Anemia, costume making, and things found in cemeteries

The first impression Mash gets of Morgan is this: she is an imposing, stern woman, with ice molded within her very features- figuratively, though you would be forgiven for thinking it literal, considering how white her skin is.

“Baobhan Sith,” her voice, quiet, is flat as the surface of a lake, “this will be your new babysitter.”

The little girl, who can’t be older than five, cowers behind her mother’s leg. She glares up at Mash, obviously wary.

“She is quite shy. Pay it no mind.” She checks something on her phone. “I must be off now. Take care of her.”

Then, without a single glance at her daughter, she leaves.

Yiiiiiiikes.

The contract is quite simple: from Monday to Friday, after her classes Mash is to pick up Baobhan Sith out of school at 4:00, and then take care of until 7:00. She’d been a bit anxious at first; the kid very clearly didn’t like her. She’d feared that she might make her feel unsafe in her own home.

Mash, however, was wrong. After a first, very awkward week, Baobhan Sith comes to her, holding a doodle. Her face lights up when Mash compliments her- she warms up to her really quickly afterwards. The kid is thirsty for attention. It’s no wonder, really; Mash barely ever interacts with Morgan, but she doesn’t strike her as the motherly type. Baobhan Sith tells Mash all about the different types of shoes she’s seen on TV, and bugs her to draw cartoon animals and sparkly creatures with her.

“Maaash, Mash Mash!!” Baobhan Sith pulls on her pant legs. “Let’s get ice cream!”

Mash giggles, patting the kid on the head. “At this hour? All the parlors are closed.”

“No, silly! From the freezer!”

Freezer…?

“Over here! Follow me!”

Baobhan Sith grabs her by the hand, then drags her through the house. Mash never really explored the place, because- well, it’s not her house. Her job is to entertain Baobhan Sith, not home decor. The entire place is very neatly organized though- save for the occasional scattered toy- so Mash really, really doesn’t expect the room Baobhan Sith drags her into.

It’s a… storage room, of sorts. Crates upon crates are carelessly set against the wall. Pieces of foam of various shapes and sizes stick out of them, yellowed by time. What a strange setup. What are these for?

“Over here!” Mash is torn away from her thoughts by Baobhan Sith excitedly pointing towards the freezer in a corner.

She hesitates briefly over the handle. Morgan didn’t give her any specific instructions regarding Baobhan Sith’s diet, so it must be okay for her to indulge in a snack, right? Mash doesn’t recall seeing her eating prior, it’s not like it’s a habit.

Confident in her decision, Mash opens the freezer- and pauses.

“The ice cream is up there.” Baobhan Sith points helpfully, completely obvious to the several red packets hanging in there.

“... Baobhan Sith,” Mash articulates carefully, pointing at one of the- blood bags (?) “What are these?”

“They’re soup!” She responds with a smile, showing off her little canines.

Hahahaha this place is creepyyyyyy.

Well, whatever. She got the ice cream. She’s just gonna… pretend she didn’t see anything. Yeah.

The clock strikes eight. Baobhan Sith is dozing off in her arms. “You know, you can wait in your room if you’re tired. I’m sure your mother will come soon.”

The girl shakes her head, silent.

Morgan still isn’t home. 

Mash glances around the room nervously. Is Baobhan Sith hungry? She should be at this hour, but she hasn’t requested a thing- her stomach hasn’t growled even once, in fact. Should Mash still go ahead and feed her? She-

Suddenly, she hears the front door unlocking. Baobhan Sith perks up, then jumps off her lap to rush towards the entrance. “Mother!!”

And yes, this is Morgan, home at last. Mash expects the usual cold stare, maybe a nod in her direction- but to her surprise, the older woman crouches down, and takes Baobhan Sith in her arms. This is the first time she’s seen Morgan give a hug, or- any sort of physical affection, really. “I’m here, Baobhan Sith. I’m sorry for making you wait.”

She moves to get back up, but Baobhan Sith clings onto her. She pauses for a second- then hauls the kid up with her.

She looks at Mash. “Thank you for staying with her. You will be compensated accordingly.”

There is… something in her voice. An emotion usually kept under veils. Relief? Sadness? Mash can’t tell. She looks- a bit different than usual. It’s in her eyes, perhaps. In the curve of her lips. Or maybe her skin, sickly pale.

Oh.

Suddenly, Mash understands.

This isn’t some neglectful, cold parent. This isn’t an uncaring mother looking to spend as little time as possible with her child.

This is a very tired, overworked woman.

“It’s no problem.” She replies. It’s hard to be mad in this situation. “I, uh, could stay for a little longer if you want? Cook you something?”

Morgan blinks down at her. “That… would be very much appreciated. Thank you.”

For a second, Mash thinks she almost sees a smile.

“I must put Baobhan Sith to sleep. If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

She leaves the room, carrying her daughter with her. Left to her own devices, Mash goes to the kitchen and starts preparing a simple meal. Morgan has a surprisingly well-furnished kitchen; Mash had half-expected her to live off food deliveries, or something.

