Content Warnings

Blood / Blood-drinking
Some more, uh, erotic undertones
(Brief) Fear of drowning
Intense gender dysphoria
Intense internalized transmisogyny

Not a warning necessarily, but a friendly tip that I, uh. Wouldn’t read this one in public.

She tastes like vanilla.

I’m lightheaded and dizzy and flying as Alabastra’s blood flows between my lips, dances across my tongue. She’s divine. Every sense is on fire; I’m a thing made of nerves, and satisfaction bewitches every inch. I moan for the saccharine ichor, mewling against the crook of her neck, and had I any senses beyond need I might feel shameful for it. My chest feels full to bursting, and Gods the taste of her is unreal. The more I take in, the more complex she becomes. Like an endlessly refracting prism, each new facet of the sweet and rich flavor of her makes my mind feel like it’s unfurling, for her—a flower in bloom for pollination.

I swirl the sweet and wonderful nectar across every corner of my mouth, and lap at the dual-stuck wound as if it were sap from the tree of life. I flatten further across her skin, practically melting into her, and my tongue goes nearly numb from need and want.

And on top of it all, I am filled with resolve. An unstoppable drive. Desperate for more and more. To keep falling deeper and deeper so that I might have just one minute more of this… bliss…

There is a tapping on my shoulder, and I smile. She enjoys this too? Gods what I wouldn’t give for this to last forever—

A hand physically pries me away from her neck, ripping me away like a leech, and I’m left gasping. Tegan stares down at me, briefly concerned. Before I have time to panic she says, “Hey! Moodie, you’re good.”

R-right. Gods, I almost lost myself again. I… I shake my head. No. No more spiraling. I asked for their help for a reason. I look back to Alabastra. Two parallel imprints of my fangs shine in fast-healing red, and I fight furiously with myself to not feel guilty. “You’re—”

Alabastra smiles. “I’m fine! Moodie, I’m fine.” She stands, performing a little jazz hand gesture. “See?”

I wipe a droplet of blood from the side of my mouth. The bizarre truth orbits the edge of my mind. I truly drank from Alabastra Camin. And what’s more, nothing horrible happened. The world still spins. Already the hungry fire at my core starts to diminish. I’m feeling more alert, too. Aware. In a curious gesture I tap at the edge of one fang.

Somehow something so simple as a guardian worked. I let loose a single incredulous laugh, and look back at the knight, who so dutifully protected her lover. Protected us both, really. She nods, giving a single thumbs up. It was truly that simple.

Part of me feels a fool for not trying this sooner. Part of me is furious that no one let me know it might be okay. And part of me is still dumbly swimming through the elation drinking from Alabastra gave me. I’ve never been an addict to anything but self-hatred, but I’ve never tasted anything like her. Not even Lainey, though it’s hard to say if it was better necessarily. Though comparing the two is, ah, perhaps a foolish endeavor, likely to lead to less proper thought.

Alabastra says, “Hoo. That was a kick!” She blinks rapidly a few times, shaking her head. “Could go again!”

I stare at her. “I simply must assume you are not serious.” Alabastra leans on her hip, and looks just a touch woozy. I admonish, “Drink some water.”

Her hand brushes through the air. “Fine, fine. I’ll sober up.” She searches for her canteen.

Faylie bounds forward. “Ooo, okay, me next!” She’s positively elated. All this time my greatest fears are now manifest, and she’s treating it like an amusement park. This is supposed to be a melancholic occasion, and her revelry robs me of my sulking. I’m not entirely saddened to see it gone, but it doesn’t exactly feel appropriate.

“This isn’t a joyful ordeal, Faylie…”, I say, trying to bite back the edge.

“Really? Because you sure looked like you were having fun!”

I turn my flushing face away. “Sh-shut up.” My hand waves forward in a sit down motion.

The faun laughs, somewhat maniacally, to herself, and shuffles around to sit in the spot Alabastra had been. She’s rocking back and forth, gripping her hooves with both hands in excitement.

To Tegan, I say, “Make sure you remove me earlier than last time—Faylie is significantly smaller, and I should be taking a proportionate amount.”

Tegan nods. “You got it.” She’s glancing around, bouncing on her heels. Her wolven ears are folded in, and she’s biting the corners of her mouth in. I’m glad someone is as fretful as the moment requires, at least.

Looking back at the faun, her head is tilted all the way into a 90-degree angle, and she’s clapping her hands together over and over.

With a roll to my eyes, I lean in. The fangs I have hated all my life explore the side of her neck, happening upon the place of greatest blood-draw, and dive inside.

Once more my head swims with pleasure. She’s different from Alabastra; like the sweetest citrus. The faun’s claret delight paints the inside of my mouth in a flood of flowing nectar, sticking inside and turning viscous at the edge. Her light and mirthful heartbeat flutters up through her veins, and brushes against my tongue. My lips curl around the puncture wounds in delight—she has me positively giddy. I even feel a little laugh flit from me between swallows. The sugary taste is a quick punch of pleasure. There’s almost a current to her, too. Like a live wire inside of her, she’s absolutely electric.

