Only a fool would have missed the growing tensions in the Burgue as murders and assassinations pile up everywhere. The only time Tourmaline was ever a fool was when she let things end between her and Vignette. Watching the world go to hell around her this time is exhausting, and she tries to warn the other girls at the Tetterly that life is about to change drastically.
Unfortunately, all her warning does is give Fleury time to make the exact wrong decisions, and when the Row gets closed off, the impulsive girl tries to make a run for it. Flying in broad daylight was dangerous when the coppers had to worry about rules and regulations. When martial law removes that concern and tensions make everyone's tempers on edge, Fleury's attempt to escape the trap clamping around them guarantees a vicious knee jerk reaction.
The sound of her body hitting the street is worse than the sound of the gunshot itself, and for a brief moment, Tourmaline is back to the day Kish fell, and she can't breathe. What brings her out of the momentary nightmare is that someone below cries out, "She's alive!"
Tourmaline can't risk flying down to the street, not with rifles already trained in their direction, so she turns and dashes for the stairs. By the time she reaches the hotel's lobby, Fleury's bleeding body has been hauled inside and settled on one of the delicate couches normally reserved for clients. The upholstery will never recover, but Tourmaline knows they won't really have a use for it anymore. They're locked in, but the men who spent their money here are locked out.
"Someone fetch the butcher right away!" Her snapped order sends three people out the entrance, but she doesn't spare time for amusement at how speedily they leap to her tune.
Perhaps she shouldn't be shocked to recognize the blood-stained man who carried Fleury in and who is currently holding pressure on the wound is Philo. At least she knows he's competent to deal with both the wound and the blood, and she's not really shocked to find that he's sequestered himself on the Row with them. It's not like his secret can be stuffed back in the box now, even if he could slip away from the Burgue far more easily than most and eventually get somewhere his half-blood heritage is unknown.
It begs the question of where Vignette is, but before Tourmaline can quiz Philo, she gets her answer when Vignette reappears from the kitchen with all the medical supplies they have in the place.
"How bad is it, Philo?" Tourmaline asks, feeling her heart sink when Philo looks up. He looks genuinely scared, so she knows the wound has to be a critical one. Philo is too much of a soldier and a copper to underestimate the fatality risk of a gunshot wound.
"If the butcher gets here fast, perhaps she might live if he takes the arm."
Tourmaline isn't the only one who hisses in fear and worry at the statement. When she peers over Philo's shoulder, she can see he's holding pressure right at the shoulder joint, and the cloth is already soaked through. Snatching bandages from Vignette's arms, she helps him switch out the flimsy jacket in favor of something much cleaner. It gives her a glimpse of Fleury's mangled shoulder, and she grits her teeth.
The soldier aimed for the heart and missed, but he may have killed Fleury all the same. Amputations are dangerous enough in good medical settings, and the lobby of the Tetterly is a far cry from a hospital. It's better than the street or out in the wild, though, and to Tourmaline's immense relief, the doctor-turned-butcher shoulders his way inside with far better supplies than Vignette found. She sends up a brief prayer that Philo is wrong, but it doesn't take long for it to be confirmed.
Moira clears a downstairs room, creating a makeshift surgery, and once Fleury is carried inside, Tourmaline finds herself conscripted to assist the doctor as he works. Vignette and three others who have the same blood type as Fleury are hustled off in another direction, and Tourmaline finds herself facing Philo as the second surgical assistant. Luckily, there's enough painkillers stashed around the Tetterly to keep Fleury blissfully unaware of the extremes needed to keep her alive.
Perhaps it would be kinder to let her die when she wanted to escape this cage so desperately, but no one is capable of such callous kindness.
When they've done all that they can, Fleury is eased onto a bed with clean sheets, and Moira herself sits at the girl's bedside. With aches in places she can't wait to sleep off, Tourmaline stretches and follows Philo out into the lobby.
"Come along upstairs, Philo. I'll expect you'll be needing a bath as much as I do," she tells him tiredly.
To her surprise, he nods and follows her upstairs, and when Tourmaline opens her door, she's grateful to see that Vignette retreated upstairs. When Tourmaline didn't see her downstairs, she figured Vignette slipped away to prepare a bath, and she's right. The steam rising off the large tub looks like heaven, and hot water is probably a luxury they won't have for long, so tonight, Tourmaline wants to take full advantage.
