A Danger to Oneself and Others Chapter 14

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As was the case with many surgeries, Clara found herself awake in its aftermath before she had even realized that the process had begun. And, after a recovery period much akin to her ramp-up, Clara awoke approximately a week later, and her moment of truth finally came; she was to be broken again, and return to the comforting embrace of her owner’s all-consuming will. Her head clear of her former implant’s will. Presumably, somewhere out there, the said former implant was its own person now. Clara free to fall, to become Hers. All this begged the question, then, why did that doubt, anxiety and fear still linger? It was her search for answers which had ultimately put Clara in her current situation.

Lucia Rebus, Third Bloom’s hab unit was not particularly unique. Of course, it was a perfectly lovely home, not every home needed to stand out in its architecture or aesthetic. The place was small—for a sprawling affini hab unit—and decorated with a myriad of personal effects. It had a comfortable couch, a bit of clutter, and the air inside smelled of freshly baked cookies. Clara was, of course, offered some, which she gladly indulged herself in, both out of a desire to eat sweets, and out of a desire to show her increasingly disheveled and nervous looking owner that the sky had yet to start falling.

The conversation around her was not one Clara could be at all considered privy to. Mistress and Lucia spoke to one another in one the many local affini dialects, and Clara certainly did not need to understand the words to hear the increasing anxiety in Mistress’ voice. Hearing that tension in Her voice left Clara more than a little uncertain about her own choices. Before, it would have been easy to, again, sink into hopelessness, to tell herself she was a bad pet. The fact that Clara did not do such a thing was, at the very least, a good indication that her new implant was functioning properly. Doubtless, along with the conflict within her, Clara saw the easy solution: to simply ask Mistress politely to ignore her own hesitations and simply take her. Such a prospect did not help with the conflicted feelings, however, and Mistress seemed intent on understanding why things were the way they were.

Clara was a good pet. She knew it; Mistress knew it. So, if she had yet to break, even after surgery, that meant there was something to get to the bottom of. That, at least, was Mistress’ reasoning, and Clara agreed with her on that. Whether Clara agreed of her own accord, or because her implant was helping her see things Mistress’ way Clara did not know. The fact that she also didn’t care was some comfort, as well. Still, as much as it pained her, and pained Mistress even more—that much, she could feel quite clearly once again—Clara’s hardships were not yet over. The urge she had grown within herself to do more, to be more than what she was meant to apparently did not start and end with the bit of plant matter which had been removed from her spine and replaced.

And so, Clara found herself perched on an oversized couch, sitting in her owner’s lap, clinging tightly to Her vines for both their comforts. The conversation between the two affini continued, entirely going over Clara’s head until, eventually, Mistress huffed, squeezed Clara gently, and collapsed backward into the couch. Clara looked from Mistress, to Lucia, then back to Mistress, only to be directed by Her to look back at Lucia. They had an apprehensive air to them, wound tight and drumming their fingers in a show of restlessness.

Before Clara had the chance to ask what, exactly, was going on, they spoke up. “Your Mistress has caught me up on the issue at hand, flower, and mentioned that you wish to see my Lyssa.” They paused, deliberating over their words for a moment. “I need you to know, I will never stop being grateful for what you did for my darling floret, keeping her safe, doing your best to comfort her, helping return her home. But dear, I’m not sure you will find what you seek from speaking with her.”

The affini’s discomfort was palpable, Clara wasn’t even the slightest bit attuned to their rhythm, yet she could practically feel the tension radiating off of them. “I don’t understand,” Clara answered.

After much deliberation, Lucia sighed, and slumped forward, unraveling slightly. “Perhaps it would be best if you saw for yourself.” They stood, and strolled out of the room, down a connecting hall. Clara looked to her Mistress for some sort of explanation or guidance, and Citrodora flashed an apprehensive smile, before gently guiding Clara to look ahead. A few moments later, Lucia reappeared with a dazed Lyssa in tow. The floret walked with an clumsy shuffle, stumbling after her owner as she clung tightly to their vines both for support and guidance. A distant, blissful smile was plastered over her face as she stared up lovingly at Lucia; clearly the girl had eyes for nothing and no-one else.

