Chapter 24
Previously: Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 23
Does she care about her virtue?
With a bitter laugh, she suddenly is glad her drac makes her hold on so tight.
“I don’t have any virtue, anyway. A demon stole me from my papa, put a blood chain on me, raped me, and trapped me in a marriage I need to parade around in front of the humans so I can give John and Arthur a home. I’m a harlot. Quincy says that’s okay, we can be harlots together.”
She’s sighing. Of course she is. This feels all so big and like too much, but she knows that’s just her drac scrambling and not finding any footing without a blood bridge of love to stand on.
“It’s not worth it. Is it? I don’t have virtue, and you said yourself we can’t deal with it. You also…” The tears run thicker again. “You also were so convinced that my swarm can’t find me. I have to… have to believe, but with being broken that’s so hard. So very hard. If… if I’m going to die here because I can’t sleep… I want to be at least good for you. Do you want to cut my hair off?”
~
He does not like the idea of her dying from lack of sleep- or anything else. He likes it even less because there’s nothing he can do about it.
“I don’t think the chances are good of them finding you,” he admits, “but there’s really nothing we can do about it one way or another, so I don’t think it matters what I think about it.”
He lets her hair run through one of his hands. Clearly, she doesn’t have a personal opinion on the hair cut right now.
“It’d be a bit of a shame to lose all the length.” Then he realises: “But anyway, we don’t actually have anything to cut it with, now do we?”
~
“I might. Not cut it neatly, but you don’t want that anyway.” Trying again, she has to give up, her drac has opinions on letting go. “I… my drac is too scared of being lost in the nothing that is my empty heart again. It doesn’t let me let go of you. Can you carry me over to the pile of my dress next to my boots? I have something in my pocket that might help.”
But, of course, it’s his decision in the end. She’s far too broken right now to do anything but just rely on him. That feels right. It’s a bit of stability.
~
“Okay, your drac is being kind of cute, there,” he admits as he heads to where her clothes are with her in his arms.
Why he thinks her being clingy is cute instead of annoying, he still has no answer for.
It just… feels right.
~
“It’s scared, you are defending it from that. Defending it from feeling alone.”
That makes her chuckle.
“I think you said I don’t get being scared. We found something that scares me. Being alone. Thank you for keeping me safe from that.” And clearly, her drac couldn’t agree more with her, she can’t move her fingers, no, absolutely not, is what her drac thinks about not hugging her Calidear tight. “You’ll have to turn my pockets inside out for me. Your hands won’t fit in there.”
~
Caliban makes a rumble of… there’s that satisfaction again.
“I like defending you,” he decides.
Why is he feeling like this?
Does he care?
No, he doesn’t, he decides, and instead crouches down and removes one hand from around her to find her pockets and shake them out. Because, no, his hands do not fit through those openings. He could fish around in them with two fingers, but pouring them out is much easier.
What he comes up with is some wax paper, a ring that hits the stone with a ping and almost rolls off before he catches it, two pebbles and a set of brass knuckles (made from iron, not brass) with claws clearly sized for her tiny hands.
Interesting, but his attention is drawn to those innocuous little bits of rock. He lifts one between his fingers.
“I don’t suppose those qualify as home soil enough to let you sleep?”
~
Those are in there?
They would be, right, she wore that dress for her date with John.
The thought of John has her drac whine enough that she can get one hand free, reaches for the precious, precious stone and yawns instantly as she touches it. Exhaustion crashes down so hard on top of her that even her drac sways. But it’s exhaustion, not sleepiness.
Pulling her hand away again, she has to shake her head, against him, and feels miserable for not even being able to touch the little treasure. “No. My dress was in the, uh, sort of room. That should have been enough. But touching it makes me feel the exhaustion more. No fair. They are from a date. I… miss John.”
~
“Too bad you didn’t pick up a bunch more. Oh well. We’ll try and keep these safe anyway, huh?” He puts them back into one of the pockets for now. “I assume you meant these for hair-cutting purposes?” He lifts the brass knuckles, can’t help a chuckle. “Fates, they’re tiny.”
~
“Yes,” she answers, but looking over to them also makes her eyes catch on the ring and that… makes the pain of the blood chain flare back up, makes her cower into Caliban, trying to get even a little bit of him between her and that torture device. It’s a link in the chain, and she knows, her drac just knows, that if she touches it, it’ll sting more than a fae contract when it eats itself through your flesh into your soul.
She wants nothing to do with it. She doesn’t even want to get angry at it, because anger is something the demon does.
~
“Hey, what?” he asks, looks at where she’s looking. The ring? “What about that thing? Not a good memory?”
~
Hah! Where does she even start? Well, at the part that it symbolizes.
