A Strange Coin (Three Trinities Haven Church)

[Tatyana]

Zeke waited for a moment before he approached Tatyana, nothing imposing in his step. Her fear simmered, becoming less as the drug became more. Zeke took the coin from her hand. In a less inhibited state she might have balked at that, but at the same time, she had offered it to him.

”And what do you want for it, Tatyana?”

It wasn’t the question itself that broke through her foggy mind. It was the use of her name. Names had power, and he had in a way called to her on a more primal level that she didn’t understand. She did not flinch as he met her gaze.

It took her awhile to respond, but not just because of her high. There was more to it than that. Nothing was free, and Zeke had taken the coin and asked her price for it. There were so many things she could say and had he asked earlier, she might have asked for a refill of her stash. Had Zeke asked later m, she might not have comprehended its meaning. But he asked now - just as the drugs were taking hold of her. He asked her when her inhibitions drove her to speak the absolute truth. Deep down she knew what she needed.

”Purpose,” she spoke moments later. ”No purpose since Konstantin and Sofia…threw me out…want to…use my talents…” he speech was slurred, but still spoken clearly enough for understanding.

[Ezekiel]

These things always went so differently. It was a large part of the appeal he found in predating this way, sussing out the cracks, the needs, the desires – all of them placed in a two-faced coin barely worth the metal it was crafted from. These people wanted to be used, and Zeke was all too happy to oblige.

She was slow, succumbing to her high while she grasped for meaning. He knew exactly who she was, of course – not just Tatyana, the vicious little thief who protected her precious pills with her life – but Tatyana Gorodetsky, Makari’s little angel until Vasiliev’s right hand man had the misfortune of dying in a car crash. And of course after that, the casino that purported to be heaven’s very gate simply did not have room for two little angels.

Her desperation was sweet, streaked with darker promises of vengeance if he twisted her just right. Zeke might not look it, Romani-blooded as he was, but his connections far surpassed the beleaguered undercity people he protected. Just as there was interest in a puppet like Cruz Vega, Zeke was certain something equally alluring might be cultivated from Tatyana. He grinned at her, wondering in her addled state if she saw the joyful expression of the coin, or the grinning terror of it. Zeke, he saw no difference.

His finger scooped under her chin, propping her up. “Deal,” he promised. It was a demon’s purr. No terms offered, but devils always wanted souls didn’t they? He let it sink in, meeting her eye for eye before she sank that final distance into stupor. Then he let her go.

[Tatyana]

Tatyana watched even as her eyes began to glaze over as she began to submit.  She could remain alert if she wished - not as alert as she was sober, but this is what she preferred.  The numbness.  She liked to bask in the feeling of nothingness and she would allow herself to succumb to it, but she waited.  When Zeke pulled her gaze to meet his and uttered the word "deal" it stirred within her, and when she responded "Deal," it sealed it to her.

The word coursed through her, awakening something within her that she hadn't known had existed. It took the word and drew it into herself.  Deep down she knew that life wouldn't be the same anymore, but she knew that this was meant to happen.  Even if she didn't know that she had just made a deal to be subjugated, something within her did, and it rejoiced at this revelation. As she gazed at Zeke she saw the joyful expression of the coin on his face and she smiled.

The word was also a dismissal and permission from her new master that she could succumb.  Tatyana melted to the floor, a move that only those who were high often could master.  She lay there on her back, staring at the ceiling, the drug banishing all her emotions, and she embraced the sweet nothingness.

---

Tatyana wasn't aware how long she lay there before she finally got up and headed back to her spot to sleep.  Sleep in this state came easily, but her sleep was bothered by dreams.  In one, Sofia was there, holding the knife that she was framed for stealing, and at the end, she plunged it into Tatyana.

Tatyana awoke with a scream, not of fear, but of pain.  Her bedding was soaked in sweat and pain wracked her body.  Her stomach churned, the meager meal from the day before threatening to come back up at a moments notice. Tatyana found it hard to move.  Her body spasmed, making it difficult to get up. She finally got herself to her hands and knees, and moved, quickly finding a trash can to throw up in. She could only remember feeling sick like this once - back when the Vasiliev's had thrown her to the streets.  She ended up on her side next to the garbage can, her energy spent and unable to move more.  Someone came - one of the workers, a refugee, one of the little girls, or Zeke - she had no idea who it was.

[Esper]

Esper didn’t like it here much, but in the wallow of self-pity she tolerated it, letting herself burrow deep under Roza’s skin to escape, well, everything. At some point it occurred to her that if she just felt what Roza felt, she didn’t need to address her own pain at all. So her focus shifted towards making Roza happy, until the little echo chamber between them made Esper almost dizzy with the relief. She began to forget the enthralling song. Her bond cinched all the tighter to Roza as a result.

Generally the people at the church were easy to exist with. Zeke looked after them well, and there was the added wishy-washiness that came with the various drugs, which made everything a low lull easy to ignore if Esper chose. It made the spike of pain all the louder when it hit her, and far less tolerable. She flinched, her brows drawing low over her eyes. A small grumble left her throat as she reached to draw Roza from whatever occupied her. They were never far apart.

It was a sensation Esper had experienced before, back at the carnival. Fever and pain. Though back then it had been through Roza, and Esper’s response had been far different. She cared then, given who it afflicted. Now she just wanted something annoying to stop.

As she pulled Roza by the hand, she was aware of Zeke’s eyes watching them. Though he was always watching, it was nothing new.

The path led to an overturned can, and a woman who was not moving.