She’s midway through frying the onions when Morgan comes back. The woman has too much dignity to outright slouch onto a chair- but there’s definitely a lack of decorum in the way she sits down and buries her face in her hands.

“... Are you… alright?”

Morgan sighs. “I don’t like leaving Baobhan Sith for so long, is all. I was worried.”

…Ah. Now Mash feels bad about her earlier assumption. Hopefully, a hearty meal will make it up to her.

They stay like this in silence for a bit. Morgan stares blankly at the wall while Mash serves two plates of food. She’s unsure if the woman is thinking, or too tired to speak. “Here. Eat this.”

Morgan looks down at her plate. For the first time since Mash has known her, her face brightens up. “Is that… rougail saucisse?”

“It is! You know of it?” That’s surprising- creole cuisine is basically unheard of in Britain. Mash only knows the recipe because a friend taught her- at an anime convention, funnily enough. 

(Well. Friend is what Mash liked to call the two of them. To her, Mash might have only been a client. Still, she likes to think that the two of them were on good terms. Ah, Tonelico. Mash hasn’t seen her in a few years. She hopes the girl is doing well. Then again- she’d started HRT the last time they ran into each other. Maybe Mash wouldn’t recognize her at all now.)

In retrospect, Mash should probably have picked a less spicy dish to serve a stranger. It’s odd that she remembered it right now, of all times.

“I do. It’s a favorite of mine.” She closes her eyes, as if reminiscing. “I hadn’t had time to cook it in a long time. Thank you.”

“... I can cook for you more often, if you want?” She really seems to need it. “Maybe once a week, or something?”

Morgan spends a few seconds thinking about it, then nods. “That is acceptable. I will revise your salary accordingly.”

Things Mash learns about Morgan:

She doesn’t speak much. Regardless of proximity or time period. Rarely does she say anything more than what she considers necessary, be it to Baobhan Sith or Mash.

While she is Welsh, she holds an odd fondness to creole food- rougail saucisse and massalé being her favorites.

She never breaks the bit; one night, Baobhan Sith manages to drag her into playing pretend for a bit, and she sticks to her role of Witch Of The Fluffy Plushie until the very end.

She is, in a weird, roundabout way, really fun to talk to. She reminds Mash of people she has long lost contact with. It’s the body language, perhaps; or what she finds important enough to voice out loud.

“Ah. It seems that Baobhan Sith has fallen asleep.” She comments one night as her daughter lays on her laps. The Little Siren plays in the background. “I shall bring her to bed.”

Mash hesitates for a second, then speaks up: “she loves you a lot, you know? She talks about you all the time. She always eagerly waits for you to come home.”

Morgan doesn’t reply, merely gathering her daughter in her arms.

“You should spend more time with her. I think she misses you. She… she really wants to see you more.”

She’s overstepping boundaries, and she knows it; but what can she do? Staying put and simply watching things happen is not an option. If Morgan fires her, well, sucks, but she can get another part-time job. Baobhan Sith takes priority.

Morgan doesn’t take offense, however. Mash is starting to understand how thai woman thinks. “My work is very taxing. But… I will try.”

“Have any hobby you can cut off, maybe? During the weekends?”

“I no longer have time for hobbies.” Morgan exhales. It’s not quite a sigh, but it sounds just as resigned as one. “In the past, I was into costume making. I was good at it, too.”

Oh! “That’s what all the foam in that storage room is for?”

Morgan nods. “Mh. It might still be useful someday. Who knows.”

She gets up then, holding Baobhan Sith close. She turns around to leave. Mash should let her.

Instead, what she says is: “I looked inside your freezer.”

Morgan pauses.

“What are these things in your fridge? Those that look like blood bags.”

There are a few, very worrying seconds of silence.

“Baobhan Sith is… weak in the stomach. She can eat regular food, but she doesn’t absorb the nutrients well.” Ah- now that she says it, Mash recalls that Baobhan Sith never ate much of her cooking. “These are packed soups for her.”

Ahh. That makes more sense than- that makes more sense. Of course. Mash was silly for imagining otherwise.

“I believe it’s getting late. You should leave. You have classes tomorrow, do you not?”

Mash stops coming for a week or so. It’s exam week- much as she enjoys her part-time job, graduating from college is still very much her priority. This is the most stressed Mash has ever been in her life.

At least, when Sunday comes, she can sleep in and rest at last.

She spends the entire day chilling. She gets some snacks, watch tv, and overall doesn’t think about anything upsetting. She’s going to turn in for the night early, she thinks. She needs the rest.

She doesn’t get to.

9:00, her phone rings. Morgan’s number. Mash frowns. She’d specifically told the woman she would be busy this week. Why is she calling?

Turns out: she’s not.

The person on the other side of the line isn’t Morgan at all. It’s Baobhan Sith.

She’s crying.