“Wedding band with the demon.”
Right, it’s in there together with the pebbles because she was holding hands with John and he had looked so angry at the ring. So very angry. She thought… she thought he was because of Gregory. But…
“John pulled it off my finger on a date. Reminded me that he’s my secret husband, that only those men who do their best and fulfil their responsibilities by me get to call me theirs. I thought… I thought he was angry with the demon, but he… was protecting me. He always does, like you.”
~
“Yeah, he was calling bullshit on that demon,” Caliban agrees, picks up the ring and studies it. It’s tiny, of course, but it does feel like a reasonable gold weight. “How about I keep that one in case we meet anyone who’ll sell us something for it, but you won’t have to deal with it again?”
~
“I’ve seen bullshit that’s worth more than that demon.” Fine, she’s blushing at saying something so crude, but that ring makes her grumpy. “If the blasted ring can do us any good, I don’t care what we do with it. Make it disappear, like you’ll make the demon disappear.”
And that, her drac has opinions on, apparently. Darcy feels the giggle burst free before she really knows it’s going to be big. Much, much bigger than just a giggle, it’s a cackle, mean and greedy and above all, so very relieved. Her drac is cackling and laughing hysterically at the thought of what Caliban, her big, strong dog fishie with the lovely teeth, is going to do to Gregory.
How he’ll protect her, defend her, and it feels so right, so absolutely right down to her soul that she can’t stop laughing.
~
Caliban snorts as he stuffs the ring into his own pocket, then tilts his head at her unfettered laughter.
Yeah, the puppy is not emotionally balanced right now. But better laughing than crying.
He takes the brass knuckles to give those a closer look, and: “This isn’t going to be a pretty hair cut, pup.” He’s no expert in the first place, and these blades are so short, and scissors would be what you’d really want.
~
Her drac is still laughing, but Darcy just about manages to talk through the cackling.
“Not pretty or not civilised? Is it going to be pretty in your eyes? Monster eyes?” She wants to keep running after her drac, it’s running in place in that floating bubble of her empty heart, but it’s running again, she wants to run so badly. Run with Caliban.
She manages to turn wolf, which means her fingers aren’t fingers anymore, and that has her claws detach and she makes a startled sound plopping down on her arse. That makes her laugh only worse, but she can just about turn human again.
“Wolf ruff. Monster cut. Drac feels so close. Want to be your puppy!”
~
“Hm, okay, good point. Definitely not going to be civilised. Which I’m of two minds about, because personally, I do like some good grooming, I’ve lived without it long enough, but also… yeah, fuck so-called civilisation.” He grins at her and crouches down, puts a hand on her head to turn it back and forth and consider his options.
“How about we make it short in front, get it out of your face, but leave you some mane in the back?”
~
“If you like grooming, you need to let Quincy groom you. He’s the best at it!” Grinning back at him and enjoying the way he moves her head, she giggles again. “He’ll shriek at me with short hair. Then John can smack him to not be so loud and just fix it. Sounds good!”
Yes, that’s much better. So much better than wondering if she’ll never see them again. She’d rather think about what they’ll say and do when she sees them.
Whenever that is. But her drac is fuzzy on time anyway, so whatever! With a clap of her hands, she giggles again and rubs her cheek against Caliban’s hand. “Monster pretty, monster pretty together for our date. Oh, Quincy always does my hair before dates, too, so it must be the right thing to do. Thank you for being so good at dating.”
~
He just has to laugh at that. “That has to be because we fit together well, puppy. Also, what problem is your Quincy going to have with short hair on you? Less for him to groom and play with? Surely, he’s not all about you following any Midgard conventions, that doesn’t sound like what you told me about him at all.”
He decides to start with the singed strand, because not much he can make worse there. It takes a few moments of fiddling before he’s figured out how to hold the little blade without crushing it and still get enough strength and angle to cut through the hair.
This is going to take a little while, but apparently the puppy considers this date foreplay, so he just settles into it.
~
The slight pull and the way she can see him concentrate, all focused on her, yes, her drac notices it, too. There’s no opening in the empty sphere, but Caliban… he and the attention, the care, he’s giving her are like a beacon through that isolation.
It helps.
Just like she read that Papa can help her Daddy with giving him attention and care. Give him something they can do together no matter how little energy he has. It’s so soft and sweet and caring and yes, that’s what Caliban feels like to her.
“He doesn’t like short hair on a queen. He has such plans to grow his out now that I’m protecting him. And he always likes to put my hair in fancy constellations, lots of things in it and tall and whatnot. But… he knows I’m a drac. He’ll understand it. He’ll just fuss that it wasn’t done properly and want to recut it with probably the tiniest silly little scissors he can find. He cares. He always says he wants to polish us to perfection.”
