You're Still Here

When Sera woke again, she found herself in the hammock on the patio, which was now half-covered by dappled shade from the trees above. Sister Forty-Six was snacking from a large plate on a table next them, while sipping a chilled water.

"You're still here," Sister Forty-Six said, sounding relieved. "I thought maybe you left because . . . ."

'Still here, just taking a nap,' Sera said, with a mental smile. She felt refreshed, like she'd had a good night's sleep after being awake for far too long. Apparently it wasn't only the body that needed rest. 'I'm glad you don't mind . . . having me visit.'

"I like it. It's scary knowing I don't have anywhere to go. At least if you're here I'm not alone," Sister Forty-Six said. "I'm very grateful you picked me instead of one of the other sisters. If you hadn't been here . . . I'd be alone, and I'd have lost my wings."

"If I hadn't been here, you would never have gotten hurt in the first place," Sera pointed out.

"Well maybe not," Sister Forty-Six acknowledged. "But I didn't really fit in at the temple, so it was only a matter of time before they kicked me out."

As she said that, Sera caught flashes of Sister Forty-Six's memories. The woman who'd come to the hospital scolding Sister Forty-Six for not completing her chores the right way, being berated by numerous senior nuns for not devoting enough time and energy to her mediations, being snubbed by fellow initiates because she came from a lower social class and wasn't as thoroughly educated.

Apparently Brother Forty-Three wasn't the only one who thought Sister Forty-Six was foolish or even downright stupid.

'They might want you back, if they find out about me,' Sera observed.

"Oh, I know they'll want you back if they find out," Sister Forty-Six said, scowling. "Having a Traveler visit the temple is a VERY big deal, and it will do a lot for the status of the Third Temple to show us off. Except they won't want you to stay with me, they'll insist you need a more important host, like . . . "

"Sister Peach?" Sera suggested, and then reminded herself she didn't want to speak aloud. The more she spoke, the more obvious it became that she was not Sister Forty-Six, and the more people who knew about her presence the more people would show up trying to force her to move.

"Oh, no, not Sister Peach. She'd never be considered good enough either," Sister Forty-Six said, making another face. She peered down at the tray of food and sighed. "I ate all the apricots already, didn't I?"

She had.

'Why isn't Sister Peach good enough?' Sera asked curiously.

"She's from a servant family," Sister Forty-Six said.

'Is your society so rigidly stratified then?' Sera asked.

"Stratified?"

'Layered,' Sera clarified. 'With people stuck to the class they were born in.'

"Oh," said Sister Forty-Six. "Umm . . ."

She gazed out over the forest as she thought about this, picking through the bowl of dried fruits to find the cherries at the same time. Sera let her think, content to enjoy the quiet moment. If she just had a book, preferably fiction with snarky characters and an uncomplicated plot, this would be perfect.

"It's not exactly that people have to stay in the class where they were born," Sister Forty Six said eventually, "It's that mostly people are content with the life they're born into. Farm kids CAN leave the farm and go to the city to become something else, but why would they want to, when city-folk are so dependent upon the farms for food? Or maybe your family has a factory. Sure, you could go work for another factory, but you won't be family so they might not treat you as well. In the cities it's how you find a job--your cousin's husband's sister's second husband's nephew needs a new clerk, and so your cousin recommends you and they hire you. Doctors and lawyers and teachers and scientists come from families of other doctors and lawyers and teachers and scientists. Family is more important than anything. It doesn't matter if your family are scholars or farmer or nobles or factory workers, you do what you must for the good of the family and your family does what it must for the good of you. If I'd absolutely hated the farm and really wanted to be . . . I don't know, a teacher, or something, my family would have found a way to send me to college so that I could do it. They're planning to send one of my younger brothers to college to study science when he gets done with primary school. He actually LIKES studying. And it's not like being a noble is better than being a farmer, or being a factory worker is better than being a banker. It's just . . . different."

'That's very strange to me,' Sera said. 'My people are taught that freedom of choice is the most important thing in the world.'

And more than a few people Sera had called friends would say Sister Forty-Six and her people had been tricked into believing themselves content with their lives for the benefit of the elites. Of course, those were the same people who regarded blue-collar jobs with contempt and grumbled about how much it cost when they had to call a plumber because they didn't know how to unclog their own toilets. Sera was at least wise enough to know she hadn't seen enough of this world to have any business pronouncing judgement on how it worked.

The faint sound of someone knocking on the door drifted through the room and out to the balcony. With a sigh, Sister Forty-Six levered herself out of the hammock. She started to flex her wings, cursing when the right wing didn't move.

"If I make it through three weeks of healing and who knows how much physical therapy without going insane it will be a miracle," she muttered.

Sera laughed. 'Well, you ARE hearing voices in your head, so you might be doomed.'

Sister Forty-Six laughed as well, and walked through the open windows and into the bedroom. She opened the door on the third knock.

"Oh. Brother Forty-Three," she said, blushing. "I'm sorry for making you wait. I was--"

"We have an hour until dinner. You should get ready," the monk interrupted. "Do you need anything?"

"No," Sister Forty-Six said, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I'll be ready."

"Good." With that, Brother Forty-Three turned on his heel and stalked to the door opposite theirs. Sera had a glimpse of a room dominated by gray and blue before the door shut with a snap.

