Chapter 3: Canary Slim, Sinkin' in Swampland 1/2

Thank you's to these ridiculously gorgeous darlings: Perpetual Concern, Katharonie, 10th Squad 3rd Seat, butterflyfreak, Rumu, LostInTheSilence, MercuryCake, Munchkin, the everchanging, InkDragoness, LaraLuvKakashi, Mrs. Trafalgar Law, KITTY LOVES HAWKEYE, Shiningheart of Thunderclan, Girl-luvs-manga, Guest, Sheep, Guest, and Alkitty.

—

methyl nitrate pineapples

hypothesis #3

canary slim, sinkin' in swampland

—

The farther Sophie walked into Gator Town, the worse things looked.

She slugged it through the sticky heat, past clamoring pubs and worn-down houses. The fatigue hit just after she wobbled past the charred ruins of the Marine base. Romarin, the still-attached bike, was a surprise—but the same couldn't be said for any of her clothes, which were drenched in sweat. Sophie finally stumbled upon a rickety-looking inn with Nellie's flickering in neon pink. It was smack-dab between a rowdy gambling house and the swamp.

"Thank the glorious mother of pineapples," she cried, throwing her hands. Hallelujah for soap! And showers!

She stepped inside and the smell of smoke and baking bread furled over her. Books, dusty vials, weird plants, and an assortment of other curious trinkets were scattered around. Sophie glanced at a bowl filled with bird feathers and tiny, brittle bones. Very, very curious trinkets…

"Bonsoir, Mam'zelle," a low, husky voice crooned from the dark, "You have business here?"

A curvaceous brunette seemed to melt from the shadows, one elegant hand clutching a long, thin pipe. Her eyes were rimmed thick with kohl and her lips were stark red—she swayed calmly as she walked, as if conscious of but apathetic to her striking beauty. Sophie pushed her hair behind her ears, aware of her own inferiority.

"Hello. I'm Sophie. Strangways Sophie."

"More like Slim to me," the woman observed, taking a deep inhale of her pipe, "Blonde hair like a canary's, too. My name's Nellie, owner of this fine establishment." She nonchalantly waved her hands at the crystal balls and (what Sophie hoped was) fake skulls nailed to the wall.

"I was told the rent's cheap, but no one said anything about this being a… a…" What exactly would one call it? "A… magic occult shop thingy?" she finished weakly.

Nellie laughed. "Nothin' is for sale, darlin'. They're all mine." She smiled, showing a flash of sharp teeth. "But movin' on from that—you wanna stay the night, yes?"

Mildly startled from the abrupt turn to business, Sophie nodded fervently. "But… well, I'm kind of running out on money—"

"Come, come, let's get you some food. We'll negotiate later. You look like you're about to fall over dead any second, Canary-chan," Nellie said as she beckoned Sophie over.

"Thanks, I think," she mumbled, and suddenly remembered the mud on Romarin's tires. "Um—should I put my bike outside?"

Nellie turned around, just noticing the bike that was partly hidden behind Sophie. It was hard to tell with the faint light coming from the candles, but Sophie was pretty sure she turned about three times paler. Well crapsicle on a fudgestick, that was not a good sign—maybe she should've just left the bike outside before walking in.

"Is… that bicycle yours?" Her voice was wrangled.

Sophie shook her head. "No. Why? Is it cursed?"

"Perhaps," Nellie said faintly. "Did someone give it t' you?"

"Wow, that was right on the mark. A bartender called Sid back in Pantano Town."

"Is that so…" She froze. "Pantano Town? That's thirty miles away! You traveled all the way here on that crappy bike?"

"It wasn't too—"

"Leave that bike be an' get over here!" Nellie snapped. "You must be exhausted. Let's get somethin' warm for you t' eat."

Sophie considered. "Food. Okay. Food is good." Her stomach rumbled in agreement.

She leaned the Romarin against the wall and followed Nellie into the dining area. Decidedly less spooky, this place was well-lit and furnished with pale-eyed porcelain dolls and faded black-and-white photographs. There were some shriveled heads here and there, but she tried to think nothing of it. Nellie vanished behind a door and reappeared a moment later, tossing a towel at Sophie.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, and started wringing the sweat from her hair. "What's the cheapest, fattiest thing you have on the menu?"

