Blood Trials
The Distraction

Marie was in her room - a square space with two identical beds, desks and cupboards - that she had all to herself. One mattress was left barren, along with the desk on the same side of the room. One cupboard had her clothing and trivial belongings. The other, which was wide open, had every tool and safety equipment piece for her favourite pass time: tinkering. Ridley rolled her eyes, leaning against the unoccupied desk, watching Marie overwhelm herself with the pile of tools, quivers of arrows and otherwise random objects. "Is it weird that I can feel you're watching me?"

"No, you can't," Ridley commented. "You just have a knack for not wanting people to know what you're up to."

Marie cringed her recoil. "That's so gross," she commented to herself. "I can't imagine what it would be like if some weirdo was the Source. Like a pedo, or some shit-- and I'm talking to myself." Marie shook her head, caving to her seat. The seasoned huntress, whose Gradus matched those of Ridley's, picked an arrow from the quiver. Not any arrow; the one Ridley shot her in the shoulder with. "Okay, Riddles, let's see your inner workings."

"What?"

"Easton Axis Traditional arrows. Give or take, 78cm. These are the ones Specialists use. Not bad, Axel. Not bad at all. But now, I'm going to upgrade you to... still talk to myself." Marie flicked her eyebrows then tugged out an arrow from her own quiver to compare. "Carbon fibre, first mistake Axel; triple-blade broadhead tip, and curved for optimal hemorrhage, not bad; stiffness is alright but could be better for someone with a medium draw. Honestly, how the Hell did I come second place to the likes of you, Riddles?"

"I'm just that good."

Ridley focused her eyes on Marie and the blackblood ampyra froze. Maries sighed then dropped both arrows to her desk. "Of course, you're summoning me right now. Bitch."

Ridley rolled her eyes. Her eyes settled back in the kitchen and she continued frying bacon. She watched the oil splatter about on the flat griddle, alongside the eggs. Ridley felt Dane roll out of her bed, sloppily, and take in his surroundings. The Barnyard was pulsating exceptionally pumping with all the graduates letting lose. It a miracle he managed to walk from the Barnyard back to school, let alone passed the moon dorm and to the headmaster's residence.

While the bacon and eggs were going, Ridley turned to the blender and chucked all her ingredients into it. She added extra of everything for good measure before turning it on. That roar echoed throughout the manor, possibly rattling Dominique out of her wallowing. The Source didn't let the thundering thing thwart her thoughts. She followed Dane trudge from the bathroom, then waddle on the staircase, yawning wide enough to swallow the chandelier over him.

Ridley turned off the blender then started assembling breakfast and pushed the plate across the island counter as he came stumbling in. His chestnut brown hair - styled in a messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed style - and his droopy eyes and his dishevelled shirt with the buttons buttoned mismatched were enough for a blind man to see. Ridley tilted her head without saying a word but the growing scowl her boyfriend gave was telling.

"God, I hate not being able to lie to you." She only shrugged. "I need coffee," he groaned.

"No caffeine; it'll dehydrate you." Ridley pushed her homemade smoothie towards him. "Beet and pomegranate base for antioxidants, yogurt for proteins and nutrients, ginger for the nausea, and black currant because it's your favourite." Dane smirked his disbelief at her. Ridley merely shrugged. Dane eagerly took a sip then gagged. "Be careful, it's gross."

"Witch," he groaned. "It tastes like someone dipped their sweaty foot in dessert."

"Drink first, then eat. You'll get rid of the taste that way. And the weird texture on your tongue."

"I'm too scared to try your cooking now."

"It's a tried-and-true recipe I invented. That smoothie is all Ryan." Dane looked skeptically at his breakfast. Ridley clicked her tongue at him. "English muffin sandwich with eggs, aioli and my secret marinated bacon recipe. No bullshit."

Dane contorted his face as he gathered the concoction in his hand. Ridley glowered at his dramatics. The Danish young man steeled himself to take a meek bite. Ridley watched the deflate on his face relax before shifting to awe. "What the Hell is in here!"

"No."

