It was now going to take three schedules lining up before I could dip into Galveston's Wharf: mine, Susie's, and Louise's. Of those, I'd been concerned that Louise wouldn't be able to come, but she assured me that she'd talked with another Priestess.

"... she said that Priestesses can ignore the level limits," she said between bites of her lunch. We'd been talking by text about Susie, Bo, and the upcoming trip, and Louise seemed curious about to hear more, so we took it as an excuse to meet up. "In fact, apparently anyone can, but it's hard for anyone that isn't a Priestess. I have to imagine you can't go backwards, but I guess the lower limit is more of a recommendation. Still, I have to imagine that the National Guard won't just let us walk in; I might need to get permission." She looked at me for a minute. "You might, too, even with your Pass thingie."

I frowned at the thought. Of course, because my level was publicly displayed, I'd most likely just get turned around trying to enter the protected area. I figured showing the Pass would clear me for that, but it was down to the guys at the entrance to not be jerks about it. Unless... do you think you can change what my displayed level is, Merry?

I felt Merry's little fairy fingers trace lines through my brain or soul or whatever while I finished a pleasant lunch with Louise, but in the end, she just popped up and shook her head no. My Dungeoneer level had a whole bunch of knock-on effects, and it was impossible to figure out which one to meddle with without more information.

It hardly mattered. We made a call together at the end of lunch, and a representative of the Guard told us it wouldn't be a big deal, especially since Susie was well above the limit and could vouch for us. That only left scheduling, and we were quickly able to settle on a three-day period at the end of the week that lined up with Susie's preferences, and I sent her a note to cement that in our schedule.

I honestly wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

Since my head wasn't hurting, I went back to the Dungeoneer's Gym and practiced my telekinesis more, specifically working with Merry to try to get a better handle on how I could just easily slip into and out of my trances. Although the work gave me a headache, like it used to and like I'd seen with Jenna, it wasn't the kind of significant, persistent damage that I'd just gotten over. More than anything, it made me feel giddy, like a caffeine rush but unstable. I never had the... good or bad fortune to be into more volatile drugs, so I can't compare it to any of those.

Anyway, the power was worth the weirdness, but I did wonder about it. If I had the experience to spare, I would try to feed it and see if that took an edge off. I'd done something like that before, but at the time I'd had no idea if it was real or not. It had just... eased my mind about how some of the Dungeoneer stats seemed creepy to me.

For now, though, I also spent a fair amount of time practicing Psychokinesis, trying to understand the difference between it and Telekinesis. Some parts were obvious--PK would do whatever I was doing with bright florescent energy instead of things just seeming to happen on their own, and PK had a tendency to damage things with that energy even when not applying any force. My control was also a lot worse with PK, for some reason; although my mental coordination was basically the same between the two skills, there was something else, something emotional that I had to do with this skill to really make use of it.

Merry ended up guiding me more through the differences, rather than me figuring them out on my own.

Naw, you're definitely still doing it wrong, she told me at one point. There are two forms for this Skill, I think, or maybe more, but you always have to force energy into it. It's like... you know when you're using your other one, you have to put that sense of weight into it to pick up really heavy things? You have to put some kind of feeling into it, and what you put into it changes the mode. Like... I think I feel the energies, and one is cool and in control, and one is hot and angry, but they're mixed up and fighting each other.

I wasn't sure where she was getting that knowledge, but I spend the next few hours trying to translate her words into actions. Eventually, after studying what I was doing, Merry asked politely to take control of the magic for a brief moment, and since I was kind of frustrated, I eagerly let her.

The difference between her use of the skill and mine was really, really stark.

When my fairy grasped the skill, I felt a coldness sweep over my body, an emotionally flat tone that came out of my core, down my arms, and then slid out of the skin of my hands. Where my psychokinetic projections before were erratic, hers were a whole lot smoother, and that radiated that same cold, detached energy.

She picked up a plastic dummy target ball, and I could tell immediately that there was no damage being done to it. I'd slagged a couple dozen of the things, even reusing ones I'd already damaged so I wouldn't have to get more, but she took a fresh one and it rested in her hand like nothing was wrong.

I tried to study the emotion flowing through me, but it was ...foreign. I'm not sure I'd ever felt that emotionally flat, but certainly not since my first trip to the Dungeon. It wasn't like me; it wasn't like me at all. It was calculating, unconcerned, unimpressed, callous... and rock-hard stable, which even I could easily tell I just absolutely was not.

Merry, after a moment, switched out that cold certainty with a blindingly intense fury, and the plastic ball all but evaporated in her grasp.

This, too, was an emotion I couldn't wrap my head around. Mostly, I think, because it was just as stable as that colder feeling; a stable, intense, blindingly powerful choice to be feeling an incredibly powerful emotion. As it rioted through my body, I had strange flashbacks, of moments when I had touched on that level of hatred for a moment, but only ever for a moment. None of those moments were stable; none of them were like this at all.

