KikiShogFriends0.3

S. couldn't help the small smile that came to her face as she took in the room. The raucous background sound reminiscent of the shrieks of the damned was hardly noticeable in the warm glow of a job done well. Orderliness and cleanliness always put her in brighter spirits. Not unusual in a Kikimora, especially one traditional enough to go into the service industry. The large room had been intolerably filthy. Master had claimed that the rented room was good enough for the business trip. He'd justified it by noting that he'd be spending most of his time away from it. Poor Master, obviously he'd been fatigued from travel, his senses and mind dulled. He'd even attempted to 'put his foot down' and insist she 'take it easy'. She turned from her efforts at the mantle-place, its patina now shining and glossy with old-world charm. The shrieking sound was dying down. The dark vibrating goo that formed a thin layer across the majority of the room gradually coalesced and reformed itself next to her. The chamberpot had been emptied in preparation for this. The purple blob produced a pseudopod and emptied an assortment of grime and trash into the chamberpot. Behind her mask of unflappability, S. gave a slight wince. S. watched feeling sympathey at seeing how much embedded filth K. had needed to draw from the varied crooks and crevices of the traveler's room. Wordlessly, S. grasped a folded maid outfit identical to her own. With a twitch of her wrists, it unfolded. Having deposited the detritus and trash, the blob slid into and filled the offered outfit. S. smiled warmly at her maid-sister as her features slid into familiar shapes.

Aside from the usual Shoggoth coloration, K.'s face was similar to her own. Her lips were more full and eyes slightly wider. The pronounced nose was the sole facial feature that mirrored S.'s own. Memories of their days at the Maid Academy shuffled through S.'s thoughts. They had nearly gotten into a row about the Shoggoth's mimicry of her own features. K. had been so naive then, her mimicry had been meant as a compliment. It had been a combined and condensed sign of friendship, kinship, and affection. S. had since learned to tolerate and love her odd little kohai's quirks. S. had insisted that slight similarity was preferable to the eerie exact mimicry the Shoggoth had attempted. S. couldn't get her to budge on the nose, though. Honestly admitting that she thought little of her own prominent nose had not been the tactic to take with K. The other had insisted that it was a good nose, and that she'd be proud to have one like it. And so she did.

K. was beaming, her anatomically too wide smile and sharp teeth flourished in pleasure. "Silly Master. 'Take it easy'. 'Think of it like a vacation.'", said K. her voice twisting into an exaggerated foppish, but recognizable near-duplicate of their Master's voice. "As if we'd let him live in such filth. Why doesn't anyone but us clean inside the cracks?", she continued. She'd given a shudder at the word filth, and no one could shudder quite like a Shoggoth. It was still reverberating along her lower pseudopods. S. walked to the large tea service, brought from Master's lands, at the table. S. dipped a talon into the one of the large kettles and tasted a drop. The tea was disgustingly sweet. Having verified that this was the kettle she'd made for K., S. handed it the slightly shorter maid. K. gulped down the contents in a matter of seconds. S. sat at the table and enjoyed a normal cup of tea. The subtle flavor was a relaxing balm after they'd literally cleaned the inn from top to bottom within half a day's time. K. sloshed into the seat next to her, recovering her energy from the intense effort of deep cleaning. At the Master's castle, S. had made sure to space out such efforts. K. inevitably found the exertion of such varied shape-shifting in a short period draining. Not just in an energetic sense either. Quite early in their relationship, S. had noticed that the Shoggoth's mimicry of humanity suffered quite badly afterwards.

Her unnaturally wide smiles and vocal distortions were clear enough signs to the Kikimora that some rest was called for. She even felt the strain of the workday herself. The inn-keeper hardly deserved the title, given how much they'd had to clean -- basically the entire inn. To do otherwise would've left both of them uncomfortable. At least they'd not pushed themselves to total exhaustion today. The meal she'd prepared for the Master's return sat on an adjacent table. Master would eat with them, not an entirely proper custom of his. In this matter he'd been able to get his way. S. hadn't the heart to refuse the silly man. Not born into the nobility, he didn't seem to understand class distinctions very well, he was far too familiar with them. S. flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the warm cup of tea she was nursing. The clink of porcelain on wood roused her from the burgeoning unseemly thoughts occupying the Kikimora. K. had prepared and heated a meal for her while she'd been woolgathering. S. looked from the steaming food in front of her to her fellow maid. The smile was still a bit too wide and sharp, but at least she wasn't drippy or using more than a handful of eyes at the moment. They were both far too familiar with each other to think S. wouldn't insist K. rest her 'shape' for a quarter of an hour or so. The Shoggoth would push herself into unpresentability if S. didn't watch her closely enough.