And like all the greatest delights, it’s over too soon.

Tegan pulls me away, leaving me panting against the faun’s side. I run a hand through my hair and meet her brown eyes, warm and curious as usual, but also now wide and bewildered, or at least the one not covered by her hair is.

“Woah!”, she says.

I square my shoulders, attempting to put on a sense of decorum once more, despite the rising clouds of glee attempting to seize a laugh from me. “How do you feel?”, I ask. My spine sinks just a touch. “It didn’t hurt, did it?”

She sucks her teeth. “No—”, then she interrupts herself, “Well, I mean, kinda? But, y’know, just the fangs, a lil’. But not that much! It was just like a sst.” Faylie accentuates with a tapping motion. “And then it was fine! And after that it was just kinda weird? But, like, a good weird! Just sort of numb and floaty and… kinda nice, actually.”

Her rambling has me briefly concerned I took more than was intended, but she looks healthy as she did before. Perhaps it is more of an experiential high than one of too-potent blood loss. The numbness she describes is a strange detail. Due to its tendency to be a sore subject for me I’ve done actually very little research on the precise biological intricacies of vampires, but I think I remember something roughly to that effect. A slight paralytic effect of sorts while feeding—almost an opiate. If this were not a source of contention I may even be curious to experiment.

A dangerous thought to have, but I find I hardly even care.

My glance casts to the last of the trio. Tegan fiddles with her hands in concentric rubbing circles, huffing and puffing, tail hairs on end. She looks anywhere but my eyes.

I stand to my feet, arms crossed. “Tegan. You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.” The last thing I’d ever want is to force this upon any of them.

Oblivious to how obvious she is, Tegan looks aghast at my suggestion. “Uh”, she states. Then, mouth still hung open, she squeezes her eyes closed and retreats inside herself. Searching the forest of her mind, she emerges with a few still-unsure blinks, but says, “No. No, I-I wanna.”

Having recovered herself with a long drink of water, and now handing her canteen off to Faylie, Alabastra says, “Dusty, you sure? You know you don’t gotta.”

“I know.” She looks back to me, and rubs her bicep. “But I want to. Help. You.” And a shy little smile strikes her.

Were I constructed of the land itself, I’d swear something of ice had just melted within me. I nod. “Okay.” And I gesture to the mat.

Slow and jittering, she walks to the blanket and lowers herself before me. She’s close enough now that, with my senses so heightened, I can hear her heart under that shell of armor—a flowing bloody river—a tuned machine of flesh under a case of metal. I can take the most from her of all, should she permit.

She catches me in her stare when I start to lean in, and blinks in panic, backing away. “W-Wait!” She waves her hands, palming her forehead. “Just— maybe, uh. Count me down first? Before you do it?”

“O…kay?” Still-glistening fangs of mine meet the air, and I deliberate, “Three… Tw—”

“Nope! Nope. That’s worse.” Her head shakes even harder and she grabs the side of her face. Who knew that someone so accustomed to having her blood spilt was squeamish about it being drawn. It’s almost… endearing. She looks to her side, up at Alabastra. “Okay, uh, someone just, like get me talking or something? And then do it while I’m distracted.”

Alabastra and I share a glance. She shrugs and says, “Y’know, hun, I think you were Vatrizia’s type!”

“Wait, what?!”

I plunge my fangs into her neck.

She is an ocean. Vast and endless and surrounding on all horizons. Not one of saltwater and churning waves, but of heat and walls and pulsing, hugging viscera, that I could drown within. Again the taste of her is so entirely different. She’s hearty and savory—the umami of a comforting warm meal against the chill of winter. The bricks of a great wall around a rose garden heart. Metal into flesh, turned hard and brittle from callusing work, but soft and light and vulnerable like peeled away skin. Her essence envelops me, and in the succulent solace of her I feel safe. Purposed. Satiated.

Were I to drink her down to the last drop I’d think I could finally feel full. And I let myself fall through that feeling, deeper and deeper and deeper. But at last a hand pulls at my shoulder, and I gasp as I am wrenched away.

“Hey”, says Alabastra, holding me either side. “You’re alright.”

She’s looking at me with such care, and it takes me a moment from the euphoric high of the experience to recognize that there’s an inherent strangeness to her empathy. As if I didn’t just drink her and her girlfriends’ blood. As if that’s some regular occurrence to have happened.

Despite the evil creeping under my skin, she’s acting as if it’s normal. Like a heavy fog, it chokes the guilt out. She has me countenancing that it could just… be normal. And it feels like such a mundane and extraordinary revelation all at once. All this time, it could have been normal. Why didn’t I ever think of this before? Why did no one tell me that all I needed was someone to watch over me?

