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Lea left a long list of rivals behind, even prior to the catalyst for her departure, Lea had collected quite an impressive amount of rivals and nemesises. Like Arlecchino, those rivals will do anything to make her life a living hell.
Many who hid their scornful desire for revenge behind a title honoring incentive to take her down a peg or two.
The real motives always came from place far more vicious and violent than an honor-driven crusade would.
First on the list is her baby sister, Sophia, the least harmful of her rivals. their sibling status complicated a lot despite them not being tied by bloodlines. Their relationship however hadn’t always been this complicated.
A coy lip-lock, a grope somewhere, the slip of fingers beneath the thin nightgown of a mutual friend. Who knows? Time took everything these last few weeks. And where once there’d been a certain harmony between the two, now resided a deep but quiet resentment. Originally it began as a simple game of pretend for girls too old to play such silly games. Girls who hid their true intentions behind curiosity and shyness.
Sophia was always a meek and outwardly friendly girl, but after this would-be casual sleepover incident flipped their relationship on its head, Lea met a side of Sophia she’d never known existed. Lea didn’t understand why this was a source of problem nor where the problem lay. A bigger mystery is how Sophia guessed what had happened, Sophia was supposed to be asleep.
As far as Lea was aware, her younger sister had never given a hint of… any predisposition similar to Lea’s. But apparently what was done in semi-secret was a problem and now Lea had to deal with more than her father’s growing disappointment.
During their lessons together, Sophia would strive to outdo her, outpace Lea in subjects and activities she didn’t excel at and even occasionally diminish strengths in Lea that were previously impressive. Always in her typical frustrating, indirect way of communicating.
And as the rift between Lea and their father widened following Lea’s career choice, the oldest girl of the Monad household chose to simply cut all ties with her beloved sister and the rest of the family.
This felt so unlike the Sophia Lea had grown up with, played with. If this was family, if so little could completely degrade, inverse a familial bond as strong as what the two girls had then Lea would have none of it. It’s at the tender age of 17 that she decided to permanently settle near Hotel Krat.
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A couple of years later Markiona willed herself into her entourage. Begging for help with Alchemical symbols and imagery from none other than Lea. Why not go to Sophia? She was far more proficient at this nonsense than Lea ever was. It made sense, knowing who her father was, Lea must’ve known more than her fair share about Alchemy even if all of this knowledge was imposed on her as a child. It was impossible with her profession for Lea to be as homey as her sister, hence why she always assumed Markiona’s sudden interest was due to her accessibility.
Markiona wasn’t as subtle as she believed herself to be yet her insistence eventually yielded positive results. VERY positive results.
Although Lea could tell Markiona was self absorbed, the technician knew how to talk to people, it was as obvious as St. Frangelico on clear day. As evident as the longing her two apprentices felt for each other and were desperately trying to bury.
She’d soften them up, pamper them, lull them into a carefully arranged fantasy until she could pounce and sink her claws in. And sink into Lea she did, claw and fang galore.
Her enthusiastic fascination with a myriad of qualities and even flaws the Legendary Stalker possessed, could become suffocating on occasions. Lea dispelled some preconceptions, the city and its myths had erroneously ascribed to her Legendary persona.
Her impeccable footwork, her imperturbable stance, her unique swordsmanship. How it all contrasted with Lea’s aloofness, the not so crowd friendly humbleness funnily enough and her irreproachable stubbornness that bordered on self-harm as well as her penchant for La Bleiwies.
Markiona would shower her with compliments and ideas about this or that, whatever meticulously assembled gadget could be added to Lea’s gear, fancy but unnecessary adjustments to her costume and weapon. All propositions Lea politely refused under the guise of not wanting to burden Markiona. The wannabe Alchemist was desperate to inject herself in every facet of her life, including matters outside of the bedroom Iona had no business in. Flattery never got anyone anywhere with the legend. Lea didn’t need anything else besides a good grinder stone and a nice restful night to be efficient, to be deadly. Her work didn’t have to be so complicated.
The technician observed Lea like a hawk during training. Had Lea been more ego driven or naive her initial assumption would chuck this up to her bare chestedness while she trained alone in the wilderness abutting Krat or that her practice sessions ended in spectacle for those who weren’t privy to an average stalker’s prowess and were easily impressed.
The stalker had a hunch that Markiona was after something very specific about her. A piece of something she couldn’t get anywhere else, more than a little pound of flesh. And she got the confirmation at the annual workshop graduate showcase.
Markiona indeed had something very specific in mind when she sought Lea’s aid. Still Lea didn’t think it’d be this, didn’t think Markiona would go that far.
