Interview recorded: 50-70-219 Anunnaki calendar
Interviewer: Riba of the Ab-Ishtari
Subject: Anathet the monk (Anat for short)
Planned story: “How to garden properly, the Zhianku way!”
Proposed run: “Sunday podcast: how to make your home beautiful and please your masters.”

Q: So, your work has been the talk of Halcyon, and the rumors are that you’ve been outside the bounds of Earth! Tell us a little about yourself, where did you come from? What makes you special?

A: Well, honestly, I don’t think I was ever normal. I mean, I suppose I was a normal baby, maybe? But my mother used to say that I looked at her right after I was born and it was like I was looking right through her. She told me I laughed when she first held me, but she knew it wasn’t her smile. It was like...like I could see something dancing just beyond her and it was welcoming me to Earth too. None of the Zhianku have ever told me if anyone was there, but I suppose it’s possible, y’know? Ah sorry, sorry, The Anunnaki keep telling me I’m supposed to be more formal when I’m doing storytelling, I should practice. So, one supposes that it is possible, such things are anyone’s guess. Recreating the distant past is like trying to draw yesterday’s raindrops on today’s dry rocks.

There, totally nailed it. I rock and am the best, thank you.

Q: You mentioned the Zhianku. Can you tell us about them?

A: Ah right, it was the Zhianku who took me. They don’t come here often. They’re not really... friends with the Anunnaki, and, well, there aren’t a ton of them on this half of the galaxy anyway.

Mostly because they don’t want to be, the Anunnaki are so crude she thought to herself.

When they come, they’re stealth. Like, they don’t have huge war ships, but the eclipse blades and the civilian eclipse...uh haven I guess? (Look that’s the best I can do in translation, the original word is like “garden contained within four walls”) can move through most places totally undetected! It’s really cool, you’ll never know they’re right under your nose as long as they’re not shooting at anything or trying to talk to you.

Wish they were here now she thought. I’d love to talk to them. Maybe I can find a way to do that.
They’re an empathetic people. I’m gonna use that word a lot, empathetic, it’s the best word we’ve got for what they do. The main reason they visit new places is that someone or something there has that empathy too. It’s like, it’s like they connect from afar, like they can feel the people who feel like they do, no matter where they are. It’s so amazing. I’m not gonna to call it psychic though, it’s not mind-reading or levitation. It’s just...empathy, you know, like really feeling what someone or something else feels. Whatever, the point is they go places where they can feel it, and meet people who feel like they feel. That’s why they travel.

That and cuz a lot of people are trapped like the ones here and if they feel that empathy, they seriously don’t deserve that. She knew she couldn’t say that out loud though.

Q: Getting back to your story, could you tell us what all this has to do with you?

A: That’s...that’s how they found me too, the empathy thing. I think I was maybe five? My memory of it’s kind of hazy. I remember my mother of course, and my old house, but...you know you don’t remember stuff from when you were a kid unless you saw it a lot, right?

Fuck that. I remember it perfectly. I never forgot Mom’s face. I never forgot the sofa with the thick fluffy cushions that I could curl up and fall asleep on. Never forgot the old tapestry with the glyphs on it that Mom hung on the wall by the door.

I think during that first meeting I was intimidated. Here, I wrote a short description of it for this interview since I figured you’d ask about it, let me read it to you:

There was a group of small, shadowed and masked figures who visited our home. My mother didn’t seem to be intimidated, but when I saw them, it was like there was something behind each one, a kind of light that made them seem huge and awe-inspiring to me. I know now that their projection is a part of each Zhianku, and they’re not just a big light, each one is unique. Each Zhianku has its own set of colors and patterns, only visible to the Djinn and the empathetic.

So yeah, that’s what I wrote. Did you know they can kind of talk through them? There’s this language of flashing signs and colors, sort of like body language or like when you frown or smile. I can project a simple one if I think about it, it took me like ten years to get there though, and it isn’t a natural part of my psyche. Reading them is totally natural now though.

Q: That’s fascinating. We would like to hear your story though, if you don’t mind.

