Chapter 5: Our Thing

…

Phrolova considered intervening. Without their havoc wing, Rover had no chance of evading Hecate's attacks – much less so now, when Hecate had completed her metamorphosis.

Rover and Hecate were at opposite ends of the compass, slowly walking along its circumference. In synchrony, they stopped, and Rover initiated a deep bow. Hecate was still, then they bowed deeply as well. Rover began their narration:

"'Demon lord,' I say, 'whose divine secret inspires terror, but only in one's own heart.'"

They ran at each other in a spiraling path. Hecate slashed at short range, and Rover slid under it and tagged Hecate's waist with the flat part of their sword. Phrolova sensed a change; Hecate noticed it too.

"'Look at mines, and see not terror but something else written on it.'"

With a single motion of her free hand, Hecate slashed off all the small blades lining her chainsword, leaving only a blunt chain wrapping a core of steel.

"'If your heart would be full, I'd switch my heart for yours.'"

Rover charged, and Hecate was already upon them. Rover braced their legs on one of Hecate's, and she launched them higher than they'd been before. Giving chase with her chain unraveled, Hecate swung; Rover released their havoc wing. Rover boosted along the length of the chain until they had reached Hecate's wrist.

"'If only you'd have the courage to show me your secret again.'"

As if they were frozen in a painting, Rover balanced on Hecate's wrist and held out their hand. Only when they both leaned to the side did gravity take hold of them, and they descended in a spiral. They landed softly. Rover supported Hecate in their arms, the flat of their blade at her throat. Hecate's hand drifted from her side and wrapped the back of Rover's head. Inky darkness rose from under them, wrapping around Hecate's body and dragging her down. It left Rover kneeling where they had been holding her.

What just happened? Phrolova's heart beat loudly in her chest. Did… The Arbiter just resonate with Hecate?

"I call it 'empathy.'" Rover said, as if they could read Phrolova's thoughts. "Sometimes when I'm fighting a strong tacet discord, I can hear something within them calling to me. Hecate… I feel above all else, she wanted to make a happy ending for once." Rover's gaze scanned the graveyard of broken mirrors. "Among aspiring actors… that's rare, don't you think?"

Rover flopped backwards, limbs out like a starfish. "Aaaaaah~, that was tough." Phrolova's brass swing lowered to the surface of the arena, and she stepped off. Rover turned to look at her.

There was a tinge of conflict in her expression, as if she were debating whether to say something.

"I thought your dance was beautiful." Rover gave a cheeky smile. "Was it for my eyes only?"

Phrolova laughed; Rover was so direct. Phrolova cleared her throat. "I liked your monologue… was it for my ears only?"

Rover didn't answer with words. They sat up and repositioned themselves to be on one knee in front of Phrolova. Intuitively falling into her role, Phrolova moved closer until she only stood a short distance from Rover.

Phrolova was once again the demon lord: "'Foolish knight, whose heart is filled with equal parts fantasy and courage… let this be your reward: that you may be the first to kiss a demon lord's hand.'" Phrolova held out her hand.

Rover took up her hand and brought it close enough that Phrolova felt their breath. Rover left it like that for agonizing seconds, then in a twist flipped it over and kissed Phrolova's palm. Phrolova held in a yip but didn't pull back; she became conscious of her breathing.

"'It would be the fulfillment of everything I want to be by your side… but it will be as an equal, not as a servant.'"

Back at her tree, Phrolova contemplated her palm.

How troublesome… now it's like Rover's kissing everything this palm touches – my cheeks… my arms… my sides…

Phrolova quickly halted those thoughts before they got out of hand. Heat invaded her cheeks.

There were generally two ranks in the Fractsidus: artificers and overseers. Artificers had to wear masks of constraint to suppress the symptoms of an imperfect fusion with a tacet discord. In exchange, the artificer was deprived of their emotions.

A mask of constraint wasn't necessary for overseers. However, some choose to carry an item with that side effect anyway. For Phrolova, that item was her gauze wrappings. It kept her mind clear. The responsibilities of an overseer benefited from an emotionless executor.

Yet, the gauze has never been this… ineffective. Ever since Rover confessed to her, it was as though the gauze were being pierced every few sentences.

Phrolova retrieved a roll of constraint-gauze from a portal and pondered it.

Is this all… a daydream?

The Arbiter loved her – they really did. Today Phrolova wanted to scare Rover to test them, and they played it so well it left her staggered. But this wasn't the hard part. Everything they were… they were incompatible. The Astral Modulator fell for a Fractsidus overseer – water fell for lava. If they combined, it would change both.

One of them had to give.

Her mind returned to her palm. Even now, it felt warm. With that palm, she reached up and undid the wrappings on her eye, letting her gauze fall. Now her palm felt feverish; her body was a choir, her heart the lead singer.

Phrolova would give herself a chance. If she could write a story in which they were together and it worked out in the end, she'd allow herself to feel the way she did. Phrolova pulled out her notebook and pen and began writing.

Hours passed. Across dozens of drafts, a couple of motifs presented themselves.

Betrayal, death: His Excellency.

He was like the Lament.

Balls of scrunched up paper surrounded Phrolova. She was on the last page of her notebook. She put her pen on the paper.

Nothing.

She lifted the pen and put it back down again. She wrote a few letters, then a sentence, but it was the same as one she wrote three drafts ago. Phrolova crossed out that line and started again; after writing a few words, a tear blotted them, then more tears fell. Phrolova's body shook; they wouldn't stop.

There was only one option that didn't lead to the bad end.

Rover must completely concede and become part of the Fractsidus.

And the most likely way to do that… began with this.

Phrolova pondered the roll of gauze. She took a deep breath and applied triple the wrappings to her right eye.

The greens of the forest became pale. The surrounding shades swallowed their contents. The grass on her hands grew faint; the bark at her back became less pronounced. The sensations on her fingers and the back of her legs smeared together. Phrolova didn't notice she had stopped breathing and gasped, inhaling so sharply the slightest trickle of pain in her throat pierced the veil of the wrappings.

This… should do. Even after those words passed her mind, she could not discern whether she had spoken them or thought them.

Phrolova would need time to adjust. For all that the gauze destroyed, there lingered the sense of fear of what would happen if she tried to sleep like this. Not wanting to write, she simply sat and contemplated her palm; she felt nothing.

A/N: (edit) minor word change.