"One shrimp gumbo, extra on the fat, comin' up! Anythin' t' drink, Canary-chan?"

"I… no, I'm good," Sophie forced herself to say, and stared at anything but the liquor cabinet behind Nellie. No, no, stop! She was already low on cash. Sophie slapped the rest of the beli on the counter, speaking louder than normal, "How many nights can I stay for this much?"

Nellie examined the money as she took a deep puff of her pipe. "With the cheapest room available, three."

"Two is fine," she said, shoving the rest back in the satchel. Then she'd have enough time to find a ship that'd let her hitch a ride back to the base.

Nellie tucked the rest of the beli somewhere down her striped shirt. She had eight black stripes and seven white stripes… fifteen stripes in all, that wasn't good. Maybe if Nellie turned around a little, Sophie could count the ones on her back… and then she realized what she was staring at and turned pink. She coughed into her fist and busied herself with her satchel.

Nellie held up a plush doll with pins stuck in it. "Canary-chan, what do you think?"

Sophie studied it. Four pins. Not bad. "…It's kind of cute."

"Ain't supposed to look cute," Nellie returned, but laughed slightly. She started to thread a black button on the doll's eyeless face. "You ever wanted to curse someone?"

Sophie cupped her hand around the lighter and lit a cigarette. "I think there are worse things you can do to people."

Nellie looked at her. Her violet gaze was unnerving. "You speak from experience?"

Sophie hadn't realized she was smiling until that smile dropped off her face. "What? Oh, no. No." Her palms turned sweaty."I don't… um, I mean, just, the whole voodoo thing, sticking needles in dolls, all fortune tell-y, I don't believe in that stuff. I'm more of a science-minded geek." She stuffed a spoonful of gumbo in her mouth. "Mmm! Zhis is gooh!"

"You're a scientist for the World Government, aren't you?"

The jumbo slipped off her spoon. "How did you…?" She frowned, wagging her spoon at the inn owner. "Don't you dare tell me you read my mind."

Nellie shrugged, starting to work on the doll's other button eye. "I suspected you were a marine at first. Vira's coup d'état is all over the newspapers."

Her heart jumped to her throat. She instinctively focused on steadying her breathing. Faraway screams echoed in Nellie's dining room, something only Sophie could hear.

"But I don't think you're bruised enough t' be a marine comin' back from the battlefield," Nellie continued. "You have very poor posture—that's also an indicator—an' you have an awful lot of burn scars on your hands. A girl with a knack for science an' self-inflicted injuries, who biked all this way to Gator Town from Pantano—why? 'Cause you heard we're the only place on this entire island that's still trying to connect t' the Marine line. You don't seem to be a marine, so most likely you work for 'em."

Sophie rubbed the splotches on her hands. They covered her fingers and stretched across her palms; she'd had gloves before, nice leather ones that hid the burns, but they had also been forgotten at… that place with the war.

"That was an impressive deduction," she said.

Nellie looked up. She had been sewing this entire time. "Am I wrong?"

"How'd you know about the scars?"

"'Cause I have my own set." Nellie swung her legs up on the counter and tugged up her dress. Blotchy red disfigurements ran up the sides of her legs, terrible things that shouldn't belong on a person so beautiful. "Twenty years ago, there was a fire. Not all of me managed to escape."

Sophie's brow creased. "I'm sorry," she said, and meant it.

She smiled. "You're a nice girl, Canary-chan. How 'bout you?"

Sophie didn't think it would break any of the Vice Admiral's rules if she told Nellie just a bit of the truth… "I really work as a chemist for the World Government." She straightened up from her slouch, smiling ruefully around her cigarette. "The poor posture, by the way, is from bending over looking into microscopes."

"That's some special job. Your family must be very proud of you."

It'd been so long since she'd spoken to Hippo about her work—probably around three years, at least. No surprise, considering they were in different divisions. Before the war, she'd been so busy with work she sometimes forgot a world existed out of her lab. But even so… Hippo would've known, right? He would've had some idea about the things she'd created for the Government…

"Yeah," Sophie mumbled, "I suppose he is."

—

Aside from the dead rat floating in the toilet (she disposed of it immediately), her room wasn't bad. It looked clean…ish. No rabid tarantulas anywh—

"HOLY PINEAPPLES," Sophie said in a very calm and rational manner, and proceeded to bash her boot against a poor spider that chose the wrong time to slink down from its web.