"How about you take that one, and I'll pop next door and use Fleury's?" she offers.
Vignette scoffs and motions at the overly large contraption. "As if we couldn't fit all three of us in this and still have room for more. Don't be foolish, Tourmaline."
Fae comfort with their own nudity isn't anything new for Tourmaline, but Vignette has always been a little more conservative than most. Add in that Philo was raised in the suffocating morales of the Burgue, and the hint that they should share the bathtub is one that Tourmaline is genuinely surprised by. Then again, they're both in love with Vignette, so it's not like they'll be leering at each other's nudity, especially not after the day they've both had.
She can't help but gasp when she sees the true extent of Philo's injuries as the man quietly disrobes. It shouldn't shock her that the coppers worked him over so viciously, not after learning they'd been duped for years upon years, but she thinks there's more to the story of those injuries. His clothes stink like he journeyed through the sewers, too. Somehow he survived whatever it was, so she'll save her questions for a time when they both aren't half asleep on their feet.
"It's not as good as what we gave Fleury downstairs, but there's good whiskey in the decanter. It'll take the edge off all that so you can sleep." Vignette is also moving gingerly, and after her time in lockup, Tourmaline has an idea that Vignette likely provoked a beating of her own with that temper of hers. Getting pissed just might be what they all need tonight.
Easing into the hot water, she hisses when it's almost too hot, but then her body adjusts and the heat is bliss, drawing out the aches from working to save Fleury. Philo joins her, sitting opposite her so that his feet bump into her hip. He groans softly as the hot water works its magic, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He doesn't rouse even when Vignette brings over tumblers with enough liquor in them to render them all unconscious for hours.
Tourmaline takes hers and sips at the expensive liquid. "You should both stay here tonight. Tomorrow we can sort out what happens while we're trapped on the Row, but for tonight, I would like to know you're here and safe."
She loves Vignette and always will, and she'll admit some affection for Philo because they've become friends over the years while Vignette was absent from their lives. But she isn't blind, and Vignette will never look at her quite the way she does Philo. All she can hope for is to retain them both as friends. At least she won't have the usual heartbreak of watching a beloved ex move on with another, since she won't ever bounce their happy baby on one knee. Pregnancy is rare enough between Fae and humans, but it's impossible for a half-blood to procreate at all.
"Of course we will." Vignette surprises Tourmaline by leaning over her to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I need to know you're safe as well."
With that assured, Tourmaline lets herself relax, enjoying the heat and sipping the whiskey. Eventually, Philo rouses enough to drink his own, and she watches lazily as Vignette joins them and helps him sponge away the horrors of the day. There's an allure to watching them, with all their loving tenderness, and she's half tempted to ask if she can watch more than just caretaking in the bath. It'd be either a fantastic idea or the ultimate torture, but it might also solve some of the mystery of just how these two fit together.
She leaves them to it in the end, stepping out of the tub to wrap herself in one of the towels Vignette had laid aside. Donning a nightshirt instead of any of her lingerie, she flops onto the bed nearest the window and lets sleep claim her. Tomorrow is soon enough to figure out what steps they'll take next.
When she wakes, she's warmer than she expects to be. Her sleep-fogged brain at first thinks she's had an overnight client, but the form pressed against her back is far too slim to be one of her Burgish clients, not to mention the softness of breasts against her skin. While she does spend the night with a fellow whore now and then, she hasn't since Vignette reappeared in her life. A rough cough signals a third presence in the room, and slowly, the memory of last night returns.
Wriggling around, Tourmaline slips onto her back to find that Vignette is sleeping soundly between her and Philo. He's curled behind Vignette, but his gaze isn't on the woman they both love. Instead, those dark eyes of his are on Tourmaline, and they look both fond and perplexed. At least he doesn't look jealous, which is a good thing because Vignette's hand slides up Tourmaline's body and under her nightshirt to cup one breast quite possessively.
"She likes to hold on to her bedmate, doesn't she?" Philo drawls quietly, flashing Tourmaline a smirk before easing himself upright with a wince.
He reaches out and settles the bedding firmly around Vignette before he stands and heads off to take a piss. In the weak morning sunlight, Tourmaline can see the telltale scars from where his wings were removed, and she can't decide if she wants to be outraged that Philo was mutilated or admire his mother's courage in protecting her son at all costs. His bruises are even more vivid this morning, leaving his body a patchwork of colors, and Tourmaline wonders how soon is too soon to find out exactly what happened before the Row was locked down.
