She-Swine

Olive braced, bolting her eyes shut as she shuffled onto the stepping stool, setting her candle holder to a side. The bathroom was a tight square, crowded with cabinets, a basin filled with soapy water, a wooden hip tub bristled with splinters. It smelled of time-eaten metal and damp boards. Hardly hygenic conditions, she thought, wrinkling her snout. But I survived worse for longer.

She reached out and ran her hand along the raspy edges of the mirror, half-corroded in its obscurity. Her knees trembled, dread shaking them like reeds. She hadn't seen herself, hadn't surveyed the true scope of the damage. To open her eyes, bask in what had been done to her, would make it real. Undeniable. 

Schrödinger's pig. She snorted bitterly, with a dry swallow. Her mouth was raspy dry and she licked her lips, steeling herself. She'd broken out of jail, joined a criminal conspiracy, and killed someone, all in one day. Looking at her reflection was piddly, in comparison. 

With a deep breath through her nose, she braced and opened her eyes.

She wasn't as ugly as she feared. In the guttering light, the rusted mirror showed her a short, curvy piglet, yet one with a human shape, a humanoid face. The snout was a blemish, like a wart grown too bold, but there were shades of herself in her high cheekbones, her arched brows, curling with the slant of her eyes. Dark, greyish-blue eyes, larger than her old ones, and a good deal less striking. They were reflective, mirrors in themselves, showing her floppy ears and blood-red hair in stereo. She ran her pink fingers through it, let it fall, brush her shoulders. 

True, she would never want to live like this. But maybe she could survive a few days, or a week.

Maybe I can convince them to do the heist tonight, she snorted, dipping a rag in the basin and washing her face with it. Still, she had to admit to herself that something smelled. Within a day of waking up in Yor, she happened to meet someone capable of getting her back home? Someone who was willing to trust her with privileged information? She told her it was because, as a Porcene, she would go unnoticed, underestimated. It was certainly convenient, she had to allow that, but then again, so many fantasy stories were.

Maybe that's why I'm here. To play out some idiot's stupid campaign. If that was the case, then she just needed to follow the plot thread. Even if not, it was still her best chance. 

Soft knuckles rapped at the door. "You alright in there, sweetling?" Sianna asked, softly. 

"Yep! Be out in a minute!" Olive called back, rubbing at her ears. If she was stuck with that body, then she might as well keep it clean. 

"It's quite alright. I'll be here when you're done!" 

Olive sighed. The cat woman was nice, she had to admit, but a touch insistent. She just met me, and, within hours, was willing to take the fall for murder? She didn't like the smell of that, either. 

With a last pass of her face, she smiled, found herself oddly pleased with the way her eyes lit up, and blew out her candle before sweeping from the room. 

They had crawled into a makeshift barracks, bored into the ground and hidden under a trapped door. A place to lie low for a day or so. The bathroom was little more than an outhouse wedged into a corner, the rest of the cellar occupied by low, creaking cots, tables, a single wood fed stove. Ylsa's lambent orb stood vigil, above, like a bulb, casting all in a soporific glow. Thick beams buttressed the bubble, holding up layers of clay and silt. Bristle splayed out over a cot, snoring lowly as his ears and feet twitched. The sleeper snuggled in her own, a thin smirk smoothing her droopy face. Ylsa's body was totally obscured under her own covers, chest gently rising and falling.

Sianna sat at the edge of her's, athwart Olive's, tail stirring as she turned to her, smiling sweetly. She'd stripped out of her petticoats, put on a roomy shift that ruffled up at her waist. She could see the impression of fur underneath, a white belly, black sides. Her inky hair rolled down her shoulders, like a river of dark syrup.

Olive caught herself smiling back. She had been relieved that she had decided to stay, to hear out Ylsa in the morning.

She held up her hand, two dice pinched between thumb and forefinger. "Want to play a game?" She asked, her ears eager. "They're dead to the world, so I don't think we need to worry about waking them. You pick!"

The dice themselves were of craftsman make. Cubes of clouded amber, with curling shells suspended inside. Olive's eyes lit up, filled with suppressed envy. Her body felt wooden, yearning for the cot, but a dormant piece of her woke, longed for the click-clack. 

You win this round, cat. "How about liar's dice?" She shuffled between the cots, planted herself down. "Or... I think we need five dice, for that."

"We do, but we can find a compromise," Sianna said, standing, picking up a small end table and setting it down quietly between them. "How about... 'odds or evens', we'll call it? One of us rolls, covers it, and the other has to guess if the sum is... well, odd or even."

Olive nodded. "Sounds easy enough. Do you want to start, or...?"

Sianna held up a finger. "Just one more thing to keep it interesting, seeing as we don't have coin to wager." She leaned forward, crossing her arms. "If someone guesses right, then they get to ask the other one question. If they guess wrong, the other gets to ask them one question. If anyone refuses, then they have to--" She threw up a hand. "--I don't know, hold their breath for twenty seconds or something. We'll figure it out. Agreeable?"

Olive felt a churning in her stomach. She was plotting something, wasn't she? Was this an interrogation?