After thoroughly checking the room (and sweeping it with a spare broom she found outside, bless the gods for their invention of cleaning supplies), Sophie tossed her satchel on the bed and quickly undressed. She gave her clothes a furious scrub in the shower, wrung them out, and jumped into the shower herself for a scalding wash, maneuvering awkwardly to keep her bandaged foot dry. The droplets sizzled, decontaminating every part of her body. It was heaven. Finally, when patches of her skin started to turn a violent shade of pink, Sophie wrapped herself up in a fluffy bathrobe and flopped on the bed.

"Should buy more clothes tomorrow—ugh, no, I don't have enough money—I could steal… aghh! No, Sophie, you're not a pirate." Her clothes would hopefully appear dry and clean tomorrow. "Should ask the merchant ships about hitching a ride… but what if Traffle-waffle…"

The Heart pirates were all the way in Pantano Town. The chances were practically infinitesimal they would meet again, so there was no point thinking about it—but if she did see him…

Sophie shuddered.

Let's not think about that.

With a sigh, she plopped onto her pillow and immediately winced. "Oww…"

Rubbing her smarting head, Sophie pulled aside the pillow. A thin, yellow-crusted book poked out beneath her bedcovers. She frowned and dug it out. The Tale of Apolleon. The pages were softened with age and the threads that bound the book together were falling apart. Curious, Sophie flipped through the pages.

Once upon a time, an Alabastian mechanic traveled the world, seeking the secrets of metal and fire. In his journey, he chanced upon a swamp-covered island in West Blue, ruled by a stern king who had lost his wife many years earlier. His only treasure was his young daughter, the princess of the swamps. Unbeknownst to the king, the princess and the mechanic fell deeply in love.

Yes, that was all good and formulaic… but where were the action scenes? Sophie skimmed ahead.

Eventually, he discovered his daughter's affection for the lowborn foreigner. The king's might grew so much in his rage that he picked the island up and strode fearlessly into the Sea of Terrors.

But the Alabastian mechanic was not disheartened. For one thousand days and one thousand nights, he labored over a giant mechanical Sea Cat that could sail upon the waves of the sky. He searched and searched the world until he finally found the princess. When he proclaimed his love for her in front of all the villagers, they were awed by the honesty they saw in his eyes and were won over to his cause. The mechanic had built a large castle for the princess, and together they left the swamp island for their new home.

The king was furious. In the dead of night, he and his troops carved an opening in the belly of the cat. With their swords in hand, they quietly sneaked—

Naah, this was nothing new. Sophie shut the book, yawning. Stories could wait for another time; sleep could not.

Scratching her mosquito bites, she set the book on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. Moonlight shone in, cool and silver.

Sophie glanced out into the swamp. Perhaps the fairytale was modeled after Crawfish Island. It would be romantic if a princess really had lived here. She smiled a little. Sophie used to force Hippo into telling her bedtime stories… knights rescuing fair maidens, noble and true kings presiding over noble and true kingdoms… she liked those the best…

Something odd flashed in the corner of her eye.

A faint blue glow bobbed amidst the dark trees, like a flickering torch or an eerie lantern. Sophie blinked. One moment it disappeared and the next dipped back, as if beckoning her over. Leaves rustled as a sleepy, warm wind swept through the swamp.

Sophie gazed out for a few more minutes, but the glow didn't appear again. That was… odd. Phosphorus? Radium? They both emitted blueish light… Actinium, maybe? …Unless there was a uranium ore mine underneath the swamp, Sophie didn't know why she was considering that…

Jotting down a mental note to ask Nellie about it tomorrow, she sank back into bed.

Sophie breathed in the woody, after-the-rain smell, instead of the wet stench of soot and blood she was so used to. She listened to the flap of a heron's wings and the croak of frogs, instead of bombs thudding on the roof or low, amused laughter…

She forced herself to keep her eyes shut. You'll fall asleep eventually, you'll fall asleep eventually…

Chilly hands touched the sides of her face and frost appeared, icicles forming at the edge of her eyelashes. Fingertips trailed down her lips, turning them blue and bruised, down her jaw, and peeled off the blanket. Sophie shivered, goosebumps popping up on her arms, and curled into a ball.

