Luna had found the iron coffin of luke-warm waters a comfortable experience at first. After a night spent torturing herself in the latrine, she liked how the waters suspended her. But as time went on, her mindset began to change as, inevitably, her thoughts began to spiral to everywhere she didn’t want them to go.
Free of all sensory input - sound, smell, scent, taste and feel, she was left to her mind’s whims. It only took her a moment to focus on the gnawing unease at the back of her mind and by long, she was seeing Michael’s form wrapped in the tentacular growths atop the wall.
She could hear his spear cracking - she could hear the wet tendrils wrap around his hand, arm and chest, dragging him into the creature’s split-open orbit.
She attempted to force herself to think about anything else - anything but his writhing form being torn apart in the bowels of the beast, but with every passing, torturous second, she felt her mind tumble father and farther down - filling her with doubt. If she’d have asked Marcel to keep cutting, if she herself had grabbed an axe and begun to slice, could the events have ended differently? Could she have saved that young man?
From those thoughts, her mind spiraled to blame her for the destruction of Sitabee - the explosion in Sitalii… and Guy’s last words to her.
“Stop, stop, stop!” She slammed her fists into the lid of the coffin, only to find that it didn’t move in the least, as expected. She buried her face in her palms, hoping to see anything but the horrors of the past - pleading and begging until… she did feel something else.
Whereas her own mind was plagued by panic, disgust and horror, she could feel a presence far outside her own mind bleed a melancholy into hers. Pity. Dread. Sadness…
She knew the thoughts were not her own, but how she knew it was beyond her. It was lingering in the periphery of her mind - like an outside force attempting to calm or soothe her.
“Is that you? Are you the symbiote?” She asked aloud. In the location where she had felt all those emotions, she felt an undeniable squirming - a racing pattern of thought she couldn’t follow. It spoke not with words or images, but feelings - so many of them. Feelings she couldn’t identify nor make sense of.
“Calm down. I can’t understand - if that’s you, if you can understand me, calm down.” She spoke into the numbing darkness.
She was struck by an immense feeling of recognition. As if remembering how an old emotion felt, rather than experiencing it first-hand. She hadn’t smelled it in a long time - the wash of salt in the departure bays, clamoring to her hair and her clothing as she walked around Sitabee… it had been a decade since she’d last worn those clothes - since she’d last picked up a rebreather and wandered the kelp-fields. But as she lay there, she imagined she’d just come back and had returned to her room to find Guy had finished his shift.
Luna closed her eyes and lived through one of those memories, silently undressing her shoes to take her place next to the slumbering giant - a man not too dissimilar to her size, yet he’d felt like a giant. As supportive as the stilts holding the station in place, an unmovable object in the wild currents of the ocean floor.
There, she felt it - that feeling the presence wanted to remind her of. As if nothing outside the bed mattered; as if the entire world had been constrained to a frame meant for one person, now shared by two. It was a wonderful sensation - depriving her of all her worries and calming her breath until she could think clearly again.
“So it is you…”
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When the iron lid of the casket finally came open, Luna was blinded by the dim lights of the dark room. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been submerged in the waters, but her pruned fingers meant she’d been there for some time, talking to the being at the edge of her consciousness.
“I’m sorry, girl, I almost went and forgot about you - it ain’t like I’m used to watchin’ over young folks these days!” Jorn shouted and stepped into her view with a wide grin.
She quickly realized she was naked and with hurried movements of her hands covered her chest and crotch. “J-Jorn! My clothes!” Was the first thing she said as she breathed the musty air of the room again.
“Oh, right.” He made a point to cover his eyes with his palm and turned around to face the wall as she hurriedly got up to dress herself in the humid clothing while sounding her report: “I-I found it. I think we talked for a bit. She didn’t say anything - not with words. But with feelings, I guess… I… I think she’s on my side.”
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Buttoning up her black shirt, she turned to see Jorn laugh heartily while staring into the corner. “Of course she is. She’s you - you’re her. Two pieces in the stew. Gotta say, that was quick. Toofy spent months in there without hearin’ her.” There was a hint of disappointment to his voice as he spoke of Logan, but before she could continue to quiz him about it, he’d already set for the door.
“C’mon, you’ll get more time with ‘er tomorrow. For now, we gotta stick to the schedule, we ain’t got too much time.” He hurried towards the door in his usual, dancing gait, stopping only briefly as Luna yelled: “W-wait! Aren’t you gonna tell me more about what she is? This didn’t answer any of my questions-”
“Girl, we ain’t got time for questions - you do that on your own time. Better yet, how ‘bout you ask her about it tomorrow? Now, c’mon, time’s tickin’.