S. gave the other a genuine smile between bites of evenly warmed food. K. refilled S.'s teacup as she continued eating. It wasn't easy keeping up with such an eager kohai, but there were far worse fates. K.'s ability to re-heat food and drink in moments via 'micro-vibrations' was certainly convenient, though S. didn't understand the concept entirely. The Shoggoth certainly doted on both S. and the Master with the ability. Clearly disturbed by flame, she was almost eager for them to avoid open flames as much as possible. It was a strange quirk for a creature that could create extreme heat or change her material structure at a moment's notice.

S. recalled accidentally burning her own hand at an ordinary cooking fire at the Academy. K. had gone from presentable to deeply inhuman in seconds. The incident stood out in memory as one of the few times the junior maid was deliberately disobedient. A minor burn was met with as much concern as a life and death injury. S.'s plan of rinsing her hand and slapping a bit of ointment on it was shot down forcefully. The memory of being dragged to the Nurse's station, by her kohai of all people, was still a bit embarrassing. The medical orders and hiatus from the kitchen-work classes were firmly enforced by the Shoggoth. The most eerie thing of all, S. recalled, was that K. had spent the next three days of enforcing S.'s recovery without remembering to blink or breathe. Even burned and embarrassed, S. still found herself worrying for the junior maid. The conversation they'd had when the observant Kikimora had pieced things together had been one of their odder ones. It had truly driven home how poorly K. understood less 'malleable' people, and social phenomena in general.

Glancing up from her tasty compote, at the other maid gulping down another slug of far too-sweet tea, S. applied her acute Kikimora senses. She nodded to herself, K. seemed more relaxed and composed. As if sensing her observation, K. extended a small pseudopod towards S. It spawned a miniature hand and bright yellow eye. The eye gave a deliberate slow blink, and the 'hand' produced a thumbs up. As if to say to say, 'don't worry, I'm fine. Still blinking senpai!'. S. suppressed the urge to laugh in lieu of returning a happy grin. There was absolutely no point in telling K. how anyone else would find her sincere attempt at reassurance disturbing; she really couldn't comprehend such things very well. S. was simply happy that K. managed to follow her presentablity rules around others, and not over-exert herself with her efforts.


K.'s posture went from loose to stiff as a board in an instant. S. immediately understood. The Kikimora moved her unfinished meal to the adjacent table, and efficiently cleared the table directly in front of the other maid. She was seated next to K. in mere moments, her senses and wits sharp in contrast to her kohai's abstracted and slightly dopey expression. A pseudopod was extended and flattened across the table's surface and it rippled into lines and motion producing a purplish but lifelike image of an unfamiliar man. S. brought the intense observation and empathic skills of her kind to bear on the moving image shifting across her kohai's screen-like appendage. There was no time for fantasy or remembrance, Master needed them. Drawing a notebook and pencil from her apron as she kept her vision fixed upon the table, S. flushed with joy proud to serve Master.


N., the young emissary representing the Land of Mist, was slight in stature and of medium build. His habit of looking downward, general effacing manner, and tendency to apologize were probably some form of ruse. Perhaps they were even an act, woven from whole cloth. G. couldn't be sure, and this matter was too important to risk on mere human observations. Immediately upon meeting N., G. had traced his fingers across the bijou hanging from his neck. The bright golden jewel inset in an ornate purplish metal setting pulsed invisibly into his fingertips as he completed the motions that looked like an offhand scratching of an itch. Despite seeming to hang loosely from his neck and sit haphazardly across his chest like any other bauble or necklace, appearances could be deceptive. The back of the bauble had sprouted small pseudopods that wove themselves beneath G.'s shirt and made contact with the skin beneath the garment. All of this was invisible to the emissary sitting directly across from G.

