TW: Typical malarkey. Descriptors of ick. Panic Attack/PTSD for a small bit. Sprinkle of self-loathing.
In Vein
Earth shifted.
Heaved.
Their arm stretched upwards.
Body marginally elevated.
Yet, the girls weren't sure how they'd managed such a feat.
The jar was missing.
They couldn't spare much attention to wondering where it went. Minds muddled and scattered as the cycle of death and resurrection continued.
But they had their anger.
Anger at D for burying them so well, despite knowing it was a logical and respectful act.
Anger at Mother for being an unhelpful twat.
And largely, at themselves for being incompetent and dying to begin with.
But…
They couldn't change the past.
Obviously.
If they could, they'd beat the tar out of their parents for putting the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Beat the Demon out of Mother.
Damn…
Their insides squirmed, burning and cold.
Eyes and limbs buzzing.
How many times had this happened?
Where they felt they were about to disappear into the very bowels of the Earth.
Weren't certain they possessed a physical form.
Fleeting visions.
Disjointed thoughts.
Static.
Agony.
Darkness encroached.
The Garden dissolved.
And after a moment of respite, they were back.
Honestly, what was the point in trying to stay alive?
If they were just going to come back, they could die as many times as they wanted!
Over and over and over…
Wasn't that great?!
Never a need to worry!
Within the Garden, Krista laughed.
Long.
Loud.
Teeth bared in pain as she sobbed once before cackling again.
And Rhea stared, slack jawed and concerned, before delivering a panicked slap to Krista's cheek.
In the resounding silence, Krista's response was to start all over again.
It wasn't funny.
Not in the least.
Yet, as it all faded away, her laughter followed them into the Void.
How deep had they been interred?
Laughter made way for an uncomfortable and contemplative silence. Movement stalled as they reflected upon all they'd learned in the Void.
It was… difficult. Making their slow demise take an even longer amount of time.
Or, perhaps it wasn't slow at all. It just seemed so because they were stuck… suffering.
Even so, they thought.
Convinced that Mahisuta had kept Mother's disdain a secret from Charice.
About how he'd decided that their existence was more important than his own.
They felt… almost betrayed.
…
It didn't matter.
They'd just look to the future.
A dark, depressing future of endless dirt since they didn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.
They were back to wriggling their way through the soil. Progress slow and frustrating.
Tedious.
A small voice whispered that they could return to the Void… with Mother. Give in to their demands to be obedient. But…
If they hadn't been so thoroughly pinned, they'd have shuddered at the thought.
Static encroached.
And as their Garden crumbled, the earth around them rumbled.
Rhythmically.
Footsteps.
And the most awful scratching noise followed, ground shuddering with thundering pounds.
Digging.
They held on, hope flooding their Souls.
Inwardly grimacing with each harsh scuff.
They prayed it was D and Erembour and Hand.
Afraid it was a roving beast that'd caught their scent.
They didn't have to fear for long. Not when, as cool air met their fingertips, a chilled yet warm hand was engulfing theirs. Gently squeezing as if to say that all was well.
They supposed it would be.
And they begged their body to press on.
Begged for just that extra bit of life to keep them going.
Sadly, they did not manage more than a small squeeze back. Thinking, as the Garden crumbled for hopefully the last time, that it was probably a blessing they wouldn't be around for their exit.
The thread in his grasp dimmed and burst as D clawed through the soil with the Demon's help, simultaneously distressed and amazed. Unable to reach them before they passed, unable to fathom how they'd managed to move through the dirt.
Their flesh was unnaturally decayed as he unearthed them, nearly mummified despite the short amount of time. Eyes hollow and teeth bared in a gruesome display of a body rotting.
Perhaps, as he gingerly cleaned out their empty sockets, he figured it was for the better. That the trauma they'd faced was not topped with experiencing worms writhing in their flesh.
That, as their mouth dripped fetid fluids, they were not choking on the mixture of liquid rot and dirt.
Suffocating when they were no longer entombed.
Yes, definitely for the better as their body convulsed in his hold. Brackish mud pouring from their orifices. Staining their mottled body.
An almost unsettling silence descended upon the group.
The girls were… dead. But as it stood… it didn't seem they could be killed.
Unless… decapitation might?
Curious as he was, he did not want to risk losing them permanently.
…
His brow furrowed as he cleaned Krista Rhea as best he could and wrapped them in his coat, thinking that such thoughts were best left for another time. They would be done with this horrid job at some point, and when that time came, they would part ways.
As it had always been.
For now, he puffed fresh air into stale lungs and waited.
It was as he sifted through the remaining supplies on his person that the girls were lurching upwards, expelling all manner of ilk from their lungs. Deep, wrenching coughs that ended in wet, bloody hacks. Breaths rasping in their throat. Hands trembling. Until finally, with pinched brows, they turned towards the Hunter.