Lucia sat themself upon the chair across from Clara and Citrodra, then pulled their blissed-out floret into their lap, guiding their gaze toward Clara. For her part, Clara gave an awkward smile, then wave, and realized she had no idea what she actually wanted to talk about, really; ideally it would be something that brought her the closure she needed, but what, exactly that was, Clara had no idea. Clara deliberated over that as she waited for recognition to dawn in the girls eyes—only, it didn’t come. Lyssa returned the wave with the polite eagerness of a happy, care-free floret. There was not a hint of conflict, or suffering in those eyes. It was almost as though—”Hi,” Lyssa chirped happily, disrupting Clara’s thoughts. “Are you the one that Mxtress said wanted to talk to me?” Her head tilted to the side, like a curious puppy. “They said it was an old friend who wanted to see me, but I don’t think we’ve met before.”

She glanced from Clara, up toward her owner, clearly searching for further guidance. In response, Lucia simply guided their pet’s gaze back toward Clara, pet the girl on her head, and whispered something which Clara didn’t quite catch. A bright, eager smile spread over her face, and Lyssa gave an excitable nod, before addressing Clara once more. “S-sorry! Mxtress says we used to be friends? But there are things I’m not allowed to remember anymore so I guess I forgot about knowing you? I’m sorry! What did you want to talk to me about?”

Unsurprisingly, the remainder of Clara’s visit with Lyssa proved unproductive. She made polite conversation with her fellow floret, but knew there was no sense trying to discuss the matter of their kidnapping, Lyssa’s imprisonment, or Clara’s role in their rescue. If it were even possible to dredge up some sealed away memory locked away within the safe, loving vines of Lyssa’s owner’s control, Clara could not say. What she did know, however, was that even if such a thing were possible, it would wrong for Clara to do so. It did not take an affini’s perspective or insight to understand that the girl had been made to forget her unwanted captivity.

That simple, glaring reality lingered at the forefront of Clara’s mind as she and Citrodra departed, and set off for home. In hindsight, Clara felt quite foolish for ever thinking anything else could possibly be the case. A floret was not meant to go through such horrible things. She was probably the only one left. Truthfully, the very notion that one of the other captive florets could ever actually relate to what Clara had gone through now seemed a gross and naive oversight.

And yes, part of the reason she’d visited the girl was to confirm she truly was okay. Clara was certainly glad that was the case. But Lyssa had only been okay because of her Mxtress. Because she’d had the good sense to not shrink in fear at the thought of her owner reaching inside and taking all the pain away. And where did that leave Clara? She had gone through hell to keep her fellow captives safe, and in all likelihood not a single one would so much as recognize her face. She had struggled and fought and cried, but she had not saved anyone, not truly. She had helped prevent the worst outcomes, but it was their owners who had actually made things okay.

Was it all for nothing, then? Was all that struggling meaningless if all it amounted to was Clara being left alone with nobody left to understand what she’d been through? The responsibility she’d had to undertake? The control she’d never wanted, but was now far too terrified to let go of? No, that wasn’t the case. There was one person left who understood. Someone she’d been avoiding, for fear of what she might see. But she needed to know. With a sigh, Clara turned to her owner, who had been strolling beside her pet, struggling to keep her obvious tension in check. It hurt so much to see Citrodora like that. Clara needed to get better. She needed to do this\;, no matter how scary it was, Clara would do this for Her.

“Mistress,” she called softly. Citrodora turned, trying and failing to act as though she had not been coiled tight, waiting for any indication that her pet needed her. “I need to see them.”

For a moment, it looked as though Citrodora was about to ask who Clara meant, but she knew. Her tension briefly flared, her hands clenched, her vines tightened. It only lasted a brief few seconds, but Clara felt genuine helplessness radiating off her owner. But before she could speak up, Citrodra exhaled, visibly loosened, and fixed her gaze on Clara. “I have something to show you back at the hab, dearest,” she replied.

