Nimble, Nimble

Find the story beginning here! 

24226559 - portrait of a beautiful steampunk woman over vintage .

“I’ve never been in here before,” Amos whispered as they moved through the door and into Mayor Perryn’s private offices. His boyish curiosity helped to soothe Nym’s nerves which were  excited to the point of making her nauseous.

The office space was luxurious but comfortable and Nym seated herself close to Amos with a frightened smile. He took her hand encouragingly.

“Mr. May…Perryn,” Nym stammered, “You. It seems. Do you know me?”

Perryn Peterson sat back in his chair thoughtfully. He had imagined this day so many times but had never factored in the young woman seated before him. There was much to tell, little time and try though he might he simply could not find an appropriate starting point.

Mike could see his consternation and interceded, “Do you have your mechination?” he smiled at Nym reassuringly.

Nym looked confused until the cog, which had taken a liking to traveling upon her hat in the form of a dragonfly, fluttered to the table and with a few clicks and whirs transformed itself into a scarab beetle. It scurried across the table and up the arm of the Mayor’s jacket.

“Fantastic!” the Mayor exclaimed. “As many times as I have seen Marcel’s work, it never ceases to amaze.” The mayor smiled at Nym, “Of course, you had a tremendous hand in it’s creation.”

Nym sat up a bit straighter in her chair, “I did?”

“You were called Nimble then, though I think that was more or less Marcel’s pet name for you. Your name…” the Mayor stammered, still uncertain of how to explain. Mike scratched his chin, also out of ideas.

“My name is Trixie Nymphae,” she said confused. Amos gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yes.” The mayor’s eyes lit, “I suppose that it is,” then added, “What do you remember, young lady. Let’s start there.”

Nym thought for a quick moment and then stated, “I remember being on the beach near Port Twain. It was dark and I was alone. I saw something shining, it was near me,” she pointed at the animated and scurrying automaton, “close in the shoals. It was not like this then. It was simply a cog with two symbols – a sort of bird and the letter ‘L,’The engravings were curious to me, I…” Nym faltered a moment looking to Amos who nodded tenderly for her to continue, “I needed to know about them. Urgently. I went directly to the Archive and sat on the steps until they unlocked the doors. I’ve been searching for their meaning ever since, really.”

“Yes, of course.” The Mayor smiled kindly at her. “It was part of their plan: you and your sister were assigned as a sort of sentry.”

“My Sister?” Nym looked anxiously at Amos.

“He called her Trixie.” The Mayor gave her a gentle smile, he realized how difficult this was going to be for her and felt saddened that he had no tools to soften the information.

“But my name’s…” Nym was confused almost to the point of tears.

“Trixie Nymphae, ” The Mayor said softly, “Yes. And that is your name. It is the name you chose and it belongs to you. No one can take it from you. Whatever any of us go through in life the one things that we all deserve is the right to self determination.” Perryn smiled at his husband across the table,  “Whatever happened in your fall, you are completely new and entirely remarkable.”
 Somewhere she had a sister. Something was wrong, her head was spinning as her heart beat ferociously against her ribs. She felt as if it were a wound that she had been nursing secretly within her heart had been abruptly ripped open. How could she have forgotten? 

“Let’s pour the tea and take a few minutes. It’s okay.” Mike said as he began filling cups with a steaming liquid, the scent of chamomile and lavender invading the room.

Amos moved closer to Nym and took her arm, she was distressed and shaking and he did what he could to comfort her.

“How did I fall? What did you mean ‘sentry?’ Where is my sister?” The questions came pouring from her, she felt confused and agitated and frightened. Amos collected a cup from Mike and handed it to her. She accepted, her hands visibly shaking . She immediately sat the cup upon the table, she could not keep it from spilling in her trembling grip and  instead wrung her hands with worry. 

“Your sister, well, she is not really that – it is hard to put into words. She isn’t a sister so much as a twin flame.” the Mayor explained, sensing that this was the question most burning, however his quizzical response did not help to sooth her.

“Trixie is with Marcel Ghostraven.” Mike offered in an attempt to keep his befuddled partner from further confusing the girl. 

Amos patted her hands as if to confirm that, if her sister was with Marcel, she was safe.

Nym took a deep breath, sat back into her chair and braved a sip of her tea. It was hot and sweet and soothed the ache and burn that radiated from her chest.

“There is so much to tell you!” Mike said, “But, Nym, we assure you. Your sister is with Marcel and he loves you both fiercely. He would never let her be harmed.”

“Why… why is she …am I,” the stinging sensation of the tears that she could not fight back overwhelmed her, and she raised her hand to her mouth, choking on her fears. She was in agony sensing that she had somehow let her sister down.

Amos gave her his handkerchief and moved to hold her. She sobbed into his chest, as the two older men sat respectfully allowing her to emote. 

Mike had once said that sometimes the kindest thing you can do is give someone the space to cry without judgement, and Perryn knew well the truth of his words.

“You stayed with TriAnna,” the Mayor continued, trying to give her some comfort by explaining more of what he knew, “while Trixie left with Marcel. The machinations were designed to communicate with one another and, should something go wrong, lead you to your sister. You and Trixie are…bonded… you need each other, just as TriAnna needs you.”

“TriAnna?” Nym said the word thoughtfully. “The woman from that strange letter?” She was feeling slightly dazed now, “Who is she?”

“Ah. Well,” Mayor Perryn sat back in his chair and sipped his tea, “If Trixie is your sister, then I suppose that TriAnna would be your mother. Though, as I explained, I would not take those definitions literally.”

“My mother?” Nym looked at Amos, who smiled. His head was spinning from the strangeness of it all, but because he didn’t want to add to her concern he smiled reassuringly.

“The beautiful TriAnna of Lys,” the Mayor exalted, “with any luck we will all get to see her very soon. They are readying our airship now!”

“Where… where is she?” Nym was suddenly excited and the barrage of complex emotions was almost more than she could bear.

“She is in the Celestial Heliograph,” the Mayor stated pointing upwards, “the very place from which you fell.”

40176836 - steampunk style mechanical beetle


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