There was not much to discern in their skeletal visage, yet he knew they were not present. Not as they released a low, hissing growl and turned their attention to him. Sharp teeth glistening and dripping venom.
Hunger.
And at that moment, it was justified.
They were alive, yes. But their body was starving. Struggling to regenerate more than brain matter as their heart weakly pumped and flubbed.
Gnarled hands dragged across the ground as they strained forward, and where they touched, the grass withered. Something that had his brows climbing minutely skywards in interest.
If they could pull energy from their surroundings, why did they feel a need to eat? Could they not sustain themselves off that?
Tabling the thoughts for later, he pricked his finger and watched as they avidly followed the digit. Guiding their attention away from himself as he crept behind them.
He would feed them once more. This time, however, there would be no tube. No cup.
Old apprehensions clawed their way to the surface. Knowing that, to many, his blood was a poison. And while moderately healthy his blood had not affected them, he could not deny the thought that this time might be different.
Still, as their teeth gnashed at air, he knew there was little other choice. Not when the cliff was seemingly bereft of life.
If one did not count the carnivorous mists feeding on carrion.
He wrapped them in a firm embrace and presented his wrist. Where before they'd hesitated to the point of denial, there was no such reluctance present as they bit down. A calming warmth flooding his veins where D expected the typical feral 'paralyzing pain'.
A pleasant but inconsequential detail as they had their fill.
This would not magically fix all their problems. They would likely come back to themselves in a less-than-ideal state. However, it was something.
It would start them on the road to recovery.
January 11, 13,014
Krista and Rhea woke with a jolt, gasping as they chased the remnants of a fast-fading dream. Fingers reaching and finding only empty air.
What were they looking for?
They couldn't say.
They couldn't see.
They were very thirsty.
Very hungry.
Their stomach cramped ferociously, and they curled inwards. Hoping to ease the pain.
But… they were free.
Out of the ground.
Hopefully, out from under Mother's thumb.
Despite their discomfort, they couldn't help the beaming smile that uncomfortably curled their lips as it sank in. Taking a moment to simply scrub their face against the ground. Relishing in the different textures as their cheek met prickly grass and soft cloth dragged across their nose and eyes. Body warm inside the long coat that smelled of D.
But that dark hunger dragged them back from their exuberance with all the force of a hurricane. Their insides twisting.
'Need to hunt.'
With a rasping grunt, they rolled to their hands and knees. Sluggishly moving as their energy waned.
'Need to see to hunt.'
They wiggled their fingers beneath the secured scarf and pulled it loose, but no sight came. No light entered their eyes. And they feathered their bony fingers over the tender area just to make sure they had eyes.
Sunken…
Defeated, they collapsed onto their belly and snuffled.
They could just… eat the grass…
It smelled good.
Perhaps not good enough to eat, but good.
It was just as they were chomping down on a mouthful of grass that they were graced with the most wonderful noise.
The softest chuff of amusement.
It made their belly feel aflutter with joy.
Made them realize just how much they'd missed their companions.
"I know you're hungry, but grass?" came a raspy drawl shortly after.
In answer, their stomach released an obscene growl. One they were quick to try to muffle, knowing it was futile. But they snorted out a soft laugh and spit out the foliage. Turning their head to face the man. Unable to see, but hoping the intention came across.
Ground shifted underfoot, an intentional action for their benefit that they greatly appreciated as he moved closer. "Let me see your eyes."
Now, their lips twisted. Worried they might be broken beyond repair.
'Your body is rotting!'
They flinched at the intrusive recollection, quick to seek comfort in his hold as he carefully inspected. Passing a thumb covered in cool jelly over the lids before replacing the scarf.
Did they dare ask how bad the damage was?
"You are healing, albeit slower than I care for."
They still swore he could read their minds, despite his denial of such. And they wanted to ask so many more things. Wanting to know how Erembour faired.
How he faired.
If he had food.
Why, try as they might, they could not speak.
How he'd known to come back.
Only one was immediately answered, and they detested it.
They must have expressed their distaste more than they thought as the Hunter maneuvered them into his hold. Murmuring, "I substituted with animal blood for a time."
He said no more, and the implications had them shuddering.
Just how many times had he fed them?!
Their lips parted, a refusal perched on their tongue. And when little more than a rasp escaped, they were thrashing their head side to side. Unwilling to take more from the likely-drained man.
Beneath them, D stiffened. Eyes dark as he tersely said, "Do not make me force you."
It should have scared them.
Perhaps it did.
However, they were left feeling intrigued by the sharp shift his tone had taken. The deadly stillness of his aura.
Wondering if he was more tired than they imagined.
God knows they had their days, and they would not fault him for the same.
On top of the revelation, Hand was attempting to assuage their fears. "Don't take it to heart, kid. D damn near gorged himself just to make sure you'd be fed. You were just burnin' through the animals faster than we could hunt them out. And for too-little payoff."
