I’d spent most of pre-dawn after that curled up beside her in wolf form, to the annoying smile of Martha Callaway who seed to think that such a thing did not at all make it any less intimate for a pair of werewolves.
The herbal steams she prepared did seem to work. Kyrie’s breathing had a much more peaceful sound and the few tis she did cough up sothing, into a provided bowl, I could feel the thin but ominous sense of desolation for what was inside it.
Silver gathered in her mucus and expelled like an allergen... and compared to all that sickness, I was out here enjoying the scent of dew-wet grass. The morning air and a nearby herb garden filled my nose as I sat on the witch’s back porch steps.
> And the chicken coops, of course. Can’t exactly not sll that... <
Watching the sun climb up over the distant treeline, it felt more like it was running from the darkness behind it on the other side rather than being the only reason the day ever had light in the first place. Is that just a cynical idea like a glass being half empty, I wonder?
The screen door creaked behind and our host erged with two steaming mugs of coffee. She settled beside on the well taken care of wooden steps, without the invitation she hardly needed in her own ho, before offering one of the cups.
> Humans really, really like this stuff... but truthfully, I’m not sure I could stand drinking it every day. I know it is not the only liquid that is mostly water, but there is hardly any nutrition in it at all! A savory broth with more protein just makes feel much better in the morning. <
"Doing well?"
"Well enough, considering the circumstance. How is she?"
I hadn’t been back since I fled the room last ti. That last fit of hers had placing my hand on her, with a green glow, for probably four seconds. The dical scan in progress was canceled by finding my good sense - when the old woman hurried in to take over.
"Better. The worst of the fever broke. Still needs rest, but she’s likely past the dangerous stage. Assuming we get her wolf involved."
Relief flooded through so suddenly it made my hands shake... enough that I see the liquid in the cup ripple. I hadn’t realized how tightly wound I’d been out here, waiting for confirmation that she would be alright.
Waiting to hear... that doing nothing other than getting out of the way was fine. If Martha needed my help, I was not too far for her to call. But she hadn’t asked to do anything since I got here.
> Yes, other than to think about what I need. <
"Thank you for everything. I know this wasn’t exactly how you planned to spend your evening and that it is going to affect your morning routine."
"I’ve been patching up folk longer than you’ve been alive. This wasn’t my first ergency house call, and it won’t be my last."
She waved off my formal sounding gratitude with a weathered hand, watching the early rising of her hens peck around their enclosure. But eventually that hand moved to cover mine as it rested on the porch.
A look on her face that was purely maternal made my chest tighten unexpectedly. The kind of granted comfort I’d rarely received growing up in a palace where seeking affection, after learning to take human form, was seen as weakness.
"Sotis we need ti and help learning new patterns. Or unlearning old ones. There’s no sha in that."
With barely conscious thought, I activated | Matron’s Monitor | and let the dical scan proceed. Taking advantage of her kindness in one such ’new pattern’ that I’m starting to feel is actually a very old one.
> Doing what I want when others can’t stop . I guess that’s pretty beast-like as well as pretty human? I’m not sure which side to bla. <
Societies and laws are made to protect from our mismatched natures. Rulers take control not necessarily because they know better, but usually because they have found an effective way to not be stopped that easily.
At tis that is simply by having the best qualities and making sure others know it. At others, it is by insinuating a narrative until it is accepted - like the idea of hereditary rule.
Part of is starting to worry again that the system is just such a thing. The trickster that has slipped belief into over ti until I’ve accepted its ’rule’. Or at least its will.
| TARGET: Martha Callaway |
| SPECIES: Human |
| VITALS: Normal, ??? |
| NOTES: ??? |
> And a dastardly intelligence that can potentially withhold things from , if it finds it needs to. But can it do the sa for one of this world’s actual magic users? <
Granted, I have seen no *great* working out of her... but looking at this woman challenging my self-destructive behavior with gentleness - her bearing only makes feel better enough to realize...
How all of this makes sick.
"Witch. I have a lot of things I could say first. That I probably should say first. But instead I’ll ask if you have any interest in experiencing sothing that’s... probably magical in nature."
Her eyebrows rose and her hand pulled away - but she didn’t exactly jump to move away. Just started returning the severity I brought out, deciding that I was now speaking as a peer in the supernatural rather than a guest.
"What kind of sothing?"
"It may be a mystical binding or a tether that will form between us. I do not know. The things I can do aren’t exactly... normal, even among what I know of the mystic arts. In fact, I would very much recomnd you not allow my curiosity to convince-"
"What would you need to do?"
No hint of refusal, glimpse of hesitation, or smidgen of distrust. My words of explanation about what was coming and what I knew about it just begin to drone out from my lips.
To claim I expected it to turn out this way or any other would be disingenuous.
> Vrika. Can you explain it to ? Why these people just... <
I just don’t understand this world. This system. Myself.
Or Kyrie Voss.
Reviews
All reviews (0)