“Think it went well enough?”

Beryl asked, trailing behind Vaughn. They’d finished dinner, resolving their spat with Sabine's group, if only barely. The only words exchanged were between herself, Vaughn, Marek, and Sabine’s group.

“Not really sure, you an’ Kiyomi seem to have a better read for that. The more important thing, though, is how do you think she's holding up?”

He pointed at the door, handle grasped.

“I can only guess. She's too all over the place.”

Beryl leaned against the wall.

“Gods, when she came back bloodied like that, and–”

Her arms were crossed, her eyes focusing on the floor.

“And she just said It was nothing. At first, I thought she was afraid of the bitch, which– that would've been a first. But then, the breakdown.”

“She nearly brained herself on the floor.”

“Oh, as if she even could. The darn foundation would shatter first.”

“Damn muscle head.”

“Aye.”

The two stood there for a while, neither able to fully face the girl they spoke of. She probably hadn’t meant it, but she seemed angrier than she had ever outwardly let on.

“We should check on her.”

Beryl muttered. Vaughn turned the knob, pushing the door inward. They each readied themselves, either to explain how the apologies went, or to hurry to Kiyomi’s side had she still been broken down. But, instead, they were greeted by a silent room, with a slightly more humid feel from the shower they’d heard being used earlier. An empty bowl of what was once stew sat on a dresser. Kiyomi was at the far end, situated on one of the beds, loosely tucked under the sheets. The scene was a far cry of the state the two saw her in earlier, each moving to her bedside as they observed. She was muttering in her sleep, not unlike she usually tended to do, but it seemed subdued.

“She seems better off.”

Vaughn kicked his boots from his feet, sitting on his bed, opposite of Kiyomi as Beryl leaned closer to her.

“Does she? Look at her eyes.”

Beryl whispered, taking off her outer robe. Vaughn looked back at Kiyomi’s face, her eyes shifting randomly and her once-out-loud tongues, now gentle whispers.

“Aside from wanting her to just get a peaceful night of sleep? I doubt we’ll get one ourselves after what happened today.”

Beryl hooked her robe on the frame of the bed intended for her, maneuvering herself over Kiyomi and onto the bed behind her.

“What exactly are you doing?”

Vaughn pulled his covers free of his bed, having dropped his belts and gambison by now.

“She might sleep better with someone she trusts close to her. Would you want to?”

He shook his head.

“I’m not too sure, she still thinks you’re just a girl. So I imagine her waking up to you will end better. I like not being kicked in the balls, and I’d rather not test her threats.”

“Exactly.”

The two had gotten comfortable, settling into the comforters as Vaughn covered himself, and Beryl covered herself and Kiyomi.

“Good night, Vaughn.”

“G’night, Beryl.”

----------------------------------------

Mnmm, the sun, sheit.

I shielded my eyes, the sun's reflection shining through the window. It was warm, the smell of fresh bread and cooked eggs filling the house.

I slept like a rock, I didn't expect as much, but it's welcome.

I slowly sat up, leveraging myself on the bed's soft stuffing as I did. Vaughn was snoring, one of his legs overhanging his own mattress. He was closest to the window, his face shielded by his arm. I looked left, at first assuming Beryl would've beaten me to the world of the living.

Where is she–

Her tail was there, a portion curled on the ground, another portion under the covers of the bed intended for her. The rest of her body was slumped over the ends of both our beds.

Wait, so—

I looked over, the life half scared out of me. Beryl was sleeping next to me, one arm tucked underneath her head, while the other was slumped over my side. The softness of the bed, was not so much bed, as much as it was her chest, my posted hand pressing down on it.

“Six kinds of dragon shit!”

I yanked my hand back, launching myself over the side of the bed with heavy thump.

“Ooowie.”

Beryl rose after, grumbling with her eyes still closed and rubbing at her chest. I lay there, staring back up at her, unable to right myself with the fun revelation that one of my legs was stuck underneath her tail.

“Ah, crap, sorry.”

She lifted her body lazily, just enough to free my leg as I slid back.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Myr’s tits, you scared the life outta me.”

I grumbled, stretching as I stood. Beryl was better than the alternative, at least I was able to get a night's rest. The last thing I needed after yesterday was waking up to Vaughn’s morning wood pressing against me.

“Slept okay enough.”

Beryl rolled her eyes.

