Interlude 3.9: Three Beast-keteers

“You seem different, nowadays.”

It was just after one of their missions. Jemi was sitting with Ying and Asha in an undercloud tavern in Amethyst. The Anchor was one of their favourite haunts—the kind of place secluded and shady-looking enough that angels didn’t usually frequent, but not too seedy such that the couches were clean still, and the place didn’t smell like piss and smoke—which was always a plus. In the low lighting, Ying wore her headscarf to hide her pixiu ears, but she was relaxed against the cushion as she asked the question.

“You mean my hair? Yeah, it’s been dull ever since I came back from prison.” Jemi peered at her over her mug of frothing cider. The three Beasts shared a flask, which stood tall and proud in the centre of the oaken table. Asha had drunk a glass at the start but seemed more interested in the dumplings they’d ordered on the side. Ying was taking her time. Jemi was the one doing most of the glugging. Well, it was her coin they were spending, anyway. “I’ve been trying to moisturise it as best I can, but it’s probably been permanently damaged.”

“I’m not talking about your hair,” Ying looked only mildly concerned about her friend’s alcohol intake, and unsurprised. The Cockatrice had discovered her love of alcohol early on and never looked back. Ying herself looked much too sober to be tackling this conversation; Asha might as well have been inebriated by the dumplings, and was currently trying to stuff one in the pixiu’s face. Sipping her own mug, Ying braved on nevertheless, waving her hand, “I mean, like… in general. Although, yeah, it’s ever since you got back from prison. How should I say this… you’ve been…”

“Devastatingly sexy?” Jemi filled in. She burped, eyes wandering over Ying’s face. Her eyes had turned grey while in prison, but they were slowly regaining their violet lustre. “Hey, do you wanna make out?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Ying deadpanned. “Her name was—Cloud, or whatever?”

“Whaaat? The harpy? I dumped her a month ago. She was sweet, but kind of boring after a while. You know.”

“Well, then who is it now?”

“Uugh,” Jemi pushed a hand to her forehead like she had a headache. Then she refilled her mug. “Last week. The griffon. I think.”

“What’s their name?” Asha piped up.

“I dunno. He’s yellow. Very yellow.”

“You’re dating him and don’t know his name?” Ying echoed.

“Is there really a need? I just call him babe and honey and he seems happy.”

“What are you even dating him for, then? Oh wait, don’t tell me. I know,” Ying said sarcastically.

“He’s got a big-?” Asha made a gesture that was decidedly inappropriate for the public. Ying’s face steamed.

“Actually,” Jemi’s smile broadened in a way that suggested several more publicly inappropriate remarks to come, “birds, regardless of their biological sex, don’t have penises. So, it’s basically like mating with someone with lady-parts. Then again, everyone’s born different. I’m not gonna pass on someone with a third leg. Or fifth leg. If you catch my dri-”

“Didn’t ask. Didn’t care,” Ying said loudly. She gave a grand sigh. “That’s not what I was trying to ask you, anyway.” Not wanting to get interrupted again, she barrelled on: “I mean that you seem nice. Nicer than usual, that is.”

“Oh yeah, I know I’m still hot, despite the hair. Offer’s still on the table, by the way,” Jemi shook her mug at Ying. “You should consider it.”

“You know what you should consider? Being less promiscuous.”

“Telling Jemi to stop being promiscuous is like telling her to stop breathing,” Asha giggled.

Groaning, Ying pushed her hands so far up her forehead her headscarf risked revealing itself. She pulled it back down. “I meant, during the mission just now.”

They’d just come back from a mission together. Mainly, one of their weapons dealers had found out that they were dealing with Beasts instead of the human military in Wataron they thought they were supplying. Once they caught wind, they started raising their prices by threatening to rat them out to angels otherwise. The Cockatrice and her squad were sent down to politely ‘teach’ them how to do business.

Asha sucked dipping sauce off her thumb as she sat up. “Ohh, yeah. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jemi asked, mystified.

Ying shrugged. “Well, for one thing, when you tortured that guy for the location of the boss’ hideout…”

“Oh. So you think of waterboarding someone as being nice,” Jemi said dryly. “Gotcha.”

“You didn’t kill him at the end,” Ying pointed out. “And that’s usually your style.”

“Maybe I just didn’t want to dirty my hands.”

“Also,” Asha chimed in, waving sticky fingers, “when we were scouting together and you made us take a detour so we could help a lost boy find his mama.”

“He was potentially a useful source of information. Helping him also made us look less suspicious.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta defend yourself,” Ying said, eyes flickering. “It’s a good thing you’re doing. I’ve always been telling you to take it easier. Not every operation has to be full-scale bloodshed.”

Jemi’s expression was flat.

Then, she reached for the cider flask.

“Nuh-uh. That’s enough for you-” Ying shook her head, but Jemi was faster. She downed the remaining quarter of the flask. With a mighty belch, she laid her head on the table. Her curls spilled onto the oak, like coils of fraying, rusted wire.

“Ying,” she slurred. “What do you think of that-hic-Graveyard Commander.”

“Who?” The abrupt shift in conversation made the pixiu-woman blink.

“The outrageously long pink hair,” Jemi said, sounding irritated. A puddle of cider had spilled onto the table in Jemi’s earlier frantic pouring. Currently she was tracing her finger in the frothing mess. “The one who stops us from advancing up the mountain every night.”

“Oh. Her? She’s a scary one.” Ying muttered. “New to the Graveyard, isn’t she? We’ve never seen her before.”

“Who’s that?” Asha asked curiously.

“The new Graveyard Commander. I think her name was… Ennanis Zoleil,” Ying explained for the makara. “She guards Mount Casca every night like a bloodhound. And she does it on her own, too… it’s rare to even see another angel on the mountain besides her these days. She must be keeping the rest back on the higher peaks. She has this strange weapon… not like anything we’ve ever seen before. A golden-glowing ring that turns into a spear. It allows her to use Soleki at night.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jemi said disinterestedly. “And she’s hot.”

Ying paused. “.......You want to jump her bones, too?”

Cheek to the table, Jemi scowled. She looked offended, even though she was the one who had brought up the topic of conversation. She started thumping the cider mug on the table, BANG BANG BANG, drawing the looks of surrounding patrons. “On top of everything, she gets to be hot. I hate her.”

Ying and Asha exchanged a glance. Finally, Ying stood up and clapped the woman's shoulder.

“Okay, grandma, let's get you to bed.”

“You're older than me.” Jemi whined as she was hoisted over the pixiu’s shoulder like a withered branch.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. You’re more like a five-year-old.”

Asha quipped, “A five-year-old with unrestricted access to alcohol and knives.”

“I hate you guys, too.”

And then Jemi was bodily hauled back home by her two best friends.

Jemi Garen didn’t say it that day, in front of them—she couldn’t have. But as she phased in and out of consciousness, Jemi was thinking about her time in the sunprisons.