The Hot Mess Collective, Ch 10: Ritual Burn

The problem with being objectified, Maeve decided as she stared into the dregs of her coffee, was that it left you feeling like a poorly curated museum piece no one had actually paid to see.

She felt like an old thing in a museum under a bad light, with a label full of wrong ideas. Exhibit A: The Wild Fae. Look at her strange colors and wild mood. Be careful. Finn's voice, smooth with fake interest and hungry curiosity, echoed in her head. His hands had traced her body with a clinical pressure, mapping her like an object for appraisal. A phantom itch traced the path his fingers had taken, a deep grossness under her skin that even a scalding shower hadn't washed away.

She was sipping bitter coffee at a sticky table in The Daily Grind. The flickering lights overhead buzzed in a tired way that matched how she felt inside. This was her punishment, coming back to the place where she'd first felt that silly hope. She had felt that little spark with Alex, that disarming, real warmth. Instead of protecting it, or just leaving it alone, she had run right to the first good-looking human who was interested in her "otherness."

She'd wanted to prove something to herself - that she could be casual, that she could connect, that she wasn't totally broken. A talent for breaking things. Especially her own. The shame sat in her stomach like a swallowed stone. She'd let him turn her family history, her very blood, into a cheap trick. The worst part was, she couldn't even do the trick for him.

She pushed the last bits of her coffee around the mug, lost in her dark thoughts. The warmth of the protection charm in her pocket felt like a joke, a reminder of a short, proud moment that was followed by a huge mistake.

"Looks like that coffee lost the will to live about an hour ago."

Maeve flinched, her head snapping up. Alex stood by her table, holding a hot metal coffee pot in one hand and a genuinely worried look on their face. Their apron had a fresh streak of bright blue paint, and their kind hazel eyes held only gentle concern. They just looked… kind. It was almost too much to handle.

"Rough day?" Alex asked, their voice low and gentle, asking nothing.

Maeve just managed a weak, non-committal shrug. She couldn't form words. She probably looked terrible. Her hair had long ago escaped its pencil, and she was sure the magic disguise hiding her Fae features was flickering like a dying flame.

Alex seemed to understand. Without another word, they took her mug, dumped the cold coffee into a nearby tub, and refilled it with fresh, hot coffee. The rich, dark smell cut through the stale air. They set the full mug back down in front of her.

"This one's on the house," Alex said softly. "Looks like you need it more than I do."

They gave her a small, sympathetic smile, then moved away to help another customer, leaving Maeve alone with the simple, kind act. And it was, in its own way, crushing.

A feeling of thanks, so sharp it was almost painful, shot through her. Tears pricked her eyes, hot and unwanted.

Alex saw her.

Alex hadn't asked what was wrong. They hadn't pushed. They had simply seen a person who looked like she was having a bad time and offered a small, human comfort with no catch.

The simple goodness of it made Finn's creepy behavior look very stark and ugly. He had seen a creature, a strange thing, a story to tell his friends. Alex had seen… a person who needed coffee. The difference was a physical ache. Real kindness existed. Some people were worth the risk.

And that meant she had chosen to be with someone who wasn't, which made her feel both stupid and deeply unworthy of the simple warmth now coming from the mug in her hands. A connection like the one she could have with Alex felt like it was for someone else entirely, someone less cynical, less broken, less… Maeve.

Her phone buzzed on the sticky table, a harsh, unwelcome sound. She glanced at the screen. A message from Bart. The Navel's golem bartender had a text signature that was just a picture of a rock.

[Rock Emoji]: MAEVE. THE NAVEL. WARD FRACTURE. AMBIENT FIELD UNSTABLE. PRESENCE REQUIRED.

Maeve let out a long, tired sigh that seemed to come from her feet. Of course. Because her day of feeling like a magic failure wasn't complete without a real magic failure to go fix. A heavy feeling of responsibility settled on her shoulders. She took a deep gulp of the hot, life-saving coffee. It tasted like kindness, and it burned all the way down.

With one last, quick look toward the counter where Alex was laughing with a customer, Maeve gathered her things and headed back out into the city, pulled back into the messy, complicated problems of the Fold.

***

There were days when Sayo needed more than a change of clothes; they needed a place where their true self wasn't a problem to be hidden.

They had looked for that safe place at Chrysalis & Claw, and had instead found Drusick, a ghost from a past Sayo had carefully tried to bury under layers of tailored silk and cold composure. Now, back in the perfect, controlled quiet of their apartment, the mess Drusick had stirred up refused to be put away neatly.

Sayo stood before a display case of old Fold objects, polishing a silver locket with a soft cloth. Their movements were exact and efficient, a small, controllable pattern against the chaos inside them.

Polish. Wipe. Turn. Repeat.

The locket was from the Unseelie Shadow Court, cold to the touch, its magic asleep and quiet. It was an object of history, of logic, of predictable qualities. Its cold, quiet magic was an anchor in the storm Drusick had unleashed.