~
“Man, I miss my hair clips and ties and all,” Caliban grumbles. “Maybe once I’m done with your hair, you can return the favour and get some of this stuff out of my eyes, too?”
He demonstrates by swiping the front of his hair out of his eyes, as he does, frequently, since he doesn’t have anything to make it stay that way. The dirt and the tangles helped, but what with Darcy combing his hair for him yesterday, it’s in his face again. “And, huh, polishing, yeah, sounds fae alright.”
~
He likes hair clips? Without moving her head, she tries to look over to the curtain and the other spider silk she has. Some of it is sticky, maybe she could make him a hair band? One of those stretchy ones? And she made a needle out of a thorn so she could sew his pillow.
“I’ll make you a hairband if you don’t want it shorter. I mean, you’re my dog fishie, those don’t have hair, so I don’t know what the proper cut for you would be.”
It’s such a nice thought, just about him, just about how to make him comfortable. That’s the kind of things she can deal with.
Yes, and actually, she has her hands free again, and she’s sitting next to her dress, she left the needle there. So she stretches, still holding still for him, but grabs for some of the fabric. Actually, her corset, she can take one of the ribs. They bend. She’s done this before…
She asked her papa what corsets are made of once. He didn’t know, so they took one apart and then she played with the parts and made new things out of it. She thinks she can definitely bend one of the ribs and fit it over Caliban’s head, secure it with fabric so that it swipes his hair back out of his eyes. With a chirp, she goes at it!
~
“I’m your dog fishie who does like his hair, yes, just not in my eyes. A hair tie or two would be very welcome, I can braid the front back, I just need something to hold the braids with. Though that doesn’t look like a hair band? What’re you making, puppy?”
It’s definitely going to be a choppy haircut on her, but as he gets some more sections chopped to vaguely the same length, her natural curl really comes in. “Oh, you’re going to be a wild and cute puppy with hair very good for ruffling.”
~
That’s another really nice thought.
“Daddy always ruffles my hair, he’ll say thanks to you then if I’m better for it!”
She thinks she has a good idea how to fix the baleen into shape with the fabric now, yes, this was easy, she’s so glad Papa had her taught well in stitching, she’s fast, even when it’s not the lady-like stitches but she’s played so much with her plushies, sometimes she needed to love them better when she ripped them.
“Come here, I need to fit this.”
The way he leans in, curious, makes her chirp again. Yes, this is healing her drac a little bit better. Pushing the hoop from his forehead backwards, she makes sure to keep the distance when she lifts it off again and starts to stitch the fabric tight on it.
“I’m making you a headband so you can push your hair back!”
~
“That’s going to be very welcome, thanks, puppy.” Once more putting more comfort into his life here, yeah, that… makes him feel something.
Since it feels complicated and he isn’t sure what exactly it is yet, he goes back to cutting her hair, working his way around her face and backwards. It’s kind of fun to pull the strands towards her eyes and cut them so they can’t reach, following the contours of her head. Without the curtain of hair framing her face, it looks more prominent. Her features are still delicate, but they look less soft. It’s a good look on her, he decides.
~
Pull this tight. Knot. Knot. And a third one just to be sure. Tada! Nice pink headband for her Calidear.
Also, wow, her head feels so much lighter. Reaching for one of the strands on the floor she runs her fingers through her own hair. “Maybe I could weave this? Uh, have my spider friends weave it- that wasn’t one of the womanly arts I learned.” The thought makes her grin. “There’s lots of stories about the power of a woman’s hair, maybe we can make a net and catch us… well, whatever we need to catch to get home.”
Cautiously moving her head a little, she giggles when her hair bounces. “Thank you! Do you like it? I think I can smell that you like it. Try the headband, I want to see how pretty your eyebrows really are!”
~
He ruffles that bouncy hair, and, yeah: “I like it! And with the curls you can’t even tell whether I cut it even or not.”
The back is still long, and he cards his fingers into it. “And we can braid this part. It’ll look good.”
He tilts his head forwards towards her so she can put the headband on, snorts. “You have a thing for eyebrows, puppy?”
~
“Face fur!” To show him she likes all of his fur, she pushes the headband in place but then runs her fingers over his really very nice eyebrows, they are so visible and strong, like him! And then right down into his beard. Beards are great! Fur you can cuddle into while kissing. Fur that smells of your man right next to your nose when kissing and biting. Beards are the best. And she tells him just as much.
“Also, if you like it that means I must be really pretty! I like being pretty to you!”