After a moment of feeling like trash incarnate, they rasped out a broken apology and bit into the proffered arm.
A sickly sweat beaded their brow, palms clammy as they struggled to stay conscious. The thought that they were trash incarnate had been manifested into a tangible feeling that tugged at them relentlessly. Begging them to rest and recuperate.
But as Hand, Erembour, and D said, they were being stubborn. Enough so that they'd been threatened with bindings to keep them upon the Demon's back. The move short but eventful as they attempted to wriggle upright.
Honest, they weren't meaning to be a bother. But without their sight and strength, their minds were left to wander. Only able to smell a limited amount of things that didn't immediately take them to Mother's realm.
Rather, back to their grave.
They could not yet articulate their grievances, however, as their voice continued its rasping and cracking. The coughing that came as a result a veritable detriment. But they knew that D knew because he always knew. Which meant that he knew that being restrained was high on their list of things to avoid.
Bastard.
Their fingers wriggled into Erembour's fur. And they relished the feeling of it. His warmth. The smell of him.
Sure, he smelled like death, but it was a welcome distraction.
Nay, a comfort.
If they could huff D, well…
All would be right in the world for just a moment.
But as it stood, the man disappeared not long after they came to a stop. And the coat was quickly losing whatever scent had remained to the Demon's stench.
They loved Erembour.
They appreciated Erembour.
They would not complain.
Perhaps it was due to their time being trapped that they now found themselves struggling to sit still. Unwilling to sleep in the event they suddenly crapped out.
Which didn't make sense since they logically knew rest would help.
The Demon at their side grunted sleepily, huffing his rancid breath directly into their face.
They loved Erembour.
They appreciated Erembour.
They would not complain.
…
A pitiful wail erupted from them, a noise that more closely resembled a choked gargle than cry. But if their intent was to scare the ever-loving Hell out of the Demon, they succeeded in their endeavor. The caterwauling sending Erembour scrambling, snarling and teeth gnashing, straight into the nearest tree.
It was a shame they could not witness the collision, but the sound alone had them wheezing until D returned.
The breeze coming off the crashing waves was cool. Chilling, even. Yet, with their belly almost unbearably full, nestled in D's arms, they were comfortable. Listening to the soft lull of a melody they'd only heard a few times.
Between them sat a jar of ash. Something they'd honestly forgotten about until the Hunter had gently wrapped their arms around the dirt-covered container.
How could they forget?
Selfish.
But was it so unreasonable with all they'd been through?
They didn't think so.
Maybe others would see it differently.
The arm around them tightened minutely. Insecurities briefly fleeing at the gesture of comfort. And with a soft sigh, they hunkered down further into his hold. Nuzzling into his chest as it rumbled with each soft note.
Their body was still healing. Weak and poorly.
It was unfair to themselves to think they should be on top of everything.
They'd died.
Lost each other.
Fought a… deity?
A bitch.
Came back.
Died some more.
Yeah… They would cut themselves some slack.
Just this once.
Temperatures changed, the start of a warm cycle. And while the world was awash in color, they saw nothing. Heart thudding painfully as they waited.
Mother would be coming soon.
Mother would… They'd be separated again.
Maybe just removed entirely.
Their insubordination…
There would be no coming back!
Mother would figure out how to break down their Garden and there would be no escape!
They had to leave!
They –!
Why couldn't they move?!
It was too late!
They thrashed, kicking at their restraints as fingers clawed at them. Pulling and ripping.
They had just been with D!
What happened?!
They screamed.
Throat straining.
Bleeding as they cried for help.
For their family.
Not realizing until they were choking on their life that… blood did not exist in Mother's realm.
That, as they panted, they could hear things that did not exist in the Void.
Birds singing
Insects chirping
Leaves rustling
Water lapping at sandy shores
Feel things that did not quite make sense.
Cloth against their skin
Leaves pricking their legs
Sandy soil between their toes
A soft-touching hand upon their chest
Smell things that did not make sense.
Spice
Death
Salted earth
And finally, a voice softly coaching.
In.
Out.
What they'd first thought were bindings was little more than the resistance of D's coat trapped between their bodies.
Of his loose hold.
In.
Out.
The world quieted.
They weren't there.
A relieved sob fled their lips.
They were still safe.
Hopefully, it would remain to be the case.
By the fifth day, their eyesight was beginning to return. Objects little more than shapes and blobs of color. Yet, it was a welcome change. One that had them smiling at the masses of black. Towards the water they couldn't see but knew was there. Hoping they would soon be able to move on from this chapter in their life.
They felt less… grody, as well. Hair fluffy and skin… not absolutely disgusting. All courtesy of D and a small pond.
Fingers ran over their marred flesh. Mapping strange striations they didn't know the cause of. But his touches against the sensitive areas were gentle and comforting. Smearing another jelly much like the one he'd used on their eyes as he went.