He was quick in his strange, jagged movements - quick and to the point, hurrying out the door before striding down the steps. She lingered for half a moment, questioning the nature and the very existence of this oddly character before setting after the hair of gray down the stairs.
“Jorn, Logan hasn’t answered any of my questions. I still don’t know what she is-”
“No time for that! Now, keep up, girl!”
She could barely keep up with him. Had it not been for Logan being pre-emptive enough to hang her boots over the oven, she’d have been cursed to another day of wandering around with chafing, skin-tearing leather. As much as she could dislike several of his character traits, she couldn’t say the same for his careful planning.
In her hurry, she’d strapped the boots on with haste and set off after the eccentric man, only catching the back of his patched, worn jacket-coat as he turned the corner behind the house.
“God damnit, Jorn! Wait - if you could just-” She fell silent as she caught up to the old man to see the area behind the house.
She’d never seen such magnificent beasts as the ones lolling around on the well-trodden mire. The massive ‘hounds’, as she had learned they were called, jumped, bit and played around - all soaking wet with the mud.
Most of them were of the same color and size as Zeke, but the dozen-or-so others were different. Some smaller and whiter, some bigger and browner, but all seemed to exude a sense of happiness as they jumped around cheerily.
Even Zeke seemed a smidgen more content as he lay beneath a small roofed area atop a stack of hay, while another similar hound tended to the coat of his neck with minute bites - cleansing him of knots in his fiery red fur.
Jorn was walking towards this disheveled hovel when a humongous beast appeared from behind the hill in the distance. A white bolt of fur sprinted at full speed atop long, thin legs too quick for her to see. But its long, gracious torso remained at the same level - perfectly still, calculated and agile as it was. It came to a perfect halt at Jorn’s side and immediately diverted its course and speed to walk graciously next to him.
It reminded Luna of when Logan had walked next to Smile, speaking of something that she neither knew nor was interested in learning. Before they came to the hovel, the pair turned in unison and Luna’s heart sank to the bottom of her abdomen at the sight of its face.
It was difficult not to laugh at the hound. Its snout seemed almost comically long and the priceless expression revealed so much emotion - far more than she could ever get from Zeke.
Had it not been for the pity in its eyes as it looked her up and down, she’d have called it endearingly, cutely beautiful, but as it were… it made her feel naked again.
A bark sounded from the very same hill and a moment later, a slightly smaller version of the same comically proportioned dog came crashing over the mire, sprinting far faster than its mind’s ability to calculate and compensate for the velocity.
As expected, the hound crashed head-first into the wall and Jorn and the hound’s looks of pity were quickly diverted to the confused youngling’s form as it scuttled to get up again.
Luna yelped at the sight and raced over to its side, only to pause and consider that she knew nothing of tending to neither humans nor beasts - least of all these.
Before she’d bent down to help it up, it had already risen to stare a pair of blank, thoughtless eyes into her, cocking its long snout as if to ask ‘what?’
“Girl, this here’s Braille and that ‘un there ain’t got no name. I call ‘er Pupper.” It took a while for Luna to realize that this was an introduction of the dog. She looked up to meet the ponderous eyes of the larger hound and waved her hand. “I’m Luna. Sorry, do I-... do you understand me?” Luna asked, only for Jorn to slap his knees in loud laughter.
“‘Course she does! She’s an Eastmountain Sighthound - maybe not the smartest of the bunch, but she good. Pupper… Pupper maybe not so much.” Jorn reached out to scratch under Pupper’s long ear. She leaned into the scratching, as if attempting to lure the old man into sticking his fingers in there, only for the old man to withdraw his hand and return his attention on the hovel housing Zeke and the other setter.
“This here’s who we breedin’ ‘round here. You know Zeke. I used to breed ‘em way back when, but ain’t been no puppers born in Longmire in years now.” Luna glanced around the field, towards the many curious, furry faces staring back at her.
“Could’ve fooled me… Jorn, can we get back to-”
Jorn clicked his tongue and pulled a loose plank off of the side of the hovel before chucking it to the side.
“These days, we just take in the strays. The ‘uns that lost their partners or didn’t get picked up. The misfits.” She didn’t wish to be rude, but as things stood, she had higher priorities than listening to the history of their homestead.
“The Meat’s been comin’ closer, too. Ain’t enough food out there for ‘em.” Now he’d caught her interest.
“There’s Monstrum out here? Where?” She cocked her head at the old man. He rubbed his chin and pointed towards the hill.
“‘Bout two miles down there. If the hounds all banded up they’d be able to take ‘em out in a jiffy, but they ain’t a pack, so they’re not communicatin’ too well. So, with what time we got in between your trainin’, we’re gonna use ya to make some defenses for ‘em.”
“Defenses?”