It feels too profound. Too heavy. And shameful, unceasing tears start to well in my eyes. From the ecstasy of care, or the agony of perception, I’m not sure I want to even know. It’s all too much, and I’m too vulnerable and I’ve never felt so safe. I collapse against Alabastra and Tegan both, and feel Faylie join at our sides.

And for a while we just stay like that. A wet mess of blood and sweat and tears and spit, shared and sharing and breathing. I am a mitigated and caged danger, and I have finally failed to hurt someone. Little pinpricks under the skin, and nothing more. They didn’t run away. They never had to—and I don’t even think they would.

Most miraculously of all, that hunger, that void, that unending nightmare—it’s dulled. Not entirely gone, but very nearly so. After starving for so long, any amount of relief is a blessing. I can feel the undeath in me lessening its grip around my throat, though not quite gone. But bearable.

“Is…”, I force through a clenching throat, “Is anyone hurt?”

They all pull away, shaking their heads and issuing their dissents.

“I… I don’t… know…” Know where I’m going with this. Know how you’re okay with this. Know how I’ll ever repay you. Know where I’d be without you. I can’t say half of what I mean. Physically. None of it will come out.

“It’s okay”, Alabastra says. The little fang marks dotting all of their necks would have been a brutal reminder any other day, and to be honest I’m still not comfortable with it. The thought that I’ve marred them is nearly intolerable. Alabastra seems to follow my eyeline, as she pulls her scarf further up her neck. “For the record, I’m not ashamed of this, and you shouldn’t be either. Just—y’know. What we do in the privacy of our creepy snake cave is our business.”

Endlessly ridiculous. Like the sun, we all orbit around her, standing as she does. Faylie and Tegan follow suit on hiding their bitemarks, raising their collars as far as they’ll go. If I was so foolish to believe this would be a regular occurrence, I’d feel guilty for damning their fashion choices to high-necked options, if nothing else. But obviously this will not be a regular occurrence… of course…

“Think that helped?”, Alabastra asks.

I give her a nod. “More than I thought it would.”

“Good!” She dusts her hands, giving Tegan a moment to steady herself from her own blood-draw, and says, “Then we best keep goin’.”

* * *

“You do intend on returning that map, right?”, I call ahead to our leader as we trudge through more seemingly ceaseless tunnels.

“But of course!”, she says, still holding it out ahead of her. “Those book gnomes mean business.”

I groan. How quickly I’m reminded how foolish I am for caring about someone so endlessly ridiculous. “Would you stop with the book gnomes thing, already?”

She turns, wiggling a few fingers in my direction. “But if I don’t pay them their respects, how else will I appease their dArk pOwErs?!”

My eyes roll, and I certainly do not crack a smile.

A short while of walking later, and the cave opens up to a snaking chamber filled with water and light. An underground river flows perpendicular to the mouth of the tunnel we’ve been trekking. Shining blue crystals hang from the ceiling, reflecting across the water as if a deep underground sky. The navy lights of the gemstones in the ceiling pulse with a low and raw magic—arcryst, sunk into the sharp marble and stone like blood into dirt.

The river runs dozens of feet across, but this place is not without the steps or hands of mankind. A long wooden bridge spans the length of the cavern, overtop the river in rotting sodden steps. It turns in harsh 90-degrees along the natural bends of the underground stream. And for good reason—the river is surprisingly deep, sinking down almost taller than it is wide.

Weight drops through my core. I was sincerely hoping this would remain a dry venture. “How am I getting across?”, I ask. Not just for my inability to swim, nor my reluctance to sully my new wardrobe, which should probably hold less pull in my mind than it currently does, but that there are stories of vampires unable to withstand flowing bodies of water. I am not feeling confident enough to chance this.

The other three look to one another, shrugging. Tegan says, “I could throw you?”

I stare.

Faylie laughs. “I got this!” She steps forward, holding her hands out, deep breaths in a zen-finding moment. She produces a single card that depicts an angel standing over a pond pouring water from one cup into another. “GLACIO“, she chants, and the tiny angel that emanates forth empties his cups into the river, and where the pale blue magic hits the water, it freezes into a pathway of instant ice. The mage claps, delighted.

The walkway of frozen water halts the streaming river in a dam. The icy section is about the width of a road, but it does not seem safe in the slightest. It looks thin enough that I’m not confident Tegan will make it across without issue, and to top it off, already water spills over the path to turn it even more slippery.

I drone, “Ah. Expedient—I’ll break my neck on that long before I drown.”

“You don’t get to complain if you can’t think of something better, Moodie!”

“Please don’t dispossess me of my cynicism. It’s all I have left.” I sigh and dig my hands into my pockets.

Alabastra steps forward, tendering a leg upon the frozen path. “Watch what I do.” She taps her forehead. “Think penguin.” And then she holds her arms out slightly to her side, leans forward, and begins taking tiny steps down the length of the frozen-over river, inches at a time.

I call out, “You look ridiculous!”

