I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away
You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium
Titanium—David Guetta (feat. Sia)
The night is slow to pass, the coarse ropes burning whenever Julianne wiggles too much and the nausea steadily growing worse. All the same, she finds herself hungry and craving a pickle dipped in hot nacho cheese. She glares down at her stomach when it growls, wishing the damn thing would make up its mind. She pokes it irritably.
Dustfinger shifts next to her, letting out a soft sigh as his eyes flutter open after what must have been a couple hours of sleep. She's had some cat naps, but nothing long since she can't sprawl out to relieve the cramping in her legs. A bed, a bed, my kingdom for a bed.
"You need to sleep," Dustfinger murmurs. He turns to stare at her, then his eyes flick down to where she's still poking her growling stomach. He quirks up an eyebrow, a smidge of amusement brightening his gaze. "What did your stomach do to annoy you?"
"I got some type of stomach bug when Basta decided to stroll in the rain, but now my stomach's decided it needs a pickle. No, wait, I want a sundae the size of my head covered in hot fudge and cherries." She heaves a frustrated sigh. "My stomach and I are suffering through a love/hate relationship right now." The nausea overtakes the hunger pains again and Julianne swallows down the bile with a disgusted face. There's no chance that she'll be able to flip over in time to vomit through the net, it would just go all over her lap and she doesn't need that shit right now.
"You've gone pale."
"Has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Captain Obvious?"
"Enough with the sarcasm." She manages to give him a weak smile, turning onto her side to face him once the need to get sick passes. He loops an arm around her waist in order to rub firm circles against her back, the muscles loosening as her eyes slide shut with a soft moan of appreciation. "Juli, are you…. I mean, is it at all possible….?"
The unasked question hangs between them like physical barrier.
Are you pregnant?
"I don't know," she admits. "We only spent that one night together, though. Is that even possible?" His brow goes up and his lips turn down into a frown. "Okay, so we did it multiple times, but…. Oh Jesus Christ, that's just our luck." She rolls onto her stomach, Dustfinger's arm still draped over her. It must be early morning since the maidservants are already bustling about like worker bees, getting things ready for Capricorn and his men.
No sound comes from the woman in the net beside them apart from the occasional creaking of ropes and the soft rustling of clothing. Dustfinger had tried to talk to the other woman earlier, but there was no sign that she'd heard him.
"I can't be pregnant, Dustfinger, not if I'm going to be executed."
"Capricorn may not execute you, he may just be trying to scare you into being loyal to him. If you're summoned to him before... B-before the—"
"Permanent vacation?"
"Yes, before that, you should grovel. Tell him that it was only instinct that made you fight against him and that you're just his lowly servant." Julianne can see the logic in that plan, but she never did have much in the way of self-preservation. "It may not just be your life you're saving if you do that, Juli."
"Don't do that. Don't try to guilt me." She's carried enough guilt on her conscious for two lifetimes, she doesn't need to carry it for two people as well. She sucks in a deep breath all the same, knowing she won't let something happen to the could-be baby. "I'll do my best." She shifts again so she can rest her ear over Dustfinger's heart, a steady rhythm. Her eyes close, and she lets a dream about dancing in meadows overtake her again.
She wakes to the feeling of falling, fingers tightening in Dustfinger's coat until she realizes the net is being lowered once more. Is this it? Is Capricorn too impatient to wait for the grand execution and he's going to kill us now to get it over and done with? Basta is waiting for them when they finally reach the ground, his sneer making it plain that he'd love to slit their throats and get it over with. Something is stopping him, though. Whatever it is, Julianne's not giving that gift horse a dental exam.
Her legs shake when she puts weight on them, forcing her to lean on Dustfinger as she waits for the pins and needles sensation to pass. The handful of men Basta's brought with him doesn't give them a chance to adjust to net-free surroundings, manhandling the pair over to where the fire-raiser is standing.
"Personally, I'd have liked to leave you three dangling up there for a while longer," Basta says," but Capricorn has other plans. You'll be occupying the crypts for the rest of your miserable lives, what's left of them anyway." He gives a dark laugh, showing off his pearly whites.
"Okay, calm down, it wasn't that funny," Julianne says, scowling.
"You just don't have a good sense of humor." He shoves a white bundle of cloth in her arms, the force behind it making her stumble. "Capricorn wants you to change into that, said that the court minstrel deserves an execution outfit." He glances over to where the maid has been lowered to the ground, gaze hungry. Julianne follows his gaze, but the maid's back is to her and she can't even see if it's her Resa.
God, this vacation sucks.
The crypt is cold despite how hot it is outside, smelling of damp and growing things. Julianne only half wonders if those growing things are types of mold. The steps are slick under her feet and she has to hold onto one of the guards in order to make it down without falling and taking everyone else out with her. The crypt, it turns out, is an actual honest-to-God crypt, not just some cheesy villainous metaphor. The cell they're forced into has been fashioned from a priest's tomb that's had bars added to it, no longer a simple niche in the stone.