Realizing that Philo slept naked because, unlike her and Vignette, he didn't have any clothes here, she slips out of bed herself, pads to the door, and opens it. Peering down over the railing, she can see evidence that the lobby was turned into a refuge of sorts overnight. Hopefully the rooms were all shared out as well, although she's glad no one wanted a bit of her floorspace. When she sees the girl who works as the hotel's scullery maid, she lets out a low whistle to get the girl to look up.
"Fetch me some of the discarded gentleman's clothing and bring it up, will you, sweetling? None of us want Philo in yesterday's goop and gore."
The girl nods and scampers off, and when Tourmaline returns to her room, Philo has improvised with a towel looped around his waist. He's found her stash of cigars and helped himself, sitting in the spot on the balcony she always uses to smoke and staring down at the streets.
"How bad is it out there?" she asks, drifting over to take a look even as she asks.
Normally, there would be dozens out on the streets already, everyone bustling about their business. With dawn just past, everyone who works on the human side of things and doesn't live with their employers would be trotting along to spend their day on chores and scut work. There's nowhere for those people to go today, and with armed guards all around, she doesn't blame most folks for holing up at home.
"It's eerie," he says, blowing smoke out to drift across the mostly deserted street. "The last time I was anywhere this empty of people in the streets was in Anoun during the final evacuations."
He's right, and Tourmaline has similar memories. She wonders if Vignette saw the same thing. Probably so, considering how few of their kind would have been left in the end when Vignette was sparrowhawking.
"If we're all trapped here for the foreseeable future, I suppose someone's got to start organizing things. We can't rely on our jailers to deliver food to us, now can we?" Voicing the worry makes Tourmaline wary of the bigger picture now.
"They'll have to do something, since they've closed the Row to entrance and exit. It's not like we can deport ourselves to somewhere with food and jobs so long as we're under martial law here."
"Perhaps they'll do that in the end, once they've finished rounding everyone up. Just stuff us all on empty ships and dump us somewhere to make it all someone else's problem."
"It depends on who is in charge now. I cannot imagine it's Chancellor Breakspear." Philo looks haunted as he speaks the man's name.
A knock on the door keeps Tourmaline from asking, and it also rouses Vignette, who makes a fearful little screech before she spots the pair of them. Tourmaline leaves Philo to soothe Vignette, instead going to fetch whatever the scullery maid has brought for Philo. She's grateful to see that the girl thought about more than clothing, because she's got a tray of food in her hands and the spare clothes draped over one arm.
"It's not much, just hot rolls and marmalade with tea, but it's better than starting the day hungry, I think."
"You're quite right. Thank you for bringing up breakfast as well." Tourmaline takes the tray and men's clothing from the girl. "Is there any word on Fleury's condition?"
"She lived through the night. Woke a bit and cried over her arm just before dawn. Madam says she's a strong girl and will pull through."
"Madam is right. We're all far stronger than those clots guarding us give us credit for."
With a bright smile for the girl now that she knows Fleury will make it, Tourmaline dismisses the maid back to whatever Madam Moira needs of her before returning to the room and nudging the door closed behind her. She settles the tray on the table before passing the clothing off to Philo, who thanks her with a relieved smile before making haste to dress. Normally, Tourmaline rarely eats breakfast, but with the suspicion of rationing on the horizon, she figures she'll nibble while she can.
As soon as the others join her, Tourmaline lets them get in half a cup of tea and a roll each before demanding a full accounting of what happened while they were outside of even her wide range of gossip. The story is horrifying, especially as Vignette quietly recounts killing Lady Breakspear, and Tourmaline is glad to see there is no evidence of guilt on her friend's face. A monster such as Piety Breakspear deserved a more torturous death, but she'll settle for it being over.
They separate once breakfast is done, each to gather what information they can from within the Row. He may be disgraced as a copper, but Philo still has friends outside, Vignette has the Ravens, and Tourmaline? Well, there's not a soul on the Row that she can't charm if she puts her mind to it. By dinner time, she's got a sort of council cobbled together. While Moira being roped into the duty isn't surprising, Tourmaline is surprised at getting her own seat at the table.