"Is that paprika or...?"

"No."

"Why's the bacon so red?"

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"Ridley, this's heaven!"

"Then call me Azrael," she purred. Dane hummed then bit deeper into his sandwich, groaning his pleasure. "I put extra bacon, for your convenience."

"What did you marinate it in?"

"I'm not telling you."

"When we get married, you have to make this often," Dane stated.

Ridley tilted her chin with an arch in her good eyebrow. "I'm sorry, when we get married? What makes you think I will ever be willing to get married, to anyone?"

"You know what I mean," the hunter stated half-mindedly with a mouthful of sandwich and his eyes on it.

Ridley smirked at him but his attention was fully on his breakfast. "I'll be out for a better part of the day so, I was thinking of taking Morgan with me." Dane inhaled deeply, sucking the marinate that was dripping down his hand. "I'm pregnant, Sorensen."

He only hummed his agreement. Dane looked back to her. Ridley folded her arms. Pallid dread filled his face. "You're what!"

"Plot twist," Marie purred. Ridley turned her attention to the kitchen door, where the French huntress stood, leaning on the frame. "This better be important, Riddles. Do you have any idea how meticulous you have to be to trick graphene arrows?"

"Back track," Dane declared. "Ridley!"

"Eat your breakfast and shut up," the Source ordered. She turned to Marie saying: "here. I made you one too."

"Hard pass. You're unable to die so your food is definitely lethal."

"Mine," Dane bellowed, pulling the plate towards him.

Ridley rolled her eyes but it was Marie who spoke. "I was in the middle of something important, Riddles."

"Critiquing my field arrows is important? Flattered." Marie tugged her lips aside. "I'd ask how the planning is going but I have to believe it's going well. That and I'm pretty sure Ankh is watching right now. Strulovitch is doing something to us, psionically. I think he's trying to break our link."

"What do you see?"

"An electroencephalogram, an EEG," she corrected. "He's been monitoring her brain activity for a while, now, but something's different about him. Like, his mind is..." she shook her head. "I don't know. He's up to something."

"Anything to do with hive mind?"

"Viggo shot the idea down before Strulovitch got halfway through his pitch, Chasseur. Whenever it came up, Viggo was adamant. It's unlikely, but not impossible. Strulovitch's curiosity and knowledge is amazing. Onuris has a theory that he could sever the Bloodline's link to all ampyra-kind."

"Which means?"

"If Ridley dies, only she dies," Dane stated. "Could he?"

"Not without me," Ridley stated. "Not without looking at the electrochemical communication I have with all of you. At least, that's Strulovitch's working theory."

Marie shook her head at the Source. "You're not inspiring confidence, Axel." Ridley shrugged weakly. "Whatever," she sighed. "It's just as well you summoned me; Sorensen and I have details to put on this grandiose plan with Falk and his pack."

"It's a colony, not a pack."

"Potato, po - TAH - to," Marie purred dryly. She turned to Dane, still hogging down his hangover sandwich. The French huntress rolled her eyes. "I'm getting my tricking tools," she said breathily and deflated. "Unlike you, some of us have a shit ton of work to do."

Ridley sighed then glanced to Dane. He licked his lip then began: "She has a point. What do you do when we're plotting?"

"Anything I can to tune it out," she stated. "I've been baking a lot with Mariska and Esmeralda, mostly. I showed Morgan and the colony goons around town. Turns out Falk has a soft spot for my orange syrup baklava," the Source sang, chuffed with herself. "But Dominique's been scarce lately so we're... going..." Ridley shivered her disgust.

"Sounds like you're in for a fun-filled day, Ridds."

"Call me that again, I rip your tongue through your heart cavity."

"Riddles?"

"I'm going to find my aunt," the Source deflected. "Drink your smoothie," she pressed firmly upon her exeunt. Ridley bit her lower lip upon making up the grand stairs. She bit her lower lip, meandering towards the unassuming bedroom door. "Dearest aunt? I have good news," she sang and let herself in. Burrowed under the sheets - not moving since her nephew's funeral - laid the motionless woman. "Dominique, I know you're awake. I have a surprise for you."