It made them wonder what their state was.
'Your body is rotting!'
They flinched again, thinking that they probably didn't want to know. Yet…
Yes, they were only in the ground for a few days. Body unprotected. But they couldn't help themselves from wondering if Mother hadn't somehow sped the process along. Which, considering Mother's ability to drain energies, they wouldn't put it past them. And considering their child turned to dust in their arms?
They couldn't say for sure, but… it was odd. Perhaps the dusting was from their unstable form.
They doubted it.
They were sure Mother facilitated their decompositions somehow, they just couldn't prove it.
After another moment of contemplation, they clutched the jar of ashes to their breast and fiddled with the lid. Fingers uncoordinated and weak as they struggled to twist it off. Yet, D allowed them to work it off on their own. Only offering assistance once they made to stand on wobbly legs.
Together, they crept towards the shoreline.
Their child did not exist in the ashes. The small bit of them tucked away in the depths of their Garden. And while the area had been witness to much death, it felt… nice. Peaceful.
Honestly, the only reason there had been so much carnage was because of them…
Once they'd been killed…
Well, there should be no reason for such bloodshed in the future. Not at such a massive scale. As such, it was a place they could see themselves revisiting.
A long blink.
Cool fingers smoothed the underside of their eyes, smudging tears they were not previously conscious of as they fluttered their lids and strained to focus of the man's features.
Strange that the blur warped his features enough to make him appear as though he were frowning.
Sad.
Their hands trembled as they slowly poured the paltry amount of ash from the container into the waves at their feet. Silently praying that, should anything remain of their child in the ashes, they could at least travel the seas. Forever in the Sun.
The time finally came.
They were leaving the seaside cliffs.
Bundled in D's coat and nestled atop Erembour's back, they were on their way.
They felt at fault for inconveniencing Erembour. For needing to be carried.
For not saving the horse.
They could have died and been done with it all and still had the horse!
Now who would they feed apples to?!
But… they couldn't really say they wanted to test if they could be blown to bits and still come out the other side. It was a miracle they'd managed to come back at all.
Wait. Scratch that.
They definitely wanted to know if they could be blown to bits.
The very notion had them giggling like a demented little gremlin, wondering if it would hurt or if they would instantaneously appear in their Garden or the Void. And even with the threat of never being able to return, they were tempted to ask D for his assistance.
If they did come back, how long would it take them to recover?
It had already been a bit over a week. Slow. Bothersome.
If they were in pieces, would they turn into a grotesque blob of flesh or just reform as they were?
What if their bits weren't in the correct spots?
They let out a sharp bark of laughter.
Imagine, feet for hands!
A soft rumble before D murmured, "I'd rather not."
"But think of the ass-kicking!"
"Fair point."
Sunlight warmed their skin as they awoke, fingers curling into the thick tendrils of fur along Erembour's shoulders. Sighing softly through their nose as they stretched.
It took a solid few minutes for them to rouse entirely.
Another few for them to not feel like their limbs were made of limp noodles.
For the first time in two weeks, however, they felt as if they could function.
As if they could…
Pain had them scrambling for a bush.
A private bush.
A bush in which they could pee freely.
It was there that D found them, struggling to keep his coat away from the possible splash zone. Eventually throwing it at him with an irritable whine. And it was there that D waited for them to finish so they might have the coat back. Silently scanning the terrain.
They were close to the town he'd spied before returning to unearth the girls. With the wind coming from the North East, he was able to smell the tilled earth and fresh-cut lumber. Beasts of burden and the musk of man.
With a quiet command for the girls to wait for him, he scaled the nearest tree.
The edge of the forest leading into the valley was another hour's walk. An easy trek from the looks of it. From there, they could take one of the bustling roads leading to the walled town. With any luck, they could acquire a horse and clothes for Krista and Rhea.
"Hey, D?"
He dipped his head to acknowledge them. Catching their gaze.
It was odd.
Since the girls returned, his feelings and thoughts had become complicated.
Clients were transient beings. Rarely living as long as himself, and never around past the end of his job. At least, not for long.
Why should this one end any differently?
Yet, part of him wondered if it wouldn't.
They wanted a family. The part of him that desired to lay down his sword and settle was enticed by the prospect that he could give them what they wanted.
Another part quietly reminded him of what he stood to lose if he did.
Another laid out the statistical likelihood of him ever settling. Of Krista and Rhea not finding another suitable mate. There were so very many people in the world, and while Leonel had not quite fit the bill, the odds were that someone would.
Perhaps he did, but…
The girls wordlessly opened up their arms at him and he dropped, allowing them to encompass him in a crushing hug. One he gingerly returned as they thanked him (for not the first time) for coming back for them, fingers idly mapping the scars upon their bare back.
