Dear Mom
Cutscene: Dear Mom
IC Details

Nico Minoru writes a letter to her mother.

IC Date: December 30, 2018
IC Location: NYC, somewhere
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 29 Dec 2018 07:28
Rating & Warnings: Hidden evil magic and talking back to your mother.
Associated Plots

Dear Mom,

I guess it's that time of year. I would have written for Christmas, but I figure that would have been inappropriate.

It's been the biggest year I've had since the last time we saw each other. Things are really looking up. It's not that everything's easy… but I don't feel like I'm fighting a holding action any more. I don't feel like I'm not living up to what I could be doing.

I don't know if you knew this already but I'm living with some people near Columbia. I guess you'd hate that part, right? I remember that joke you said, whenever I had a nice neat report card to show you. "Yale is a failure," you'd said. I remember laughing, because you always said it like you were joking.

Nico Minoru paused, holding the hundred year old fountain pen she always used to write these letters onto authentic parchment. This was where she'd always stopped in the past. She did these once a year so she could, mostly, get by without the thoughts the rest of the year.

Usually she felt guilt. Here, though, doing this ritual - if you can call something you've done four times a ritual - she felt a different sense now. A twinge. A feeling that made her glad she was doing this on her own, in an empty space behind a bike shop run by a guy with tiny spectacles.

Nico held the pen for a full ninety seconds, feeling the wind through the cracks in the walls.

You were never joking, were you? Even then you knew. Even THEM - you were going to betray even THEM, right? Because you seriously expected there to be a Harvard I was supposed to get into.

What was this feeling? Nico tasted it, prodded it like a cracked tooth.

Oh yeah, she thought as she leaned over. Anger.

I don't know why that's only just occured to me. I don't know why it makes me angry. I guess it shouldn't make any difference, should it? I should be happy, it shows you didn't ACTUALLY mean it as much as you could have, it shows that you had some kind of decency to you. That you were going to sell THEM out the way you were willing to sell the world out. That you were planning to rip off something horrible. Doesn't it help when you hurt someone nasty? Isn't that, ultimately, a net wash?

I guess it ought to be, but these people I'm hanging out with, I think they'd disagree.

Nico took a deep breath and let it out.

For a long time I didn't want to be what you made me without intending to. I mean, it's perfect, isn't it? You did it by accident. I could tell you weren't intending the STAFF of ONE to pass away from you. I wonder how long you were using it. You were up to all kinds of shit, I know that now. Did you shed other people's blood? That's never worked for ME, but then I never killed anyone either…

Probably, anyway, Nico thought, the disturbance breaking that focus. That dark pleasure. She shook her head.

I wonder if you knew any of them. Or THEIR parents. Z. you might have met her father, though I get the feeling you would have had your asses kicked by him… or did you and I just didn't notice, or didn't remember? I wonder about all of this now. Sometimes I wonder if I had a childhood at all - if any of us did, or if you just tricked us all, raised us in a backyard and made us THINK we knew people. That we were normal.

I guess that's a little true either way.

And as for R. I get the feeling you might have MET her dad by now, if you hadn't before.

I could go on here for an entire sheaf, but I only bought one sheet this year. Maybe if I'm angry enough, or if there's enough good news to share, I'll spring for an entire animal.

But for now I have to finish. I'm running out of space on this side.

See other side for more.


Nico flipped the parchment around, waving it in the air for a moment out of superstition, to be sure the ink dried. She put it down then, gazing on the pure off-white back side of the sheet. She put her phone down, opened the screen. She went to the book mark she had made back in California -

And she hesitated;

Do I really need to do this?

Isn't this enough?

What kind of a person am I, that I can't let this go? It's been years. Nothing has happened, Nico thought: Nothing is going to happen, right?

Right, Nico told herself. Like how, horrifying and brutal as it had been upstate, in that lodge - how horrifying would it have been if Constantine hadn't heard about it? How horrifying if they hadn't been there? How many would have died? What would that death have brought about?

How much of that work was fulfilled because she had hesitated?

Nico felt that helpless magnetism, the sense of terrible necessity, that had sat on her before. It was a brief squeeze of the shoulders compared to the horrid incubus clambering onto her back that it had been before, at times. It was a reminder.

Thanks, Mom, Nico thought, as she opened the file.


TO hinder any Necromantic or Magical Operations from taking effect, except those of the Qabalah and of this Sacred Magic. …

(4) To discover any Magic.

(5) To hinder Sorcerers from Operating.

Nico took a moment to walk over, get out a lighter, and start the brazier; the weight on her shoulders felt lighter, when she got out the straight edge and began to write the letters in neat, precise, block printing. By the time she got to the third block, nine letters in nine rows, she was speaking them aloud; practically singing them.

She was halfway to the fire before she thought of something to add. In the side, she scribbled in the margin:

the one thing i regret is that i never said any of this to you when you were alive!!
but i guess sometimes lying pays off.

The parchment stank when it touched the coals… but then, it always had before, and it always would.

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