Chapter Twenty-Four - Vim and Vigor

Crossover: Vigor Mortis, by ThundaMoo

I step into the shop first. Penelope is a lot more fragile than I am, and it only makes sense that I be in front in case someone tries something. I always have a few tentacles, ready to reach out and attack. It’s probably why I’m the first to notice that we’re not where we’re supposed to be.

“This is bizarre,” Penelope says hesitantly.

“This isn’t the place we were going to,” I say.

The place is a cafe, so it’s not too different from where we were going, but this one has a very different decor. An illusion maybe? But I think I would be able to tell, maybe. I’ve seen a lot of Rowan’s illusions, and this one is very realistic if it is one. Maybe mind magic, but that doesn’t work on me the way it works on others.

“Hello,” a lady says brightly.

She’s standing at the top of two little steps halfway into the room. There are glass-covered shelves behind her with pastries in them, and a long counter with a big till sitting on it. She has an apron on, and a clean dress on under that. She probably looks very ordinary, but I can’t help but notice the tentacles gently wrapped around her soul.

It’s not one tentacle. It’s hundreds of them. Tiny ones, that are carefully wrapped around the lady’s bright warm soul.

They’re hugging her.

Somehow I find that a little disarming. Is there someone else here like me? The tentacles reach out behind her and just sort of stop in midair, as though they’re frayed apart. But new ones poke through reality and caress the soul again every few seconds.

“We have excellent tea,” the lady continues. “And some really nice cakes.” she glances between Penelope and me, then blushes a little as she adds, “Cakes that are great for sharing.”

I glance back and onto the street. There’s people out there, just walking by. It looks like we might be in one of the nicer parts of Skyhope, from the way they’re dressed.

“Let’s play along,” Penelope whispers. She smiles up at the lady. “We’ll take some tea, and one of those cakes for sharing, please.”

The lady nods and goes off, likely to prepare all of that. Penelope grabs me by the hand and starts leading me towards the quietest corner of the room. I think she’s in a plotting mood. I fully expect her to start telling me about what kind of trouble we’re in, but she stops mid-step, and I glance before her, finally noticing the other person in the room.

She’s so short that I must have missed her behind one of the tables. It’s a girl, with a fancy purple dress. She’s looking up at me and Penelope, and I can’t help but stare at her eyes. They’re two black disks, with little dots in them. A field of stars, constantly spinning.

Her soul is a mess of tentacles, small and large, writhing around like a loose banner on a windy day. Strangely, the soul feels like... a pamphlet. Some of her tentacles are reaching down to the paper things she’s holding in her hand, others to the same folded paper things on the table behind her.

“Could I interest you in a pamphlet about hugs?” she asks.

“A pamphlet about hugs?” Penelope asks.

The girl nods. “Yes. Or one about why killing yourself, or allowing yourself to die after your purpose in life has ended, isn’t good.”

“I think the one about hugs might be better,” Penelope says. She’s smiling with her lips, but I can feel the alarm around her. I reach out with a few tentacles and hug her soul, reminding her that I’m there.

“That’s interesting,” the girl says. She raises an arm--no, a tentacle. An actual fleshy, non-soul meat-tentacle, and points to Penelope. “Are you hugging her with your essence?”

“Yeah,” I say.

Penelope shots me a look, but I have no idea why she looks so suddenly angry at me.

The girl makes a wiggly gesture with her tentacle arm. “Does that feel nice?” She’s asking Penelope.

Penelope seems even more alarmed now. “Yes? It’s, ah, nice and... it makes me feel safe and very close to Vita.”

The girl nods, and a smaller tentacle slips out from under her dress to pick up a notebook from on the table. She grabs a small wax pencil, then starts to take notes. “Is this an intimate feeling?”

“Pardon?” Penelope asks.

She’s quick to hide her blush, but I can tell the question made her uncomfortable.

“Why do you want to know that?” I ask.

The girl shrugs. “My purpose in life right now is to make a pamphlet that helps people give better hugs, and understand why hugs and cuddles are good.”

I nod. A noble goal.

“How important would you rate the inclusion of tentacles in making a hug better?” she asks Penelope.

Penelope takes a moment to answer. “I will admit that they do improve the overall hug experience,” she says.

“Good, good,” the girl says. “Do you only use soul-tacles, or do you also use physical ones?”

“Physical ones?” Penelope asks.

The girl wiggles hers around.

“No, we don’t use that,” Penelope says.

“Do you wish that your partner had more tentacles? If so, how many more? What sort of tentacles do you wish your cuddlebuddy had?” the girl continues.

“There’s more kinds of tentacles?” I ask.

She nods while waving and making an ‘of course’ sort of gesture without looking up from her notes. “There’s lots. Metatentacles, pretentacles, the experimental hugtacles, timetacles, which show up sometimes even though we haven’t invented them yet.”

“Pam, sweetie, don’t scare the customers,” the lady running the shop says as she comes down with a tray. She places it on one of the tables nearby, then sets out the mugs and a big slice of cake. “Please enjoy! Oh, and don’t worry if you’re not from this dimension, you’ll be right back home when you walk out.”

“Thank you,” Penelope says. She glances at me, but I don’t understand any more than she does.

***