His hand brushed over her bandaged foot. Sophie started to hyperventilate, but her voice wouldn't come out; her vocal chords had frozen solid. She tried to scream wake up wake up please. She felt him—it—the figment of her imagination—press over her, violently gripping her wrists, turning her as numb as death.

"Relax. I've told you before…" The whisper ghosted across her skin: "I'm not completely heartless."

Her eyes popped open.

She was sprawled across the bed, still under the covers, still with her bathrobe on. She dimly registered the sunlight on the floor as it poured in, bright and warm.

Very slowly, her brain put two and two together.

She rolled around and screamed into her pillow.

—

"Are you sure about this?" the hairdresser asked dubiously. "It's such a waste…"

"I want it off," she confirmed. "And stark black. Jet black. Dark as the night, you know the deal."

—

Half an hour later, Sophie hopped on her bike feeling like a new woman.

Her hair was just below her chin now, and a slick, shiny black. After having unruly blonde curls in her face since—well, forever, it was a nice change. Hippo would have the mother of all heart attacks once he saw her… maybe she should also get a lip piercing and a tattoo on her rear…

Not entirely abandoning the thought, Sophie pedaled into the town market. A tribal-print skirt with bird feathers braided to the ends swirled around her knees. She'd tentatively asked Nellie if she had any clothes to spare and in return offered to run down to the market for her. Hippo would be so pleased to hear all his etiquette interventions hadn't been for nothing.

As she entered the crowded market, Sophie slipped off the bike and pushed it along. The smell of fish and damp wood and spices invading the sweaty air. It was a breath of normalcy, a welcome change from everything that happened in past few weeks.

Sophie skimmed the list. Anise, Tipton's weed, balm of Gilead, a bushel of apples, a bottle of plum blossom sake…

Nellie told her there'd be a florist or a physician where she could get the herbs from, but she'd start by tackling the easy stuff first.

"Apples, apples, apples," Sophie hummed cheerfully as she passed by the numerous stalls. Glassy alligator eyes stared back at her, live crabs snapped their claws, and buckets of seaweed-covered oysters glinted in the sun. Her mouth watered as the perpetual ache of hunger started up in her stomach again.

"…staying back on the sub, this place is hell with all that fur."

Sophie whirled around. She frantically scanned the market for a spotted white hat or yellow-on-black, but there was nothing. She'd just heard wrong. It was understandable, given the clamor of the market…

Shaking her head at her irrational panic, Sophie turned around and accidentally bumped into a passerby. She stumbled against the bike, wincing.

"Sorry about that," the stranger apologized hastily, his face obscured by sunglasses. He and his friend wore white jumpsuits tied around their waists, showing a firm roping of strong muscle.

She waved it aside. "No, no, it's fine."

"Shachi," she heard the other guy mutter to his friend, before they were swallowed by the crowd. Something about them was strangely familiar, but she couldn't place it…

Eh, probably nothing.

Sophie approached a fruit vendor, digging out the beli Nellie gave her. "Exactly sixteen apples, please. No more, no less."

"Alrighty," the vendor said, and then did a double-take as he sized her up in Nellie's clothes, bird feathers and all. "Runnin' errands for Manette-san, are ya? 'Round these parts, no one but her wears those sorts of clothes. Stayin' at her inn?"

Sophie tilted her head. "Manette-san…?"

"Hele—ah, she prefers Nellie, right? Manette Nellie. Though I hear that woman doesn't like to be called that no more, what with her husband n' all. Here's your apples."

She took the bag but didn't move. "What happened to her husband?"

"Died durin' his siege, didn't he? Darnay's Siege, we call it. Five years ago, I think it was." The vendor shook his head. "Only eighty men strong an' they tried to storm down the Cat's Eye. Passionate fools, all lookin' t' die young. I still remember the burnin' horizon that mornin'… like all of heaven was on fire."

Sophie was strangely entranced. "They surrendered?"

"'Course they did, after Darnay was beheaded. Not many survived. Half of them that did were taken as prisoners. The other half was sent back here t' tell the tale. She started getting' into the mumbo-jumbo voodoo nonsense afterwards. Never quite the same, that woman. First her parents, then her husband, all taken by Khanwari. 'Cept that Sid guy, but what good was he for her, huh?"

That was a lot of information to take in… but what stood out the most was…

"Who's Khanwari?" Sophie asked.