The wannabe Alchemist got struck with madness, madness that spurred her genius to build an entire puppet based on the Legend herself. The design tailored to be sufficiently illusive to dispel any suspicion. Lea watched the creation in action with a neutrality that fooled no one close enough to hear her labored respiration during the lengthy demonstration. At that moment, she felt for the first time ever, completely exposed, finally understanding the unease those nightmares of public nudity provoked in so many people.
It felt like she’d been pried open and everything that comprised Lea Florence had been scraped. Her coarse outer shell removed and her nacre scraped then reshaped into a perfectly proportioned and symmetrical piece of displayable ego boost, the embodiment of a boast.
There were so many little details on this tincan that only someone who’d seen her in a vulnerable state would recognize. The public lauded the automaton. its performance and of course its creator. However, people who knew what to look for noticed, they noticed the similarities and whispered incessantly. When asked, Markiona would have an imperceptible twitch of the eye, click of the tongue as she pointed her blueprint out amidst the spectators. Few went through the trouble of looking for the truth. Or inquire how the ‘real deal’ felt about this… ‘homage’.
Markiona didn’t ask, didn’t even evoke the idea before hand, she took and only gave back what would be convenient for her. Only returned favors that would benefit her too in the end.
This show was the last time they ever spoke to each other with civility.
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Veronique…oh Veronique…
She knew Lea had zero interest in these petty conflicts and faction wars, the stalkers from Bastard to Sweeper, liked to fill their free time with.
It gave them something to do, when so many forwent families, lovers and even in extreme cases friendships, it came as no surprise to Lea at least, that the faction war was there to fill a void somewhere.
Of course there was plenty of history between these factions but no more than in any other organization comprised of more than 3 people.
You didn’t see the police and the bastards at each others’ throats even if their history was just as rife with disagreements and squabbles as that of the lowest ranking Bastard and Sweeper. Either way, Lea subscribed to none, endorsed no institution beside the Rose Estate and worked with all.
So when Veronique once cornered her in a cozy corner of the Red Lobster with a blush and a whiskey breath, it came as a surprise. Vero was amongst the proudest and most outspoken sweeper out there, boasting of crippling a bastard or two. The ram masked stalker didn’t get to her leadership role by accident, she fought and earned it with tooth and nail.
So when the opportunity arose, Lea took it upon herself to show Veronique another side of the story, of what could be if everyone just…If humans resolved their differences like bonobos
One side story that involved a nightlong ‘fight’ on and off the mattress.
Out of all her affairs, Veronique lasted the longest, they came an inch of calling it ‘love’. Close but it was never uttered. The word never brushed the back of their teeth.
And like all good, harmless things in life, it came to an abrupt end when Lea lost her first apprentice.
Checking the temperature or reading the room was never Vero’s forte, whether Vero cared to learn or was simply incapable of doing so didn’t matter. The sweeper saw this as an opportunity to recruit Lea to her side.
Veronique tried to convince her that with the sweepers, Lea, Romeo and last but not least the late Carlo would see justice for what was done.
Lea was in no mood for this. An argument ensued, which devolved into a bloody fight, a fight that had them both concussed and stumbling home in different directions.
The wine tasted awfully coppery that night. Alas it continued to taste like that and only got progressively worse as the season progressed.
By then Lea couldn’t imagine how she’d tell him. How he’d take the news. What a dumb question to mutter to yourself, she knew damn well the news would bring her boy to tears. Romeo was a hot head, an impulsive young man with a golden heart. He’d flip out and wrap her in cotton wool. Romeo didn’t need another bombshell right now.
It broke the legend’s heart to learn that Romeo too had been numbing his suffering with the same poison. The lad had been found passed out drunk on Carlo’s old bed and on too many occasions scooped off the empty streets by other stalkers. Too inhebriated to so much as crawl towards his own apartment.
Like mentor like mentee, they say.
Ultimately, Lea wouldn’t be able to hide the symptoms for long, her left eyelid is starting to droop already. The left corner of her mouth feeling stiffer by the day.
There’s no point in racking her brain about how and when she might’ve caught it.
Maybe it was the fight with Veronique, maybe it was a badly washed glass at the Red Lobser or the universe enacting karmic justice. In the end Romeo figured it out on his own while Lea searched for a perfect moment that would never come to spill the truth. The lad was already so heartsore that the sole reaction he could muster was a sigh and spare some silent tears.
Whatever had infected her didn’t matter at this point, PD is far from the worst thing circulating inside her body.
A broken heart is cause enough for concern, Sophia used to remind her. The guilt the death of her pupil caused, is gnawing her from the inside out.
And with all the hearts she broke, it is only just that she dies with hers spread out in tiny pieces.