Bane Six - Moon

Valeria was twisting around in her bed when she noticed it. She blinked her eyes open, then said a word that was very rude and that might have earned her a disapproving eyebrow raise from her mom.

At least it explained the headache she had last night. Or maybe it was morning? She couldn’t quite tell. It was dark out, at least.

Sighing, she sat on the edge of her bed, then pressed a hand against her stomach. There was another sigh.

Standing up, she fought off just a tiny bit of vertigo, then snapped a mental command at the monster sleeping atop her dresser. It opened one of the drawers, grabbed some things, and tossed them out to Valeria who caught them out of the air.

She trudged over to the bathroom, her path lit up by the red light in the belly of one of her prototype monsters.

It took a minute to confirm that her initial suspicions were right.

Wearing a heavy pout, and a fresh nightgown, Valeria stomped out of her room and down the corridor. The few monsters she encountered on the way shied away from her, clearly knowing that she was upset.

She arrived upstairs, at her mom’s bedroom, and knocked.

There was some shuffling on the other side, then the door opened.

It wasn’t Luciana who stood there, but Semper in a long gown with her hair tied back. She looked down at Valeria, who stood a bit taller. “Ah, hey,” she said.

“Hello,” Semper said. She grinned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Valeria said. She felt some warmth reaching her cheeks. “Can I speak with Mom please? If you don’t mind. It’s, ah, private?”

Semper shrugged. “Certainly,” she said before half-turning. “I’ll be in my rooms, Luciana. It was nice, chatting and all.”

Valeria bounced to the side as Semper walked by. She followed the goddess with her gaze, her mind drawing a lot of possible conclusions, but she set those aside for the moment. She was here for something else.

Luciana was sitting by her desk, in her own nightgown with one leg crossed over the other and a few books left open on the desk next to her. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

Valeria closed the door behind her. “I’ve got cramps,” she said. “And a headache. And I ruined some of my underthings.”

Luciana looked up, then understanding flashed in her eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Valeria asked.

“I... had not considered... this eventual occurrence.” She sat up straighter while adjusting the front of her gown. She looked a bit more flustered than Valeria was used to seeing.

“Well, it was going to happen eventually,” Valeria said.

“So you knew?” Luciana asked.

Valeria blinked. “I’ve read the biology texts in the library. Well, some of them. You know, for making better monsters. How to place bones and ligaments, how organs worked. I’m not dumb you know.” She crossed her arms while shaking her head, then stopped. It made her head ache a bit.

“That’s a comfort to hear,” Luciana said. “If that’s the case, then I suppose you’ll, ah, take care of things on your own?”

Valeria stared. “Don’t you have some magic to take care of this? It’s gross, unsanitary, and very unpleasant.”

“You know, that could be used to fuel dark magic. The emotions, I mean.”

“I can fuel my magic plenty well without having to change my clothes,” Valeria said.

Luciana chuckled. “Yes, I suppose. Come, sit down. You look irate standing by the door.” Luciana gestured, and a chair moved over to be next to hers. She was sitting by one of the windows, the light of the moon competing with lamplight to keep the room lit.

Valaria muttered to herself as she walked over to the chair. “Now I’ll be irritated sitting down.” She sat down. “So, what do you do to fix this?”

Luciana cleared her throat, then rubbed at her jawline. “Well, I don’t necessarily have the same issues you do.”

“Because you’re a goddess?” Valeria asked.

“That is part of the reason,” Luciana admitted. “Though, that’s not the entire story. Have you ever read of a goddess or deity-like figure called Marge?”

“That’s a weird name for a goddess,” Valeria said. “But no, I don’t think so?”

Luciana nodded. “There are some gods and goddesses that aren’t part of the pantheon. Some are ancient, and quite powerful. Others are gods, but their domain is so small and specific, that they are nearly forgotten by history. They don’t have the power or wits to impact the world at large. Or maybe they just don’t care.”

“And Marge is one of those?”

Luciana nodded. “She would be a goddess of grief, if she cared about doing anything but cultivating and wallowing in the suffering of her own domain.”

“What’s she got to do with... anything?” Valeria asked.

“She’s the goddess of your current problem,” Luciana said. “Noone else seems entirely keen on fighting her for the domain. As women suffer, she grows more powerful.”

“Huh,” Valeria said. She could see why no one cared much for Marge. In fact, she was quite happy to write a scathing letter addressed to the goddess. “Where does she live?”

“On the moon,” Luciana said.

Valeria looked out of the window. The moon hung, far above, a nearly perfect disk, if it wasn’t for the massive cracks in its side, and the small floating rocks around it made of the same grey stone. The broken moon was out of her letter-sending range, she imagined.

“Marge hasn’t come down in... a very very long time. She’s cowering up there, I suspect.”

“Why?” Valeria asked.

“Well, see, I once had the same issue you now have. Marge, at the time, decided to... amplify the issue, by causing more pain and suffering and such.” Luciana sighed. “This was millenia ago. The very day the moon was cracked, in fact. I’ve never had any such issue since.”

Valeria blinked, put two and two together, then stared up at the moon.

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“Are you saying that to take care of my period I should blow up the moon?”

Luciana frowned. “That might be a bit beyond what you can manage,” she said.

“I think so, yeah,” Valeria said. Valeria sometimes forgot that her Mom was the most feared of all the goddesses. Sometimes she was reminded of why.

Luciana gracefully shrugged a shoulder. “Well, in that case I suppose you’ll have to just live with it.”

Valeria’s jaw went slack for a moment. “Are you serious?”

One of her mom’s eyebrows quirked. “Did you expect me to solve all of your problems for you? You’re in reasonable shape. I’ll have the cooks add more red meat to the menu for the next couple of days. It’ll pass. Ask your friends about cloths and such, and perhaps consider bathing more often if you want.”

“That’s not the solution I wanted,” Valeria said. She was really hoping for something more magical. The gesture with the meat was nice--meat being very, very expensive since keeping cattle was very hard in a monster-ridden land--but it was still just meat.

“Then learn some grief magic to alleviate the symptoms. Half the world's population deals with it, I would be quite disappointed if my daughter couldn’t.”

Valeria crossed her arms. “You couldn’t deal with it.”

“Pardon?” Luciana asked.

Valeria uncrossed her arms to point out the window. “You blew up the moon!”

“That is dealing with it. In a very permanent fashion, certainly, but it is undoubtedly an issue that is entirely dealt with.”

Valeria pouted.

Her mom stared for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “I’ll ask Semper for advice. Some of her archives must have some sort of solution that’s not quite so drastic as my own. There are teas and such.”

“Thanks Mom,” Valeria said. “I appreciate the help.”

“Yes, I am rather helpful, aren’t I?” Luciana didn’t smile, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone that might as well have been a full on grin. “Now, back to bed with you. Lacking sleep won’t help anything.”

Valeria stood up, then grimaced. “Urgh, this sucks,” she said before she grit her teeth. Then she raised her arms.

Luciana stood up, then carefully hugged her close. That was nice, at least. “Sleep well,” she said. “And don’t fret. No daughter of mine will die of something so mundane.”

“Yeah yeah,” Valeria said. “Love you mom.”

“And I you.”

She paused by the door. “By the way, what was Semper doing in here?” Valeria asked.

“Oh, we were just talking about this and that. Catching up, as it were.”

Valeria nodded and turned back towards the door. It was, in part, so that her mom didn’t see her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

It would have to be an issue for another time, though.

***