Chapter 13 LEGACY #2
Mansi strolled back over and took a swig of her fresh glass of whiskey, as if she could sense the heaviness in Marina.
It had been this way between the three of them since they’d met.
A sort of silent sense when one was weak or needed the other.
Somehow, they always knew and banded together, like injured sheep.
Mansi claimed the stool on Marina’s other side and lounged back on her elbows, legs spread, peering out at the bustling bar. “You drain so much energy refusing to accept what you truly desire, at the expense of making those around you happy.”
“Loathing Father was more comfortable than longing for his attention and never receiving it. And now, with Mother, to learn it was all a lie…” Marina tipped back the rest of her wine, as if it were liquid glue to hold together the quake crashing down on her heart.
Centuries of her life, those moments that held her up like endless rows of brick and mortar, all crumbled and lay at her feet. Was any of it truly real?
“It is okay to admit they failed you.” Viviana offered Marina the rest of her gin. “But it is also okay to embrace the good moments they gave you as well. They are still your memories, even if the tint on them has changed.”
Buds of time sprouted behind Marina’s eyes: Father unfolding his hand and presenting her with her first magnolia blossom, and the way his eyes squinted from his smile; Mother braiding her hair and sharing stories of her own youth, before she was imprisoned in Kaimana, and the excited jump in her voice as she spoke.
Marina would live a thousand lives and never be able to forget the rosehip and honeysuckle fragrance of her father, or the mesmerizing way her mother’s silver hair glistened like stardew against the sun’s refraction.
There was pain, a trench of it in her chest, but there was always joy too, nostalgia pouring in to warm her bones against the bitter chill of loss.
Mira’s intentions might’ve been for her own gain, but her love had still existed to some degree. She might have only loved Marina’s power, but that was still a part of her. Just as Father’s love was, whispering secrets from the leaves of the trees.
Marina took Viviana’s gin and drank it in a single tilt. The piney liquor bit her tongue but unclenched her jaw.
“Do you remember the day you met me?” Mansi reached over Marina and snatched Viviana’s cigar.
Viviana rolled her eyes. “You were embarrassingly theatrical.”
Marina chuckled under her breath, turning to Mansi. “If you are asking if I recall seeing you get thrown out of this very bar, tumble into the alley, and sob for the next half an hour, then yes.”
Mansi took a long drag of the cigar, grinning.
Smoke curled out from between her teeth.
“My family had just disowned me for choosing not to follow in their footsteps and take over their business in Isolde.” She handed the cigar back to Viviana.
“No amount of pleading with them ever worked. You two walked with me during my darkest days, but eventually, I had a decision to make: continue to suffer for a choice that was out of my control, or move on.”
Marina recalled Mansi’s tear-struck face and belligerent, drunken state, unable to make out anything she had been crying about.
Leaving her alone in an alleyway didn’t feel right, which was why Marina and Viviana scooped her up and took her to Tenebris.
The first act of kindness Marina had ever shown a stranger.
Back then, Mansi was a mess and needed a place to find her footing.
She disguised herself as a mortal, worked at a weapon supply market in the village, and took refuge in Marina’s home.
She lived in Tenebris for decades before growing ready to return to Isolde and make a name for herself as a middle goddess.
But that one kind act was something Marina had never told her mother about, knowing it did not match the image Mira expected of her.
Mansi threw her arm around Marina’s neck and lugged her into her side. “You’re going to get through this. You have me and Viviana, just like I had you two back then.”
Viviana snuffed out her cigar in a crystal dish beside her glass and scooted into Marina for a side hug. “Let’s be mortals for the rest of the day.”
Mansi gave a breathy laugh, squeezing Marina tighter. “Hell yes.”
Marina despised the tears biting at her eyes because of the phrase. It was what Marina had said to Mansi when they brought her to Tenebris. A way to not think too far into the future. An escape from reality, from their problems.
She’d put on a movie marathon for Mansi and Viviana.
They disguised themselves as mortals, ventured into the village, purchased salty snacks and chocolate in all its forms, and wasted away on her couch, eating and drinking endlessly for a week.
It was the only form of technology that Marina enjoyed, and it was perfect for the necessary respite.
Life and family could fail Marina, but she knew Mansi and Viviana never would.
“I’m thinking of opening my own shop, you know,” Mansi announced.
“About time,” Viviana muttered.
Mansi leaned over to eye her. “Don’t be a bitch.”
Marina smiled. “Vivi could decorate it.”
“You’ve been making all these toys, testing them out here time and time again. I suspected you were planning something for them all,” Viviana responded.
Mansi lightly smacked her arm. “Help me think of a name.”
Viviana curled her lip, waving off her request. “No, it’s your business. I don’t want blame if you hate it years down the road.”
“You’re being a bitch again.”
They continued to bicker back and forth.
Marina’s eyes fell to her long, white strand amidst her onyx waves, held hostage under Mansi’s arm. An imperfection she began hiding with glamor in her younger days, proud that, of all her siblings, she shared the closest resemblance to her father. A vain attempt to reach for his affection.
The glamor must’ve faded during her encounter with Mother. A tribute to finally accepting herself.
Marina was tired, most of all, of shoving down her heart’s truest wants.
She wouldn’t get rid of the white strand this time. There was no denying that Mira’s blood flowed in her veins, but Marina had no intention of following her mother’s path. She refused to be an agent of malice and greed any longer.
You are my legacy, Mother had said. An heir who would carry her hunger and violence into the world.
That snowy strip of her hair would stay, a vow of her own design, to paint over Mira’s words.
Wrath had no home in her anymore.