Early the next morning, five strongmen, chosen from the previous night, accompanied me into a town factory. The doors and rooms were large enough, so I sat on top of Wavu which garnered an easy response from a majority of the workers.
"I am," I bellowed through the room, scanning the various people, "North Bu. And I demand that each and every one of you report to me with any extra rations or if you see any suspicious papers by tonight." The air was dead silent, most of them were already willing to be obedient and simply nodded their heads. One chiseled voice rang through, asking why they should even respect me in the first place. This rippled through and the men and women started murmuring to one another.
Frustrated, I galloped over to what appeared to be the strongest worker in the room. I gave him a certain look, sizing him up in my head. As I did so, I could visibly see him gulp from nerves. A smirk came upon my face as I leaned in and whispered to him Hold On. Dramatically, the tough guy gagged, rolled his eyes back, and collapsed to the ground. I flipped through his memories and couldn't really find anything of any importance so I dropped it all.
Uneasily, a short, fatter man spoke up, "Mr. Jay has a notable love for poetry." It was a shaky and weak confession, but still a considerable lead. The man looked down at his dusty shoes over his potbelly loosely covered with a blue vest. He had a neatly cut, shiny, short, black beard to contrast against his ghostly pale skin and rosy cheeks. The hair growing on the top of his head was minimal, as per usual for a man his age, but he had one silky cowlick hilariously sticking up in a 'q' shape.
"Good," I nodded, genuinely pleased. Looking at the poor man, I decided to take him hostage and put him to use. "I'll call you Q-Tip," I announced. "Come with us and take me to this 'Mr. Jay.'"
"Uh," Q-Tip's lip quivered excessively when he spoke, almost to the point of irritation. "Jayapresh Zech, or Mr. Jay, has been our head blacksmith for eleven years now. And he and his daughter first arrived here nineteen years ago."
As we waited for Mr. Jay to be available, I picked up on a subtle hiccuping sound from the other side of the room. Lifting my head, I caught sight of a woman bent over in despair as copper frizzes brushed the floor. After a moment of thought, I stood up. I held my hand up when Q-Tip followed suit, looked at him and my strongmen and mouthed "no." With that settled, I quietly and briskly walked over to the opposite row of chairs.
The woman noticed and lifted her head up. Staring at me was a flushed, tear stained hazelnut face framed with a couple thin, tight copper curls who'd escaped from her relatively loose tie. Over a basic blouse and shorts, she wore a faded black apron, matching the ones the workers up front had worn. Powder and ashes covered her hands, forearms, and dusted her face.
Taking a seat beside her, I held out my hand, "North Bu." Hesitantly, she shook it and rubbed her nose. Almost immediately, she sneezed from it and looked down her hands then at me with terror.
"Oh, my apologies!" she cried and reached over to a nearby table for napkins. She handed me some but I turned them down and simply wiped my hands on my jeans. Wiping her hands, she looked down, "I'm Oddisya Zech, by the way."
My eyes darted to Q-Tip, "Zech, huh? Any relation to Mr. Jay?" A brief pause, then Oddisya looked at me with a napkin covering the bottom half of her face.
"Yes," she drawled as if it should've been obvious. "Jeyaprash is my father." I nodded my head, and stared at my strongmen to get their attention. Once I had it, I gestured for one to stand in front of Mr. Jay's office and the other by the door leading into the main shop. Oblivious, she asked, "Are you new in town?" I noticed Oddisya finally taking a moment to look me up and down. Strangely enough, her eyes lingered on my snow white hair and kept glancing at my silvery eyes.
Gears were evidently turning in her head, so to slow them down, I placed my hand on her arm, "Why were you upset earlier? And yes, I am."
"...Family matters," she slowly enunciated each syllable and lifted her chin. "Have you encountered a stout woman by the name of Melonaide Operis?"