“So do penguins!” She stops a few feet down, and says, “Alright, c’mon. If you fall you should be between two of us so we can catch ya!”

At least in my state of self-imposed misery I still had the foresight to wear boots. Arms out like Alabastra showed, I tap my foot against the ice. It’s more solid than I expected, at least. One foot and then the other, I step onto the path.

And of course I slip immediately.

Two large arms hook under mine to catch me. “Gotcha!”, says Tegan. She levers me back to me feet.

“Th-thanks”, I say, trying to hide my embarrassment at my instant failure. Concentrating, I do my damndest to follow Alabastra’s lead, mimicking her posture and movements. And though the precarity keeps me on-edge, it seems to be working. Five-feet down, then ten, then I’m already halfway there. Behind me, Tegan’s rustling armor shuffles like wind chimes in a storm with the tiny movements required, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to be falling through the ice, at least.

And before I know it, I’ve arrived at the wood bridge. Alabastra springs into motion, vaulting over the side of the railing, then turns and sticks out a hand to me. I get a touch over-eager to reach for it, sliding forward, but her hand grips my forearm and lifts me up to solid ground.

Climbing overtop in a clumsy scramble I say, “And with that, we have at least exceeded my expectations of failing to cross a river. Well done.”

Alabastra crosses her arms. “I’m starting to think whining is just how you show appreciation.”

“We’re not all counter-intuitive.”

“Yes we are.” She brushes her hands against her pant legs. Once Tegan and Faylie have joined us on the less-than stable bridge, she looks down either end of the bridge. “Next we’re goin’… Hmm.” Her hand goes to her chin, as she looks to the left and right.

I sink my shoulders. “You don’t know what direction we’re going next.”

She holds up one finger. Out of her pack she produces the map once more, turning it this way and that. Her lips purse. And she readies her eloquent denial against the implication that we’re hopelessly lost. “… Fuck.”

“Allie.” I push myself into her side to get a look at the map. There’s an indication of this river, but where exactly we’ve found it is… anyone’s guess. Gods dammit. Why didn’t we let Tegan lead the way?

The rogue issues a ‘calm down‘ gesture. “Okay! Okay. Nobody panic—”

“Oh fuck we’re actually really lost aren’t we”, Tegan panics.

“Hun. I got this.” Alabastra spins a dagger around her hand, and plunges the blade several inches into the wooden railing. She points at the handle. “We’ll split up, walk—I dunno, fifteen minutes down either direction, see if we don’t spot a landmark or somethin’ that tells us whether we’re headin’ the right way. Then we turn around and meet back here. Easy.”

That feels like it could go wrong in innumerable ways. I say, “We only have the one map. Won’t the other half find themselves yet more lost?”

Faylie twirls another card between her fingers. “VERTO“, she casts, and outstretches her hands as an illusory copy of the map manifests in her hands, its magenta lines carved into a canvas of floating space. “Ta-da!”

Alabastra says, “Quick thinkin’!” Then she looks to Tegan. “You and Bug go east—Moods and I west?”

The knights nods, less anxious than she had been. “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

We don’t have to walk too far before we happen upon a landmark of some kind. The river before us dips over a waterfalling edge, over which the wooden bridge we stand upon come to an end, stuck out just over the drop in a viewing platform of sorts, support beams battered by the rapids.

Alabastra looks down at the map, twisting and folding it. “Hmm”, she says, “Think I got an idea where we are, but I wanna check over the edge to be sure. Wait here a sec?”

I look past her, over the viewing platform to the dip below. There’s a small space of a rocky beach, and the drop isn’t so steep, but even still, were she anyone else I’d worry over her safety. I still do, but for different reasons. “Very well”, I say.

Like a buccaneer, she holds the map between her teeth, and maneuvers over the edge, shimmying down the side of the falls and visibly shivering when the cold water hits her waist. She wades through the river to the beach, and begins looking around, referencing the map, and then disappears around a cavern corner.

Left alone atop the edge of the walkway, for the first time all day I have a moment to myself to think. With the thieves’ blood in my system, my mind feels clear; far more than it has in weeks.

In the dim blue light of this cavern, I have nowhere left to run from the now two questions that stalk me in the dark.

Who am I?

And am I alone?

The first feels too large. I’ve been running from it far longer. Or, perhaps, known I was running from it longer, at the very least. There’s too much history to untangle, too many ways I’ve knotted it up so it didn’t stretch so long across my mind.

I’ve had less than an afternoon to contend with the second. Nothing could have prepared me for what Alabastra revealed earlier today. Assuming she’s right… and she never can be wrong, can she…

This Fear—that dwells in the depths of me. The vampire hunting The Reds, the monster that tore the Cozzos apart; the idea that the hungry thing within was never a thing at all, but a person—it still feels absurd. I couldn’t pretend to understand how these situations are supposed to work, but I can’t imagine they’re usually so adversarial. Volatile. Yet another way I’m worse than everyone else, then.