A: Right, sorry sorry, I keep getting off track. So they came to visit. I was five, and my mom was having a really hard time. We grew up in Alexandria, and it’s kind of a rough place, it was before the Anunnaki arrived at least. I felt a lot, whenever the other kids picked on anyone. So they’d pick on me, of course. Plus I was really tiny for my age, always have been, probably always will be, so that was another problem. I cried a lot. Even without the other kids, I’d cry when a bird fell out of its nest, or when somebody’s cat wanted to go outside and couldn’t and I’d walk by and see it in the window. There are a lot of cats in Alexandria, I assume there still are.

There goddamn well better be. They’re supposed to like cats, right, it would be too sad otherwise she thought.

So they came to see my mother, we all had tea, and even though I was scared, they were very nice. I think they were actually extra nice because I was scared, it made them want to be nice because again, the empathy thing, they understood, they really got it. My mother saw that during the tea. She said I went and sat in the lap of the lead one, who had a mask painted with a kind of hawk or falcon on it. They offered to take me with them. Give me a good education, y’know? My mother and I didn’t want to be parted, but I think we both figured by the end of the meeting that it was a seriously good idea. They promised I’d be able to come back when I wanted, too. They’re nice. Oh they don’t usually wear the masks, that’s an in public thing, it’s just that their faces are weird for a human, kind of, like, their mouths have fangs and they don’t totally close, it’s more like locked teeth and their noses go inwards and stuff, it’s creepy for a lot of people, so masks.

So, the rest of the story. I went with the Zhianku, and we went to the other side of the galaxy. Their space is far away from the Anunnaki, they see them as kind of provincial, actually. Heh, you should probably cut that. [Editor’s note: we did not cut that]

Q: Can you tell us about what you experienced on the “other side of the galaxy”?

A: Sure. I guess, where to start? Um, so the Zhianku are worried about a sort of psychic parasite thing that’s apparently a huge problem in their neck of the woods. The way the Zhianku described it to me, they move through a slightly different layer of space a wavelength above visible light. They’re not here though, don’t worry. Where they are, what they do is they can latch onto people, or aliens, and kind of, like, puppeteer them. So that’s the Zhianku’s big problem. It’s because of the parasites that the Zhianku all train in meditation and mental discipline. It helps fend them off, plus it’s like their values or something. I think I turned out to be kind of wild for them, but they also liked that, like they think it’s cute when I’m full of energy, and I still learned how to do the controlled calm thing when I have to.

I hope those things never come here. Ugh, I don’t think the Anunnaki are up for it at all.

The places I saw the most of were the gardens they secret in the darkness between stars. Before you’re like “but how can you see the gardens if they’re dark and not near any stars?” they have these beautiful internal systems of day and night, okay? They’re just hidden from the outside so you can’t find them if you don’t know where to look. Or to give the Anunnaki answer, “Hiding unseen only hinders those who search by sight.” That one was pretty good, right?

Seriously though, the gardens between the stars are waypoints for Zhianku travel and retreats for meditation. Each one is dedicated to a different deity in the Zhianku pantheon. Their pantheon, it’s like the old Egyptian ones from Earth. It was very close to home for me honestly, pretty much equivalent to Ra, Horus, Set, Bastet, Thoth, you name it. Like, it’s not that, but it might as well be.

The gardens themselves, well, they do not limit themselves to two-dimensional gravity, so you get these amazing rooms of floating flowers! There was one, it had this huge waterfall, only it was jumping down a bunch of freestanding floating rocks, and the gardeners had lined its route with streamers of little white flowers all the way down on both sides. With the light coming through the spray, it was like a little rainbow reflecting across all of them. Oh, gosh, I miss that. I’ve tried to recreate some of the effects here. It’s nowhere near as good, but I think the impression is on the right track. Like, look over there, see how the flower bed slopes up the cliff? If you come by in the late afternoon, the setting sun will bounce off that stream and cast the flowers in purples, reds, and oranges, it’s really gorgeous.

I wonder if I’m careful if the Anunnaki would give me tech to make floating flower beds. I bet I could crib the spare parts for the Resistance too she thought, trying to make sure she didn’t grin too mischievously.

Q: Can you tell us a little about your travels? Who did you travel with, what were they like?