“Better than last week. You were mumbling still when we came back up, figured—“

Beryl looked dejected for a second, her body shifting as she roused herself awake.

“Sorry, I should have asked before hopping into your bed.”

I grumbled, remembering waking up to when I was wrapped around Vaughn.

“No, thanks, I needed that, I guess.”

I was rubbing my eyes with my palm, stumbling over to the bathroom.

I think I left my scrunchy in here, where was it?

It was absent from where I tossed it, the sink empty.

“Beryl, have you seen my scrunchy?”

“In your bag, I didn’t want it getting wet.”

“Thanks.”

Vaughn was rousing now, awkwardly working at his pants underneath his covers.

“Mornin’.”

I kneeled at the bag, pulling free a fresh pair of socks with the scrunchy.

“You know, since you’ll be lounging around today, you can leave your hair down.”

Beryl reached for her outer robe. I shrugged, wrapping the band like lots around my wrist, then unraveling the bundle of socks.

“Maybe, I roped Mizzel into a favor for me, I doubt having a crest of red hair in her way will make it easier.”

“She said you seemed better when she checked on you. Feel like talking to us about yesterday?”

I froze as Beryl posed the question, pulling my boots on, over the socks.

“I’d rather not.”

She sighed, her body taking the rest of her weight as she finished dressing herself as well.

“Kiyomi, you have to talk to us eventually. We were scared, and Sabine wouldn’t discuss it.”

I picked up Wyrmstooth, fastening it to my belts and placing my jacket over my shoulder. We weren’t out and about, so the gambison could be left behind with the packs.

“Just not now… not for a while.”

I understand, Beryl, but that’s not something I can just… talk about.

“Before we leave, please? We can’t– Kiyomi, you get shit for sleep and you refuse to talk about these nightmares. What if you break down like that in the wilds? “

Aaawe fuck, really? Gotta hit me with the sad and concerned tone? Fuckin big sister—

I looked to the ceiling, slumping my shoulders as I thought it over for a moment.

They’re your friends, you hold your lives in each other's hands.

I wanted to say that, but even now a part of me wanted to break down again, to just splurge the entire account of yesterday, and the flashbacks, to them both.

But on the account of these— ugh— feelings? Thoughts?

I was struggling to even come up with a coherent take on them for my life. Fuck all could I actually reason without being able to tell if the memories were effecting me in each decision, and I could only assume it given the sudden adoption of slang, or the faint changes to my accent.

“Before—“

You decided it, own it. You have to entertain the impulses a little, if it’s her in here with you.

I turned to face Beryl, my hand on the knob. She was looking at me with the same ‘big sister’ care, while Vaughn was sitting up.

“Before we leave. I’ll talk with you both.”

“Okay.”

----------------------------------------

Coming downstairs, the smell of fresh food grew in intensity. The chatter between Jagoda, Mizelle, and what must have been the yet-to-be-seen Evelyn echoed through the lower floor as they worked.

“Mornin whiptail two, number one’s been talking about you.”

“Babaaa, again with the teasing.”

The two bantered as Jagoda carried a basket of what looked like English muffins to the table, while Mizzel was preparing a pot of warm water over the oven.

“Hell, I prefer whiptail over Imp. Better a nickname than the wrong thing entirely.”

I pulled a chair out, taking my seat at the table.

“Coffee?”

Jagoda tapped at a can on top of one of the counters. I thought to, at first, but the small fade of cramps at my stomach brought another drink to mind.

“Yarrow tea if you’ve got it, I'll chase it back with breakfast.”

She shook her head, producing a jar from a cabinet.

“The mouth, and the drinking slang. One would think you're older than the Lamia.”

Well, I mean, technically? Maybe? Fuck me, I don't even know anymore.

“Don’t mind her, she banters when she knows you’ll let her get away with it.”

Mizzel passed by, carrying the pot into the living room. A plate of eggs was placed in front of me, while the smell of still frying bacon and sausages could be heard across the house.

“Best get eatin, that one’s gonna burn a hole in the floor with how much she's wantin to take care of them there spiky’s on your head.”

Jagoda kept at her teasing, patting my shoulder.

“I'll bring ye the bacon when it's done.”

“Thanks.”

I prodded at the eggs, shoveling it down in short order.

“Cooome on, up up up!”

Mizzel was already pulling me up as the plate was cleaned.

Wait, the muffins- noooo.

