Snapdragon

“I wanted to thank you.” Ayre says, their voice and words careful. “For ensuring Cerya was unharmed.”

Theriya and I keep our expressions blank.

This is their moment and not the time or place to critique Ayre’s choice of words.

Astraea averts her gaze in shame. "As a Sworn Blade, I still consider last night a failure. There is more I could have done to keep you from harm." With that said, there is no hiding how attached Astraea sounds to her role in Ayre’s service.

Ayre shakes their head. “Everyone who matters will live to play out their roles another day. Some of the Thorns may disagree, but you respected my commands to stay out of my way.” Their words are careful, claiming credit for decisions made by Lenore.

Theriya seems satisfied by this.

I can’t say I understand it completely, but if this Lenore is an entire person with a history as someone else before sharing Ayre’s body… What Ayre has confided to me in confidence certainly takes on an added weight. But the kinds of questions I have can wait.

Fia refused so much of Ayre’s explanation of the night’s events. Even now she seems compelled to watch food be prepared through the window instead of taking part in this conversation. Worrisome, but I’ve already volunteered to keep an eye on her.

And I can just… Say that I’ll do something and not have to worry about justifying or reporting on it. Assuming of course that Theriya and Mel’Viora are to be believed.

I want to feel relieved. But all of this has been tempered by an explanation Theriya offered in the lull of conversation between Ayre and Astraea that she intends to claim the lot of the Thorns anyway, just to be sure.

It’s a good move.

It just hurts to know that I’m still going to have to continue to face these people I have shared a life with but could never claim comfort or joy in being one of.

The hollow feeling in my chest leftover by words uttered by the First Thorn last night still ache to consider. “So you would betray everyone who looked up to you and become what? A play thing for a Monster? A petal warmer for a Seer?” As if there were no other role for me to fulfill. As if I had no merit beyond serving as a Thorn in the grove’s defense.

When Fia asked if that would be wrong, I nearly shoved a spear through First Thorn’s skull. I was too angry then and I’m too upset now to even begin to question what Fia had meant.

It’s probably for the best that I missed.

But I’m just settling for acceptable at this point.

If I don’t, I’m just going to be restless until I feel like I can justify being worthy of how everything seems to be working out on the face of it. Better than looking for threats that Ayre has already demonstrated a greater capacity for dealing with.

By comparison, I’m just…

I’m broken out of my spiraling by Theriya pressing a hot drink against the back of my hand. She has correctly observed that if there is anything I am willing to neglect, it is taking care of myself when I’m in a foul mood.

Guarding the walls is very little beyond waiting between acts of sudden violence. It is hard to give up feeling like violence is inevitable when that has been so much of my life.

But being surrounded by people who love and care about me enough to remind me that there is so much more to me than the role I’ve been expected to play is a genuine comfort.

“It is in times of rest and when the need to survive has passed that I find my burdens are hardest to endure.” Theriya’s words are soft and warm as she spares time to include me in her list of concerns. “Do not think less of yourself for prioritizing the needs of others.”

“I think we could honestly all use that reminder from time to time.” I say, trying to avoid looking at Ayre, Astraea, or Theriya herself.

Ayre's laugh still sounds sickly, but Theriya forbade them from self harm for the purposes of speeding up the spread of medicine in their body. Some honest concerns were shared about how their body might treat the medicine itself as something to be healed and by extension fought off earns Theriya a grateful look.

It is genuinely nice to see Ayre looking so at ease in spite of everything. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss my body’s changes. The ones you offered to me before last night.” Ayre’s words taper off a little.

That they manage to avoid side eyeing Astraea shows a level of restraint I’m not sure Astraea is worthy of. But I bite my tongue on the matter.

“Changes. Alterations. Affirmations.” Theriya says, her hands still lingering on the cup I have not accepted.

I take it.

Accepting the unspoken inclusion of me in the change of topic.

Knowing that the words might fall short of what I want for myself.

But Ayre is here.

Maybe my explorations will not be for nothing.