Their mind, usually a fortress of cold logic, was a storm. Sayo tried to label the event, to file it away. Subject: Drusick. Type of meeting: Unplanned physical reconnection. Reason: Being close in a vulnerable place. Result: Emotionally and magically unfinished. It was a neat, scientific summary that did nothing to calm the storm.

Because the logic kept getting tripped up by the details. The raw, sensory details that logic couldn't explain. The memory of Drusick's scent, that sharp, wild smell of ozone and winter. The specific feel of Drusick's skin as it changed under their touch, a momentary roughening that was neither human nor beast but something uniquely, achingly them. The sound of their own voice, a low growl of pure, thoughtless pleasure that felt like it came from a younger, more careless version of themself.

These weren't neat facts. They were raw, messy threads, and they were pulling apart the careful person Sayo had become. The Sayo of now was a creature of flawless surfaces, their magic and their poise honed to an unreadable edge. The Sayo who had been with Drusick in that room was… something else. Something older, more primal, more dangerously alive. The meeting had forced a step back, a violent crash between their past and present selves. The clash made them feel broken, as if their very shape was less stable.

They placed the locket back in its velvet box, its surface now shining perfectly, and turned to straighten a stack of leather-bound books on magic theory. The spines, perfectly even. The titles, ordered by time and subject. Control. Order. This was their shield. But the memory of Drusick's touch was a crack in that shield, a break through which the untamed part of themself was threatening to spill.

Reclaiming a lost self? Or just repeating old mistakes? The questions circled, refusing to be categorized.

Their phone chimed, a single, clear, digital note that cut through the heavy quiet of the apartment. Sayo welcomed it, grabbing the device with a deep sense of relief.

[Nori]: SAYO. NAVEL. WARDS ARE FUCKED. BART'S SENDING OUT THE BAT-SIGNAL. YOU UP FOR SOME MAGICAL ENGINEERING?

A solid problem. A logical puzzle. An issue of magic that could be studied, understood, and fixed. It was a welcome weight, something to ground them. Sayo could put aside the unresolved mess of Drusick for a few hours. They could be the expert, the calm one, the one who fixed things.

They sent back a short reply: "On my way."

Sayo moved to a fancy box on their dresser, opening it to show a set of thin, silver tools for fine magic work. They picked a few with quick, professional purpose.

For a few hours, at least, they could escape the unsolvable mystery of their own heart by focusing on a problem that had a solution.

***

The moment Maeve stepped through the shimmery door of The Navel, she knew something was very wrong.

The air, usually humming with a low, pleasant feeling of contained magic, was staticky and prickly. It felt like walking into a room with a low fever, a sick, off-key energy that made her teeth ache and the small hairs on her arms stand up. The floating will-o'-the-wisp lights flickered wildly, their colors messy and wrong. The usual spells that kept the place calm and quiet were failing, creating a general feeling of magic anxiety.

Bart, the silent golem, stood still behind the bar. The blue light of his eyes glowed a bit more urgently than usual. He gave Maeve a tiny, almost unseen nod.

"Yeah, I feel it," Maeve grumbled, rubbing her temples. "Feels like the whole place has a migraine."

The door shimmered again, and Sayo glided in. They looked perfectly elegant in a charcoal grey silk shirt that probably cost more than Maeve's monthly rent. They paused just inside the door, their sharp, smart eyes scanning the room. Their face showed a cool, focused concentration.

"The magical equivalent of a burst blood vessel," Sayo announced, their voice as smooth as always, though Maeve could now hear a faint, tense thread underneath. "It's a third-degree break in the main warding system. Specifically, the spell that dampens ambient emotions. The feedback is causing the lights to fail."

Maeve rolled her eyes. The movement felt heavy in the staticky air. "Right. A 'third-degree break.' I just know it feels like crap." She was not in the mood for Sayo's cold, scientific analysis. Not today. "Can we just… fix it?"

"That is the goal," Sayo said dryly. They took out a thin, silver tool from a sleek leather case and held it up. It vibrated a little, making a low, pure sound. "The break is in the center. Over there." They nodded towards one of the dark, velvet booths - their usual one, ironically. Under the heavy oak table, a nearly invisible symbol was glowing with a sick, flickering green light instead of its usual steady, soft gold.

"The ward is woven into the building itself," Sayo explained, already walking towards the booth. "It will need direct, focused energy to fix the weave. A simple patch-spell won't work."

"So, what? We just… zap it?" Maeve asked, following them.

"The ward requires balanced energy to heal properly," Sayo said, kneeling beside the table. "I can guide the shape of the spell, but my own energy reserves are depleted. We'll need your raw power to provide the necessary current."

My raw power. Maeve didn't like that term. It always sounded so… rough. Unrefined. Like Sayo was the architect and she was just the person hauling magical cement.

But the air was getting thicker, more unpleasant, and arguing was useless. "Fine. What do I do?"

"Place your hand here," Sayo instructed, pointing to a spot on the floor right over the glowing symbol. "And I will place mine over yours. When I say so, I want you to focus on a feeling of… stability. Being grounded. Push that feeling, that energy, through me."