And she played right into it! Walked blissfully into the snare, without a care! Her snout wrinkled. She had to abort, find an excuse to refuse. She was tired. Yes! Very tired!

But, equally, very curious. Sianna's eyes were wide, bubbling with intrigue. Her cheeks warmed, a bellows of intrigue working in her face and ears. 

Maybe I can spin this. Turn the tables... 

"Seems so," she said, her tail twitching on her cot. "I'll start!"

The fifth spread was inauspicious, a one and a six. She covered it with both hands, held up her chin, and pinched her lips into a taut grin. 

The first four rolls had yielded soft questions. Olive had learned that Sianna enjoyed brandy and did not, in fact, play with string (which she insisted with a huff and a pout). Sianna had learned that Olive was in her mid-thirties and liked Devil Food Cake (though only the store bought brands). 

Sianna scanned her face with her ears leaning over her scalp. "Eeeve-- no, odd!" She said, eyes full of pupil. 

Olive sighed, snout drooping, and lifted her hands. 

"Yes!" Her tail lanced the air, and she clapped girlishly. "Three to two! Are we doing best of nine?" Her posh accent had smoothed away, leaving something less refined, and slightly nasally. 

"I guess," Olive said, dejection in her groan. "Go ahead and ask..."

Sianna tilted her head, then broadened her eyes. "Oh, yes, right. Ahem..." She coughed into her fist and leaned forward, meeting Olive's eyes. Her features softened in the cool glow. "Are you... sure about this? This insane little scheme?" She asked, voice lowering into a chasm. 

And there it is. Olive sat back, pinched at an ear. "W-well, it's... definitely intriguing..."

"You know she's only interested in you because of your eloquence, right?" Sianna continued, scooting forward. "Because she knows how useful a smart Porcene could be, for espionage. Especially when... most of them..." She petered off, fussing over her hair.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Olive balled her hands, blood running hot. "Do people think I'm stupid?"

Sianna waved a placative hand, a flush spreading over her downy cheeks. "Sorry, sorry! I just meant, you know..." She looked away, ears bowed. "Porcenes aren't... educated. Goddess, that sounds worse, doesn't it? I just mean they can't--" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "They do not have access to the necessary materials to thrive in a civilization. Nope, that might be worst of all..." Defeated, she grabbed her pillow, pushed her face into it, and bit. 

Olive's momentary anger receded, replaced by a queer, stirring mirth. Then a smothering warmth. Oh no, she's adorable! 

"I-it's fine, I get it!" She assured, flailing her hands. "We're kind of dumb, in a sociological way! Not a biological one! It's alright! I just misunderstood! Sorry!"

What am I apologizing for?!

"No, no, I should have been more thoughtful. Should have realized that was a tender spot." Sianna said, dropping her pillow, little bite marks forming a ring. 

"I-I mean, to be fair, I did just ask you a few minutes ago if you play with string, so..."

"I suppose," Sianna granted, her lips starting to curl. "Maybe that evens the score. Don't worry about your answer, I can void it if it cleaves too close."

Olive nodded, tapping her feet together, then sat forward again."S-sorry..." Again?! When's the last time I apologized to anybody?! "It's just that.. I mean, we just met, and you went out and... and took that fall for..." She winced, and Sianna dipped her head. "I don't know if..." Her stomach gnashed, and she dipped her head. "I'm not sure if... you know..."

This is pathetic. I am pathetic.

Sianna took a breath, squared her shoulders, lifted her ears. "I do. Sorry if I've been presumptive, I swear it's not for any untoward reason." She closed her eyes. "You just seemed lost, is all. Lost and scared." Her ears wilted. "I remember being lost and scared. Remember wanting someone to be there to make cold nights seem warmer." Her eyes were glossy, like jade dipped in resin. "I haven't always been the kind of person that would make that girl proud. I don't think I am now, either." She turned to the foot of her cot, looked at a fat purse laying atop her neatly folded dress and petticoats. "But I want to be."

Olive felt a twinge in her chest, an ache spooling in her belly. She felt a hand rise, begin to reach out. 

Darlene's laugh turned her ears. She pulled back. 

"I'll... help, if I can."

Sianna's tail wrapped around her own waist. "I'd like that." She told her, collecting the dice. "But, it is getting late. How about we call it a draw?" Her eyes shone keen. "Play again some other time?"

"Sure," Olive said, with a demure smile. "We'll have time before it all happens, I'm sure."

"If it happens," Sianna said, wiggling under her sheets. "I still need some convincing. And the moment something smells off, don't think I'll let you go charging into the slaughterhouse, Piglet!" She sniggered through a yawn. 

Butterflies hatched in Olive's chest. She should have been outraged. Instead, she giggled. "Okay, Mittens."

A giggle answered. "That's Razor Mittens to you!" She laughed, pulling the blanket up to her neck, turning over. "Anyway, it was fun. Good night."

Olive couldn't help agreeing, pulling the sheets up and insinuating her shoulders. It was a note of fruit in a fecal smoothie. A happy moment.

And she hadn't even discredited anyone! 

She closed her eyes, part of her hoping she'd wake up in her own, heated bed under a weighted blanket. Another, smaller part didn't mind waking up exactly where she was, clay stink and all. 

"Good night."