I’m horrified if it is true, and confused if it isn’t. I can’t imagine how I’d figure that out.

But already today I’ve seen that the solutions to my problems are typically far simpler than I’d have thought.

So I may as well try the most obvious path first. I close my eyes.

Hello? Is there… anyone else in here?

…

Perhaps… Fear? It’s… well, I am somewhat between monikers at the moment, but— it’s me. Are you there?

…

I… this is foolish, isn’t it.

My head shakes. Ridiculous. I grip the side of the railing, feeling the dampened wood dig under my fingers. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario it is true, I’m attempting to commune with a murderer. If Fear is there, it almost certainly

hates

I scramble backwards, suddenly feeling very watched. The cavern starts spinning, and my breathing picks up in short attacking breaths. That was… there was… I grab the railing again, not out of confusion but need.

That was not entirely dissimilar to the urges, but more visceral. Present. Like there really was something— someone watching me, for a moment. I grab fistfuls of my hair and brace against the rising dread.

It didn’t quite feel like there was a whole other consciousness suddenly beside mine. More like, the dregs of something—its slumbering reflection. There really might be—

“Moodie?”

My back slams into the side of the railing in alarm. I search around the dark until I find Alabastra’s eyes peering over the edge, halfway climbed back up the walkway. I sigh, bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to shake the terror out of my throat. “You scared me.” Only a half-truth—I scared me, really. “Did you find anything?”

She clicks her tongue and vaults back up to the top in an athletic somersault. Then she leans against the rail, lackadaisical posture to balance the bother in her. “Yeah, we drew the short straw—wrong way. We’ll head back in a sec.” She brushes a hand through the air. “But are you okay? You looked miles off.”

No point in concealing the truth. I stand back up. “I was… searching. Inside myself.”

“… For Fear?” Her voice is graven.

I nod. “I thought I might give some amount of weight to your theory.”

“And?”

The air in the cavern feels thicker, as I try and gather my thoughts. It’s vexing, that I understand myself so little; I’m left with nothing but allusions to a totality I cannot name. But better I at least try. “I felt something—heard something. Not so unlike the urges, but more. It’s… it feels as if those thoughts, they’re like it’s sleep-talking. Or melding into me. Something to that effect.” I grip my arms in self-frustration, silently cursing my inelegance. “But I briefly felt it… apart from me. Like, for a moment, it woke up. It is an imperfect metaphor, but does that make sense?”

She so-so’s with her hand. “I think I follow? Best as I can over here, anyways.” Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek. “Sounds like you’re not gonna get a straight conversation unless it’s awake, then?”

“I’m not even sure how I’d do that.”

Her head tilts. “… Sundown? Try and chat it up the moment you go under?”

There is no possible way to know if that would actually work. But more even than the unlikelihood, a different reason causes the thought of that to flip my insides. “I am… terrified, Alabastra.”

Though I’ve had innumerable irrational fears in my life, this hardly feels like one of them. This thing inside me has killed people. Its unconscious thoughts are enough to drive a stake of cruelty through me. And it seems like it revels in power and violence. Even inside of my own head, would I come out unscathed from such an encounter? What if, when the walls separating us come down, it subsumes me? I’ve only barely started to consider myself a full, complete person with legitimate thoughts in the first place. It would be a shame for that to disappear so quickly.

Alabastra breathes sharp through her nose. “I get that. I can’t say I wasn’t scared of it, either. At least at first.” Implying she isn’t anymore?

Perhaps I need her perspective. As it ever was. “What’s it like? Fear?”

She considers a moment. “It was… chaotic.”

I stare. “Is that supposed to fill me with confidence?”

“Not in a bad way! Just, y’know, it was impulsive. Acted on need, no preamble—almost feral. And it was determined, too. Weirdly loyal…” The rogue trails off. The way she’s talking about Fear makes it sound like she almost admires it. “And it was confused. It didn’t understand itself. And… and I’m pretty damn confident I’m right—I don’t think it ever really wanted to hurt anyone, Moods.”

If I separate myself from this equation, which I am wont to do, I can see why Alabastra would feel so strongly about her desire to assist it. Fear, assuming it truly is a person, sounds like exactly the kind of person that the half-elf is predisposed to getting attached to. Bizarre, idiosyncratic, troubled, and like her in all the strangest ways.

“You know what it said to me last?”, she says with a chuckle. I give her a head shake ‘no’ and indicate she continue. “‘It wants to be real.'”

A huff of disbelieving realization leaves me. “Ah.”

“What?”

I bite my bottom lip. “I just… know the feeling.”

“… Yeah me too.” Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. She turns, staring into the water streaming down the rock below us. A tension hangs in the air between us, and my breath starts to catch. A floating, buzzing feeling at the top of my gut right before a leap. I don’t know if I hope she pushes me or not.