Clara nodded, and tried to push down her unease. Citrodora was clearly hiding something, and it didn’t take attunement to her biorhythms to know it wasn’t something good. Clara did her best not to dwell on what the specifics might be, but that didn’t make the unease go away. Like a churning maelstrom, Clara could feel Citrodora’s own tension, anxiety, uncertainty feed into then draw off of her own. Was this just how things would be, then? Was she bound to hurt the person she loved most through her inability to get over all that shit she’d been through? Suddenly, uncounted vines wrapped around Clara, and lifted her into the air to be cradled against her Mistress’ chest. She forced out an uncertain half-sob, half-chuckle, and nuzzled into Her.If nothing else, she could always rely on Mistress to keep trying, and there was comfort in that. Clara shut her eyes, and tried to relax.

At some point, Clara must have fallen asleep, as she suddenly found herself back at their hab, leaning against her owner’s side. One of Citrodora’s hands was idly stroking her hair, and placed atop the table before them was a garish envelope, patterned with the sort of complex floral designs that only an affini could see as anything but baffelingly austentatious. Clara shot her Mistress a searching glance. Citrodora responded only with a nervous smile, and a permissive prod toward the envelope. Leaning forward, Clara took the paper in her shaky hands, and clumsily flooded it open. To the surprise of no one at all, contained within was what appeared to be a letter, addressed to Clara, penned in an artful, flowing hand—or perhaps vine was more accurate. Considering the context, Clara could take an educated guess as to who had written her. This did nothing to quell her nerves. Part of her wondered if she could ask her Mistress to read it aloud, but an encouraging squeeze gave her the courage to read on her own.

Clara,

It is strange to address you so, as a person separate from myself entirely. I am sure you understand that better than anyone. Still, perhaps you do not understand it entirely. I have never before existed outside of you. Even now I am uncertain how much of myself is derived from some truly authentic new being, and how much of myself is simply a version of who you could have been with the right opportunities and the strength to seize them. Though, there is still something fundamentally non-terran about myself. I am affini, but the only life I know is yours. It is… difficult to describe. This is the first time I have even had to ponder such existential questions. Before my sapience began to blossom, I had a simple, single purpose. Even through those difficult days aboard Hyperion’s Lantern, when my consciousness began to stir as something outside of your own, there was clarity in what needed to be done.

Now I am left with questions, and a desire to find the answers on my own. I am certain that you, too, have many questions for me, ones which you would likely prefer I answer in person. Truthfully, I do not feel I can face you, or Citrodora at the moment. Too much of who I am is wrapped up in residual urges from what I was, and who I am not. Sadly, I do not have the answers you seek, and you do not have the answers I seek. I would very much like to meet you in person some day, Clara. But for now, I need to be on my own. It’s a big universe, and I intend to find my place in it. Still, I would be remiss both in my duties as an affini, and as your former implant not to at least tell you this: I am not Clara Sepal, First Floret. You needn’t worry about such things. I am me, whatever that means. And I am happy. I am grateful that through you, I was able to evolve into someone new. But you do not need me, Clara, nor I you. There is someone who you do need though, and who does need you. She can help you far more than I ever could. I wish you well, Clara, and thank you.

Your friend,

Rhaphiolepis Indica, First Bloom (She / Her)

P.S. Remind Citrodora: the Class-C strain which works best on you is Proxilium; she always forgets.

Clara held the letter before herself, grip tight around the paper’s edges. She stared at the words for a while, trying to process all she just read. The world had moved on without her. She was supposed to be leaving everything which had happened to her aboard Hyperion’s Lantern behind, and yet, she was the one who had been left behind by it. She wasn’t needed. She wasn’t important. The world she found herself in no longer depended on her to keep going. No florets depended on her for survival. No budding consciousness lurked within her, enigmatic and alone. It was comforting. There was only one person in the whole universe who still needed Clara, and Clara needed Her, too. Hand shaking, she gently set aside the letter, and glanced up at her Mistress. Her owner was clearly anxious, beside herself with worry and sympathy. And finally, it all clicked in her head. Nothing and no-one required anything from her but Mistress. And Clara wanted to be exactly what Mistress wished her to be.