While Moira is off converting the Tetterly's kitchen to feed the displaced, Tourmaline ends up tasked with sorting their homeless into quarters. The Row was already running out of places for folks to live, and now their numbers have increased by a third. She's just grateful a goodly number of Fae didn't live with their employers, or it would be an unsolvable problem. Some are easy enough to settle in, just by asking for volunteers who might have a place to hang a hammock or throw a bedroll. There's always the Tetterly, too, and she's mumbling over moving the residents about when Philo and Vignette return.
"There's Aisling's place unoccupied," Philo suggests. "We could take up residence there, and that's a lot more space here for you to dole out."
Vignette looks intrigued, and it takes Tourmaline a moment to recall the poor dead woman who birthed Philo. Part of her wants to cling to the Tetterly, but in truth, if she's going to be doing all this work, a clean break from her past as a whore is probably for the best. Philo obviously wants to take over his mother's home, so she nods, filling in names on her chart. With some rearrangement of furniture, her old room can house far more than three for now.
Packing what she wants to keep doesn't take Tourmaline as long as it ought, and Vignette is still living out of a single bag. Philo returned from the day's journey with a case, so at least she doesn't have to rummage up more clothing for him. They trek through the narrow streets, which are far less deserted now but still subdued, following Philo to an upper level apartment. The place is tidy and snug, almost too small for three people, but Tourmaline was included in Philo's invitation, so she assumes he won't mind the enforced coziness.
They settle into a routine, although it's less about gathering information after the first day and more about finding ways to keep everyone on the row calm and sane. Philo proves right that foodstuffs are delivered—just the barest of basics, but enough that no one will starve. He has an ease with the guards that makes the deliveries go smoothly, and Tourmaline knows he's wheedled a few extras where he can, like medications they don't have on hand. She doesn't ask what favors he's trading.
Vignette suffers the most from being trapped on the Row, and after she snaps viciously even at Philo a week into their new life, Tourmaline yanks her back from the fruitless endeavors with the Ravens and sets her to playing school teacher instead, which Vignette protests.
"I've never taught children a day in my life!"
"No, but you were a librarian once. You've got a thousand stories all saved up in that pretty head of yours. Share them before they're scattered to the winds."
With a huff, Vignette rolls her eyes at the statement, but she concedes, and her storytelling is vivid enough that even adults drift by as their duties allow.
At home, though, Tourmaline remains surprised that the three of them continue to share a bed, usually with Vignette nestled in the center, but not always. Once or twice, Tourmaline wakes up as the center point of the bed, after going to sleep otherwise, and she can't help but wonder why Vignette leaves the bed at night. It isn't for a quiet fuck with Philo without Tourmaline right nearby, because the pair are about as platonic as a pair of Burgish courting youngsters are supposed to be. Perhaps neither of them can cope with the possibility of losing yet another person they care about, so they can't help but keep her close.
On the first morning when no one has to whisk away at dawn, Tourmaline finds herself once again centered in the bed. Her back is to Vignette, who has her hand slipped into its favored position around one of Tourmaline's breasts, which leaves Tourmaline facing Philo. The handsome idiot is a cuddler, so he's got his forehead pressed to her collarbone and a big hand cupped over her hip. His fingers move in his sleep just enough to be called a caress on her ass, and for the first time in years, she's curious about a man in his own right.
She knows how things work when there are three to a bed, although she's not sure what roles these two would want to play. The smart thing to do would be to simply ask, but if the pair of them haven't brought it up by now, they never will. Leaving it up to her means she gets to take the lead, which she certainly doesn't mind after years of spreading her legs for guilders instead of affection.
Reaching out, she strokes her hand along Philo's bare chest, exploring the firm lines of him. He moans softly, leaning into the touch, and she feels Vignette's breathing quicken just a little. The minx is awake and trying to hide it, so Tourmaline continues tracing Philo's skin until she reaches the waist of his underpants. When she dips her fingers into the waistband, Philo opens his eyes, flicking his gaze between Tourmaline and a point off her shoulder. He rolls closer, pressing his chest against Tourmaline and trapping Vignette's hand between them, then moving his hand from Tourmaline's hip to drag Vignette closer.
- Edited for FFN Rating, full version on AO3 -
It's a glorious sight for Tourmaline's pleasure drugged mind to watch as the pair rises, Vignette's wings glowing, and she feels a surge of envy of just how compatible the two are. They're letting her share in it, share this time with them, but it's been a very long time since Tourmaline found that much joy in sex.