"Not today, dearest. I beg you."

"You've been saying that since the funeral. I miss them too. I want to be here with them both, but we can't just wallow for--"

"That mangey redblood may have blended your heart, but mine has been broken. Broken in way I cannot bear. Leave me here to rejoin them sooner."

Ridley balled a fist. She ripped the covers off. "Get the fuck up, right now!" Ridley gasped then dropped the vintage cream cover. "Ohmygod!" Dominique sat up weakly, combing her long black hair aside. "Your hair is going grey." Dominique looked down at her wrinkled slip dress. "When did you start aging?"

"Before we left France," she confessed. "I made Tomás and Sebastian swear not to tell you. You had Viggo and these beastly creatures on the brain, and just after we lost Aimée, you did not need this too. I knew this was coming, and still, I'm afraid."

Ridley coiled a lock of greying black hair. The crestfallen pout of Dominique's hereditary plump lips made the Source sigh. "Please get dressed," Ridley pleaded softly. "Today was supposed to be about keeping my mind occupied, now? Please don't make me go to the Capella alone."

"The Capella? Whatever for?"

"I'll meet you downstairs, yeah?" Ridley stepped out of the bedroom, hugging herself uneasily. "Shouldn't I have been able to sense her starting to age?"

The Bloodline affects us differently, Ms Axel. Personally, be grateful it is not something you've inherited from me. The stench of the waning is worse than stagnated plumbing.

It may be decades, centuries even, before you have begun to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the blood pumping in that piss-poor prop you call a heart. Ninsun chortled to himself. I cannot imagine a more unworthy, unprincipled...

You've made your opinions well documented, old friend. Still the young Ridley ignores you, Onuris cut in. Give it a rest, she will become more attuned to it and, eventually, live her life accordingly. She has millennia to learn her prowess. Ridley paused in the foyer, ignoring Morgan scratching behind his ear. And we have millennia to teach her.

The Source looked back into the kitchen, distantly. Dane was enjoying Marie's sandwich. "'Millennia'," she echoed. Ridley looked down to her sneakers ruefully. "I'm going to outlive everyone I know. I knew that I would live forever, but it never clocked that... that it would be without them."

Your emotions make you weak.

Ridley balled a fist. "Ninsun, I..." For the first time, Ridley was rendered speechless. Ridley leaned into the wall coldly. "If I did do what you wanted me to, could you show me how to shut down seeing people die?"

Only if that's what you did, Ninsun answered sternly.

"Not just the deaths, my family. I don't want to be able to feel them or see how they're doing. They just live their lives without me knowing, be it decades or centuries. I don't want to watch them grow old, make their family bigger. None of it."

Ms Axel...

What are you saying, girl?

Ridley felt Dominique coming downstairs before she heard her. The Source glanced to usually stylish and coordinated aunt to see her an unkempt bundle of despair. "I'm saying," Ridley began, regarding the grey strands growing with her heightened vision, "we stop Viggo, then I leave. I leave and don't look back. Not to Monteiro, not to France. I'll live the solitary life you expect of me."

I sense no deception, Onuris voiced with vivid concern.

My, my. It takes a Mesopotamian woman growing grey hair for you to come to your sense. I hardly believe my consciousness. Ridley exhaled deeply while Dominique gave her a wry nod. Very well, girl, it is a deal. You leave, we show you the ropes.

"Where to, Ridley," Dominique asked defeatedly.

Ridley tried not to stare at the alien cluster of grey hair in Dominique's lose hair. Usually, the lush black hair was tied in ornate braids and pinned equally grand. "You've been dying to do this with me," was all the Source gave away, though it was unclear who she spoke to.

The Capella. A luxury resort between Dunon Town and the nearest city, Pardón, splat in the middle of tranquil hills with clusters of trees and gorgeous gardens. The taxi cruised to a halt at main hotel. It wasn't too bust with early summer patrons' leisure activities going on. Not far from the valet, Ridley and Dominique's shuttle awaited them; a black Merecedes-Benz G-class, with tinted windows.

