"My name is Psyche! Pleased to meet you, Eros," she revealed.
My pupils dilated like I was high on cocaine. Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning, igniting a surge of anticipation within me. What were the chances of encountering the contract holder I needed most for my plans on the very first day of The Carrington Event? This contract holder could have been anywhere in the world, yet she resides in Manhattan. It felt as though fate itself was orchestrating our meeting, guiding us towards a shared destiny. Truly, the fates favored me, and I embraced this stroke of fortune with open arms.
Maintaining an air of nonchalance, I responded, "The pleasure is mine, my love." Concealing my foreknowledge of her identity, I continued, "I know a great coffee shop nearby. Given the chaos unfolding with the apocalypse, most places may be closed, but this one's owned by a friend. They'll surely let us in. It's just a short walk from here. We'll get you a towel and a piping hot beverage. I'd recommend ginger lemon tea—it'll boost your immune system and keep you from catching a cold. So, shall we?"
With a nod and a smile, she agreed. "Sure! Let's go!"
As we strolled towards the coffee shop, my gaze lingered on Psyche, observing her every move, searching for any nuances or vulnerabilities I could exploit to further my agenda. Despite the gravity of my mission—world domination, the establishment of a cult, and uncovering the truth—I couldn't deny a twinge of attraction towards her. In another life, under different circumstances, I might have entertained the notion of pursuing a romantic relationship. But fate had other plans, and I was committed to the path set before me, regardless of personal inclinations. It is just the luck of the draw.
As we walked, I couldn't help but notice Psyche's distinctive attire, a testament to her affinity for the baroque/victorian dark academia style. Her choice of clothing—a wide-brim black straw hat, a unique victorian black semi-transparent dress, fishnets, and black heels—spoke volumes about her tastes and preferences. Adorned with a blue evil eye necklace and another necklace with a crystal pendant, it was evident that she held beliefs in mythology, astrology, and Wicca, indicating a spiritual inclination.
Her makeup, consisting of dark smokey eyeshadow, sharp black eyeliner, and lip gloss, accentuated her features with a simple yet striking allure. Physically, she was a slim, tall woman in her mid-20s, with a complexion resembling that of porcelain, hinting at a potential iron deficiency common among many contemporary individuals. Subtle details like her dark circles suggested possible sleep or mental health issues, lending her an endearing vulnerability.
With submissive eyes—one pupil blue, the other grey—she exuded a captivating aura, her small, sharp nose and plump, cherry-like lips adding to her allure. Symmetrical features evoked comparisons to a raven, evoking an image of mysterious elegance. Yet beneath her enigmatic exterior, there lingered a sense of abandonment, a cold forest vibe that hinted at deeper complexities.
In synthesizing this wealth of information, one conclusion emerged: Psyche harbored unresolved issues, perhaps stemming from a longing for paternal guidance—a yearning for a father figure to provide stability and support in her life.
After a brisk ten-minute walk, we found ourselves standing before the coffee shop, its windows darkened and its doors firmly shut against the inclement weather. I knew my friend Calypso was inside, despite the closed sign hanging on the door. With a sense of familiarity, I removed my mask and pressed the doorbell, the sound echoing through the empty streets like a somber melody.
"Hello, sorry we are closed," came Calypso's voice from within, tinged with a note of regret.
"Open up, it is I, Eros," I replied, my tone carrying a hint of urgency.
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Calypso's silhouette against the dimly lit interior. With a quick nod of acknowledgment, she ushered us inside, her movements hurried yet welcoming. After exchanging greetings, I introduced Psyche to Calypso, who greeted her with a warm smile.
"Calypso, can I have the usual, and for the miss a ginger lemon tea please," I requested, settling into a seat as Calypso busied herself behind the counter.
"Right away, love," Calypso responded, her voice laced with a blend of familiarity and concern. "Psyche, my dear, feel at home."
"Thank you, Calypso, and thank you for letting us in. The weather is chaotic, and the people are even more chaotic than it," Psyche remarked softly, her words carrying a sense of unease.
As Calypso prepared our drinks, she glanced up at us with a knowing look, her expression mirroring the underlying tension in the air. "You're damn right! I don't know what is wrong with people! One small connection issue and everyone turned into Satan! Dark times are upon us, but I believe this will pass and we will be alright."
We both exchanged smiles with Calypso, appreciating her warmth and optimism in the face of the chaos outside. Calypso possessed a rare quality of unwavering positivity, a trait that endeared her to me despite my usual reluctance to form close connections. She was a beacon of hope in a world filled with uncertainty and darkness.
With her long, curly platinum blonde hair cascading around her shoulders and her big brown eyes radiating kindness, Calypso was a striking figure. Her wide, warm smile was ever-present, a testament to her resilient spirit and compassionate nature. Despite being let down by others countless times, she never lost faith in humanity.
As Calypso placed our drinks on the table along with two croissants, her generosity shone through. "There we go, the drinks. The croissants are on the house, your favorite! Enjoy your drinks and your croissants," she said cheerfully, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "I'll be upstairs, gotta feed the dogs! If you need anything, just call me, and I'll be here!"
Psyche graciously thanked Calypso, expressing her gratitude for the hospitality. "Thank you so much, Calypso, you are so kind," she said with a genuine smile.
I nodded appreciatively, acknowledging Calypso's kindness. "Why thank you, love," I replied. "Before going upstairs, I'll smoke some ciggies here, you don't mind, right?"
Calypso reassured Psyche, extending her hospitality to her as well. "No worries, Psyche. Any friend of Eros is very welcome here," she affirmed. "Oh, and yes, love, you can. Have fun! I'll be back in 15 minutes."
As I savored the rich flavor of my cappuccino, I couldn't help but admire Calypso's coffee-making skills. It was as if she wielded a touch of witchcraft in every cup.
Turning my attention to Psyche, I noticed her hesitance to drink the tea. "You better drink that hot tea before it gets cold," I remarked, sensing her preference for iced coffee or bubble tea. "I can tell you're more of an iced coffee or a bubble tea person, but this hot tea will make you feel warm. Wait here, I will borrow a towel from Calypso so you can dry that wet hair of yours. Be right back."
With a nod of agreement, Psyche waited patiently as I fetched a towel from Calypso and returned to dry her hair. She sat quietly, allowing me to tend to her, a moment of intimacy amidst the chaos of the world outside.
I then remarked, "Your hair isn't that wet, and that is probably because of your hat. There we are, keep the towel a bit on your head, and when Calypso comes back, I can ask her for her hair dryer so we can tidy you up."
