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It's been a few hours since Tanya's return and rather explosive confrontation with Vasha. The neophyte hasn't emerged from the guest room since. The mood lights are off, and they lay on their bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Fists ball up and clench, teeth grit, and they... she sits up. Opens her eyes. "Fuck this. I refuse to be a stereotype." Hopping up and tossing on a several times oversized black tshirt, she rubs at an eye and kicks her way through the somehow-even-messier debris of the floor of the room to the door, opening it and pausing at the threshold.
Sitting outside Tanya's room, patiently waiting for the neophyte to emerge, is a fuck-off huge bird. A harpy eagle, to be exact, which is probably Fox going out and confusing local birdwatchers for fun and absolutely no profit. The massive mostly-monochrome raptor has a black beak, a wingspan of seven feet, and wickedly sharp culmen (the upper portion of the beak) which measures a full two and a half inches. That doesn't sound like a lot, but when it's the curved murderbeak of a giant fucking bird, it's a lot.
The bird ruffles its feathers, blinks slowly, and then opens its beak and scree just once.
Tanya is not expecting a giant bird. She steps back from the predator, one or two steps, and holds her hands up before realizing who it is. Realizing she can peer closer and recognize the pattern, assuming it's not being hidden. "Oh," she says, managing a weak smile. "I guess...this's what happens." There's a nervous laugh. "You're here because of Vasha, right? I figured I screwed up." There's a dejected tone that isn't quite managing to hide the fear.
The bird flaps its giant fuck-off wings once, twice, and manages to get itself into the air. That's enough for the reverse-sneeze that is Fox returning to their usual shape. His bare feet hit the floor, and she's wearing only a pair of jean shorts and a sports bra, because why fuck up your beautiful plumage if you don't have to?
"If by 'I guess this is what happens' is 'the Master comes to talk to the Apprentice,' then yes, this is exactly what happens." Fox's head ticks sharply to the side, and she stares at Tanya with the sort of intense gaze that comes naturally to apex predators. Sometimes there's behavioral bleed, however slight. "That's my job. And it's Vasha's responsibility to tell me when I need to talk to my apprentice." All of Fox's usual rampant cheer is presently absent: she's not about to go on a five-minute happy ramble about her pigeons today. This is Business Fox, the woman who climbed the ladder of the Mysterium before turning her back on it.
"Come and sit with me on the couch. Tell me what happened."
Tanya at least looks relieved that Fox is there to talk, and not to just be a dangerous screeching bird. She complies, walking over to the couch and sitting on it, staring straight forward and not meeting her Master's gaze. "I mean," she murmurs, wheeling a hand. Tensing up. "I tried to tell Vasha how I felt. And be confident. And honest. And...you probably already know. You want to hear me say it, but you could just pull it out of my head, or his..." She draws her knees up and looks to Fox for the first time with a caution they've never had with him before.
"Okay, so, we're going to set some ground rules here," says Fox, her face calm but her expression set firm. She doesn't look angry, just unyielding at the moment, as if she carved herself a new backbone out of granite and marble. "When I ask you a question, you need to answer it, directly. I am not angry with you. I am concerned. And we're going to talk this all through."
"No sulking, no pouting, no passive-aggression." He holds up their hand, palm out. "I've had a lot of apprentices. I know what the adjustment period is like. So we're going to handle this calmly, together, like the adults we both are."
"Now. Tell me what happened, including telling me what you were trying to tell Vasha."
She listens. She closes her eyes, and nods, and centers herself. "Alright," she says, sucking in a deep breath. "Alright. He asked me what I'd been up to and I said a lot of soul-searching, trying to figure out what I want. Because I'd never even let myself consider it. And...I tried to explain. What I've seen inside myself. I... ugh. I already sound like a fucking mess here, because I am. Give...give me a second." She shakes her head again, shoulders slumping. "I told him that I wanted to hurt wicked people. The kind he hunts. I was trying to be honest, trying to explain what it's like to..."