South of the hotel were the casino, water park, state-of-the-art fitness center, the golf course and other sports amenities, restaurants, movie theater, gaming arcade, the kids’ zone and a commercial shopping outlets. Their Mercedes, however, rounded the drop-off and headed north. Into the forest-like setting encompassing the north end of the resort. Ridley rolled down her window - to battle the humidity - and caught the gush of the lush air. The smell of rain was swelling, but outside of Dunon Town it smelled differently. Cleaner.

Her jaw stretched from the exotica of the scenery ahead. The pavilion- and villa-style accommodations, as well as two pools and acres upon acres of breathtaking tropical gardens. Open-air lounge/bar, the luxe and exclusive shopping strip, a gargantuan glass conservatory and observation deck, as well as more elite restaurants. The tree-lined street was quiet and had wildlife casually going about on either side.

Dominique looked over to her niece, gleeful, as they cruised through the serenity. The deeper they went, the buzzier the area got. It was a breathtaking contrast from the school! The Mercedes slowed to a halt in front of the spa. A stunning thatched-roof spa with floor-to-ceiling windows. Designed to mimic vernacular Malay houses, definite discrepancy from the small-scale construct. Dominique couldn’t help but swoon over the sensory overload. Ridley, however, swallowed her dread.

She turned to Dominique who was taking in the establishment. Their driver shut the door behind Dominique while Ridley wheeled her way around the rear to take in the establishment too. Her loyal recurve with her back quiver in hand, Ridley fell in step with her aunt up the stilted construct’s steps. Inside was crisp and cooler.

Somehow this was nowhere near the rest of the Capella, yet the uniform tied it all together. The same white shirts and grey-blue tie. The Source checked in while Dominique was looking around with a cat-like curiosity. The toasty cream walls, the rattan furniture. Lightyears from a chic French castle. A hostess came and escorted them through the facility. Other patrons - with the vivid arrogance of Instagram influencers - would be stunned silence from the hunter in their midst.

A few staff members also turned her way but swiftly returned to work. The less accepting continued to stare and the nonchalant in Ridley had kicked in; she didn’t care. Dominique didn’t either; she proudly walked side-by-side with her ward into their private changing room. There were double door lockers with white bathrobes with Capella Cabanas printed on them hanging in the lockers, along with a pair of parked matching slippers.

Aunt gave niece the once over. Dominique nodded lightly in reply. “Colour me surprised, dearest. I never could have predicted this in all my millennia.”

Ridley her lower lip and only gave a shrug, looking into her locker. "There's that word," she mumbled to herself. "Millennia."

Skeptically she turned away to strip off her red plaid skirt and black tank top and scuffed Converse high tops for the bathrobe and slippers. She even tied her hair back. The huntress even surrendered ever last weapon she had; knives, ammunition, gun, bow and quiver. She sighed, feeling naked. Dominique, at least, had some spunk back.

Linked by the elbow they came out to find their hostess at the ready. She led them to a space that wasn’t quite outside. There were servers with champagne flutes for them, at the doors. There was only a thatch ceiling that was elevated by five wooden pillars; one in each corner and one at the heart of the room. Dominique held a hand up to the server while Ridley only smiled and nodded to the server on her side.

They were led to tables to lay down, where their masseuses were patiently waiting. Ridley grew uncomfortable when she saw Dominique casually throw off her robe. Even if they were surrounded by only women, it was weird. Upon observation, Dominique turned her head towards the infinity pool on her left, away from her niece. It took a great effort before she mustered the courage to take off the garment.

The cover they put over her was, at least, consoling. The Source turned her head to Dominique. She moaned from the hands pressing into her shoulders. Dominique hummed a laugh before looking back. “I can’t remember the last time I had someone to do this with,” she voiced, giving Ridley a glimmer of hope. "Although, it is nice to do waxing with you, dearest."

"My vagina would be screaming at you, but it's nice doing ladies' day out with you too."