'Somebody's grumpy,' Sera thought, mentally rolling her eyes. Sister Forty-Six sighed unhappily and closed her own door, turning back to the room. In addition the bed, the room was furnished with a desk, a dressing table, a sitting area with a sofa and two comfortable chairs arranged around a coffee table, and an enormous wardrobe. A simple dress of dark-plum embroidered with white flowers on the hem hung from a hanger on the outside of the wardrobe, with a pair of matching slippers on the floor below it.

The bathroom featured an extra-large shower with multiple showerheads. A basket full of toiletries sat on the counter top, fluffy towels were stacked on a shelf above a row of hooks for the damp towels, and a light terry-cloth robe hung from a hook near the door. There were multiple mirrors, but Sister Forty-Six avoided looking in any of them as she stripped for a shower.

"We have to keep the bandages dry, don't we," the nun realized, as she was reaching for the faucet.

'Yes,' Sera said. Sister Forty-Six sighed.

"So much for a nice soothing shower," she said a bit sourly. She eyed the arrangement of the showerheads. "I think if we don't use those two . . ."

With a bit of debate, Sera and Sister Forty-Six concluded it was possible to use the shower as long as they only turned on the showerheads on the left, and were careful not to turn into them. It was still awkward, but they felt cleaner when they finished. After toweling off, Sister Forty-Six made her way back to the wardrobe, not bothering with the robe. There were undergarments in the wardrobe, as well as numerous changes of clothing. Sister Forty-Six took the obvious hint and pulled on the plum-colored dress and the slippers.

Then, reluctantly, she looked in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door.

The dress was ankle-length and flowing, with the multiple panels Sera had noted were favored. There was a short wispy bit of sleeve over the shoulders and the bodice made the most of Sister Forty-Six's curves. The color suited the nun's pale lilac skin and dusty-pink braids. It was much finer quality than the sister's linen tunic and trousers, and the embroidered flowers added a bit of extra flare, but it was still not especially fancy. The multi-colored beads at the end of Sister Forty-Six's braids were a bit of bright whimsy that suited the dress, instead of looking garish or childish.

'We look very nice,' Sera said, tilting her head to one side, and twisting to try and see how the dress looked from the back, and whether it made their butt look enormous. That was always a problem for her.

Except this wasn't Sera's body, with its extra forty-pounds. Sister Forty-Six was curvier than the princess had been, but she didn't have the zaftig figure that had been Sera's lot in her first life. Bubble-butt was not a problem Sister Forty-Six had to worry about.

'I suppose,' Sister Forty-Six said unenthusiastically, and Sera realized that she was humoring Sera's desire for an inspection of their appearance.

"My mother would say we need eyeliner and lipstick though," Sera said aloud. "And at least ten pounds of powder because we have 'too much color'."

"Too much color?" Sister Forty-Six repeated, so startled that she looked straight into their eyes. Sera nodded.

"The paler the better, as far as my mother was concerned. I was what my people called 'olive-skinned', a sort of tan color. She spent most of my childhood slathering me in sunscreen and my teens pushing foundation on me because I was getting 'too brown'," Sera said. Sister Forty-Six goggled at this idea for several minutes. "So in college I refused to wear any makeup at all. Or sunscreen. Ended up with a second-degree sunburn after spring-break in my junior year. After that I wore sunscreen. But I didn't start wearing makeup again until . . ."

Sera trailed off.

"Until?" Sister Forty-Six prompted. For a moment Sera considered not answering. Then she sighed.

"Until my jackass of an ex-husband, who wasn't an ex-husband the time, started hinting that I looked frumpy and he didn't want to take me places if I wasn't going to at least 'make an effort'," she said. She met Sister Forty-Six's gaze in the mirror and said, "Learning to be comfortable in your own skin is hard, especially when the people around you have nothing but criticism."

It was odd, looking into the mirror and knowing she was looking at herself, but at someone else at the same time. After a long moment Sister Forty-Six dropped her gaze and asked, "Do you think we should put . . . stuff . . . on our face? So we have more color?"

She darted a glance towards the dressing table, which had an array of what looked like cosmetics.

"I think you are always going to be fair skinned, and if we slather ourselves in makeup we'll look like a clown," Sera said. She eyed their reflection for a moment and then grinned. "But you--we--have really pretty eyes, and lips I would have died for as a teenager--and there's no reason we shouldn't draw attention to that."

Sister Forty-Six nodded in agreement, so Sera moved to the dressing table and sorted through the makeup until she found colors that would make the most of Sister Forty-Six's hazel eyes. Eyeliner, mascara, three different shades of shadow, a little power to darken the the eyebrows. Finding a lipstick was harder, since they tended to be too dark, but eventually Sera found a shade that worked by combining a darker shade with one meant to be shockingly pale.

"This is supposed to be a casual dinner, according to Lady Snowpearl," Sera said eyeing their reflection critically. "So we'll leave it at that. We'll save smoky-eyes and contouring for when we need to be glamorous."

Sister Forty-Six snorted. "Farm girls never need to be glamourous."

"Every woman needs to be glamorous sometimes, even if just for her own sake," Sera retorted. Sister Forty-Six was studying their reflection in the mirror. She didn't say anything, but Sera could feel a lift in the other woman's spirits.

Beauty isn't everything. But it helped.