A: Oh, who else did I travel with? Um, well I was the only human, there were a bunch of different Zhianku, since I was mostly at different waystations. The one who was kind of personally responsible for me, she prepared my meals and read me stories, that kind of thing, her name was Kuliana. That’s not...really her name. It’s the best I can do in this language, it has the right feel and it sort of sounds like what she’d say, but you also have to imagine it with this kind of natural green tone, like the wind blowing petals of fresh grass on a summer day. I love her and I hope I can get in touch with her again. Through permitted channels of course. The Zhianku have a saying “the heart is no more distant than the nearest thought.” I think it’s very beautiful, and it’s like we’re always connected when we think of one another.

We’re going to be a lot more connected soon. I’ll get a line back out there. It’s just a matter of time and patience. Almost wish I could tell them that, I bet they’d hardcore panic. Probably arrest me though she thought, almost wistfully.

Besides her, there was Niknik, my miniature space whale. The Zhianku keep them as pets in little tanks, or they can swim in the gardens. I released Niknik in a station before I came back here, I think she wouldn’t do well on earth, it’s a bit big for a miniature space whale, and the gravity is a tad strong for them.

Q: Aww, that sounds very cute. Maybe we’ll find a way to bring one here. What brought you back then? It must have been hard to leave your friends.

Yeah it was. I...sorry the question is what brought me back to Earth? Well, it’s been over a decade, so I think I was homesick. Plus Earth is changing a lot and I wanted to be involved. That’s...I mean I get to garden here, too, and share those skills I learned, as well as the wisdom I learned while I was far away. I hope that people come and visit me, and that I’ll also have the chance to travel and share my skills with others. That’s um...that’s pretty much it really. Yeah, that’s the only reason. Well, I suppose I do want to make some friends here as well, I get many visitors and my master is quite pleased with my work on the estate, so I plan to start entertaining for tea more often.

Anyway that’s me. I hope your steps are bathed in radiance and your heart sits light as you wander. *bows*

Recording ends

Private journal entry, day of the seventh spring blossom

I hope I did okay with the reporter today. I think I said a couple things that might get me in trouble. I hope they won’t be mad that I called the Anunnaki provincial, even though I didn’t say it was what I thought.
I got a little nervous when they asked why I came back, too. I hope nobody notices, or they just cut that part. Probably just trying to end on a good note and getting a little tangled up, right? Hehe. Not like I could be like “the Anunnaki are ruining my homeworld!” on their Sunday podcast. I wonder where my Mom is now. I need to find her. I’m kind of afraid to visit what’s left of Alexandria though, they’re ruining all the cities. Ah, crud, I hope talking about it as Alexandria was okay, they won’t be mad about me talking about my own memories right? Ah you know what, screw it. I did good today, they’ll love it. And anyway, nothing I said could make them nearly as mad as the power plant we’re about to blow a hole into for the rescue op. This is gonna be good, I think one of my new friends claimed she can get in and out even faster than I can. But we’ll just see about that!
*Light glimmering sound as a rift portal opens and the sound of a cloak fluttering to the ground*
Alright, later journal, wish me luck!

When she’s acting at night, Anat has taken on the role of the goddess Set. Although Set is traditionally a male deity, she’s adopted herself as an avatar of his mixed role of guardian, outsider, and trickster and reimagined him in the context of her culture and the Anunnaki world.

Her hair, kept up in a bun during the day, is let down to her shoulders. She drapes a circlet headdress atop it with an image of a hissing cobra at the exact center. Trailing from the back half starting at each ear are thin strands of gold set with tiny gems (emeralds, rubies, sapphires) that dangle down to the base of her hair. Drawn on each cheek in black ink is a different animal of Set’s composite: a hieroglyph of a crocodile on one and a hippo on the other. Most resplendent are her shoulders and upper chest, which are covered with a mantle of shining gold and a fringe of royal blue linen. The gold is inset with narrow bands of lapis that form rings of color around her neck and upper chest. Below the mantle, she wears a tight wrap of cotton covering her chest and most of her stomach and lower back, though some of the back remains bare. The wrap is bound below her chest by two interlocked gold rings. Her arms below the mantle are also bare, though covered with a series of beaded lapis bracelets that act as her blaster and thick gold bands about the wrists. Her skirt is a series of bright fabrics: a base of white linen with diagonal swirls running through it of that same lapis blue, emerald green, and ruby red one after another winding from the end of the skirt just below her knees up to the waist. A pair of gold bands that open at the back entwine her lower legs, and on her feet are a pair of soft, white-fabric sandals with threads of gold that wrap up the foot.