Or better still, if whatever rapid changes Ayre is going through can be shared with me, I’ll want to include myself. Even if that is a far off hope, I’d like to be here to support Ayre through this.

Doubly so if they lose the support of one of their dolls to something like this.

I drink.

And I take the first step towards feeling better. Even if Theriya’s idea of refreshment is hardly my idea of comfort, the alertness her bitter brews grant is hard to deny.

I thank Theriya with a smile, content to listen in and find ways to offer my support without giving away that this is a path I have already begun to stumble along.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“We should probably start with expectations.” Theriya accepts a fresh drink from a sprite with a look that might convince most she is at her best. “If you can give me an estimate of how much you’ve consumed, by resonance or by blood, I can give you an idea of how long your changes will last.”

I half expected Ayre to become disheartened at hearing those words. I know I sure did.

Ayre merely smooths a hand back through their hair, revealing the scales that frame their face. They take a deep breath, and casually give an estimate that alarms everyone within listening distance.

Fia looks faint. The words she mutters are barely audible. “Not possible.”

Theriya is the first to recover, side eyeing Fia seated on the other end of Ayre. “Well. I’ll want to see that garnet after we’re done here. Your body is likely not even done processing all that. I would give it a day or two for your changes to settle. We’ll make time to guide the changes if desired. But instead of talking days, you will likely not begin to see them fade for two to three whole ten moons.”

Ayre nods thoughtfully, their thoughts slowly taking conflicted shape as they are mouthed instead of spoken.

Is that normal?

Am I…

What about the Fourteenth who came before? No.

I… Don’t want to know.

Ayre shudders before settling on a much more tactful comparison. “Give me a range to work with. How much would a stone grant me? In the long term, how long would it take to look like you?”

Theriya’s shoulders stiffen, and I very carefully avoid her gaze. “This is a small stone, rather common and ill suited to causing changes for any meaningful duration. A quarter of a day? To get a body like Cerya? You would need to fill and drain between ten to twenty gemstones of this size with each passing moon for a few eclipses before even beginning to resemble her.”

Theriya doubled the range. For me it was simply five to ten stones a day. Less if I wanted to hide the changes. Would her assessment have to do with the absurd weight in drake’s blood that Ayre has consumed?

“I’m sensing there is a complication here.” Ayre’s eyes narrow, their own shoulders beginning to slump.

“To say nothing of your circumstances that I do not understand, you would need the permission and investment of whoever is filling those stones for you.” Theriya says, very carefully guiding the conversation to those invested in Cerya and not herself. “Or in your case, a steady supply from whatever source has the desired changes.”

Ayre nods, not asking if drakes are a common species in this area.

Even an abundant forest like ours would not support more than a few. And they’re regularly hunted before they can consider spawning children.

Instead they follow Theriya’s framing to its conclusion. “Is there a Sapling or Blossom equivalent to Cerya walking around or…”

“She has three different donors investing time and emotionally draining effort into her. Only one of them is actually located in this grove. The other stones arrive here regularly, under much heavier guard than our own grove can spare.” Theriya is happy to share the majority of the context, not sharing that Cerya’s horn is a personal deviation. But such a detail is not for most to know. Expected, given how many stones she and Theriya work with on a regular basis.

But it’s a satisfactory introduction to set Ayre’s expectations.

“Just filling up three of those stones was… unpleasant.” Ayre finally concludes.

“And you had help.” I supply, causing Ayre to meet my eyes with a sudden concern.

“Quite right.” Theriya confirms. “I expect that word of Cerya’s binding and alliance talks will bring both of Cerya’s benefactors to our grove. If not today, then for the many days of celebration and negotiation to follow. Mel’Viora will be leading an entire delegation to Vylia before long.”

“The hope being that I find time amidst all this to deal a lasting blow to the Cinder Blights.” Ayre says, their expression souring at the use of the only name they have for the complicated entities they are expected to exterminate.

I intervene, trying to offer what sympathy I can. “When it is all said and done, you could probably justify commissioning stones actually designed for the purposes of extracting and imbuing a body with alterations.” I limit myself to explaining something in detail that I would naturally know without the Seed Seers making extra time for me to explore the subject. “Every grove tender keeps a variety of stones crafted for the purposes of shaping new Seedlings to their roles.”