Her hands wheel ineffectively. "I was trying to admit shit that I have never admitted to anyone, ever, and he told me I was awful for even thinking it. And after all that talk about killing Seers, and after he just...waved my fucking spell away like that, I figured, when you showed up, you were here to..."(edited)
"Here to what?" Fox asks. She just listens, and her expression doesn't change. As Tanya watches her, though, little bits of her expression leak through: the tiny little crinkles at the corners of her eyes, the way she presses the tips of her thumbs together as her hands with their fingers loosely knit together in her lap, the subtle hunch in her shoulders.
She's not angry, she's not even disappointed.
Fox is worried.
She looks right at Fox. "Kill me. Imprison me. Punish me. Take my magic away. Tear my soul out and put it in a little jar. Everything I dumbly thought you couldn't do because you were nice, when I first met...all of you." She keeps her gaze there, sad and wary. "I know why Vasha was upset. I was treating this like... a game. Laughing about it. The stakes are too high. Part of...part of me's still mad, but, you know, I already managed to fuck things up this much from getting mad in the first place. I don't think being prideful and indignant more is gonna help my case."
A heavy little sigh. "Oh." Fox tips their head to the side, nodding slowly. "Well, I can't do some of those things, actually, because I am very very good at what I can do, but I'm incapable of some of the things on your list of terror." Her head tips forward, loose black hair falling in stringy, sleet-dampened tendrils around her face.
"But I could kill you, if I had to, that's true." Her shoulders rise, and drop again, and the way he presses his lips together is the epitome of 'it is what it is.' "Taking responsibility for you means that while you're my Apprentice, the Guardians may think that it's the Interfector who has to come for you, but I'm a member of the Assembly, not the Consilium, and I take full responsibility, heart, head and Wisdom, for you as long as you're formally my Apprentice."
"If it's anyone, it'll be me. Not because I don't love you, but because I do."
She pulls air deeply into her lungs after that pair of sentences sits in the air for the space of a breath, as if she's coming up from deep water. "It takes a lot to get us to that point, so we're not going to stay there."
"I think, from what I understand between what you said and what My Heart said, is that you were confessing your... intrusive thoughts, basically, and Vasha understood this as you saying 'this is what I would do if I thought I could get away with it.'" Her head tips this way and that. "And, yes, a little bit that you weren't really taking things seriously in the way that he does. This life has asked a lot of Master Pavlichenko, Guardian and Enchanter on the Path to Arcadia, Supernal Realm of Fate and Time, and abode of Fae, Scion of the Watchtower of the Lunargent Thorn, Master of Fate, Adept of Time and Mind, Lorekeeper of the Firebirds."
A beat. "He doesn't advertise his Mastery. Until he decides to change that policy, it's 'Third Degree Adept' outside these walls."
"I can tell. I can't compete with him in the suffering olympics." Tanya's shoulders relax as Fox is so direct, the caution leaving once she gets neither scolding nor fluff. "Look. We all have a shadow, right? The side of us where we put the parts of us that aren't acceptable. Things we're told not to be. Not to do, not to say. We bury them so nobody can see them, but they're still there, down inside...and they rattle the cage if ignored. That's what I was talking about. Everyone has those demons, and if you don't, you're lying. The only way to self actualize is to bring them out, name them, confront them, and control them. I...focused on the wrong one to talk about."
Tanya turns her head to Fox, frowning. "But.. that shadow, that subconscious, is where THIS came from," she says, gesturing to her face and figure, so much more Her now than before. "It's all repression. And I was told my whole life to hold back, to obey, to conform. To yield. Be meek, and humble, and subservient, and straight, and look a certain way. Don't be prideful, don't be vengeful, don't even sin in your heart, don't wish ill on others. And every single bit of it was part of the Lie. Chains keeping me in place."
One eyebrow rises sharply. "It's probably a good idea for you to not repeat that around anyone else, but especially him." Fox's expression goes -- for the first time -- rather stern and hard. "If you are lucky, this life will ask a lot of you, too. It will give you the opportunity to serve humanity as a whole. And that? That will cost you. Whatever your role is in this life, if you are lucky, you will understand that ever human on this planet is a part of your family, not just mouthing the words, but feeling that fucking truth in the marrow of your bones, in every inhale and exhale of your breath, in every Yantra you form with your stance, your hands, the movement of your eyes. If you are lucky, you will be asked to place your heart, your soul, your body on the line to be of service to protect and guard humanity. Whatever Order you choose, whatever work you choose, your life is a life of service now, along with all the joy and sorrow. Your work is protection. Your charge is the human race."
