A scythedom in between

Chapter 2

The ride home is pretty calm. They talk about all kinds of stuff, until the nanite-subject comes up again.

"So, uhm how does it feel to like- feel pain?" "You can feel pain too, you know?"

She turns her head, not taking her eyes off the road. Marie sticks her arm out the window, making waves with her hand.

"Yeah, I know. I just mean not being able to have anything kill the pain. How do you stand it?"

She doesn't, that's the truth. She hates getting hurt, knowing she'll be out for at least a few days. But she can't say that, it'll come off as if she were weak. And she's not. She survived these fifteen years without complaining, so she won't start now.

"It's fine", she says, "as I said, you learn to live with it. I mean, it hurts and I'm sometimes out for a while, but it's not like I can change anything. Fine, I wish it were different, but here we are."

Wait.

Why is she opening up like this? There must've been something in her drink at conclave, right?

"I'm sorry, really. No one should have to live through this." "Thanks."

She looks at her, but only for a while.

"We're here", she says after some silent minutes go by.

A white, modern building dooms up before them. At its side is a pool, with a small bar. She sometimes throws a little party, but only for close friends. They get out of the car, and she clutches her house-keys in her left hand, the car keys in the other. She opens the door and gets welcomed home by her cat.

"Oh, what a cutie! What do I have to call him?" "This is Oscar", she says. The cat looks up, bowing his head to the side.

"Right. He's pretty smart." She quickly pets him, and flops down onto the sofa.

She's still looking around, probably amazed by what she's seeing. From what she heard, living in a studio big enough for barely two people isn't anything like this. She could probably fit a whole school in here. She's always liked big spaces.

"Hey, do you want anything to drink?" She stands up again, and makes her way over to the black cabinet. It's her stash of the good stuff, when she's a bit down. That's what you get without emotion-nanites to control your moods.

"Sure, what've you got?" "All the good stuff."

The other Scythe sits down with a 'huf' as she pulls out one of her strongest bottles. Not too strong, since she doesn't want to wake up with a hammer pounding in her head. She takes two glasses, and sets them on the coasters on the table.

"Here you go", she says as she pours the liquor, "my personal favourite."

The glasses fill with a nice gold brown colour. She takes one of them and stirs it around for a while, before taking a big swig.

She laughs. "Looks like someone needed this."

She groans, and says: "God this is excellent, indeed. Just had a rough week, had some gleanings extra to do. I just made up with my quota."

She takes a sip herself, nodding in agreement. "Ah yes, the trickiness of deadlines. I'm familiar, unfortunately." She walks over to the kitchen island, and reaches in her fridge. "Want some olives? I've got a whole batch of them. Too much, honestly. I also have some cheese, I don't know if you like it, but I'll take it out anyway", she calls over.

"No, I love cheese! Go ahead, we'll make a little plancha."

She takes out the cheese and olives, and adds some salami, hummus and raisins. She doesn't like raisins, but she has to get rid of them.