This contrasts with her daytime outfit, which consists of long, baggy robes in various shades of gray or dark blue, a monk’s wooden sandals, a typically light gray veil, and a wide-brim straw hat that covers her eyes unless one intentionally bends down to see her face. She does wear some jewelry beneath these robes, occasionally visible when she pours tea or tends her plants, but it’s usually just one or two small bracelets and a lapis necklace.

Anat aids the resistance in both her roles. During the daytime, her garden and teahouse serves as an opportunity for guests who might not otherwise meet to chat over a shared admiration of nature and to use the opportunity to pass messages in code. At night in her role of Set, she is the protector of the weak and the outsider, those who are oppressed by Anunnaki society. She can appear practically anywhere with her portals and she particularly delights in freeing slaves. She has much sympathy for the cult of Dumuzid, though she hasn’t personally met any of their members yet. She also seems to have a special bond with the machines, djinn, and spirits of the Anunnaki, and she occasionally seems to communicate with them.

• Adults do not have Influence over you by
default. No one does.
• You can only give a total of 6 Influence.
• During play, you can only give Influence by
revealing a vulnerability or weakness to
someone. You can still give out Influence
through the end of session move. You cannot
give Influence to somebody who already has
Influence over you.
• Others cannot take Influence over you;
if they would, instead they choose: mark
potential or inflict a condition on you.
• You reject Influence at -2 by default,
instead of +0.
• When someone takes advantage of their
Influence over you, they can choose two
options.
• At the end of a session, you can take back
1 Influence from someone you choose.
• If you have given out 0-Influence, you
cannot comfort or support anyone. If you
would trigger that move, instead mark
a condition as you say exactly the wrong
thing. If you have given out 0-Influence and
someone tries to comfort or support you,
you cannot open up to them.
• You gain benefits based on how much
Influence you have given out. See below.
These benefits stack.

[ ]1-2 Influence: When you defend someone who has Influence over you, you can ignore the Insecure condition.
When you directly engage someone who has Influence over you, you can ignore the Afraid condition.
[X]3 Influence: When you take a powerful blow from someone with Influence over you, take -2 to the roll.
[ ]4 Influence: When you pierce the mask of someone who has Influence over you, you can always ask them
one question, even on a miss.
[ ]5 Influence: When you spend a Team to help someone who has Influence over you, it gives them +2.
[ ]6 Influence: When you accept the words of someone who has Influence over you, mark potential, clear a
condition, or take +1 forward.

When you directly
engage a threat that underestimates you, roll
+ Superior instead of + Danger.

When you plug into the cosmic
aether and tune out of this world, roll + Freak. On
a hit, you come to a new, interesting insight about
your current problems and situation; the GM
will tell you what. On a 10+, you can also shift
your own Labels according to match your new
understanding. On a miss, you realize something
dangerous or terrible; the GM will tell you what,
and shift your Labels accordingly.

When you make a claim about a strange situation or phenomenon based on your experience, roll + Freak. On a hit, you were right; the GM will tell you what opportunity your knowledge grants to you. On a 7-9, your claim is incomplete, flawed, or tangential; the GM will tell you how. On a miss, your experiences are incomplete; the GM will tell you what mistake your flawed understanding leads you to make.

[ ]Take another move from your playbook
[X]Take another move from your playbook
[ ]Take another move from your playbook
[ ]Take a move from another playbook
[ ]Take a move from another playbook
[ ]Unlock your Moment of Truth
[ ]Rearrange your Labels as you choose, and add
+1 to a Label
[ ]Rearrange your Labels as you choose, and add
+1 to a Label

It would be lying to say she had a perfect life. For one thing, she hadn’t really wanted to move to Halcyon City, no matter how important Papa’s work was. She was supposed to go to school in Paris! All her friends were in Paris! Mama would have to live there for another couple years anyway because of how important her work was! Celestine was the one who really wanted to go, why not just let her visit?