"And we don't 'compete' in 'suffering Olympics,' but we do recognize that Fate has asked a stiffer price of some of us than others, and we're not flip and casual about it." The fingers of Fox's hands clench tight briefly, and then relax, which may draw attention to the new ring on her left hand; it's stacked with the silver coin ring she's been wearing. Sleek black metal with thin bands of gold, silver, and copper running around it: all the materials Perfected. "I know he told you that we were apart for seven years. I didn't know if he was alive or dead. I assumed he was dead. I mourned him, as a prophylactic against the day someone would confirm that for me. So don't you dare ever say something that foolish again."
"I expect better from you."
Ouch.
She gets up from the couch and shakes her hands, as if shaking water from them. "You'll have to give me a moment. I don't wish to be angry. I wish to be productive."
Tanya holds her face in her hands. "I was AGREEING!" she yells, muffled. "I meant it's very likely I will never, ever have to go through anything as bad as that. Ever. And I shouldn't even try to hold myself up to it, like you said. What the fuck could I ever say to that? Nothing, right? That's... the message I'm getting." She sighs. "I'm sorry. I thought I was making sense. But I'm just...coming off as an asshole. I'm not...trying to. I don't know what to do." It stings to say. "I'm fucking this all up, and this is...I have nowhere else to go. I can't go back. Look, I'm. I'm sorry, Fox. This is a mess."
"What you could say to that is that you understand that why Vasha is afraid is because Interfector is not a singular job, it's a ritual role, and it's traded around so that one person never has to carry all the stains on their Wisdom, on their heart." Fox's voice shifts, now, from 'scruffing the kit' to 'gently lick its ears,' after a few moments of pacing, calming herself down. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
"He was -- " And then there's a pause, where the word 'scared' might go, but Vasha is never scared, right? " -- concerned. That you might -- " Another pause. "That if we didn't set you right, right now, that it might be him behind the mask, if you became Left-Handed. And as if having to destroy your soul wasn't bad enough, it would break my heart, and he would never be able to tell me it was him. And maybe the Guardians would ask it of him, specifically, just to make sure he could still hack it after Ukraine."
"This sort of... breakdown... confusion... upset? It's ... you can almost set your watch to it for apprentices. Like a first-year law student sitting in public drunk and sobbing, it's going to happen. Either kids get full of their egos and need to get nipped on the ankles and scruffed and carried back to the den in front of everybody so they're reminded they're not King Shit, or they break down screaming and crying because it's too much for them to take in, or they freak out because they have to keep a secret this big from someone very important to them -- a child, a sibling, a lover, a parent." Fox takes in a lung-filling breath.
"It's okay to confess to your intrusive thoughts, to the dark parts of your psyche that you have no intention of acting on. You and Vasha just misunderstood the difference between 'the dark parts of me I don't want but need to face' and 'maybe I'm about to go Left-Handed and don't know I shouldn't say that out loud.'"
Tanya frowns, at first. Being scruffed is uncomfortable. But she bears it, because Fox does it properly, and she understands what it means and why it's happening. When their teacher asks if she understands, she shakes her head before receiving further explanation. "I...okay. Thank you. I couldn't have said that before, because...I didn't know a lot about that." Their eyes close. "And that's okay. That I didn't know about it. It's okay that I don't know everything, or even that much," she reminds herself. "So thank you for teaching me."
She flops back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Sounds like I ticked off A and B, maaaaaybe C. Little bit a freaking out. As a treat. About the people I'm keeping so many secrets from." Rubbing an eye, she sits up. "I'm still...getting used to all this. Probably shouldn't have acted otherwise. But there's this...fire in me that there wasn't before. Like, even that fucking name, Fox, come on. Left Handed? SINISTER? Did "Queer" get phased out in the 60s?" And then her finger goes up. "There it was, there she was, see? I know what you mean. I know the kind of people that describes are worse than monsters, and dangerous. But everything I fucking see just crawls with hundreds of years of oppression and sin, every word, and...it's...a bit much to take. I have an ego I didn't fucking have before and it's making everything harder."