~
He rumbles happily at the feeling of her fingers in his beard. “Ah, should’ve known my puppy is all about the fur.” He grins at her. “You are really pretty. Less tame-looking now. So, are we date ready now?”
~
“Braids, then let’s go kill things!” Yes, she’s running, she doesn’t know if she is running towards something, but it seems like the only direction she can run. Doing something is good, she feels more floaty rather than too heavy to do anything. Jittery, but at least that can be kind of energetic. Which is why she jumps against the wall, climbs up, then sticks herself at the right height and starts braiding the back of Caliban’s hair. Yes, she wants to get going. If she keeps running, maybe her drac will eventually by sheer chance find the ground and they can run united again.
It’s not much of a plan, but it’s the best she can come up with. And maybe just as importantly, it’s a date with her dog fishie. If she’s going to live hard, there’s nothing better than dates.
She wants it. She wants him. She wants to not give up!
As long as she runs, she won’t stop. None of her men said she could stop. So she won’t.
~
Finally, after hair is braided and another day marked on the log he uses to keep track of time, they are off on their hunting date.
The puppy added a squiggly line to his day scratch to mark her own arrival, and he has a moment of dread at the idea that in just a short while, he’ll be staring at that mark, alone again.
But he pushes that aside, because there’s no use worrying about it, and instead joins her in enjoying the hunt.
A proper hunt, with his personal tracking wolf, for larger game than he’s bothered with by himself.
On the first undergrounder they take out, he tries what happens if he’s the one to strike the killing blow while she’s nearby. The answer is: nothing. No Helheim energy release.
“Alright,” he says, “let’s do this properly,” and with the help of her claws, field-strips the animal for the most promising parts of the meat, as well as the brain and what little other fatty tissue he can find on it, and some of the smaller bones and teeth for future tool-making. Darcy’s net comes in handy.
The rest they leave for her new friends.
The hunting takes them along the valley and up the mountain sides, and he leaves all future killing blows to her. She does say the energy is making her feel stronger, the gravity less noticeable.
It does nothing for her jittery, underlying exhaustion that he can see, and she has another crying jag at trying, and failing, to fly once again, but then clearly makes herself cheer up again, and they carry on.
~
There’s no brambles here. And Caliban is right next to her, not like John, further behind. There’s no gunshots, no running into the underbrush. But it feels so similar that, more than once, she finds herself picking up the kill to carry over to him before she realises that’s not what they are doing. He knows how to field butcher things, he’s better at that than John got.
But still, it’s a date and she loves it and she wants to love him, but she’s running already, so she’ll get there. Just keep being good for him. That’s what she focuses on. Has to focus on.
She’s half way into a den, sniffing into the cave if there’s something interesting in there. But no, no prey in here.
Sniff. Much better than prey. The air in here smells a bit cool, a bit fresh. That means water!
She starts digging and howls at Caliban to come over. She needs to manage to make this big enough for him. He said he likes being groomed! He said he wants a bath! She’ll make it happen. She will, she will. She’ll be so good for him that her drac knows which way to run.
It has to, because she keeps missing John so fiercely with this date. And that she can’t just focus on Calidear makes her guilty. She’s normally good at that. Just be in the moment. Silly melancholia!
~
When Caliban goes investigate what Darcy’s found, he doesn’t find anything to kill immediately, but she’s digging fiercely, excitedly, and nudges at him until he joins her efforts, hauling aside the larger rocks she can’t get a good grip on with her paws. Soon, they break through into a network of tunnels and as her tail vanishes into the hole with a wag he smells it, too: Water.
He has to kick another rock loose to make enough room for himself to fit through, and calls to her after only a few steps: “Hold up, puppy, it’s too dark in here for me to see anything.”
~
Ugh, she really wishes Quincy was here so he could tell Caliban what she’s thinking, but he isn’t, and before she falls back into being miserable about that, she turns back to Caliban to offer her ruff for him to hold on to. It’s still light enough in here for her to see where she’s going, but even if not, her nose and her whiskers let her know which way. Even better, at one intersection she can smell water in both directions, but one carries warmth with it. Maybe there’s a hot spring that way! Or a pool that’s warmed by magma.
She pulls on Caliban, thumps her tail against him, too.
Now it’s pitch black, even to her, everything is indistinct shades of dark. That’s alright. She doesn’t mind. The world is smells and little vibrations. And soon enough, also dripping. Yes, warm. There’s water dripping from the ceiling because there’s steam here. She thinks it’s a pool the way the air moves, not a stream.
There, right there. She moves in front of Caliban’s legs. He shouldn’t fall in! That would be mean of her. So she stands there but reaches with a paw and slaps at the water so he hears it. Knows there’s a pool there.
~