But as it turned out there was a lot to like about Halcyon City, too. The lights! The nightlife! ASTERION! It was a cool place. And it was really cool getting to live in a high rise penthouse. True, that was only until Papa’s work on… um… what was it again? Advanced Cognitive… um… Je Ne Sais Pas Quois. The point is, it was only until the research grant ran out. They weren’t rich or anything, but it was a fun taste of the high life.

Go to school, come back home, call Mama, plan a chic party for Friday night, get dinner ready for her little sister Celestine, be the dutiful daughter Papa needed to feel comfortable working so late so often. A lot of responsibility, but not a bad life. Truly. Friends, fashion, and fun! Especially when she snuck out at night.

Étoile loved photography. Cityscapes! Bridges! The lights and colors and lines of a place that only came to life when the sun set and boring, useless drudgery went to sleep! Let Celestine sit at the coffee table all day facetiming Papa about all their weird… science… stuff. Étoile had a master’s eye for composition, and she was in better shape than either of them.

See, the secret to amazing shot composition was the angle. You had to see the city the way other people couldn’t. You had to show them the side of the place they lived that they were too busy and too distracted to notice on their own. That meant you had to look at a ceiling and see the arrangement of the desks in a classroom. You had to look at bridge scaffolding and see the waterways beneath it. You had to see rooftops and spires and see the roads that joined them together. An alleyway was a window, and a tunnel was a peak up the skirt of a dozen shops and businesses. Most importantly, you had to look at all the things people built to keep you out of the places they didn’t want you hanging from, and see a path. Parkour was a French invention, anyway. Just like everything else worth enjoying.

Someday, she dreamed, she’d change the world. Someday she’d expose some aspect of inequality inherent to city life and be hailed a hero. She’d do… she’d do something, you know, something amazing, make people see the world the way that she did and be a star. Haha, it’s a funny joke, you see? Because she… nevermind.

What she didn’t realize was that the world would change around her, instead. They came. They came for her city and they saw it from an angle even she’d never dreamed of. They came and they took and they found her.

She still remembers the phone call. Papa telling her to get back home, get your sister, do not leave. His voice was so strained. He was trying so hard not to sound scared, or to shout. He shouted anyway. I’m coming for you both! Don’t move until I get there! Don’t let Celestine out of your sight! Stay home! Stay safe! I love you, I’m coming!

But it was the Lynxes in their slinky gold armor who came for them instead. Her rescue took the form of restraining rods and spreader bars. When they got tired of her telling Celestine that things would be ok, and then screaming to let them stay together as they got pulled apart, it took the form of an awful tasting foam gag too.

An Annunaki Academy is not a place of learning. There are classes and there are tests, sure, but don’t be fooled. The Academy is a gauntlet. It’s a sieve; a way to separate the gold from detritus. They prod your body and make you climb ropes and catch balls so they can see how fit your body is for grueling, difficult tasks. Or tricks! They might want you for entertainment, instead! They hand classes colorful puzzles and tangled messes of rings to be arranged into neat, orderly piles. This is to test your mental adroitness. The Annunaki love a clever slave (do not be confused: they do not love a smart one). They make you memorize long registries of songs and rituals, to test your ability to be properly devout. Sacrilege is not tolerated.

The schedule is brutal. Up before dawn, ten hours a day of training, training, training! Obstacle courses and obedience seminars and impossibly dense lectures, all followed by test after test after test after test, graded on capricious and impenetrable curves. Those stupid enough to complain get dragged off for Disciplinary Actions. Back in the dorms they call them “spankies”.

Étoile was scared and stubborn when she started School. She looked for the angles and turned them into escape routes. Then she would get caught and get paddled and swatted in the room with that weird pink incense until she couldn’t sit still, walk straight, or think clearly through the haze and the tears. They made her promise to be a good girl. If she fought, if she spoke back, if she peeled off her veil, that naughty girl, she’d be dragged back in for Disciplinary Action. Eventually her attempts became half hearted at best. Her rebellion took the form of minimum effort schooling, instead.

