Dream Intermission One

I sluiced off the sweat and soot of a long damn day at the forge. A lot of effort but well worth it, the Gothic plate that jumped up German noble had ordered was finally done.

It had been nice working on real armor for a change. The armor like items she made on the regular for film and TV companies looked nice, but wouldn't stop much more than a butter knife. At least when she made it it looked authentic, unlike the crap you saw in a lot of theater.

Sure actors couldn't be expected to lug around the weight of real armor, but the obviously fake shit always took her out of any immersion.

Not that she got out to see many movies these days.

Back in her room to get dressed for a night at the club she looked out of her big picture window across the farm. It was quiet, the farm hands off at other work this season with the fields in fallow. There was something though, the night felt off like things were vaguely unreal.

Shrugging off the feeling she continued getting dressed. After some lacy black underwear she put on a long sleeveless black dress that showed off her guns quite well. At six foot six and heavily muscular from a life of farm work and the forge she wasn't capable of looking soft, despite the expansive cleavage, but she could pull off impressive.

She pulled on her tall black strappy boots that put her that much closer to seven foot, but it's not like she was going to find a woman near her height anyways. Not when she could comfortably rest her chin on top of her sisters head since they were teens.

She shook her head at the thought. She missed Faith, hadn't seen her since the wedding though there had been plenty of phone calls. Still she was happy for her, and had gladly sold off half the farm for the dowry to set the lad from Dublin up with his own business to support her. Sean Black seemed a fine fellow and it's not like she'd ever be getting married.

Ireland's laws saw quite clearly to that even if she did manage to find the woman of her dreams.

Well she'd settle for the woman of her weekend. Killarney was big enough to boast a few bars that catered to women seeking women and was not too long a drive away.

Before heading out I stopped at the farms shrine, the flame still lit as ever. A shrine to St Brigid to keep the Church off their back, but dating back to Brighid herself long before Patrick ever tainted these shores.

"Goddess I beg of thee to see to my sisters safety among the scum of Dublin, and if you'd see to blessing the sale of my armor to that German prick I'd be much obliged."

Back outside beyond the light of the sacred flame the night seemed even darker and the strangeness came back with a vengeance.

And with a whisper of wind Sharron was gone leaving an empty farm on a empty night.

.

The next thing I knew I was standing on what looked like the stage of a tacky gameshow. There were six chairs in a half circle facing a big throne in which a weaselly little man sat, He looked extremely uncomfortable in a badly fitting suit. To Sharron's right three of the chairs had women sitting in them, two in business suits a lot more impressive looking than the weasel's, and another in a mechanics overalls. Her long black hair was tied back and her face even had a tad bit of grease smudged like she'd come strait from work.

The two seats to her left were empty.

What really drew her attention though was to the right of the guy on the throne there was an irregularity. Like a gap in reality just hovering there, looking at it made Sharron's head ache and a pain began to throb in her right ear. feeling something wet she reached up to touch her ear and found a thick black fluid on her finger tips.

I couldn't really focus on that though as the absence was somehow asking questions. I didn't hear a voice but somehow knew a introduction was warranted.

"My name is Sharron Rose Cassidy, I am twenty six years old. I own a farm and make armor for a living."

The little man was looking up at Sharron and sweating. "How, How tall are you?" He quaveringly asked.

The gap didn't seem to have a problem with this so I shrugged and answered, I'd heard the question often enough. "I'm 6'6", at least I am when I'm not wearing these boots." I laughed at my old joke and amazingly he laughed as well. That seemed to make him less nervous. None of the other woman laughed, though the mechanic did grin.

Somehow I knew the anomaly wanted me to sit in the chair behind me. I also got an impression of a sad smile and my ear throbbed with pain again. There was something else about a hotel but I lost it in the pain. I realized the mechanic was looking at me strangely and holding out a once white handkerchief. Thanking her I held it to my ear and realized the absence that had to be a person somehow was addressing a new woman that was now to my left. How had she gotten there?

She was tall and bone thin with short spikey blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. The biker jacket and leather clothes might have looked impressive on someone with some meat on their bones but I felt like I could blow her away with a look. And oddest of all I had the clear impression her name was Toy of all things.

Pain spiked again and the cloth felt wet.

I got more from the unseeable person as she talked to the blonde, at least I was starting to think it was a woman for some reason. Something about the show we were on, competing for roles in a harem for the weasel who's name turned out to be Steve. He didn't look much like a Steve, more like a Spud.

The woman I couldn't help but think of as Toy went on a tear then. She raged about how she would never serve any man and to fuck the patriarchy, whatever that was. Turned out she was also a lesbian but seemed very angry about it. Steve seemed even more scared of her than he had me and was drawn up in his seat hiding behind his knees.

The strangeness did something then and more pain bloomed but the spiky blonde went calm like she'd been hit with a hammer.

In a monotone I then heard her say. "My name is Tonya Henderson..." And the biggest spike of pain yet hit me while I spiraled down into darkness.

.

Shar blinked open her eyes and sat up. Her pillow was stained with blackest ichor, but that didn't bother her. She'd quite expected it.

She looked over at the woman laying in bed next to her. Tonya, not Toy, never again Toy. Not the name she had been hunting but it would do.

For now.