it still counted. She let the paper fall and raised her hands above her head consideringly. Her smile was sly, secretive. It was so fucking cute. She was so cute.
Brianna folded her hands behind her back and lifted herself up on her toes. She could feel that she was beaming. “Do you remember something now?”
She nodded, eyes wide in wonder. She held up the photo and lifted up onto her toes. Brianna glanced down and like, wow, because suddenly her Lady was wearing ghostly pointe shoes. Movement drew her eye back up. Lady gestured up and down her body a few times- illustrating an outfit, Brianna realized.
“Open shoulders, cap sleeves,” Brianna narrated. “Oh- wide sleeves. Something light, that trails when you move?” When she got it right she got a smile in return. “Low waist, wide skirt with...” she paused, trying to figure out what that plucking movement around the legs was meant to imitate. It was within the line of the skirt that Red illustrated... “Some kind of costume details? Uh, early ballet... was mostly mythological, nature influenced... flowers?”
Lady's nod was decisive. Up went her chin, out went her arms, and she spun into a dance. She paused at the end to look at Brianna expectantly.
She blinked. “Should I have recognized that?”
Lady gave her a shocked look. She indicated her feet, as though that answered everything.
“Do you remember where you were from, now?” Brianna tried. And yes, luckily, her friend nodded. “Maybe I can narrow it down that way. I don't know that much about dance.” She cleared her throat. Dance history, ballet history. “Russia?” Big nope. “Italy? That's where ballet began... Alright, not Italy. It is in Europe, right?”
She got her first look of enouragement. Red dropped her dance posture and drifted closer, eyes warm.
Her heart was going too fast. “Denmark?”
The incredulous look she got for that was worth remembering.
“France?”
The Lady smiled and swept into a courtly little bow. Which- oh. In the 1800s, ballet was still mostly for the nobility, right? So she'd either been from an important family or had performed for them.
“Are you famous?” Brianna asked, unthinking. She opened her mouth again to correct her phrasing, because she'd meant to try to ask about Lady's family.
All levity dropped. Red drew her head back, frowning. She snapped back a retort that Brianna couldn't hear and wouldn't have understood if she had heard it. She looked... indignant, maybe?
Brianna lifted her hands, showing her palms. “I don't know a lot about dance,” she said apologetically. “I'm sorry. Is that a yes, then?”
They held eye contact for a moment. Lady nodded stiffly. She looked down and then gestured at her feet again.
“I don't know what you mean.” She kept her tone a little firm, because she was not in the wrong here. “You're famous because of- because you dance en pointe?” Brianna guessed. That was apparently right, but... “Doesn't every professional ballerina dance en pointe?”
Red frowned. Her mouth opened. Her brow furrowed. She slowly raised a hand and put it against her face. She looked absolutely baffled.
“Alright,” Brianna said under her breath. “I guess that not every ballerina danced en pointe when you were alive. That's a starting point for- what's wrong?”
The Lady sparked white. She stared at Brianna, mouth still opened.
“Is it something I said?” Brianna asked, slow.
It was like the Lady didn't hear her. She was too busy staring at her hands. She moved her foot below, like... was she just now realizing that she could see through her hands?
“You didn't know you're dead?” She didn't keep the incredulity out of her tone. “I thought- of course you knew. This ship- it sank.” Brianna swallowed. She curled the toes of her right foot and then flexed. Her body felt stiff. “Everyone here died, I think. Very close to everyone.” She licked her lips. “I'm sorry,” Brianna offered.
When she glanced up, Red was staring at her with a distinct lack of comprehension. She said something- one word- and gestured disbelievingly at the room around them.
“...You knew you're on a boat.”
Red did not look like she had known she was on a boat.
“Why wouldn't you know that?” Now Brianna felt affronted. Her hands went to her hips. “You should know that,” she told Red.
Red looked baffled.
“Look at the, uh...” She trailed off. The room around them wasn't that boat-like. Abovedecks was blocked off. On this level, the windows were much grander than the circular port-holes you'd expect to see on a boat. And when you looked out of them, all you could see was clouds. “Huh.” Brianna let her hands fall. She was frowning now too. “I can see why you might not recognize this as a boat from the inside. But it is. And I thought you'd remember being on it- all the other ghosts clearly do.”
Red gave her a look of absolute disbelief. She raised her hands. Keeping deadpan eye contact, she flap-flapped like a bird. Then she swished both her hands to delicately indicate the window. She said one word again, probably the same one as earlier.
Brianna coughed down a laugh and tried to be serious for a moment.
'She is stressing the fact that we are in the sky. Making kind of a point of it. Clearly she thinks something about it is ridiculous.'
She cleared her throat. “I'm going to guess that you just said 'boat',” Brianna said. "And pointed out that we are up high. Fair enough." She nodded. "Both of those things are empirically true. I've been assured that putting the boat in the sky was a financially sound decision, if it makes it any less weird to you."
Red just stared.
"Okay," Brianna said under her breath. She coughed a little. "Fair enough. It is unusual." She frowned. "I have so many more questions than I did an hour ago."