Setting his mind in order, G. prepared to draw out the man. Monstrous senses were keen and accurate, but of little use without someone to enforce structure and context on the observations. G. made a small show of scratching his arm through the sleeve of his cotehardie. "Pardon me. This garment is a bit itchy, wool y'know.", said G. the idle phrase cuing his two hidden aces. Fact finding came first, and that required the establishment of a ground truth. A calibration and frame of reference from which to judge the other's responses. Each response, no matter how subtle, would be an answer in itself for those with keen enough observational ability. G. began the conversation, parceling out each bit of hard earned and verified fact about the man into an elaborate stream of small talk. The result was a cluttered sticky web of conversation meant to draw out and clarify the truth of N.'s responses.

It was clear that a major player in the Land of the Mist's Civil War was sheltering the man's dealings in the region. It is quite a difficult task to survive a Civil War between three factions, some degree of luck is needed. G. intended to find out just which of the three factions were providing it for N. His few Zipangu contacts had warned G. and they had been unusually helpful. G. postulated that the effects of the War in the Mists was beginning to bleed into Zipangu. Why else would they be so concerned about shipping manifests between Zipangu and the Land of Mists? Furthermore, it showed an odd information gap for his allies in Zipangu. The implications were unpleasant, infighting and corruption within the normally placid shores of Zipangu didn't bode well.

The pseudopods beneath his shirt danced across his skin in a very specific pattern. G. tapped his fingers on the table in short rhythmic pattern while nodding at N.'s discussion of his homeland, an impoverished province of Zipangu. The pseudopods became passive at his confirmation signal. The girls had gotten enough of a read to reliably distinguish N.'s responses. Discomfort wouldn't be mistaken for falsehood, nor excitement for truth. Time to get down to business.

"I suppose a drink or two wouldn't hurt. I've heard good things about your Western cooked wine. What do you call it? Ah yes, bourbon. End observation period?", said K. her voice tinged with an echo-ish quality."I don't detect any mantic influences directed at Master.", said K. in response to S.'s unspoken question. S., flushed and sweaty from the high of her service, finally glanced up from the graphically illustrated appendage she'd been staring at for the last several hours. The moving image of the emissary was still displayed. S. nodded confirmation at the Shoggoth, who gave a mewling grunt as she reduced her connection with the part of her carried by the Master. S. placed the pencil and notebook of shorthand observations/judgements on the distant table. Retrieving her earlier unfinished meal along with tea for both of them, she sat next to her equally flushed and drippy kohai. K. gulped her tea like water as she repurposed her sheet-like appendage to refill and warm S.'s plate of food. S. ate voraciously. Her tea was still hot, courtesy of K. After she had cleared her plate. S. sipped lightly as they sat, leaning on each other, both awash in the afterglow of serving.

After a few moments of indulgence, S. spoke, "K., you cannot live off of your sugar-water alone." her attempt at a chiding tone was probably much more sensual than necessary. K.'s wordless whine of complaint was just as bad, and counted as a barely disguised moan. S. drew herself up to fix the other a plate. Just because the Shoggoth could probably survive solely on syrupy tea didn't mean that she should. K's limp posture smoothly moved to standing.

"S. you don't have --", began K. before S. waved her off with a feathered wrist. S. didn't have to look at her to know that her lower tentacles were subtly shifting in anxiety.

"K. you've worked hard. Master is surely proud of you. I think a special meal is in order.", said S. in earnest praise, she certainly felt proud of her kohai. "That is for dinner.", continued S. gesturing toward the meal set out on the table adjacent to the one at which they sat. "Surely you wouldn't want to ruin dinner for Master. Or should I trust these cooks to make a meal for my hard-working kohai?", S.'s tone dropped in irritation at 'these cooks'. She thought little of the inn and it's personnel.

"I'll go with you, senpai.", said K. her voice weak and near-toneless. As S. predicted, K. would rather go to the kitchen with her than let her go alone. Though visibly anxious around fire, the junior maid never shrugged off her cooking duties, or interfered with that of others. Only someone else manning a fire for her sake brought out her childish reluctance. S. who enjoyed cooking for others refused to let her kohai's reluctance dampen her mood.