Her gaze drifts back with earnest intent, and the humid air of the cavern drops several degrees on my skin. I shirk away from her stare, and say nothing. I try, but the words don’t come out. It’s like I’m falling behind again, and that pride I’m desperately trying to pull out of my veins is keeping me from calling out, to tell them to pick me up. Where would I even be if they hadn’t looked back on their own?

She finally continues, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop, but… it’s been on your mind, hasn’t it?” Her hand waves. “I don’t mean Fear. I mean… You.”

Me. As if that could accurately encompass what she means by that. As if I deserve it to. “I would like to say that it hasn’t.”

She smiles bittersweet as I join her looking over the railing. “But that would be a lie. You haven’t stopped thinkin’ since this mornin’ huh?” Then her face pulls into a side-glance. “Or… since ditchin’ the watch?” And she focuses much harder. “No. Before that. Before any of this. This isn’t your first time on this ride, is it?”

A spike of pain and watching eyes pierce me. But I’m done running. If we’re here, we’re here. I grab at my shoulders. “Was it that obvious?”

It’s nearly unbelievable that she’s only now putting the pieces together. She had the measure of my vampirism from the start; and the vague contours of my desires were practically an open secret. But the most shameful part of it all, that I burned and confined myself, never quite came to light. Not until now.

“No insight required. Just experience”, she says. “How long, then?”

“… Years.” I try and shrink myself down as small as I can make myself. “I thought I’d buried it, but—”

“You can’t.” With one gloved finger, she runs her hand down the banister. “It’s like… a splinter. It gets in your head and you can’t get it out. Over and over—what if…”

I laugh, bitter. “More like a virus.”

Her brows furrow. “That’s a lil’ negative, don’t ya think?” She slides over an inch. “Womanhood’s only as contagious as you want it to be.”

There goes the pretense. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what I want.”

Emerald eyes like a forest peel me apart. “Don’t you? Or is that just an excuse?”

I lean away, shocked. I don’t know, right? That was the problem? “Well, we could simply learn, couldn’t we? What about if you used your Insight?”

She shakes her head. “No. You’re not passin’ this off to me. We already seen the worst case for that—you’re figuring this out in a way that sticks.” There’s an intensity about her. The clasping of an open hand into drowning waters. “I’m gonna ask you somethin’ I did before—I want you to tell me, honestly, if you would prefer to be a girl. And not in some, fuckin’, ephemeral inner truth way, you’ll get lost in that. Would you wanna be seen that way? Have a body like that? If it were easy, snap of your fingers”—she snaps—”would you?”

Without her Insight, she’s still caught me in a lie. Because it doesn’t feel like I know, but if it were so easy? I’d choose it in a heartbeat. Even just to see, to know for sure in that moment. “I… can’t deny…”

“Then you do, in fact, know what you want. M, it is that easy. You want this. Don’t run from it.” And Freedom Itself looks me in the face, and offers to share. “It’s not complicated. You can just be a girl.”

For a moment, I almost believe her. Because she’s not wrong. She can never be wrong. Not about this. I could. I always could. Deep down, all the way back to Lainey, I think I already suspected that. It was never a question of ignorance. Not mine, anyways. Of course I wanted it, from the second the world stopped hurting when I got to stop being ‘Oscar’. If I were anyone else—Lainey, or a younger Alabastra, or any handful of sad little boys who’d be happier if they could see the sun so clearly as I do now, maybe that would be enough.

But I’m not just anyone else. That shame under my skin, that briar of loathing I’ve tried so hard the past day to tamp down; it rises all at once in a great wave, visible now in this dawning light. I’ve been playing a game where I dig myself deeper and deeper underground until the dirt above me is heavy enough to make it stop, because it horrified me. Now I’m so thoroughly entombed, there’s no chance left to claw myself back.

Now? I can’t deny it anymore. It’s there. It’s staring me in the face—the truth.

And the truth? The truth is that I would fail. I know how this ends.

It’s not a way to happiness. Nothing should be. Not anymore. I wouldn’t deserve it. It could never be a kindness. Not for me. Just an affliction. A punchline. The one that was always going to hurt the most.

I’m just not the same as Alabastra, who has shown herself to be indefatigable. I wouldn’t make it a fraction following her steps. There’s nothing left of me. I let myself rot for too long. Now it’s just a cruelty. The hatred of an unkind universe, born wrong, born dead, robbed of myself. Killed in my crib, made a monster. At best, I’d only ever be a facsimile of the girl I could have been.

She’s led me to a mirror I can finally see into again, and all I’ve found at the other side of denial is why I started in the first place. Why I can’t just stop now. She’s torn me open, made it impossible to ignore, and now I’m just stuck knowing how far I’ll always be from what I need. Knowing it’s pointless. Knowing I won’t make it. Knowing just how unlucky I am.

This has only ever been to hurt me. I was doomed from the start.

And I let that bitterness sink to the back of my tongue. “It’s fitting, isn’t it? Just another way I’m cursed.”