"I know. And that's my fault. I should have more clearly explained some of these things. We don't know who is behind the mask and in the red robes, and it is verboten to attempt to find out. Like... shitting on the altar and pissing in the communion cup." Fox pads over softly to crouch in front of where Tanya's sitting. "And it changes. If we ever have need of an Interfector in Philadelphia while we live here -- and Baruch Hashem we will not -- it could be Leta, or Vasha, or Zoya. And they couldn't tell us. That's part of the deal, too."
A soft, sad sigh. "You're welcome." She reaches out to take Tanya's hands, and listens as she starts to rant.
"No, we've been calling it left-handed in all of our written history, largely without variation," Fox replies calmly. "We could call it Vāmācāra instead, perhaps." Her green-gold eyes blink slowly.
Tanya squeezes her hand in return. Just being heard might be all she wants. She shakes her head at the talk of renaming the term. "No, that...that was petty. Latching onto anything I can see to attack." She sits there, eyes closed, just squeezing his grip. "Look. I don't...I'm not planning on acting out my wildest, transgressive, destructive fantasies. I'm still barely managing to cast basic spells, and holding back so I don't accidentally break reality, or ruin your electrical wiring, or teleport myself into solid rock. Or more likely break a magical rule I don't understand and cause a bunch of trouble for people who probably have done nothing to deserve it."
Her eyes open. "Maybe I should tell Vasha that myself. Though...I bet that's what all the corrupted Abyss wizards say, right? 'I'm definitely NOT a Scelestopus, we're cool...'"
The Thyrsus laughs aloud, then, her sharp eyes glittering. "I know. That's why I suggested we call it the seventh-century CE Sanskrit word meaning 'left-handed path.'" Fox doesn't show off her education very often, but when she does... she sneaky about it. Her nose wrinkles up a little bit in amusement. Another squeeze of her hands.
"I know you're not. I may not be an Adept of Mind like Vasha, but I know people's hearts pretty well. I wouldn't have taken you on as an apprentice if I thought your heart was in the wrong place."
A beat. "Like inside your left sinus cavity. That would be a terrible place for a heart."
"I mean, you should tell him yourself. I'm going to talk to him as well, because he's the sun in the planetary system of my life. You should take that responsibility. It'll go better."
The Mastigos blinks and then smiles, impressed by the show of knowledge. "I will, then. I'm not afraid of confrontation, even when I was wrong. I mean. That's." She puts a finger to her chin. "That's probably what I want, more than...whatever I was on about while stoned and playing at being cool. Confrontation. I don't want to do some creepy American Mary shit, I want to stare them in the eyes and read them for filth. Make...I don't know. Vasha is probably right, better to just coldly and cleanly get rid of them. Just..."
Tanya babbles on, sorting herself out in real time. It's likely something Fox has heard countless times before.
And now, Fox stops talking, content to crouch in front of Tanya and hold her hands while Tanya sorts herself out, out loud. It's always different in specifics, even if the broad strokes are so often the same. Crouching, or... well. Maybe it's a Slav Squat. Would that be surprising?
Tanya muses and mutters and talks herself out. She says some things about Pride and Hubris, about the very idea of good and evil and how it's been corrupted into a tool of shame and oppression...and a bunch of big, scary feelings. But unburdening like this is a lot like throwing up. There's only so much that can come up. After chewing things over enough, she's left looking at Fox's squat and softly giggling. "So. Uh. Now what?"
And she listens so patiently and so calmly, just holding on to Tanya's hands and patting at them gently. When Tanya giggles, she patpats her hands and then stands up. "Now it's time for you to get some food, take a nice bath, drink some water, and go to bed for the night."
There's a good-humored roll of her eyes, and a smile as she puts her hands on her hips. "Siiiiigh. Yes, mom..."
Fox leans over, kisses Tanya on the forehead, and smooths her hair down gently. "Goodnight, kiddo," she answers, smoothing Tanya's hair again. "Drink plenty water. Being upset dehydrates you. I'll see you in the morning." And then off she pads to curl up, put her head on Vasha's chest and fall asleep.
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