And if that’s how things had stayed? They might actually have broken her. Maybe she would have been kicked back down to live with the Beasts and toil in the mines with her spirit still angrily smouldering, or maybe they’d have doused her completely and gotten a docile, pretty dancing girl to serve drinks and shimmy her adorable waist. Instead an overzealous guard made everything about threatening her sister if she didn’t straighten out immediately. They got their Good Girl. But they also put the spark of rebellion in Étoile’s heart permanently.

The trick was a simple shift in perspective. Learn what each teacher was looking for and then give them that exact thing. Some expected her to be simpering and obedient, and so she was. Some expected her to show initiative and cleverness, and so she did. Some expected her to be an agile little minx and some expected a clumsy ditz. Whatever mask they wanted, she wore. Good girl! Good girl, Étoile! Disciplinary Action turned into rewards and extra privileges almost overnight. They swapped out her gauzy veil for a richer, more opaque one to better hide just how desirable she really was. We can’t have our staff thinking lewd thoughts about you, sweetie. They put her in a nicer room, and they let her have tiny tastes of freedom. Because she was trusted, she got to weaponize it. The cruelest, laziest guards and staff got sold out for punishments of their own. The people she saw who needed breaks got overlooked when they would mess up or speak out. It wasn’t much, especially at first. But it was what she could do.

Étoile graduated early. With honors! A Five-Star Candidate, highly capable! Put this one on the Administrative Track and watch her shine! Give her specialty tasks, she’ll flourish, don’t worry, we promise! Just look at her lovely golden hair! An exotic beauty! Open your purses good sirs and madams, she’ll be the most adorable good luck charm to ever adorn your chambers! Come one, come all, and bid!

Étoile was purchased by a high-ranking ab-Marduki general. She screamed and she cried, and she begged not to be separated from her sister, Papa told her not to leave her behind! But that was of no use. She was purchased. She was owned. Her wishes did not matter, and now she had a very important job to do.

Her job was… everything! Cook, little French girl! Clean! Listen! Attend! Model! Bathe! Wait, what? Yes, she’d heard correctly. She was a present for the seneschal’s daughter: the beautiful, tender-hearted Lady Tamytha who was too frail for the important work and politics her station demanded. A headache the seneschal was sick of being responsible for. Now Étoile would tend to her every need.

Étoile was a slave now, every minute of every day. She couldn’t kid herself about it. She wasn’t a “student”, and she wasn’t a secret rebel. She had a collar around her neck that told everyone she met at a glance who owned her. She had no tests and no more downtime, just endless chores and expectations. She played the role of the ideal servant every minute of every day (quiet, obedient, never needing to be asked twice, but still bubbly enough to never seem a threat), but her reward was simply that she was not punished.

Well, that’s not exactly true. It was… complicated. Most of the household was sneering and cruel toward her, but her Lady, the one who she ostensibly actually worked for, was perhaps the kindest Annunaki Étoile had ever met. It’s just, she was still Annunaki. If Étoile did a good job, she’d get showered in effusive praise. She’d get her head pat and told she was a good girl. If she did a bad job, she’d get scolded and made to stand in a corner. Then.. she’d get her head pat and told she was a good girl, and that her Lady was sorry she had to be so strict. If she was a very good girl, she’d get an hour of Playtime, which involved… um. It… you know what? We’ll come back to this.

So it was a charmed life, by the standards of being a pet. She couldn’t bring herself to hate Tamytha, not the least of reasons being that it was impossible to hate someone who suffered so much. All those migraines and fainting spells and coughing fits, and the bleeding, and… ahem. But still, everything else around her screamed at her to do something, do anything to fight. She did what she could. But there was only so much message passing and hand squeezing she could do. It felt like she was sliding further backwards every day. Every time a Resistance contact passed her in the hallway, now a drooling, giggly mess, she felt a fresh surge of terror in her heart. She was accomplishing little and less. More and more people were getting hurt. Maybe… maybe she should stop.