One thing shared among all of Monster-kind, aside from their love of human men, is a general set of predatory instincts regarding humans. The specifics vary among species and even sub-species; the behaviors are quite diverse. However, even the disparate and distinct versions of this are easily seen for what they are by other monsters. The descendants of predators who once hunted Mankind share a common language of sorts, though the dialects have diverged. It isn't a tongue grounded in speech, rather it's a thing of action and behavior. So a distinct dialogue was shared as S. and K. made themselves presentable, and affixed the unflappable mask of the professional maid upon their faces. Though they shared no common ancestry, they shared a common set of ancestral behaviors. Their lines of descent hadn't honed violent aggression towards prey or mates. Instead, seemingly peaceful behavior meant to lull and charm the unsuspecting had been preferred by their lineages. In this Era, where the Demon Lord's power has redirected the goals of monsters, it is seldom considered how predatory instincts could apply to kith, kin, and group. Everyone knows the truth that human males were now hunted to be mates by Monster-kind. Perhaps this is radical enough to distract human scholars from more broad subjects in the same realm of experience. Monsters, of course, have never bothered to let theory interfere with practice.

"Ah. I see that you've kept up the standard expected of you.", S. said mildly, her professional mask in place. The kitchen, recently returned to sparkling and efficient glory this very day by the maids' efforts, was showing signs of neglect already. The baffled inn-keeper clearly though this was a compliment of some sort. S. twitched her tail in a slight movement that nearly all humans would dismiss. This was not so with her observant sister-maid.

S. waited for the oaf to step forward and brag, likely he would attempt to flirt with her unless dissuaded. True to form, the enhanced empathy and intuition bestowed upon Kikimoras was proven correct once more. S. remained still and apparently motionless as he attempted to take credit for being unable to keep a kitchen in good condition. The soft but noticeable squelch behind him occurred just as it seemed the possibility of flirting was dawning in his empty skull. He turned to see K. holding a saucepan. Despite its battered appearance, the piece of equipment was professionally tempered and seasoned. The latter was only thanks to the efforts of the maids, the abused appearance was likely due to the inn-keeper's habitual misuse.

"Allowing us to cook another meal would be such a small thing, right S.?", said K. as she mock-examined the saucepan. A weak ripple flowed through her hair as she rotated the battered steel. "A large meal would be just the thing. It might be too much to ask though.". Flirting with a Shoggoth wouldn't occur to him. Clearly even being sincerely friendly would be too much for the cretin. S. held in her sigh at intuiting the inn-keeper, she'd not be responsible for her own actions if he insulted K. S. shifted her foot on the wooden floor at a precise point with just enough force to make it creak loudly. The man jerked wildly and turned to face S. as she lazily examined her sharp talons. With her palm facing her and fingers slightly curled inwards, they were easy to examine. The angle and posture of S.' body made them especially noticeable to the inkeeper.

"Nonsense. Mr. Innkeeper is a gracious man. Please don't imply otherwise, K. He would certainly be more than happy to give us free access to his pantry.", said S. The man's eyes bulged at the thought. It wasn't surprising that he didn't notice her flickering tail. He was mere moments from venting his building confusion and aggression. The perfectly timed screech of metal drew another startled turn from the man.

K. was un-denting the steel saucepan by hand. The metal protested loudly as it was forceably twisted into a more effective shape."Are you sure it's alright? We could just use that corner of the kitchen, over there." The pained screech of metal was accompanied by a small nod of K.'s head towards the aforementioned corner, the amused twisting of her lower pseudopods had gone unnoticed by the human. He winced at an especially loud screech and turned towards the corner to find himself facing S. The Kikimora, formerly behind him, was now half an arm's length away. She stood directly between him and the corner, her talons at his eye level. S. continued examining her talons.

"We'll just use the pantry and corner, correct Mr. Inn-keeper? Yes?", said S. as she looked up from her talons and let her eyes bore into the man. He wouldn't be able to look away. Now pale and sporting a faint sheen of sweat, he managed to voice a shaky yes. Even the loud screeches of K.'s exertion couldn't help him break her gaze.

"Thank you, Mr. Innkeeper.", said K. no longer producing the sound of screeching metal.

For the first time in the entire conversation a malicious edge crept into S.'s voice, "Ah, K. has repaired your saucepan. *You should thank her, Mr. Innkeeper*." It wasn't a suggestion, and he didn't treat it like one.

"Thank you, Miss K.", said the man, shakily. The whole exchange had lasted less than ten minutes. Someone placed the saucepan in his hand. S. and K. made their way to the corner of the kitchen.

The man shivered then turned to a waiter, gangly and teen-aged, hovering at the entrance of the kitchen. He was clearly amused at his employer's expense. The gawking stare would probably get him a few choice words after the pair of maids left.