Once the two have caught their breath, Tourmaline runs her hand along Vignette's body, enjoying being allowed to touch her. It's a good way to wake up, and Tourmaline wants more of it.
"What exactly are we doing here?" she asks. Triads aren't unheard of back in Anoun, but Vignette had never been interested in such.
"Whatever we damn well like," Vignette replies, rolling to her back. She sprawls bonelessly between them, legs splayed enough to make it tempting for Tourmaline to run her fingers down to see if she can bring Vignette to a second climax while Philo watches this time.
"Vignette loves us both," Philo says. "There's no reason to make her choose, is there?"
"Quite an open minded view of things for a man not raised among the Fae," Tourmaline muses, propping on her elbow to study Philo. He appears truly sincere, and she has to admit he did seem quite enthusiastic when he had her breasts to adore.
"Don't tell me that you don't find Philo attractive," Vignette says, glancing between them. "I know you accepted that I wanted to be with him, but you've been with us almost every step of what happened."
Not in those dark tunnels, and never so much that she was kidnapped to lure the other in, but Tourmaline supposes she did do her part. Vignette isn't wrong that Tourmaline finds Philo attractive, either. If he'd been any other Burgishman than the one Vignette loved and seemingly lost, Tourmaline would have taken him for a tumble for her own pleasure. There's something appealing about his earnestness in trying to be a good man even when it would be easier to be a mediocre one. Perhaps if he hadn't been trying so hard to pass as human, he might have acted on one of those times she caught him admiring her tits.
"That doesn't mean you owe me a fuck," she says, ducking her head to press a kiss to Vignette's shoulder.
"No one owes anyone anything." Philo looks flustered, but he smiles when Vignette draws Tourmaline down for a lingering kiss. "We're just going to figure this out."
"I suppose we shall," she admits when Vignette lets her up for breath. The kiss has her aching again, and she's tempted to keep rousing Vignette to see if she can get more than just fingers this time. She's missed Vignette's talented tongue in so many ways.
But first, she's curious, so she leans across Vignette to kiss Philo, too. There's an oddly familiar comfort in the kiss, something that shouldn't happen the first time she kisses anyone, but they've known each other a long time. Having a first kiss after he's already wrapped his lips around her nipple probably makes it easier. Vignette is smiling at them both when they part, and Tourmaline kisses her again before letting Philo take a turn.
- Edited for FFN Rating, full version on AO3 -
They're sweaty and messy with the evidence of enjoying themselves, and Tourmaline can't help herself. She laughs, easy and free, and wonders why this never occurred to her as a solution. She is supposed to be the most worldly of the three of them, and this solution was right in front of her nose.
"Have you been fucked silly?" Vignette asks, sounding drowsy. She's watching Philo totter over to the wash basin to wet a cloth and clean himself before bringing it back to them.
"Silly? I think not. But… if being fucked back to happiness is a thing, then you've both managed that for me." Tourmaline laughs again, rolling to press a kiss to Vignette's sweat-damp neck. "Perhaps I'll be able to fill two volumes with poems about sex now."
"Two?" Philo says, sounding almost offended. "Only two?"
"Hmm. I suppose I could manage a dozen, given enough time and subject matter."
The lighthearted teasing is the perfect way to start the day after spectacular sex, and Tourmaline can't wait for a repeat. Outside these walls, the world is still going to hell, and there's no real solution in sight for the Fae trapped on Carnival Row. But they have each other, and no one is being left out in the cold. So long as they can have moments like this, away from the darkness that surrounds them in most of their waking hours, they'll survive.
Carving good things from bad things has long been a special talent of Tourmaline's. She lost Vignette once and considered her as good as dead. Vignette thought Philo dead for years, and whatever Philo thought, Tourmaline figures weren't far off from either of their grief-stricken thoughts. Now they have each other, and it's a blessed miracle from Saint Titania herself.
She's going to lie here in bed, giggling like a drunken woman from sheer happiness, and enjoy that she has the woman she loves at her side and the man she could grow to love, gazing at them both as if they're the richest jewels in the Burgue. There's very little Tourmaline won't do to keep these two safe. She may not be a fighter in the same ways they are, but she's always had a clever mind. They aren't trapped here forever, and she's just going to figure out how to get them out, one way or another.