But the spark said no. And one night, the spark made her sneak out into the city, just like she used to when you could safely call it 20XX. She was looking for… she didn’t know. Maybe she could find an AEGIS contact. If she got some real, official guidance from the real, official heroes, maybe she could… maybe she could…

Get caught and pulled into a dark alley by an Annunaki patrol!

Étoile tried to scream, but the hand was clamped firmly over her mouth. She tried to run, but she was dangling a foot off the ground. She tried to kick free, but they pinned her so tightly that all she could do was squirm. Useless. She was useless. And now she’d… and now she’d! Her eyes shined like wet sapphires in the night.

“Shhh, little one. Dumuzid lives.”

And then she was alone, with only the pounding in her chest and a crumpled sheet of paper (paper!!) in her hands to tell her anything had happened here at all.

At first glance, the note was frustratingly blank. No explanation, no grand reveal. Just a picture of a sheep, and an address scrawled inside of its wool. In… in Papa’s handwriting. She tore the note to shreds, and she ran. She ran and she ran and she ran, vaulting over barricades and evading patrols by taking paths that weren’t paths at all, except to her. And when she reached the spot, breathless…

Nothing. Her heart sank in bitter disappointment. Just a crumpled old notebook and a tiny pile of weirdly colored dust. Étoile flopped down on the ground next to the useless lump of paper and waited to get caught. Enough, she thought. No more wishing. No more hoping. Just go out, little spark. Let her rest. Let her spend the rest of her life as a dog or something. Just…

She flipped through the notebook, to give her something to do while she waited. It was Papa’s writing again, his work this time. Advanced Cognitive Perception Via Theoretical Metaspace. What a mouthful; no wonder she could never remember it. Those weren’t even words, Papa. The rest of it made as little sense to her as the title, except… on the back, in fresher ink: Instructions. Diagrams. A little note, jammed right up against the margins.

“Shine, my little star.”

He’d given her a ritual. A prayer for strength. Something he’d cribbed from ancient Mesopotamian scriptures. She sat the way the instructions told her, she said the words, though she didn’t understand them, she snorted the dust, without stopping to let herself consider the ridiculousness of hoping in something so strange so soon after giving up. Shine, little star.

She plunged into darkness. There was nothing, and no one, and when she screamed it was swallowed by the darkness, so that even she couldn’t hear it. She screamed again, because she had to do something, and her legs wouldn’t work so running was out. She screamed, and her screams took shape in the black.

Her screams became a shadow, a figure so black she could see it even in this murk. It had a head like she did, only much too large and with a jaw on snakelike hinges. It had a body like a tiger’s, only again three times the size it ought to have been. It had swirling, tattered bits of… itself that stretched off in all directions. It had chains heaped on chains heaped on chains piled everywhere about it. And when it laughed, it did it in her own voice.

“Hello, snack. Do you know who I am?”

“A monster!”

“Good guess! And half right,” it chuckled, “I’m you.”

Étoile shook her head. She clapped her hands over her mouth and she cried. No, she whimpered, that simply couldn’t be. There was nothing this ugly inside of her.

The monster snorted. It shook the air around them. Étoile squeaked, having run out of words already.

“I am you,” it insisted, “The real you. Ohhh, woe is me! Je suis triste! Papa abandoned me! Cellie abandoned me! Nobody loves me, how can I do a thing to help myself? I’d rather pretend I have no power than have anything be my fault! Étoile has to be a good girl! I love it! Let me be your pet, Lady, please!!”

She didn’t think that! She didn’t blame other people! It was just… just circumstance and bad luck and… and that wasn’t her! It wasn’t! She wasn’t an ugly selfish monster! And with every shriek of protestation, it giggled in her voice. And with every insult she hurled at it, the monster grew larger. Or she grew smaller. It was impossible to tell in this space. All she knew is that her own voice sounded thin and tiny and pathetic, and the monster’s boomed about her like thunder, and it opened up its jaw that could swallow twenty mountains just for her, and this was really it, wasn’t it, she was really going to die?

