Misthaven Commune

Razha stood in front of the old mirror leaning against the brick wall in her small basement room. She acquired the mirror in the aftermath of the city’s liberation--the mayor would probably not be needing it anymore. It was as tall as her which was not an easy find, so she had to have it for her new home.

The tubes on the walls went dark weeks ago when the sentinels smashed the main power conduit as they pulled out of the city, but the windows up near the ceiling let plenty of daylight in. She much preferred it this way, to the constant barely audible hum of electric power flowing through every wall and every street back in Mallikus City. Here there was no pale ghostly glow permeating the city. At night you could see the stars.

In the warm sunlight, the looking glass showed her standing there in her black dress. She didn’t know what it was made of--somebody told her, but fabric isn’t her area of knowledge. But it was soft, and light, and it flowed as she moved, like a field of grass in the wind. It went to just below her knees--any higher she wasn’t really comfortable in--and it flared out just enough below the waist to add volume to her hips. She thought it worked very well with her black combat boots--anything does. It covered her shoulders without drawing attention. It was fairly low cut and showed more of her small breasts than she was used to. But her white moonstone necklace stood out nicely there on her brown skin, a centerpiece to the outfit.

She moved about and watched herself in the mirror. Her shoulder-length black hair swayed loose except for the braids wrapping around the sides of her head and joining together in the back. A branch of lavender with its flower attached was tucked into one of those braids just above her ear. It was aromatic, freshly cut from her window planter.

She looked over every angle several times before deciding she was procrastinating and had to face how nervous she was. She picked up the halfway smoked roll of hazeweed from her table and lit a match to take one draw from it. It calmed her down a little. It would be fine, she knew it would.

She reached for her black alchemical rifle leaning by the door but stopped herself--old habits. She headed out the door, stopping to pull up her dress to adjust the strap holding a long knife to her thigh. Going completely unarmed would be madness.

She went up the old wooden staircase, stepping over the broken step and ducking under the spiderwebs. Upstairs she moved across the creaky floor and out the front door, into the sunlight. She felt completely naked without her rifle and her alchemicals or so much as a pistol by her side. Who knows when she would have another chance to be so careless, though.

Misthaven sits on a hill, with streets of white clay bricks sloping down toward Lake Averis. From her reclaimed home in the mid-city she had a view straight down the street to the docks and the great lake, glistening as the sun lingered over it. It was a beautiful view, but it always made her feel so tall. She headed down. The long black and grey banners hanging from the rooftops of the buildings waved to her in the gentle breeze.

She passed by a patrolling cadre dressed in black, with grey cloth around their necks and rifles on their backs. She had fought and bled beside them, but none of them had seen her quite like this before. She turned her face away to avoid attention, but they waved to her and called out her name, Razha, the only name almost anybody in this entire city had ever known her by. She turned back to face them, raised her fist and shouted, “Strike as one!” They echoed the sentiment.

For once, the streets of Misthaven Autonomous Zone were alive. People felt safe to come out of their homes, all kinds of people. Groups who met days ago were playing music together on the sidewalks. She didn’t look too closely at anyone, she didn’t want to know how they were looking at her. Sometimes she closed her eyes when she went through a big crowd.

She reached the boardwalk by the lake. Its waters were so vast, she felt a vertigo, and had to turn away from it and look down to see she was on solid ground. Then, somebody tapped her shoulder from behind. She tensed up and spun around with her arms raised in front of her face. But she relaxed immediately.

It was Nadia Koronova from South Averis Collective--except now they were both part of Misthaven Collective. She looked powerful in her black leather vest, with black pants and combat boots. She never wore any other color, neither had Razha since leaving the capital, but Razha thought nothing could possibly suit Nadia better. The black fabric and leather on her black skin made her look like a graceful, deadly panther. Even if she was a full twenty Points shorter than Razha, she could imagine Nadia being able to pick her up and carry her off somewhere in her arms.

Even the way she stood exuded power. Razha stood before her in a coy stance, swaying gently from side to side, looking to the ground with uncertainty. Nadia pulled her other hand from behind her back and handed her a flower--pentagonal in shape, a mountain laurel, with a light purple tint to it.

“Aww, how did you even find this so deep in flatland?” Razha said.

Nadia took a step closer. “Oh you know, you bring some fresh baked flatbread to a florist, they give you something you need from their garden, mutual aid isn’t it called?”

“It’s my favorite flower, how did you even--”

“I pay attention is all.” She reached up and stuck the stem inside Razha’s dress where the flower would stick out. Razha felt a chill wash through her as Nadia’s fingers brushed against her chest. She looked into Nadia’s dark eyes, reflecting the sparkling lake and a few white clouds.

“I--” Razha started, but Nadia took her hand and pulled down, making her bend down to her level, and kissed her. Razha put her other arm around her and pulled her up against her. She held the kiss and moved her hand up to feel the stimmy texture of her short hair. It felt like the moment lasted forever.

“Nadia, how is this even real?” She thought about the previous weeks of near constant action--marches and riots, storming government buildings, surrounding and beating Purists with steel pipes or smashing electrical tubes across their faces until they all fled the city, charging sentinel barricades and firebombing their lines until they were gone. Nadia touched her cheek and snapped her out of the memory.

“We fought for this,” Nadia said. She took Razha’s hand and interlocked their fingers and headed toward the lake, pulling her along. Razha walked next to her as they stepped onto the pier, and they walked down together. She kept her eyes on the beautiful and powerful woman next to her and avoided looking into the dark depths of the lake. She felt safe here with Nadia. When they reached the end, the sun was near the top of the water, and the clouds were glowing pale red.

Nadia took both of her hands and pulled her down to kiss her deeply again. Nadia never stood up on her toes to kiss her, Razha always came down to her.

“Nadia, how long will it be like this?” Razha said. Out beyond this horizon, was there a fleet of gunboats waiting to move in at dawn? Did the clouds conceal assault airships carrying bombs to level a whole city block? Her body shivered at the image. Nadia ran her fingers down Razha’s neck and across her collarbone with the lightest touch, and she lost her train of thought again.

“It does not matter, my Razha, we are here now,” Nadia said. “Let us just enjoy this perfect reverie.”

“I love you.”