They desperately needed clothing.
At the edge of the tree line, he bid them to don his coat one more time before leading them to the northern road. With Erembour tucked into one of the pockets, nary an eye turned their direction for more than the standard reasons.
Fear.
Lust.
Envy.
Disgust.
Curiosity.
Intrigue.
With it came the whispers.
Speculations.
Hissing.
Sneering.
Disparaging remarks.
Raunchy remarks that flew over the girls' head.
Despite it all, Krista and Rhea welcomed the change.
Anything to let them escape their tumultuous thoughts that inevitably led back to Mother.
So intent on listening to the people around them (someone was currently bemoaning their lack of tail, though they couldn't fathom why the man would want a tail), they were startled once D clasped their shoulder and pulled them to a sudden stop. At the entrance to the town stood a pair of armed guards, both glowering at them. Looking very much like they did not want to allow them entrance.
"What's your business, Dhampir?" the one on the left spat. "Need a place to fuck your whore?"
The men snickered to themselves, expecting stoicism. Anger. Shame.
They absolutely did not expect the woman to stare up at them with such wide eyes and ask, entirely serious and with such genuine childlike wonder, "What's a whore? And what does it mean to ' fuck' one?"
They were sweating. Sharing panicked looks between themselves and the Hunter.
Fearing that the woman might be… a child. Or underage.
Shit, they were screwed.
"It's making babies with someone who makes lots of babies?" he murmured, eyes anywhere but the pair. When his partner elbowed him roughly, however, he felt the blood drain from his face. Body feeling cold.
He shouldn't have answered and just sent them on their way.
Shit shit shit shit
D looked almost murderous.
The girl had a toothy smile spreading across their positively glowing face. Eyes shining with excitement as they turned to face D. Hand grasping his. Dancing on the spot, squeaking.
He started to usher them on.
But it was too late.
The girl was already squealing, loud enough for others to hear, "That's what we wanna be! A whore –!"
The clap of flesh on flesh was not something people were unused to, but still it startled many to hear in conjunction with the off-the-wall statement. Many expecting to see the girl cupping a cheek, possibly sprawled across the ground.
Instead, onlookers and rubberneckers were gifted the rare opportunity to witness the Hunter look positively exasperated as he hovered over the woman, hand clasped about their mouth. But instead of ire at the action, the woman continued to gesticulate wildly. Speaking with such joy despite no sound leaving the man's grasp.
The Hunter was not so fortunate. Able to clearly hear each and every unwittingly lewd statement that fled the girls' lips.
With equal parts remorse and pity (or perhaps just a whole lotta fear), the guards gestured for them to pass. Plucking at their shirts and dabbing at the sweat beading their brows from the man's downright acidic glare.
They could not see it, but they could feel it. Pressing on them like a heated iron.
Funny how the girl carrying on as if all was normal eased the feeling. Still gesturing with all their might, even as the man hefted them up to carry into the city proper.
Maybe, just maybe, they would remember to keep their jabs to themselves. Highly unlikely, but a possibility.
A hope.
But honestly, who would ever be as intimidating as the Hunter? Would ever put the fear of God in them again?
Likely, no one. Not without their lives at stake with someone possessing less patience and an itchy trigger finger.
Not that the girls thought any of this.
They absolutely wanted to be a whore!
D's whore!
They wanted fuck like there was no tomorrow!
If D didn't have such a strong chokehold on his emotions, he might have flushed prettier than an innocent maiden on their wedding night.
If only he could explain to them (without feeling like he was corrupting them or talking to them as if they were a child) that the language was far lewder and fouler than they thought, he would.
They would, as it stood, go first to the tailor. He was sure that the girls would only be reminded that their custom set was destroyed, and that they would not be able to find something that fit well. Yet, they needed… something. They couldn't stay in his coat forever.
Well… they could.
But he wanted his coat back.
With an imperceptible sigh, D shouldered through the door before dropping them on their feet. Watching as they immediately turned their attention to the shelves and hangers, still chittering about all the babies they could make while being the best little whore imaginable until they realized their presence was not necessarily welcome.
Between the lack of help from the tailor and their general inability to find a size that would flatter their small stature, it took nearly a half-hour of uncomfortable searching to find something suitable. Moving about under the unwelcoming and hateful gaze.
At least in her eyes, any money was good money. Despite her clear distaste for their very existence, she took the tender and dismissed them with a sharp wave of her hand.
This did not kill the girls' chipper attitude. The excited chatter picking up where it left off the moment they were out of the small shop.
At least they were more upbeat than they had been the past few weeks. A very welcome change, even if he did have his reservations with them exuberating so loudly. Endearing as it was, it was also drawing attention they didn't need. And as much as he hated to kill it, he needed to tell them… what it meant.
Best to end it now.
"Rhea. Krista."