Ridley closed her eyes from her massage. Dominique took in the sweet, peaceful glimmer on her niece's face. A genuine smile flicked on her face. Wrinkles had started to form too. The Mesopotamian-French shut her eyes too, grinning from her stress relieving. Ridley pried a single eye open wryly at Dominique. She breathed heavily but closed her eye again. The spa provided a wonderful, quiet escapism.

Ridley moaned from the massage going over her ribs. She moaned from the pressure in her lower back then shifted slightly. She sighed then looked ahead to the view while the masseuses went to work on that full body massage. Ahead were the peaceful gardens, alive with nature and the bright sky above growing small clouds. The Source’s face lit up and her dark eyes scanned over Dominique’s aging face. The sun-kissed Mediterranean still held its glow, underneath the millennia of time.

Their conversation continued. It was more than welcoming; if anything, the massaging helped to soothe away the stress and tension, leaving both Ridley and Dominique feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Ridley, now, understood why the most coveted and sought-out spa service was a full body massage. They were moved to a patio-type set up after that was in the shade but where they could still feel the sun’s warmth.

Their rattan deck chairs were upholstered and just as deluxe as the massage furniture they had been laying on. More staff came to pamper them! Manicurists and pedicurists and servers from the bar and grill! Both had turned to mush from their spoiled state. Ridley closed her eyes, feeling her hands and feet melt. Her feet were being scrubbed and exfoliated. The file acquired sawdust that made her question how badly she treated her feet. Apart from squeezing her toes into the high heels Coco Chanel, herself, sought out, Ridley's feet were greatly overlooked. Soaking them made her feel worse, when she saw the water getting murky.

She was spread on the deck chair with her eyes closed. The foot exfoliation’s ticklish sensation was snuffed over her consistent consternation. Ridley was giggling softly, curling her toes from her pedicurist’s work. She heard her aunt chuckle. The staff around them joined in. Dominique shot a reassuring smirk and the Source couldn’t help but match it, albeit wryly.

There was nothing remotely similar in the library of Ridley’s mind where she ever did anything like this with her mother or sister. The closest she ever got, was the spa voucher Esmeralda gifted Ryan on their birthday. Ridley pretended not to notice. A manicurist laid the catalogue of nail options in front of her. A hard paper book, almost cardboard, that was neatly laid with nail samples. So many colours and styles; it put her closet - that Coco Chanel and Dominique collaborated on - to shame. The latter had her own catalogue in front of her.

The Source sat back and continued to indulge her very first spa treatment. The gardens ahead and the tranquil escapism they brought were soothing enough to get Dominique to sigh and cave into her chair. This expanse is the most secluded garden on the property. Tourists, movie and television crews, weddings, photographers even bird watchers were strictly prohibited from the garden. However, there the garden also had an array of benches for people to just enjoy some quiet time.

The spa’s garden was one of very few places in Capella which were solely meant for day patrons! Along with being a garden mostly made with hydrangeas, the garden also had a maze made from low hedges; a collection of marble statues; modest water features; and the ornate glass conservatory! The sun reflecting on its few stained-glass panels were only adding to the garden’s already breathtaking view.

Two staff members arrived with their bowls of the mixture for the last part of the package: facials! The black polish nails were starting to match the paste that was to go on their faces. The Crystal Lotus Spa’s facial was straightforward enough; first comes the wash treatment. It was a thick, tightening mask. Like thick soap that dried up. The facialists then turned to the nourishing treatment. The nourishing treatment was pure bliss, and completely made from foam. It felt like one’s face was melting, in the best way possible. The hydrating treatment was a charcoal mask that they left on a while the nails dried and the feet were moisturized.

While the dregs of their masks were being washed off, Dominique breathed her dejection while casting her sights on Ridley. “Don’t go,” she pleaded softly. Ridley’s gold-ringed eyes spewed open. “Don’t go fight Viggo.” The Source relaxed her shoulders. “You are all that’s left of my family, Davinca. My heart will not bear the pain if I must bury you too.”