And it really would be all her fault. If she’d ever listened to Papa, maybe she’d understand what he’d hoped she’d be doing right now. If she’d fought harder at the Academy, maybe she could have saved Cellie. Maybe she could have saved everyone. Or maybe she would have died or been thrown into the mines and left to suffer, but at least she’d have done it! At least she’d have been free and strong and fighting! Well… fine. This was fine.

Maybe Monster-Her would take her place after this. Maybe she’d do a better job of things. Be strong and free and brave, and not content to hold a little spark inside her hand and call it a flame of rebellion. Yeah, ok, she’d been weak. A selfish jerk. She’d gotten comfy, and she’d let herself forget her promises. So just do it. Do it, ok, me?

She opened her eyes as wide as she could, trying to at least stare down her end like a brave revolutionary should, and saw that she was not standing in front of a monster. It was a mirror. And this? Her?

She was strong.

Étoile Ravenelle snuck straight back to her little room that night, and the next morning acted like nothing had happened. But there was a spring in her step that nobody would ever break again. She’d stared down the darkness inside her heart and made it hers. Now she wore it as she pleased. She was more than a slave. She was the face of the rebellion, whose name is Marianne.

Étoile spends the majority of every day serving as the right hand of her Lady. Every morning she draws the water for Lady’s bath and wakes her with gentle music, because she’s safest when she’s calm. She brings the herbal tea and the pills that come with it, and she eases her Lady into the water and gently washes every inch of her and rubs the oils into her hair. After that, her work begins. Cooking, cleaning, organizing files. And most importantly of all, modeling. Her Lady is not fit for politics, but loves to design fashions for all sorts of occasions. Étoile, with her slender frame and petite but fetching chest and hips, is a perfect mannequin, and must make herself available at all times of day when the inspiration strikes.

In her “normal” life, Étoile wears a variety of outfits, though every one of them has a veil of some sort to keep her decent. Her clothes are slave clothes, by and by, mostly gauzy silks and floofy pants gathered together at the ankles with little bands of jewels to draw attention to her dainty slippers. A low cut top with slender sleeves and an exposed midriff to show off her pretty stomach and her shiny silver belly ring, chains that link her collar to the necklaces looped underneath it, and pretty silver armlets shining with tiny jewels. Plenty of eyeliner and shadow. Her golden blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, which is the height of fashion, apparently. You know, normal, boring clothes like anyone would wear.

But sometimes, she gets to be someone other than Étoile. Sometimes, it’s… ok, do you remember when we agreed to come back to this? Sometimes, it’s Playtime. And then she’s not Étoile at all: she’s her Lady’s darling little Lamassie. Which just… let’s just… there’s no way this isn’t appropriation, right? There are lynxes? All over the manor?? You know??? Are they really ok with the floofy ears on her silly headband, the tail poking through her gold silk underwear, and the shimmery, ridiculous wings flopping around on her back? There’s no way! No way… right? Well, in any case, Lady insists she’s not a cat. Space-cat. Whatever. She’s a Lamassu! A… listen, ok? With the mittens balling her fists into little paws, she feels an aaaawwwful lot like a cat, n’est ce pas? Just please please please don’t let any Lynxes come to give reports while she’s busy chasing the squeaky mouse on a string.

Ahem. Right. Sometimes she gets to be more than just Étoile. When her soul shines through the mask of her body, she wears the mantle of the phantom thief, Marianne. Dark and mysterious. Veilless! The scandal! The flair! But unlike many heroes who fight against the Annunaki, Marianne does not bare her face. Instead, she wears a series of closely linked gold chains in horizontal rows all the way from her forehead down to her neck, dotted here and there with bright rubies hanging on the ends of vertical chains crossing on either side of her face. She wears a long black hooded coat with a shredded end fluttering about just past her knees. Around her shoulders are a series of black, tiny chains threaded through with base metals shaped into spiky “teeth”, and a dangling necklace with the same chain/tooth pattern that dips into her slate gray v-necked button up blouse/vest combo. There’s another heavy iron chain looped around and around and around again on her waist that sits at an angle and dips below her right hip. Shredded gray slacks that completely expose both of her knees, and heavy black boots with the slightest hint of a heel. She wears bright red gloves on both of her hands, and on her forehead just under the chains it’s possible to see something shimmering in the shape of a vertical eye.