"Yes!" They snapped about, bouncing on their heels while sending him the brightest smile imaginable. Eyes seeming to sparkle.
But he could see their energy waning. Knowing that he needed to acquire a room. With a gentle grasp on their shoulders, he began guiding them towards the tavern while he said, "We need to discuss these words."
"Hell yeah, we do!"
And thus began the arduous task of explaining to the girls that 'fuck' remained a swear not appropriate outside certain situations. Simply asking them to stop resulted in an outcome they honestly expected, with the girls demanding a reason. And half an hour later, they were sequestered away in their room, girls growling from the bathtub (curtain drawn at D's request when bid to stay) as they scrubbed the sin from their skin.
"But he said it means 'to make babies', too!"
"It does! But it's more than that, kid!"
"How?!"
His left hand rose of its own accord, flailing in a round-about way, "It's not a word to be said around children, for one!"
"We heard it plenty!" A thoughtful pause as they shifted, water sloshing. "More like from pain and inconvenience, but thinking back on it… some weren't."
"It shouldn't be."
Another stretch of quiet.
"So… why is it bad?"
Now, it was D's turn to shift. Legs crossing as he reclined on the closed commode. "It is crass. And not used in the way you believe."
"How?"
"When a babe is created, what feelings do you believe are involved?"
"Love," Rhea answered first.
"And joy!" Krista answered next.
"Fucking contains very little, if any, of those things. Not in the way those men at the gate implied."
"… Oh."
Silence.
After a long moment, the linen curtain drew back with a harsh squeak enough for the girls to look at the Hunter. Arms dripping fat globules of bubbles as they dropped to fold over the edge.
"Why would anyone want to make babies without the love and joy?"
They were… so innocent.
For just a moment, he wanted to protect that childlike nature.
If only it were a world where carnal desires were indulged only under love and joy.
With a sigh, he answered, "Lust. Anger."
"Anger?"
Now, Hand chuckled. "You'd be surprised. Angry fuck'll do plenty of couples some good."
Their face twisted more in confusion as they slumped a bit further into the cast iron tub. Cheek smooshed against their arms. "So… not a new way to say 'making babies'."
"Not unless you want some dirty looks from parents!"
"Then… what's a whore? We've been called one so many times, it was kinda exciting to know what it meant. Now…"
"Another vulgar word for someone who gets around. Sometimes for money." Beady eyes looked upon them as Hand twisted about. "And sometimes, people say it just to be nasty."
"Phbbbuck."
Krista and Rhea, for the first time since they'd given insight to D on the mark, looked into a true mirror. Staring into the looking glass with an intensity that shocked even themselves.
There were… very minute traces of their time in Mother's realm. So much so that they weren't certain it wasn't merely a figment of their imagination. Something their brains thought existed that simply didn't. Trauma worn like patches on their sleeves.
Or perhaps, they had changed, and their minds were attempting to reason the cause of it all.
But something was off. Something that made them think it was a stranger in the mirror. Not them.
They swallowed past the sudden lump in their throat. "Hey, D? Do we look… different? Y'know… from before our dirt nap?"
The man stood from his designated station, gingerly cupping their chin to look upon them.
The change was subtle. Perhaps something he'd not considered as they healed and filled back out. But now, as he studied them under the artificial lights, he could see it. How the girls looked just a bit… sharper. More filled out than before.
More mature.
"A bit."
Their eyes flickered back to the mirror. Searching. Wondering what it was they were missing.
"Perhaps it is all the feeding."
Now, they gasped, ruining the faux-affronted look with the crooked smile pulling at their lips. "Are you saying we're getting fat?!"
"Healthy."
And if that didn't have them snorting unattractively.
The Golden Hour descended upon them, painting the room in rich hues of orange and yellow as laughter and singing drifted up from the tavern bar.
It sounded pleasant.
Fun.
Yet the girls merely reclined further into D's hold. Sighing contentedly as his slim digits combed through their hair, pulling the curls into two braids that hugged their scalp and ended at their scapulae.
It was only then that they noticed how long it had grown.
They were okay with it. Even if it was just for the moment. Eyes fluttering shut as their scalp pleasantly crawled. Lap warmed by Erembour's presence.
Things needed tending.
Family needed finding. Idiots needed ending.
Hopefully, the idiots that had killed them didn't know they were alive. Wouldn't see them coming.
"D?" At his soft hum of acknowledgement, they asked, "How far are we from our tribe?"
A soft silence passed over them with only the noise from below to fill it.
When they looked back at the man, they laughed at his expression. Nothing that was outwardly visible, per se, but a discontentedness that darkened his eyes and minutely pinched his brows.
"That bad, huh?"
"About two weeks once we reach the mainland."
"Oh, that's not so…" They trailed off, face scrunched in thought. Wonder. Eventually shouting, "Did we go over water?!"