Most Seers are familiar enough with their use. And the ones our grove has isn’t always in use, not after the changes settle into lasting features.

But I leave it to Theriya to elaborate beyond what I'm comfortable explaining.

I turn away from the attention, only to be confronted by the fact that Astraea is looking at me with concern. “A most sordid method.” She murmurs, her voice lowering beyond distaste into… discomfort.

I shrug. “Yeah, well. I didn’t exactly get to choose what was applied to me. Nevermind that our hair colors are largely chosen to tell us apart until we learn our numbers and place as a planting.” Realizing I’m probably oversharing, I pivot to justifications. “Someone has to do it. And the more I learn and help Ayre and the Seers, the less burden it is on everyone involved.”

The pinch of guilt I feel doesn’t hold a candle to the expression Astraea now wears.

But she declines to comment.

So I offer her the ghost of a smile. “I wouldn’t say no to eventually sprouting horns like yours or Cerya’s.”

Even if I’d get them at a much slower rate.

Even if they didn’t last.

They would be mine.

An alteration however slight or fleeting would be a tangible expression of a shared burden. In Astraea’s case it would be a token of how much I was willing to open myself up to her perspective.

“I’m afraid my life is not something I am willing to consign to stone.” Astraea says, her tone and words measured.

“Sure.” I say, striving to be accepting of the woman that Ayre still wishes to keep around in some capacity. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, I think your horns are very pretty.”

This earns me a sigh. A wistful one, but a sigh nonetheless. “They are unfortunately a very telling element of allowing someone else to define me.” And then she surprises me with a weak smile. “But all the same, I remain quite fond of them.”

“They don’t have to define you.” I say, couching my words in a hesitant tone as I return the smile with one of my own.

“Sure.” Astraea says. “But others will define me by my horns. Irregardless of how I feel or the accuracy of their preconceived notions, such alterations lessen me in the eyes of much of the world.”

“But not here in Lunaria or Vylia.” Theriya finishes Astraea’s thought for her.

My gaze falls to the bitter brew in my hands. An even more bitter taste fills my mouth as someone from the outside world suggests the possibility that the kind of changes I desire for myself would Other me in the eyes of those who would not discard me the moment I can no longer fulfill the role chosen for me.

And I can say nothing without revealing to other Watchers that I am not like them.

I can show no interest in a world outside of a society that consigns literature about other races, magic, and gods to the erasure of flames.

Not without putting someone at risk. And I couldn’t stand doing that to Theriya, Cerya, or Ayre. Even Astraea probably deserves better.

Ayre nearly sinks a fang into their lip. “I don’t understand. Why is resonance so… unpleasant?”

By way of answer, Theriya clears her throat. “Resonance is never keyed to something nice, kind, or gentle.” She speaks with a rare zeal most might confuse with a studious conviction.

Not this.

Not for her.

This topic is her entire life’s purpose. The advancement of resonance as an expression of power and purpose is the most carefully cultivated abundance that groves are intended to protect.

“I would not make light of asking another to suffer for the purposes of borrowing some fleeting artifice of a temporary bodily change.” Theriya makes it a point to sweep her gaze over everyone gathered at the table.

Ending with her eyes meeting mine, as she touches on the most relevant part.

“But to maintain such changes, one would need to regularly subject one’s self to the perspective of another.” Theriya’s voice softens at the end.

“And that is rarely worth it.” I say, trying so very very very hard not to see Mel’Viora when I meet Theriya’s gaze.

When Theriya is at her least agreeable, it is a difficult comparison for me to avoid seeing.

Harder still when I am privy to hearing everything that goes on within the entirety of the tree spire no matter where everyone is.

I still remember when Cerya spoke to Theriya on my behalf.

When I first expressed discontent with my body and role.

What about it I can’t stand, and why.

The response Theriya reached for is one I first heard from the lips of Mel’Viora.

My body is not mine to change.