I glanced up at the ceiling, remembering Melonaide. By now, she should've woken up a while ago and even started collecting new memories. I wished her well, such a wonderful woman, really. "Possibly," I answered, "she didn't tell me her surname. But as of now, you're my focus." I turned my body towards Oddisya, causing her to squirm into herself a little. "You see, I know what having family issues is like. A long time ago, when I was just a toddler, my mother went mad and ran away from us. The only reason I'm here is to try and find her poems that she's hidden somewhere. I'm absolutely positive that they'll lead me right to her." With that, Oddisya's expression softened. She looked down to her feet, forming what I hoped would be sympathetic sentences.
"My father's always had a certain attachment to poetry," she murmured, barely audible. "Not once has he ever understood a verse or its apparent worth, but it reminds him of my mother. He tells me it was her favorite form of expression." Reaching into her pocket, she made a fist and a heavy sigh escaped her lips.
Lightly, I put my hand on her arm, "My Mama as well. In fact, I managed to savor a few from before it all happened." Oddisya looked at me so I revealed my small, brown sack and took out a poem scroll, knowing I had her attention. "I read them whenever I miss her. They're very soothing. This one was titled Mama.
My prowess lies within my penmanship
My resourcefulness, fearlessness, strong relationship
My eyes easily stay forward, like second nature
Now that I'm like this, will I really have to go down like this
My baby boy, with only a recalling of the moment I lost it
To remember as you grow, become more mature
A clear sign I failed, fell short and left plans unfinished
Yet where I couldn't, you will, so utilize your brilliance
It's the only thing I ask of you as your beloved Mama."
I lifted my stare from the paper to see Oddisya's eyes red with tears spilling over. "That's so...so..." she hiccuped and paused for a moment. Frantically, she reached for her dusty napkin to wipe her tears, only to have to face the pain of dirt in her eyes. Oddisya unsteadily stood and mumbled, "Excuse me for a moment." She then hurried over to the door leading into the main shop. To her dismay, one of my strongmen stood in her way, unmoving. "Uh, may I pass? I need a quick trip to the--ack!" She jerked her head forward and held it in pain.
Simultaneously, I felt this bolt go through me. Not one of pain, but of some sort of energy. Frightened, I stood, looked at my hands, and questioned, "Ma'am?"
Weak, she swayed from foot to foot, "Pardon me, I just--agh!" This time the woman dropped to her knees, clutching her copper hair to a bundle of tangles. Along with it, a bolt more powerful than the last and I could feel my eyes' light start to flicker on.
I stared at her, contemplating if this was her doing. "Where does it hurt?"
"My...head, ugh!" She screamed and fell to the floor, curling up into a helpless ball.
An unfamiliar feeling of completion, somewhat like deja vu, surged through me and a I felt a sharp kick of adrenaline. "Does it feel like millions of tiny fingers clawing away at the nerves in your brain?" I rambled off, my eyes glowing brighter and hotter than I'd ever felt them before. Off on Cloud Nine, I glanced down at the floor boards just to ensure I was still grounded. "Mercilessly tearing up and searching your neural connections? Are they feeding off of the information they found, satisfied at last with their hostess?" Oddisya seemed to comprehend whatever nonsense came out of my mouth and all of her previous doubts faded and she glared daggers at me. I scoffed and squatted down, as if she could try anything now.
She held her upper body up on her elbows and spat, "Leave my memories alone." Abruptly, she started shrieking, "Papa! Papa!" Caught off guard, I went straight for her neck. I squeezed it just tight enough to shut her up, but not to the point of suffocation.
Holding her head up to mine, I said, "I haven't touched them, Oddisya. Also, try that nonsense again and I'll be sure you won't even have a brain to remember with." From the look in her eyes, the woman longed to say or do something witty, but the poor thing could barely catch her breath. I looked over at Ferris standing loyally by the side door. "Ferris, she should be out in a few moments. I trust you know what to do?" He responded with a small humph.
I held her neck slightly tighter and released once I heard a struggled sigh, followed up with no more squirming. Remembering her pocket, I reached in and pulled out a picture of a woman suspiciously similar to Oddisya, save a few exceptions. She had platinum blonde hair and a tar black birthmark on her cheek. Flipping it over, I saw "Our Sweet Sundae" scribbled on the back. I scoffed and looked at the lifeless body before me, "Night, darling."
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