“The chances of me dying in general are exceptionally low. They’re a tad higher against genetically modified therians, but still low. And, Dominique, if I were to be axed, you’d be buried with me.”

“But only one of us would be dead, no?” Ridley’s lips parted. “Your mind will live on and on, until the end of time.”

"Nothing and nobody will ever keep me far away enough from you," Ridley lied.

You truly mean to see this through, Ms Axel?

"What choice do I have?" Dominique's piqued interest looked back to her. Ridley bit her lower. "Er, what choice do I have but to, er, um, be, um...?"

Dominique admired the deep blue nail polish ruefully. "Your parents will not allow it," she stated casually. It was Ridley's interest to be piqued now. "You agreed to keep them in the loop. Your father will not allow you to go."

"He can't make that decision for me."

"Your father is your commanding officer."

"I'm a deserter. I answer to myself and only myself."

The former aristocrat sighed then leaned deeper into her rattan seat. "If you will not obey the chain of command, will you listen to me?" Ridley furrowed her eyebrows. "Ridley Dominique Davinca, you are my only family now. The du Luq line ends with us, and any parent's greatest failure is to bury a child. I have many fails in my life. You are not one of them. I implore you not to become my greatest failure. Not when I have laid all my family to rest already."

"This's what I was born to do. What I was trained to do. Nothing will change that," the Source argued. "But," she added, giving Dominique's expression hope, "I hate to say it, but Ninsun was right." Ridley looked down to her abyss-tainted nails. She squared her shoulders against the back rest "... I'm retiring. Right now," she confessed.

Again, I sense no deception.

But she said after this nonsense!

I tell you in earnest, Ninsun, she's changed her mind.

Oh, Ms Axel...

Ridley bit her lower lip but inclined her eyes to Dominique. "Are you-- is this what you want?"

"No," Ridley admitted. "But I have to. For the Bloodline's sake."

Dominique only nodded her relief then genuinely relaxed into her seat. "Then it would seem we're returning home, ahead of schedule." Ridley bit back her tears and suppressed a sniffle.

"It worked. I was completely distracted. Not how I expected so, tasked failed successfully."

"And we have a concrete plan," Dane stated.

Falk folded his arms, looked over Ridley. "I still cannot believe you plan to see a plan come together, without knowing what it is. It's ludicrous!"

"So ludicrous, we might just pull it off," Marie chirped, uncharacteristically optimistic.

"Not so fast," Ridley began. "Dominique and I were talking," she began, looking to her parents. "I'm not going."

"What," Dane and Marie bellowed in unison. "All this and you're just going to...?"

"Yes, Chasseur. I have to. They've got silver, they've got Ankh and if anything were to happen to me, all of you would kick the bucket too. It's too risky."

"You getting your nails done, while we were slaving away at a problem you brought to us and now you're backing out?"

"Ridley, we've come too far and--"

"If I go any further, Sorensen, it could be the end to all ampyra-kind. I can't let that happen to you, or Esmeralda, or Mariska, or Dominique, or Calista. Chasseur I could do without, but not the point."

Ridley and Falk glanced at the åse as she spoke. It was Falk to translate: "the åse says that we must go on without her." Marie scoffed her disdain. She rammed into Ridley's shoulder as she stormed out.

Clarke set a firm hand on his daughter's shoulder while she wouldn't break eye contact with Dane. "I don't believe you," Dane voiced. "I know you better than this. You can't give up halfway through something. For you, it's physically impossible."

"The Bloodline comes first," was all Ridley said with tears pooling in her eyes. She pursed her lips then turned away. Dane backed away shaking his head. She watched him walk away. "Dane..."

"I don't understand what I see in you! Selfish to the core."

Ridley shut her eyes as the tears sailed. Ridley covered her mouth with a trembling hand. She sniffled shakily. Dominique leaned her head onto Ridley's shoulder. Esmeralda too stood at her side while Falk and the fraction of his colony followed him out. Morgan too whimpered his disappointment before trailing after them.

"He'll come around," Mariska whispered reassuringly. "It's a very stressful situation for us all."

"I won't be around when he does."

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