Maeve knelt. The worn velvet of the booth felt cool against her knee. This was going to be awful. She braced herself for a difficult, awkward teamwork, for the feeling of Sayo's cool, judging magic poking at her own more gut-feeling, less perfect power. She placed her palm flat on the cool stone floor.

Sayo's hand settled over hers. Their skin was cool, smooth. Their touch was light but firm. "Now," Sayo whispered.

Maeve closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory of Finn, the ache of Alex's kindness, all of it. She thought of the earth, of deep roots, of the steady, solid weight of the protection charm in her pocket. She focused on that feeling and began to push, sending a steady stream of her own energy out.

And then something amazing happened. The moment their magics connected, the world changed.

Sayo's power wasn't the cold, scientific prodding she'd expected. Instead, she was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of Sayo. The real Sayo, beneath the perfect exterior.

It was breathtaking. She felt, rather than saw, Sayo's power as a vast, crystalline lattice of logic, glittering with a cold and ancient starlight. It was a structure of impossible precision.

But under the amazing structure, she also felt a flicker of something else - a deep, hidden vulnerability, a tiny crack in the crystal, echoing with a loneliness and a raw, unfinished pain that stunned her with how strong it was. This was the real Sayo, the one behind the silk shirts and the sharp, witty comments. The connection was overwhelming, more intimate than a kiss, more revealing than a confession.

It was terrifying, and it was beautiful.

***

Sayo started the link, ready to take Maeve's unrefined power and carefully guide its chaotic flow into the broken ward. They expected a blunt, strong force, something to be contained and directed like a river through a dam. They were not ready for what they actually felt.

The moment Maeve's energy met theirs, it wasn't a messy flood. It was a deep, warm, incredibly powerful river of life. It had intuition instead of chaos, grounded certainty that was as steady and sure as the earth turning. It had the strength of old stone and growing things, a vital, untamed power that was totally different from their own structured, intellectual magic. It felt… solid. Sayo's own broken, unsettled energy instinctively latched onto it, finding a stability they hadn't realized they were so desperately missing.

And woven into that strong current was Maeve herself. Sayo felt the stinging echo of her recent shame, the hot, righteous anger at being treated like an object, and under it all, a fierce, protective core and a deep well of kindness she kept so carefully hidden. For a moment, all of Sayo's carefully built shields, the layers of distance and control they'd spent years perfecting, were simply bypassed, washed away by this raw, honest, and deeply good energy.

It was disarming. It was astonishing.

Sayo focused, guiding their combined power. The two energies - one like starlight and crystal, the other like river and root - wove together into something new, something stronger than either could be alone. The sick green light of the symbol flickered, then began to glow with a strong, healthy gold. The broken weave pulled together, knitting itself whole.

At the final moment of sealing, a surge of pure, refined energy, the "ritual burn," pulsed back through the connection. It was a shared wave of euphoric release, cleansing and powerful, a perfect musical chord that resonated through every fiber of their bodies.

They pulled their hands back at the exact same instant, sharing a sharp, gasping breath. The air in The Navel was suddenly calm. The lights were steady. The ambient hum was back to its gentle, pleasant feeling. The professional problem was solved.

But a new, deeply personal, and intensely charged silence hung between them. They looked at each other, their eyes wide with a shared, dazed recognition.

They had seen something real in one another, something far beyond the surface, and neither of them knew what to do with it.

***

Maeve walked through the city streets. The usual loud noise of sirens and traffic was muffled by the roaring in her own ears. The happy after-effects of the ritual burn were fading, leaving her feeling shaky, raw, and very confused. Her skin still tingled where Sayo's hand had been, a ghost-warmth that had nothing to do with heat.

She tried to process what had just happened in the quiet dark of The Navel. Magic, yes. But also connection. A closeness so deep it made every physical touch she'd ever had seem ridiculously shallow.

She had felt Sayo. Their power, yes, but also their self. The complex, beautiful mind, the almost painful precision, and under it all, that fragile, guarded ache. It was a part of Sayo she was sure no one, not even Nori or Imani, was ever allowed to see. The sheer trust, even if it was accidental, in that shared moment left her breathless.

The experience had completely changed her understanding of what connection could be. The quiet, gentle kindness of Alex, which had felt like such a bright light just hours before, now seemed like one type of star - a warm, steady, welcoming light far away. What she had just felt with Sayo was totally different. It was a supernova, an overwhelming, brilliant, and slightly scary coming together of power and vulnerability that had rearranged her inner world.

And mixed into that confusion was a new, unwelcome, and undeniable feeling: attraction. A different kind than the easy, crush-like feelings she had for Alex. This was deeper. It was a deep, echoing pull towards the person whose secret, essential self she had just accidentally touched.

It was complicated, and inconvenient, and it made the already messy state of her emotions feel like an impossible knot.

She finally got back to her apartment. The door clicking shut behind her sounded too small for how big she was feeling. She sank onto her sofa, pulling the protection charm from her pocket. It felt a little warmer than usual, humming with a faint, leftover energy. She felt more alone than ever, lost in a sea of new, overwhelming feelings.

But also, strangely, less so. She knew now, with total certainty, that a connection that deep, that real, was possible in the universe. Even for her.

***