The Foundry | Part Three | Chapter Thirty-Two
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Part Four | Unmasked; Unbound; Unleashed
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I’m not exactly sure why you think I give a fuck!” Poe shouted as the delivery guy was finally leaving. There’d been some dispute over her lack of gratitude, withheld due to her poorest estimation of the boy’s timeliness. The distain so boldly expressed was only for his entitled reaction and the resulting argument.
She’d turned back as the door slid shut to receive the flatbread Echo had plated for her. Poe’s brow had squinched, making an ‘o’ face, as she’d bent a wrist in to brace her chest.
“Aww, thank you sweetheart.”
The Consoler’s were meeting — their name; thought up, proclaimed, and used most entirely by Poe and Echo alone. Although, Leopold was busy overseeing the simulation hall, and they’d been waiting for Rory to return from her mission of sorts.
Echo took a deepest breath; some part of her most anxious they’d be found out in their chosen action. Not that their greater doings were by any means forbidden, only because they’d no idea the threat they faced. She’d wanted to take a part in Rory’s team with a specific hope of fostering some sense of grounded security. Truly, just hoping she could help take care of everyone.
Rory’s plan was a good one though, and Echo felt most trusting of their ability to pull it off. There was just something within it which worried her. She’d thought it the notion that Jocé Remance might become wise to their efforts, and was herself in league with a far greater webbing of deceit within The Foundry.
However, as time went on, and Echo was at last growing tired of Poe’s obsessive monologuing regarding how it’d felt to be Zabroth, she’d at last realized what really concerned her; she’d no idea how Rory was planning to win Jocé’s confidence. There was a dawning at this moment how it might play out, which wasn’t anything she’d prevent, but still left her feeling mighty pangs of jealousy in preemption.
When Rory finally joined them, they’d a widest set smile on their face, telling of success, and perhaps more. They sat and listened for a bit to Poe’s explanation of that vermin’s taste, and was somehow unperturbed enough to still grab themself a bite.
Echo could tell Rory noticed her peeking in those inquisitive glances their way, and that sorceress’s smile had reemerged.
With a stiffest delivery, Echo had asked, “So, how’d it go?”
They laughed a bit, took a bite, and leaned back in their chair with eyes on Echo. Rory was discovering those hidden ponderings buried in Echo’s question by the evolving redness of her face, and the failed attempts to continue breathing.
“Oh — it went really well.” Rory told her.
Poe was excited to hear this. She’d no idea what was really going on, which seemed to have proven itself an emerging trend for the woman.
“Most excellent news!” She beamed while Echo took a sip of water in stuttered gulps, staring at the wall.
“Yeah, it was good,” Rory explained.
They waited a while to expand upon that thought, holding out for the moment directly after Echo realized herself unable to continue focusing on that wall with any shred of dignity, while failing to shroud her profound awkwardness with another sip of water.
“It was really good.” Rory finally elaborated as Echo’s eyes landed upon theirs.
Echo had choked a bit on that water. Holding her heart and setting down the glass. Realizing she deserved it for prying and holding any feelings on the matter at all. When she’d looked back up Echo was surprised to find a softest smile waiting for her, and then they’d told her the truth.
“I’m just fucking with you, dude.”
There would be much work for Leopold in wake of that breadth of data Rory recovered from Jocé’s devices, after she’d drugged them while smoking some herb together.
“Why don’t you just clear that,” is what Rory told Echo she’d said.
Regardless if Jocé was guilty, Rory had long since determined her a ‘heartless cow,’ and no worry would be paid to moral concerns over the method or means by which the truth was uncovered.
Alan had been extraordinarily kind of late, and it was making things complicated for Echo’s feelings. To be rediscovering the ways which Rory so eclipsed the passions stoked within her, at the same time, was challenging. Still, there wouldn’t be a chance she’d let the unsaid and buried feelings she perceived in that one alter her path towards the best life she could make. Echo felt good about the way she was handling things. The truth was hard for everyone sometimes. Yet, each moment she’d spend holding the breadth of it all, expressing it, she felt far more complete and of herself then at any other time.
Despite the difficulties it birthed in relationships to be honest about her most complicated heart, Echo wouldn’t ever go back to the way it had shrunken her to so often lie on the perceived behalf of others. What Echo was finding had been the opposite of how she’d always expected things would go. People seemed awfully attracted to her these days. Apparently, shining a beacon of truthful example healed more than it hurt.
Alan and Echo had smoked out of the new piece he’d bought her as a gift. It was the biggest bong Echo ever owned, and she was pretty lit-up about it; her girl could rip.
Afterwards, Echo’s mind had been on the Consolers, and all that anticipation she felt about Leopold’s investigation. Along with that other thing — another first in the renewed friendship with Rory. As they’d all been leaving, with Poe making every effort to pound down the last of the flatbread, Echo was queuing by the door to leave.