Merry let go pretty much as soon as I had a chance to study both of the forms of the Skill. It may not suit you, she admitted, but it's consistent. I, uh, I'm sorry if that felt weird, but for me, your emotions are just... like, stuff. I know for you, what with the whole having-a-body and everything, they're kind of special for you. History and, uh, body-mechanical stuff. But anyway, you have to control those to control the skill, I think.

I'm not sure how to summarize my reaction to Merry's little speech but I'll go with "unimpressed".

Merry stuck her head up into my vision, and she had kind of a grumpy look on her face, in spite of her constantly-half-lidded eyes. She even had furrowed her brow a little, which was unusual for her. Hey, c'mon, she protested. I'm on your side here, I am. But you're riding a big complicated ...THING, and I don't mean this dungeon thing, and I don't understand it all. If you could control it, you could control the skill, but then, if you could control it, you'd be faster, stronger, all of that. I know it's not that easy, and maybe this isn't the right skill for you. I'm just trying to tell you what I see.

I moved up against a wall and sat down and leaned back, trying to quiet the rioting emotions in me. Sorry, I thought back to her after a minute. It's not just controlling the emotions themselves. It's controlling... ME when they're inside of me. They ...change me.

Merry propped her chin on her hands, her elbows on some invisible "floor", and studied me for a long moment. Weird. Just seems like energy to me. But I guess... I mean, they're magic, right? Emotions.

I wouldn't have called them that, but maybe it was different now that I was a Dungeoneer.

Merry kept staring at me. No, I mean, like, they're spells that your body uses to communicate with you.

That thought actually creeped me the fuck out. They're... I don't... no. I don't think that's how they work.

But you're a spirit riding around in your own body. It takes magic to reach a spirit.

I rubbed my head and tried not to think too hard about that. My spirit, soul, ...mind, whatever, was born from my body. The ...emotions control the stuff that creates my mind. Actually, that wasn't any less creepy, was it? Shit.

Right. Spell to create you, spell to communicate with you. Merry lifted one hand and kind of waved it back and forth in a "same thing" gesture. I guess my point is that you need to learn to defend yourself against them in case they're wrong. Whether that's controlling the feelings or blocking them out, you gotta figure it out someday, right?

Did I? Somehow, that thought felt as icy-cold as the first energy Merry had used. Logical, methodical, and empty, it felt wrong.

Merry studied me for another minute, and then shrugged, her grumpy look disappearing. Okay, well, look, I'm not human, Jer. Maybe I'm wrong and you guys are fine the way you are. It just seems to me like... like you can be easily controlled by your feelings, and you're shy about doing anything about that.

I nodded, trying to regulate my breathing instead of thinking any more on the subject. Somehow, more than anything, my thoughts started to drift towards Louise. More than anything else, over the next maybe ten minutes or so, thinking of her steadied my emotions.

Merry didn't keep staring at me that whole time, but I knew she was paying attention to what I was feeling and thinking. I... kind of had to be as well. Because all of those creepy feelings and all of that sense that things were wrong, those were all very similar to this feeling of calm that swept over me as I thought of Louise.

Emotions.

If I had control over my emotions, I would never have fallen in love. That thought wasn't exactly directed at Merry, but it was a very loud thought compared to the other things that had been running through me as I tried to calm down. I don't understand love any more than I understand that hatred or that... that cold feeling. But without that... that sense that maybe I'm in love... I don't think I'd want to keep going.

Merry, no longer in my field of view, gave me a sense that she was listening and wasn't going to interrupt, which was nice of her. It took me another minute, though, to figure out a way to complete the thought.

I got strong when I figured out the skill trick the first time. Considering the low level, I guess I was probably crazy strong. But it felt like I didn't care. No... it was because I didn't care. Living or dying didn't mean much to me. Killing didn't mean much. Those emotions you were using, and the emotions from back then... are emotions that mean something. You can't keep them steady without agreeing with them. But I also hate them; I don't agree. I don't agree with being ready to die back then, and I don't agree with that cold whatever or the hate.

Right now I'm unstable, and I know it. I noticed my pulse racing a little, and took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. I keep hoping that if I become stable, it will be because I'm ...healthy, I guess. Happy. Safe. Becoming stable shouldn't mean becoming settling on some single screwy emotion forever. I don't even like the thought of that being the most intense, most stable emotion I have. If that was the only way to become stable, then I might as well remain unstable forever.

Merry considered what I said for a long while, as I collected the trash from my training and cleaned up a little, and checked out. Along the way, I ran into the owner, and promised to teach a couple more classes before my upcoming trip. I didn't exactly have something else scheduled, anyway.

I'm not sure I understand, she said after a bit. Do you... like being the way you are, or hate it? I'm honestly not sure from what you said.

I considered the question as I penciled myself in on the calendar. I dunno. Probably have to go with both. I'm not sure I ever ...ONLY hated myself. But there's no question that I did. I definitely never just completely liked or was okay with myself, but there was always some of that.

Merry considered that for a while and gave me a sense of a nod, but otherwise stayed quiet for the rest of the day.