The walk back through the mansion was considerably different than the first trek had been. There were still maids in many of the rooms, but instead of rushing to face the walls when Cora entered like before, they flinched like they were going to, then stood strong, whispering amongst themselves. Cora gave them each what she hoped was a supportive grin, eager to start chipping away at the reasons everyone living here had to kill her.
Oddly, this one change had done a lot to lift the oppressive atmosphere of the place. The scantily clad women acting like, well, people instead of living conversation pieces, was the breath of fresh air the building needed. Strangely enough, Cora was also fairly certain a good number of the rooms had now actually been cleaned. Maybe these women were more motivated to have a clean home than a clean prison.
Iain reached the back of the house, and threw open the double doors to the courtyard. The light of the day blinded Cora for an instant after the dimly lit interior, but she gasped when her vision cleared. While most of the courtyard was as broken down as the rest of the mansion, her eyes were immediately drawn to what must be the ‘Grove’ Jocasta had been talking about.
Cora rushed over to it, standing in awe behind a bustling Jocasta as she instructed a couple of eager former maids on horticultural efforts. This patch of land, perhaps an acre, was a miracle of biodiversity. Literally, maybe, because Cora wasn’t a botanist, but she was pretty goddamn certain a saguaro cactus couldn’t survive in the same environment as a mangrove tree.
“Jocasta,” she breathed, making her next statement a lie, “this is…. breathtaking!”
“Isn’t it just?” the crone cackled, eyes sparkling as she tended to a brilliant flower Cora couldn’t identify.
“How… how is this possible?” Cora asked. The question immediately seemed stupid. Either she’d actually transubstantiated into another plane of existence, meaning everything she understood was wrong, or she was dreaming, and rules didn’t apply regardless.
“Oh, I’d love to take all the credit, but really, it’s the Grove.” Jocasta answered, apparently satisfied with the flower and moving to prune an odd, willow-looking tree bursting with pearlescent fruit. The more Cora looked at that tree, the more beautiful and strange it became.
It was so clearly organic, so clearly alive, but within its bark lay the same tiny golden circuits that seemed to run throughout the building. Its drooping leaves sparkled slightly, and tinkled as they brushed against each other, like despite their flexibility, they were made of glass.
Jocasta gave Cora a beatific smile she’d only ever seen on life-coaches or people playing nuns in movies.
“Can’t say as I understand much more than that.”
If Cora hadn’t seen the difference between what it looked like when someone actually made that smile in day to day life, and when someone was acting, she wouldn’t have picked up that Jocasta’s expression was somewhere between the two. As it was, she filed it away in the back of her mind. Jocasta reached up, plucking one of the fruits from the tree.
“Here, dearie,” she said, proffering the fruit, looking like nothing so much as an enormous pearl, to Cora. “Breakfast of the gods, it is.”
Cora accepted the fruit, examining it. Of course, it wasn’t rock hard or perfectly spherical. This wasn’t a pearl tree, as it had appeared at first glance. The skin was firm, but had the slightest give, similar to a ripe apple. Her eyes flicked to Jocasta, general attitudes of those around her forcing her to wonder if this would be poisonous, but decided there were easier ways to kill her. Plus, she remembered high school biology well enough to know fruit like this was usually meant to be eaten, as part of the plant's life cycle.
She took a bite, and her eyes went wide as the flavor burst into her mouth. The fruit was intensely juicy, insides soft like a plum, although disconcertingly blood red. She was vaguely aware she must look ghoulish as she devoured the rest of the fruit, but it was just too goddamn good to care. It tasted like a Hurricane, one of her go to drinks when she was looking to sip instead of get fucked up immediately.
“So good!” she gasped, wiping her mouth with a forearm, wincing as it came away looking like she had a particularly bad bloody nose. Jocasta let out a cheerful cackle in response.
“Only tree of its like on all of Onan, far as I’ve heard!” the crone exclaimed, biting into one herself. “Time was, I’d be beaten for doing this. Mayhap still should be, rare as that makes Heartfruit to be, but I imagine your new employees would take umbrage with any kind of corporal discipline.”
“No,” Cora said, still savoring the taste. She felt it when the fruit entered her stomach, doing more than just rest there. A sort of cleansing swept through her, leaving her feeling the way you were supposed to feel after a 5-day juice cleanse. “No, I mean, make sure this thing stays alive, yeah, but… if these are a delicacy, make sure everyone who wants one gets one. A peace offering of sorts.”
Jocasta cackled again, beginning to expertly pick the fruits and pop them into a basket. Her gnarled hand grabbed one, paused, then proffered it to one of the women pulling weeds nearby. Her eyes went wide as dinner plates, shooting between the fruit and Cora, who nodded encouragingly. She grabbed the fruit, and Cora made a mental note not to watch people eat these. It looked like nothing so much as biting into an infant’s skull, an image worsened by the absolute delight on the woman’s face.
“If yer done gardenin’?” Iain coughed from behind her. Cora spun, expecting him to look cross, but he looked just as interested in the fruit as anyone else. She smirked.
“Sure you don’t wanna take a break for breakfast?” she teased, drawing a scowl from him.
“Priorities,” he said, beckoning her away. Still, he called back over his shoulder. “Jocasta? Make damn sure one o’ those is saved for me?”
Her answering cackle drifted over Cora’s shoulder as she followed Iain to a cleared area.