The atmosphere had been most kind after Rory and Echo shared a laugh about her stiltedness. She’d seen in their eyes, and felt in her own chest, a sense of sadness about it all. Some kind of pity for the way Echo felt about them. While Echo would try, and fail to not presume it — there was also some perception of stowed longing in their feeling.
Rory had hugged her at the door, finding some window where she hadn’t seen it coming by happenstance. The surging feelings within Echo as that happened for real, at last, were a lot to hold right then. She was nothing but grateful for the embrace, and was more than touched by Rory being the one who’d held on longer.
When Alan leaned over to kiss Echo, trying his best to bring her back from the way she’d been drifting off, he found himself unable to spring a presence with his affection. She read quite accurately that he’d been hoping they might make love.
“I’m sorry, there’s just a lot going on. I’m feeling really mixed up,” was what she’d said.
She hadn’t needed to expand on the matter. It was a snippet of truth he clearly didn’t want to hear more of. Alan wasn’t the type to expect affection, himself quite often in need of space by great heaping doses, but he’d been flustered enough to make an excuse for leaving anyway.
It was a saddest thing to feel for Echo, noticing the speed at which he fled, knowing he realized she’d been lost in the love held for someone who’d not wanted her back the same. She imagined it would be quite frustrating with the obviously powerful kinship they shared, also the fact he was right there; seemingly trying his hardest.
Echo wasn’t making decisions. She was living from the truth of her feelings, one moment, and one day at a time. He hadn’t been asked to leave on her account, but she’d needed to be honest in expressing the truth of what she was feeling, regardless of the specificity needed to get it across to that man. She’d accept what came from the two of them standing in truth of how they felt, and she knew he was family to her — nothing which truly mattered could change.
Even if she decided to hold out for some distant other, in a romantic sense, who might take her to those same levels of passion inspired by Rory, Echo would simply never agree to be in relationship which prevented her from holding those she loved most closely.
After he’d gone, Echo noticed that Alan had been on his laptop terminal — still open and off its charge. She’d always endeavor to take care of the man in simple ways, those which might prevent his state of mind from being affected, and he could lose track of little details like this. Echo was very used to plugging that machine back in.
What she’d seen had been strange. He’d an application she knew to be meant for encrypted conversations which needed iron-clad digital security. The Foundry would utilize this technology when needed, but she’d never seen Alan use it, not a single time before.
Echo almost wished she hadn’t looked at the subject line of that first message as she neared his loose-hanging charge cable. Echo had read it though.
‘Expect us soon,’ was the entirety of it.
There was such an excitement for Alan in Echo, guessing this meant his family had been on the way towards Boreál. With the rough history he’d had in their company, she’d no problem imagining Alan wouldn’t want to talk about it.
Echo decided to snoop, and when she’d looked at the contents of that message it had shaken her. She’d sat upon Alan’s bed and looked around at this place she was making a home for herself afterwards, and Echo thought about all those ways the love she felt for Rory were most transcendent. How she’d thought of them near every night lying beside Alan, and how it made a lot of sense with her newest discovery.
There was a liar in him beyond that of compartmentalization, which Echo found most forgivable in leu of her own propensity towards it in the past. However, he’d been lying consciously, and about something profoundly severe. The thought of having allowed herself to be manipulated so thoroughly, unaware, was the most horrifying notion to a woman who’d almost always see those mechanisms in others with utmost clarity.
It was the least forgivable thing a person could do within loving relationship, by her estimation, and she felt insulted he’d wield such blatant deception against her consciously. The extremity taken in this offence was primarily borne of a disappointment in herself for not seeing it before, as it always would be in these unique circumstances.
What she’d realized about the difference in her two most prescient examples of love, was that Rory would never do that. They were the most honorable person Echo had ever met by matter of principle. They’d caused her to feel such hurt, reminiscent of this very same she felt from Alan, but it had always been most different. She’d been so swayed and naturally manipulated by Rory’s authenticity, and that made her feel as if they’d been doing it on purpose at times. Yet, they hadn’t, like her heart had always spoken in quiet moments.
Echo resolved that you can’t lie about things you don’t fully realize, and it was Rory’s clouded feelings that caused Echo to become so confused in their presence, which was something they’d always acknowledged awareness of themselves. They’d never once been calloused in their actions, and only ever tried to do the best they could. That was the difference, the reason Rory felt special, and Echo found it resonating within her as a most important one.
Echo finally laid down, trying to forget about that message so she might sleep. After doing the best she could to slow her heart, she’d finally allowed herself to lean into what had so long been suppressed down to passing thoughts in that bed. She imagined holding Rory.