With a shaky sigh of relief, she leaned further into her owner. “It’s over,” she murmured. “It’s really over. Everyone else has moved on, all I’m doing by wallowing is letting them win.” Laying her head in her owner’s lap, Clara hugged herself close against one of Mistress’ vines. The conclusion she’d come to was all well and good, but her world could not be fixed through the power of revelation alone. “I don’t want to keep going like this, but I don’t know how to change,” she whimpered.

Citrodora seemed to pick up on Clara’s point, and stirred. Was that hope she felt radiating off her owner? Mistress looked down upon Clara, and smoothed out her pet’s hair. “What’s stopping you, my love?”

“I’m scared,” Clara admitted. “It feels strange to say this, but despite being literally kidnapped, that ship was the first time I felt like I had any control over my life at all. People depended on me; I depended on me. I had something to lose, something to fight for. What I was doing mattered. And now it’s like… they took away the parts of me that were strong, but left behind the parts that needed to have that strength to begin with.”

Citrodora hummed, and pulled Clara in closer, encouraging the girl to bury her face in her Owner’s form. Clara didn’t need to be told twice. She rolled over, and nuzzled into her Mistress’ torso as a hand lowered to stroke her hair. “Let me ask you something, my Clara. Why did you choose to be mine in the first place?” she asked.

It was never something Clara had really thought about in depth, but surprisingly, the answer came easily. “You were the first person who made me feel like I didn’t have to prove myself to. The first person who I didn’t feel the weight of expectation around.”

“But now it’s your expectation that weighs you down, pet. Do you think I expect you to be anything more that what I decide for you to be? The only thing which has kept me from simply eviscerating your will and remaking you as mine once again is the knowledge that your hesitance comes not from any feralist urgest, but from your… unprecedented complications.” Clara had known her owner for over three years; she knew Citrodora better than anyone or anything. And yet, for so long she had been so absorbed in her own goings on, that Clara only then noticed just how untrue her owner’s words were. The promise was empty, hollow. A prop meant for Clara’s comfort and for Citrodoras. For how long, and how often had Citrodora been hiding her true feelings to protect her pet? Clara could not say, but she needed to put an end to it.

“You’re just as scared as I am,” Clara answered.

Mistress froze. For several moments, she looked down on her pet, the look of someone laid completely bare write large on her face. Then, she unraveled. Her humanoid form gave way to an unincorporated mess of tangled vines which wrapped and flowed around Clara, clinging to her desperately. When Citrodora’s movement ceased, Clara found herself completely ensnared, but this was not a predator’s trap, it was a desperate, needful embrace. From all around her, Clara felt, and heard her Mistress’ voice vibrating through vine and leaf. “I don’t want to lose you, Clara. Stars, I can’t. I tried so hard to make everything better and I’ve failed.”

There was hardly much in the way of a clear form to her owner, so instead, Clara settled for the bundle of vines nearest to her arms. With all the strength she could muster, Clara leaned forward, and squeezed her owner tight, tears streaming down her face. “It wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to make you proud of me. I don’t want to be strong anymore. I don’t care how much my insides tear and churn at the thought of letting myself lose it all. I never wanted it to begin with. Please, Mistress—please break me.”

Citrodora tensed. For several moments, there was silence. Then, all around her, She replied in a quivering voice. “What if I do it wrong? What if I can’t put you back together right?”

Clara rested her head on a bed of vines, and replied. “Then I guess I would stay broken, maybe forever. But I’d still be yours. I would be okay with that. If I don’t fit back together right. I would be okay with being less than I am now. Less than I was before they took me. I would have you. And I wouldn’t have to worry. Wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore. Just do it—please—before I lose my nerve.”

The heaping mass of vines surrounding Clara stirred, and began to coalesce back into a familiar shape. As they did, she felt her world echo with a thousand booming voices. “Very well, my pet. I will take your will and make it my own. We will have to see if there is any left to give back when I am done. Now sleep, beloved.”

Vines descended on her from all sides, and Clara obeyed her owner.