Julianne can't help her panicked shout when she feels a mouse run over her foot, jumping backwards and against Dustfinger. "It's alright, Juli," Dustfinger whispers, taking her hand encouragingly. But the maid had turned at the panicked sound and Dustfinger's voice is drowned out by the sudden knowing, by the absolute certainty of who this woman is. She's aged since the last time Julianne saw her and her beautiful hair has been cut, but this is most definitely the woman that used to sing with Julianne over Meggie's crib. She's the one that taught Julianne how to make hot cocoa without burning the milk, that taught her how to write her name in pre-school, how to skip rope. This is her Resa, her mama. Dustfinger doesn't seem to notice the fireworks going off in Julianne's head, taunting Basta through the grate.
"What, too busy to keep us company? We could tell ghost stories. Juli has some you've never heard before." Basta scowls as he locks the bars, fingers white where he grips the keys.
"We won't be needing any coffin for you, Dirtyfingers," he growls threateningly. Of course not, everything the Shadow touches is turned into a pile of smoldering ash.
"No, you won't. Perhaps a jam jar or one of those wine jugs." Dustfinger moves out of Basta's reach as he continues to talk, Julianne's focus splits between her possible baby daddy and her long-lost mother. "I see you've got a new amulet. Is it another rabbit's foot? Because those attract White Ladies, you know. We could see them in our world, but not here." Maybe we can scare him badly enough to open the door.
"That's right," Julianne says, finally tearing her gaze away from Resa. "They're invisible here, not even a wisp of smoke to let you know they've arrived. You can feel them, though; an icy touch, a shiver along your spine. I hear they love to go after people who do things like this to their tombs. They kill them while they sleep or in broad daylight and no fairy can help with that. You see, fairy magic doesn't work in this world. The fairies we used to have here were all rather bad tempered and would steal your baby instead of giving you sweet dreams."
"Is that right?"
"Oh yes." She nods with wide eyes, knowing she has Basta's attention as he pauses at the stairs. "I've heard stories of fairies that have made men dance until they died and held people captive in their world so long that, when they finally reached our world again, they turned into a pile of old bones. But the ghosts here are what you really have to worry about."
"Yes, they do so like to whisper people's names. Bastaaa."
"That's enough," Basta snarls without turning around, his voice shaking. "They'll not be calling my name any time soon!" And then he's storming away in a fit of terrified rage. Julianne grins, giving Dustfinger a high-five. There's a soft sound of someone shifting their weight from foot to foot, and then the realization of Resa dawns on Julianne again. She turns and flings herself against the other woman, wrapping her up in a bear hug that Resa returns. That's how they stay for a long moment until Resa forces her back enough to study her.
"I've missed you," Julianne says. Resa nods, her voice lost between the pages of Inkheart. Once Resa's satisfied that Julianne isn't going to fall apart, she takes the bundle from Julianne's hands and unrolls it, a few items that had been tucked inside it clattering to the floor. The dress is plain white with short sleeves and a pattern of silver sequins that start at the top of the sleeves and make their way down to wrap under the bust. It would stop around Julianne's ankles, a respectable length if a little too long for her liking. With it comes a pair of white flats, a hair clip, pearl earrings, and a necklace with a simple cross hanging from the chain.
Resa hands the dress over as Dustfinger picks up the other things, digging through the pockets of her own dress until she can pull out a candle stub, pencil, and a piece of paper. Dustfinger gives a small smile, digging through his own pockets until he produces a match, lighting the candle so they can all see better. Resa presses the paper into Julianne's hand when she's done writing.
"You should change, it looks more comfortable than the dress you have on." Julianne shrugs and starts pulling off the other dress with no hint of shame. Everyone here has already seen me naked at one point anyway. Dustfinger makes a surprised noise, turning on his heel like he hadn't nibbled on her hipbone the other night. Maybe it's because Resa is in here with them or maybe it's because there's a gentleman somewhere way deep down, but it's charming nonetheless.
While Julianne changes, Dustfinger starts up a conversation with Resa, a rambling apology that seems more like word vomit than anything. Right now probably isn't an appropriate time to make a Mean Girls reference, though. She doesn't know what Resa says in response, but she can hear the rustle of paper being passed back and forth. When she's done, she joins the other two on the crumbling stone coffin, sitting comfortably between them and swinging her legs back and forth.
"Will you sing us something, Juli," Dustfinger asks after a long moment. "Something happy?"
"You have to help me out."
"I don't know any songs from this world." She reaches out and grasps one of his hands, turning it over and tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of her finger. "Well, I know one, but that's only because Meggie put the CD in on the way to Elinor's." Julianne nods, well aware of her sister's habits by now. "Fine, but you're starting us off." She'll do whatever it takes to drown out the scurrying sound of mice.
"I'll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning, and gladly ride the waves of life if you would marry me. No scorching sun nor freezing cold will stop me on my journey, if you would promise me your heart…."
"…. And love me for eternity," Dustfinger picks up. His voice is halting, but it's sweet and made to sing lullabies. "My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me, but I've no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me."
"But I would bring you rings of gold, I'd even sing you poetry. And I would keep you from all harm if you would stay beside me."
"I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry. I only want your hand to hold."
"I only want you near me."
"To love and kiss and sweetly hold for the dancing and the dreaming," they sing together, the tune picking up speed. "Through all the sorrows and delights, I'll keep your love inside me. I'll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning, and gladly ride the waves of life if you will marry me. If you will marry me."