She sat me down at one of the couches, ensuring I'd left enough room for her to–

“Alright, there we are, now off with this.”

She pulled the jacket free of my shoulders and tossed it to the side.

“So what exactly are we doing?

“We’re going to get this molt off of your horns.”

Mizzel acknowledged, sweeping my hair behind my ears. It felt oddly nice, having someone set my hair aside, helping with a part of me I really couldn't reach easily. The hair was placed aside, evenly across my back.

I could use a spa day, is this what a spa day is like? I wouldn’t–

I searched Kiyomi’s memories, unable to recall anything similar except watching our family get the same care.

Damn, guess I wouldn't. Why not, though? Isn't this a lifelong thing, then? Why only now?

“Hey, Mizzel?”

I asked as she took one of my horns in hand, leveraging my head down to a small foldable table in front of us with a pillow atop it.

“Hm?”

I let her guide my head onto the pillow, settling to my left cheek as she began prodding at the horn she used as a handle.

“Why exactly would my horns be molting around now? I don’t recall ever having them molt.”

She seemed to stifle a chuckle, producing a small set of tweezers as she leaned against my back. It was subtle, but the feeling of them gently trailing along the keratin almost tickled while she searched for a crack in the outer layer.

“Iiii bet you’d not be liking the revelation, miss.”

“Heh, try me.”

“For real, though? Your mother never told you?”

I rolled my eyes, for all the care in the world, no one would see it. I was staring at the chocked fireplace as she worked.

“I’m adopted, we did kind of brush over that.”

“Ooooh, that explains as much. Ahem, well, then, the molting sort oooof, well, it happens usually within a year or two on either side of reaching– one moment.”

She slowly prodded at a piece of horn she’d managed to get a hook under, lifting it as she reached into the pot of warm water. Producing a cloth, she lightly dabbed it at the horn just above where she’d grabbed it.

Oooohoho daaamn, that’s good, that’s the stuff.

It wasn’t exactly ‘like sex’, no, that particular phrase didn't work. It was like itching the inside of your ear with a cotton swab, that one spot that manages to make you kind of crane your neck and maybe make your eyes shoot upward.

“Well, where was I? Ah, it's more so a signal that you've hit ‘maturity.”

“Maturity?”

“Yes.”

“Like–”

“Like, having babes.”

Oh.

My reaction seemed to be amusing enough, Mizzel pulling a piece of molted horn off and placing it in a small bin. She stifled a laugh, nearly splitting my ear drum from the onset, before placing her opposite hand over her mouth. She breathed, then resumed.

“As I said, our horns are a mark of beauty, and usually, it's the shiniest doe that gets the bravest buck. That’s how grandmother put it, at least. It just means you're nearly a woman now. You’re what, fourteen?”

“How did you–”

“Back down, I’m not done. I’ll let you know when we’re finished. I’ve got a nice polish for you as well.”

She grabbed the opposite horn, gently pulling me back down to the pillow.

“I was your age when I had to take care of my own. Grandmother didn't have the patience, and neither does Baba, the old crone.”

“I heard that!”

That’s well arrived already, given the turmoil in my fuckin head. Still can’t trust myself to share a bed after that one dream. That’s why Beryl scared me so damned much.

“Are you sure you want to? The cleanings enough, I mean–”

“And sabotage your chances with the Vaughn boy? Dear, your friend Beryl seems to have a running ahead in that department. And I aim to help another demon get a leg up on the competition.”

Bruh– are you serious, lady? What even– in what world–

More of the thoughts shifted in my head, a light flush filling my cheeks for better or for worse.

Nope! No! Nuh-uh, known him since he was eleven, not going down that rabbit hole–

“I’m more of the swingy sword type. Vaughn’s more of the ‘sits at his drafting board and drools over angles type.”

Oh, god! Why did you have to say it like that?! That doesn't sound like an actual excuse! I mean, it is, but–

Mizzel leaned just into my eyesight, nearly locking eyes as she grinned widely.

“You’re half a to shade the color of your hair, dear.”

I looked away, Mizzel taking that as her signal to tone down the teasing some.

“Just making light with you, I know it must help a bit with the stress you had yesterday. I’ll keep working and let you relax.”

For some odd reason, the thought of when Vaughn pulled me close and held me. The night prior, in my stupor of crying and visions, they were both there. Regardless of who could actually fit in alongside me, he held me.

It was nice, somewhat…