He nodded, commenting that it threw their pursuers off their trail for a while, but the moment they were forced awake, it all fell apart. That, within a matter of hours, the thread writhed with renewed life. Had dimmed when they dipped back into sleep. But once the day rolled over into night, it hadn't mattered. All their changes in direction, island hops, and plans to return did not change what happened.
Any boat they would have boarded at that point would have been blown out of the water.
"But now we get to go back! And can experience the boat!"
"Can't… wait…" Erembour huffed, snout wrinkled in distaste.
"You don't sound very happy."
To this, the Demon released a long, suffering sigh before pushing away to burrow beneath the duvet. His long tail, bushy with agitation, thumped once against their leg. A sense of finality to the act.
"What's wrong?"
Another thump, harder, as he groaned and rolled. Paws pushing at their legs.
"Did you get sick?"
The bedding undulated as the Demon thrashed and kicked, a broken 'shut it' snarled between two forceful shoves.
"We were almost kicked off the boat!" Hand guffawed. When Erembour lunged from the covers, snapping at the appendage, Hand merely jerked D's arm out of the way. Not at all concerned that the girls were between them as he wheezed out, "Half the crew and passengers… vomited on themselves!"
And at that, Erembour became feral. Slinging spit as he renewed his efforts to snag the hand.
"Erembour?"
"What?!"
The girls blinked owlishly before asking, "Is it too far to fly to just… meet us there?"
Silence.
Six violet eyes glazed over as the twitching, spidery hair upon his back dissipated.
He blinked, each set disjointed.
After a long moment, the Demon Dog turned without a word to burrow once more.
As Hand continued to wheeze at Erembour's expense, a subtle rumble at their back pulled their attention to D. The soft noise their only hint that he was amused by the situation. "It will take him less than half a day to traverse the distance."
"Oof," they chuckled, gently nudging the Demon with their foot. "At least you know now, yeah?"
"Pfft. 'At least you… know now' they say…" He shifted again. "… lucky I… like you."
And suddenly, he was dragged into their embrace. Flailing in shock as the girls squealed, "Aw! We love you too!"
Those Below would never catch him enjoying such affection before.
Now, those Below would never take this bit of joy from him.
The next morning, the town was alive and bustling as men and women went to work. Dressed in their ill-fitting clothes, the girls meandered about behind the Hunter. Scanning the shops and homes as he led them through town.
They weren't certain what they expected him to be searching for, but it wasn't the stables.
It wasn't something that could be helped either. Whether through natural causes or their faults, animals passed away. A sad fact of life that did little to ease the guilt that threatened to swallow them whole as they looked over the beasts pawing and neighing in subdued tones.
At the end of the stalls (where there happened to be much more noise), a young man shoveled enriched feed into a trough. Looking thoroughly harried as the occupant snorted and kicked at the gate. Metal clanging harshly with each successive strike.
When he looked up, relief swept over his features, and he hurriedly set aside the pitchfork. He jogged over. "Morning! Looking to buy or hire, Sir?"
"The horse we got blown up would be nice…" they muttered under their breath, eyes twitching with each clang.
"Pardon?"
"Buy," D replied. He settled his hand upon their shoulder. Possibly to comfort them. Possibly to keep their lips sealed. Yet, when he spoke, a sudden quiet befell the end of the stalls. Something that drew the stableman's gaze before his lips twitched upwards in a strained (worried) smile.
"Well, you're in luck!" he chirped, sweat suddenly beading his brow. "We happen to have a few ready for new masters!"
The first was blinding, coat a platinum blonde that glimmered with each subtle shift the stallion made. Gently, he nosed the Hunter's hand. Curious.
The next was the polar opposite, coat an impressively deep black that shined like oil. Hues of green and blue dancing in the light as she groaned and turned to her food. Eyeing the group as they moved away. Unafraid. Or unimpressed.
However…
Two does not make 'a few'.
Something the girls were quick to speak on when the man faffed about and refused to move on.
"Well… a-are you certain neither of these would be sufficient?"
"I would rather view all available options."
And with those few words, all Hell broke loose as hooves beat at the stall door, the horse screaming as if possessed.
"Emile! Knock it off!" the man shouted.
He might as well have been screaming at a brick wall, his voice lost to the ruckus.
But, as if spurred on by the man's words, the beast redoubled its efforts to escape. Not at all calmed by the man's presence as he left the small group behind to appease the beast.
No, instead, they were gifted the glorious scene of the grey horse high-centering on the gate as it attempted to jump over.
Did this deter it?
No.
Pupils blown wide, eyes rolling, it kicked and flailed, grunting and rumbling and slinging spit.
Its neck twisted enough for it to spot them. With a noise that rattled the rafters, the gate was knocked to the ground and the beast was charging them. Braying.
One might expect the Hunter to spread his aura. Cow the creature. Instead, he met it with an open hand to its muzzle. Stroking between the amber eyes as it pinned its ears back, attention split between the Hunter and the trader slowly approaching.