Alabastra says nothing for a moment. I can’t meet her eyes, but I can tell—in a single word, she’s understood me top to bottom, and stares into the distance of the cavern. The water under our feet carries not a drop of the hurt away.

Her head shakes. And she looks back to me.

My hands are scooped into hers, but not in comfort. Not in pleading, or anger, or frustration. In resolve. And through a clenched jaw, she says, “This. Is not. A curse. Alright? Lemme tell you what’s gonna happen. One day… you’re gonna notice how light you feel. You won’t realize how much weight you were carrying until it’s off of you. It’ll feel so far away.”

“Alabastra—”

“No. This is important. Just listen.” She breathes once through a shaking throat. “One day you’re gonna look up at the sky, and it’s gonna look so big. And you’ll realize how massive the world is. It’s gonna feel like too much at once, but that’s gonna be okay. Because you’ll feel like part of it.

“And one day you’re gonna see the other women in your life looking at your like ours. You’re gonna belong. You’re gonna fit in a way you didn’t realize you could.” She’s crying now. “And you’re gonna wonder why you ever hurt yourself trying to be what you’re not for so long. And you’re gonna find parts of yourself you thought you’d killed. And you’re gonna move through the world without that friction. And, thanks to you, M, you’re gonna like your body. Actually, genuinely like it, as crazy as that sounds. M, you’re gonna be gorgeous.

“And no, it’s not gonna fix everything. It’s not even gonna fix most things. But it’s gonna make it all worth fixing. And sometimes it’s gonna feel like the hardest thing you’ll ever do. But I fucking swear it’s worth it.” She squeezes my hand tighter. My chest feels like it’s going to burst from the sheer intensity of it all. “You do not get to turn this into just another way to hurt yourself. Because it isn’t about the hurt. This is bigger than hurt could ever be—this is about joy.

“It’s about not having to starve. It’s about finding out what hurts you because you hate it and what hurts you because you’re too scared to love it. It’s… about love! It’s about getting over that fear—doing it despite it. It’s about becoming.” She leans further in. “I got to make myself from the bottom up, and I love who I’ve become. And that never woulda happened without this. So I will say it with my chest until you know it’s true—this is not a curse. This is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. This is a gift.”

For a while all I can do is stare. Despite every wall between me and the world, she’s shot over the battlements. And I can’t pretend it’s not there. Not without forsaking every step I’ve taken so far.

And I wanted to change. To stop backsliding. To stop getting so stuck on that prideful self-punishment; on piling suffering after suffering. So ignoring it isn’t something I can do anymore.

Still I’m having trouble letting it sink in. “I… want to believe you…”

“Then believe me. M, I’ll be your mirror. See me?”—she points to her chest, then back to me—”See you.” Not so impossible.

It’s still too big. I am fundamentally a scientist of a kind, aren’t I? One angle at a time. “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

Her hands squeeze mine tighter. This time, indeed out of frustration, I think. “So? You don’t have to earn your gender, Moodie. It’s just you.” Her eyes search, manic, for a moment. “And if you can’t get over that, then try this one on for size—just take out a loan on your own happiness. Deserve it later.”

I open my mouth to object to such an obviously ridiculous conceit. But not a single thing occurs to me. Why not pull myself out of this pit now, so that I might work towards betterment down the road? Clearly, the other way around hasn’t worked, and isn’t this why I went to her for answers at all?

Something else to disprove, then. “I’m… still not brave like you”, I mumble. I already get enough attention, don’t I? Can I really withstand being so visible?

She sighs, and though she’s clearly exasperated, the smile is growing on her face. “I didn’t get to the full truth, earlier, when we talked about bravery. Because the thing is, M? Bravery? It’s not a choice. Not for us. You’d just keep sleepwalking through life, killing yourself faster and faster now that you know. And despite all evidence to the contrary, you wanna live. I know you do. And I don’t need Insight to know that—you are here. That is proof enough.”

I can’t exactly argue against the physical evidence of my continued breathing. A different approach. “And… if you’re wrong about this?”

“Then I’m wrong! But you’re an incredible fuckin’ alchemist, M—if anyone can chef up somethin’ to fix that little blunder, it’s you. Six months tops, easy-pease.” She lightly slams her hand down on the rail. “But if I’m right? And you don’t go through with it? Moodie, you will take that regret to the grave.”

That is an… inarguable weighing of consequences. Last try. “But it… it just seems… so unlikely—”

“Moodie.”

Gods dammit. I’m being foolish. And stubborn. And caught on my fears. I huff, “I don’t know how you have such endless patience with me.”

Shaking her head, she says, “Well, for one—it isn’t endless. I mean, you pissed me off a lot when you were all stuck. And don’t forget that I nearly did give up.”

“But you didn’t. And you stayed for longer than anyone would have been expected to.”