“M-Mash,” her voice is muddled by tears, “It-it’s mom. She won’t wake up. Please help!”

Mash has never driven somewhere faster in her life.

She barges in the living room, panting, panic in her eyes. She finds Morgan laying on the couch, Baobhan Sith crying by her side. 

Morgan is… conscious, somewhat. Her eyes are moving. When Mash rushes to her side, she frowns. “...Mash…?”

“Yes, it’s me, I’m here.” She grabs Morgan’s hands. They’re cold and disturbingly still. If her skin was sickly pale before, now it’s beyond even that. She looks like a ghost. “What happened? What’s wrong??” She should call an ambulance, or maybe-

“Anemia.”

Mash blinks. “Anemia?”

She nods weakly, closing her eyes.

… Oh.

Mash gets up. “Don’t worry, Baobhan Sith. I got this.” She ends her sentence with a wink, hoping to reassure her. 

She then heads towards the kitchen. Come on, there has to be something here she can use…

Apple juice. Sure. That’ll do.

She grabs a straw from the closet, then rushes back to Morgan’s side. Carefully, she helps her sit up- then she hands her the drink. “Here. Take this. There’s sugar and water. It will help.”

It takes a while, but- eventually, some colors come back to Morgan’s cheeks. Eventually, her eyelids stop falling on their own, turning into regular blinks instead. Eventually, her gaze becomes more focused, her breathing at a more regular pace.

“... Thank you.” She says. With one hand, she scoops Baobhan Sith and pulls her closer to her. The little girl is still teary-eyed. She clings onto her mother with all her might. “That was… unpleasant.”

Yeesh. No wonders. “Does that… happen often?”

Morgan doesn’t reply. Her gaze darts to Baobhan Sith. Then, slowly, she shakes her head.

The message is obvious. Not in front of her.

Mash drops the subject for the moment. With Morgan, they comfort Baobhan Sith, hold her until she properly calms down. She falls asleep soon after- it’s getting late, for a kid.

It’s only then that Mash brings the subject back on the table. “So. What happened?”

Morgan sits back on the couch. Evidently, she’s still feeling weak. “... You saw the inside of the freezer, correct?”

“The soup?”

Morgan quirks up an eyebrow. She’s surprisingly more expressive, barely recovering from passing out. “You actually believed that? Ah, no matter. You had it right the first time. They’re blood bags.” Mindlessly, she rubs the hollow of her elbow. “My blood, more precisely.”

Ah. That… explains the constant paleness. “... Why, though?”

Morgan’s eyes turn to Baobhan Sith’s bedroom door. “My daughter… isn’t human.”

This is an inane, incomprehensible statement. And yet- Mash can’t help taking it seriously. Baobhan Sith eats so little . Kids her age should be wolfing down entire plates and demanding for more. Yet all she ever does is taste-test the dishes she makes.

“I found her in a cemetery. I was visiting a friend’s grave. She was so small… I could hardly leave her here.” Morgan closes her eyes, exhaling through her nose. “She needs blood. It’s the only thing that makes her feel full. So I give her mine.”

… “Morgan…” Mash walks up to her, then drops on the couch next to her. “Something’s got to give. You are… literally killing yourself here. You look like death. Your job is taking away what free time you should have. She’s lonely. Something has to give.”

Morgan’s head hangs low. She has never looked more exhausted. “And what do you suppose I should do? I can’t ask anyone else for blood. And I need the money. To forge medical papers. To keep people from asking too many questions. To give her a good life. To ensure she will have something if something happens to me.”

“ I can help.” Mash reaches out to grab Morgan’s hand. It’s a lot warmer than earlier. It jolts in surprise when she touches it. “I can give her some of my blood. And if you can hold on long enough for me to graduate- I’ll get a good job, and we can take care of her together. You can’t keep going like this.”

Morgan huffs through her nose in rapid succession- it takes Mash a moment to recognize that as a laugh. “Do you propose to every single mother you come across, or is it just me?”

Mash flushes red. “I- I didn’t mean-”

Morgan shakes her head. “I know. You care about this kid a lot, don’t you?”

Not just the kid, Mash wants to say, but it would be inappropriate on so many levels, so she doesn’t.

“Alright. I’ll take the blood. We will see for the rest after you get your degree.” She tilts her head back, looking at the ceiling. “It would be nice, to go back to my old job. I miss fursuit making, I will admit.”

… Hold on. “Fursuits?”

“Mh.” She nods. She must still be a little out of it, because she elaborates unprompted. “I made a lot of them, back in the days. My customers were all so nice. I remember Grimm; I made him a blue dog partial. There was also Wryneck. His had been really hard to make, I remember. He had a rather complex mane. And there was this one girl with a purple wolf full body. I met her at conventions many times, actually. She was kind. I believe her furaffinity username was-”

“-Fairy Knight Galahad.”

Morgan pauses. Turns her head towards Mash. Blinks.

Mash stares back. And then, very quietly, she asks: “Tonelico?”