Becoming Monsters Chapter 62: Strong Emotions
Because movies were her only experience with death, Honoka expected bagpipes at the funeral.
"Life does not begin when we are born, nor does it end when we die," the Bishop said, standing next to the empty casket. "We miss Cleo Tate because she is not with us now, but we should rejoice that she is with her Heavenly Father today. We will meet again."
The funeral was taking place outside of the dungeon, in the area once know as the Harvard Yard. After all the death of the Change, it became the Harvard Memorial Cemetery and an empty casket service was common here. Rows of headstones lined the open grass around a large obelisk of wrought iron, a large bronze plaque listing the names of those who died five years ago. The New England weather was being its normal miserable self, gray clouds crowding the sky with a few sporadic splatterings of rain every hour or so. Not enough to call for umbrellas, just enough to get a person wet before letting up and doing nothing more than making everyone miserable.
Looking around, Honoka saw less than fifty people at the grave site, most of them the grieving members of
Carnival.
Others included some other delvers Honoka recognized - Johnny actually managed to fit into a suit that covered his sixty-feet of purple skin, the giant sitting Indian style to one side - but the rest of the crowd Honoka couldn't recognize. And while many of them had bowed heads and solemn faces, from what Honoka had heard, the service yesterday for Armond had been where the emotions were let out.
"I didn't know Cleo was LDS," Padmava whispered to Honoka, her size forcing the attending wives to be in the back of the crowd. With her tail the only significant size change, Padmava was able to wear a black sari from her old collection, though it looked tight in the chest.
"I didn't think to ask," Honoka replied, her voice toneless as she realized with regret she didn't know much of anything about the woman Honoka was only now discovering she both respected and looked up to. "It didn't seem...I didn't ask."
It was noon, Thursday, on September eleventh. Three days since Honoka found out Cleo Tate had died and the whole world flipped upside down. The moment Honoka stepped off the elevator after her breakfast at
Tantilize,
alarms sounded and the entire place went into some kind of lockdown. Army troops armed to the teeth flooded the area as Honoka and everyone else was forcefully escorted out. Before Honoka could make it back home she even caught sight of the celebrity strike force known as ARCON marching through the streets towards the elevators, Golden Girl riding on top of a freakin'
three headed dragon.
A loud PA system announced to the people living in Harvardtown that martial law had begun and that people should prepare for a possible full evacuation in the near future.
It was only by chance that Honoka learned what was going on when Rosalia stopped by the store that evening and explained everything while she restocked on potions. The two women shared hugs and tears, though Honoka found herself in a strange state of shock more than anything. On one hand, Honoka knew she would miss Cleo, but on the other, what was her family supposed to do if they needed to leave the dungeon?
That night the Jefferson family - including many of the visiting families - gathered to discuss options. Surprisingly, after Douglass quietly went down into the gym and came back with a shotgun, loudly chambering a shell, many decided to stay as long as they were able. Protocols were put into place, the family's armory now standing empty as most of the guests made sure they were armed at all times. Nobody went anywhere alone and any gathering of children was monitored with multiple guardians standing watch.
The next day was a tense game of waiting. Honoka found that with nothing to do, she was being driven insane as her emotional problems continued to escalate. After a heated argument over some broccoli with Quinn which resulted in a broken table and a hole in a wall, Honoka accepted the necessity of controlling herself before she did something even more unforgivable. Banda actually knew the most about emotional issues, so Honoka swallowed her pride and began a long day of meditation to bring herself to a semblance of control.
It worked, but not completely.
The state of alarm put a new urgency on the wives to harmonize, something Honoka became conflicted about. While trying to regain control of her emotional outbursts, Honoka was also required to pleasure and be pleasured by her harem. It lead to some interesting situations, such as Honoka crying while ejaculating into Gweneth or screaming incoherently at Eve while the hobgoblin ejaculated into her. Levels went up, though there remained one wife completely cut off.
As part of her new meditative routine, Honoka listed all the members of her family and how thankful she was for them. Honoka put her hand in her pocket and fingered the funny little card a Justice gave her as a joke, now with two more stamps on it. Abra and Gwyneth were now a part of her family, officially as of this morning, having gone home already to relieve babysitters. If Honoka married another five wives, she wouldn't have to pay the licensing fee for the tenth. It was a funny piece of paper and Honoka laughed it off at the time. Glancing up at Miaka sitting on the opposite end of the line of wives here, right now it felt like a burden.
"You need to apologize," Eve said quietly, her metallic voice sounding like grating gears in a whisper as wisps of eldritch smoke gently blew into Honoka's face. Eve had on a gothic black dress that was too short, making the jumper look like a blouse, adding only a pair of black bike shorts to keep it modest.
Honoka's eyes hardened as she looked away, using some of the new meditation techniques to keep her temper under wraps. "I wasn't the one who screwed up."
"Doesn't matter, you're the one screwing it up now." Eve wasn't used to these kind of talks, running her hand through her loose hair, her claws gouging a little deep and getting lines of blue gob blood welling on her scalp. "Crap. Anyway, look at her, there isn't anyone who looks more in the dumps in the existence of ever. She's sorry. Now fix it."
Honoka looked back and pursed her lips. Miaka, sitting next to Diane and dressed in a bad combination of a white small
yukata
and a large blue blouse, looked defeated. Even the burning of her feathers had grown dim, making her look kind of drab in the overcast atmosphere. Her entire body was slumped, her eyes still puffy from a recent fit of crying, patches of feathers molting off her skin giving her a dirty, patchwork appearance. It didn't look as if the woman had done any bathing or grooming in days and honestly, the half-japanese woman had avoided her fellow
Nihonjin
entirely since the incident. If Honoka didn't know any better, she would say Miaka had aged twenty years, her body hunched and limp. And although Miaka was faced away, the constant flicker of her eyes in Honoka's direction made it clear she wanted nothing more than to fall at Honoka's feet and beg. It should have been heartbreaking.
"I'll think about it," Honoka replied, though the steel in her voice made it clear where she stood.