Her sheepish little smile does not become her virtue. “I held on even through all that mess because I knew, deep down, you wanted a change. You needed it. Both from my Insight, before, but also—we got so close, before the Carlivain, and I… I never was a quitter. I couldn’t accept that I fumbled it.”

I grab my shoulders. “When I was incapable of change, I hated that about you. Your tenacity. Your refusal to give up on me. I thought all I deserved was to be hated.” I don’t know that I still don’t believe that, deep down, but that is a voice that is getting quieter.

“Of course you didn’t. You fucked up, sure—we both did. But now you’re trying.” A hand lays over mine. “Moodie, now? Now I’m only showing you the way. You’re taking these steps. This wouldn’t be workin’ if you didn’t want this. And this is workin’, ain’t it?”

She holds my gaze with hers and refuses to let go. In the dark of the cavern, lit by glowing blue crystals that remind me so strongly of the first girl who ever brought me joy, I surrender in the eyes of the second. My mind is clear with her blood, so I know it’s nothing less than the truth. She wins.

I am… under all likelihood, possibly, when accounting for all appropriate criteria—

Dammit.

Considering the possibility that I would like to be some vaguely girl-adjacent gender or another. Maybe.

Or, at the very least, that I’d like to… try. To want it… to let myself want it. To resemble a version of myself I can live with. To follow that now floating feeling the admission has dredged inside of me. Like a piece finally falling into place. It still doesn’t feel like I deserve this. But I suppose we don’t always get what we deserve. I don’t deserve her, either, yet here she is.

But there’s one caveat I can’t ignore. “Alabastra… we are very likely about to walk into an incredibly dangerous situation. Can we really afford me so distracted?”

Alabastra laughs. “Gods, you’re so fuckin’ good at excuses. You’ve had way too much practice.”

I shake my head. “It’s not an excuse. I want this. I’m done denying that. But if something happened to any of you because I was getting all-too giddy imagining what tomorrow looks like? Unforgivable. I should focus on ensuring we all survive today.” Before she can launch back I continue, “But. After this is over, I want to try living. Assuming we live at all, of course. I have been stagnant long enough.”

“And you’re not just sayin’ that? This isn’t another way to back down?”

“No. I promise it isn’t.”

And she stares at me, some grand revelation dawning on her, pulling her smile up and up and up. “You promise, huh?”

To be honest, I hadn’t realized I’d used a word with so much gravity behind it, especially for the two of us lately, until it left my lips. But I do. I sincerely do wish to swear to her that I’m not going to fall back into old habits again. “Yes. I promise.”

She looks out over the underground waterfall one last time, some plan dancing behind her eye. She says, almost wistful, “Well… then how ’bout a twofer?” And in a sudden turn, what had been a gleeful realization calcifies into deathly earnestness. “Because I need you to promise me somethin’ else.”

No hesitation. “I’m listening”, I say.

For a brief moment, I catch a vision of an Alabastra that followed her law ambitions, as she solemnly delivers her final argument. “Promise me that whatever happens down there, in this fucked up ruin we’re marching to—whatever the Lupines throw at us—if some chance shows up for you to sacrifice yourself? Even for us? You do. Not. Take it.”

“How—”

“Because I know you”, she answers before I can ask. “I’ve seen you throw yourself in front of the bullet, again and again, and not that I’m not glad, but… Not this time. Otherwise you’d just be goin’ back on your first deal. Do you hear me?”

It’s only fair; not that I had been planning on throwing myself on the pyre, but if the opportunity arose, I couldn’t honestly say I wouldn’t take it. She’s stolen my easy way out before I even knew I was looking for it.

“I will practice self-preservation, Alabastra. Whatever occurs”, I say.

With a sickly-sweet nostalgia on her face, Alabastra holds up a hand, with her pinkie outstretched. “Swear it.”

I try not to let it show, but I choke up, just a little. My little finger wraps around hers. “I swear.”

She yanks our arms collectively. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.” And she turns, walking back down the cavern bridge toward what I now must ensure is not our final night. And over her shoulder, she whispers, “Don’t you ever give up on yourself. Not again.”

Below us, the water rushes on and on and on over the rocks, endlessly changing, and beautiful now. And I take one last look at this lazuli-laden cavern, and I commit it to memory. Those crystals in the rock, they truly do look like stars. Though I’ve never been one for fortune-telling, I am nearly tempted to divine a future out of the constellations they make.

I’ve already vowed it. This is where it starts.

When I was planning the rough outline in my head of how the plot would go, I didn't necessarily realize that these, uh, Two Scenes would end up in the same chapter. But looking back, it kinda had to happen that way, didn't it?

And I'm so very glad it did, because the result is my favorite piece of writing I... think I've ever made.

We're on approach to the end of book one now. Still a bit to go, but the horizon is in view. Thank you, truly, dearly, and deeply, for reading. So much love to you all. This is not a curse. I promise that there is a tomorrow. And I'll catch you next time.

Next update is (1-43) strychnine; on Tuesday, November 12th.