"This… is both the worst and best he's been this past month," the man said, eyes alit with awe. When he attempted to stroke the horse's hock, however, the 'Emile' gave a short kick at him. A warning. One the man took heed of as he finished, "But he still hates me."
"What would you say caused the change?"
"Maintenance?" He shrugged. "I put him to sleep a month ago? Two months? When I woke him up around the fifth, he was…" Now, he waved a hand at the massive beast with a disgruntled sneer. "But the stuff I did shouldn't have messed with any of his mental faculties."
Call it childish, but something in the way the beast acted had the girls struggling to hold back tears. Hoping they were wrong, praying they weren't, as it nickered and pushed at D's left hand. Nosed at the folds of his coat before groaning when it didn't find what it wanted. And finally, it cut its eyes at them.
It was a look they'd seen plenty when they'd told the horse they were out of apples. That the next town didn't have any, especially when they'd promised him more at the next town.
Spirit or coincidence, the girls vowed they would never be without treats of some kind again. That someone would be spoiled.
Money was passed off and tack purchased in the shop next door. Bags filled with replacement supplies, feed, and treats. But as they exited their last stop, a contemplative look crossed the Hunter's visage.
The horse was sitting in the stables, anxiously waiting for their return.
Down the street, a farmer whistled, a sharp noise that called a spotted dog to his side.
No noise came from the stables.
But they could see the consideration in D's eyes. The logical waffling his mind was doing.
The odds that their horse would die and immediately thrust itself into another were improbable.
The odds that they would then meet said horse instead of carrying onward were astronomically abysmal.
Still, he took a chance. Whistle sharp and shrill. Short but distinctive. A call he'd trained the horse to respond to.
And from the stables came the deranged whinny they'd hoped for. Different, but so very much the same as the grey beast bolted from the structure, handler crying for him to stop as he dangled from the reigns.
It was so very similar to their first interaction with the horse upon retrieving him. The sheer disregard for whoever handled the reins unless it was D.
When the horse lurched to a halt, man flopping face down and whimpering that he'd never taught Emile to respond to whistles, D carefully unlatched the bitted harness and slipped on a bitless one. Using the moment to pat his head affectionately. "You deserved rest, but I am pleased to see you again, old friend."
The horse quietly nickered, pressing into the touch before curling his head and neck about the man's shoulders.
"Good thing, too," Hand murmured. "At least now you don't have to train another one."
A sharp noise and look.
And suddenly, the girls were clinging to the beast's torso, feet dangling, sobbing out, "We're sorry we got you blown up!" Yet, the horse shook them loose and nuzzled their face. Lips fluttering over their cheeks with a huff.
Things weren't perfect, but for a moment, everything felt right.
The end of the day found them waiting at a seaside village, acquiring a loose schedule for the boat. Pleased to see it was expected back within the next day, back on the seas the day after.
The boat arrived with the dawn, crew working quickly to unload their cargo and disembark.
During their time waiting for departure, the girls were content watching the gargantuan tortoises prowling the land. Munching on greens and flowers and just about anything in their path.
"The tortoises were not always this large," D suddenly commented as he reclined beneath the shade of a tree.
The girls, minds flashing back to their lesson on cat beasts, were immediately throwing themselves into the sandy soil at his feet. Even if the lesson was more practical than whimsical, they were squealing with excitement. Something that appeared to amuse the man as he delved into the history of the creatures.
How, despite all the chaos most Nobility and scientists therein caused, there were a few dedicated to the preservation of life. A few that viewed all life as precious.
The original islands, through volcanic activity and their intervention (ironically devastating the local reefs and its wildlife), the islands were expanded and joined. Tortoises were cultured and hand bred, gently modified to make them more resilient and quicker to breed.
In the end, the tortoises were left to flourish. People repopulated the island. And now, people were back to trading and consuming the gentle creatures.
"People eat them?! Noooooo!"
Sad as it was, it was a way of life for the islanders. Fish made up the bulk of their diet, along with a few fruits and vegetables, but upon occasion, turtles were on the menu.
"It's no different than meat beasts or cat beasts," he calmly reminded them.
To this, they whined out, "But they don't die!"
"And the animals you eat?"
Now, the girls grunted that they didn't want to eat animals to their own detriment, especially cute ones. But they could understand needs. Traditions.
With another soft grunt, they curled up into D's side. Taking solace in the fact that the giants were thriving as they watched one inspect the barely-taller Emile.
The next morning saw them boarding the boat under many a concerned gaze. A multitude of relieved sighs filling the momentarily tense silence when Erembour departed with a sharp beat of his shimmering wings. The horse looking very much like it wanted to join. But with their fare paid, they were off, his petulant whinnies echoing through the small village as they disappeared into the mists.