Cw:

Um... none? A panic attack/memory of death?

I lay panting and exhausted atop a question of cold and loving snuggles.

Once more?

That was always the question. But… now? What… What did I want?

“N– No.” I murmur. “I think I can do it now. Thank you for… for being so wonderful.”

Tretion let me pull back, soul popping free of mine to sit in the simple embrace of my Naranggas.

Once we leave this bed, we’ll be leaving the manor for the first time in… a while? I’m not really sure how long.

I meet her gaze, smile at the mixture of cold soulfire and wonderful afterglow of our Amwella dance. “I’m ready.”

She smiles back, knows better than to entice me back into another with even a quick kiss, and together we crawl from her big bed’s soft sheets.

Then we're getting cleaned up and ready for our day out.

Soon the door clicks and clacks, then the pretty form of Lenelope arrives.

All smiles as she bumbles forward with an armful of clothes. Her eyes are practically glowing with the same thrumming bubbly delight as she helps lay out the attire we’d all picked out together for the day about.

Choosing clothes? This is still so weird to me. I love all the bright colors, and understand the concept of wearing them. But… picking things that made me feel more… me?

I’m still getting used to that.

Torn simple things to mark me as more people and less animal in the woods. Loose attire so a dark goddess could better feast, and then a leather tunic to protect flesh during possible fights and bad weather.

But the colorful gowns of this soft weak cloth gives none of those things! They also take too long to peel off before sex!

So, they’re useless…

Right?

“But how does this make you feel?” Tretion had asked me when she’d first started having me try things on.

Only the cold calm and bubbling love echoing from her soul keep me from fumbling into terrified… somethings as I just… just…

Stared.

Terrified of the pretty half-smiling dark haired girl in the big mirror as her watcher embraced her from behind.

Her glimmering violet eyes and perfect slightly pale skin wrapped in a gown of sandstone reds and greens lock me in place like any predator's gaze.

I’d only seen a single muddled version of myself in the gurgling waters of the woods.

Never this.

Never so clear and…

I couldn’t stop the tears as I got to see the wondrous body I wrought from the dream and claimed.

I almost flinched as her smile widens and consumes us.

After that we spent so much time in front of that mirror. Trying different things, and just… drowning in the intoxication of it.

More than once I just… stopped. Sat down, and stared at her.

Trying to… to make my silly mind accept her as me.

To picture her as myself, and not some mysterious Fae girl I’d love to meet.

And… Even once, mostly curious how I looked when I would say them to my Tretion, whispered to her… so softly and only when my watcher’s back was turned…

Those three hardest words.

And then me and that girl sobbed together for a bit. A wonderful embrace with our watcher when she soon joined us to enjoy this pain.

This hurt that felt so right and… very needed.

Somehow.

Somehow my body ached for that.

And I still don’t know why.

But then we’re dressed in the clothes we chose specifically for this outing, and Lenelope is still fussing over us.

She’s very sweet, and… and apparently trapped here. Her soul unable to ever leave its halls lest the rot of the Dead Dreamer will claim her little fuzzy glow.

But… Lenelope also never seemed to want to leave? And would get so bothered whenever Tretion started asking me about taking this little trip.

“Errands, restocking on things, and…” Tretion brought up as we're together one afternoon. “And meeting with a very kind family member who I promised to keep in touch with.”

That last part… She thought that would bother me?

But… it doesn’t.

Why would it?

They didn’t hurt me.

However… as we stand at the gateway… I’m shaking more than a little. Can’t stop the cold chill of horrid terror from leaking into my soul.

I reach out, and wrap another Naranggas around Tretion’s soul of calm fire.

“I… I could do this myself, Lyra.” She murmurs, squeezing my talon.

I shake my head.

We’d worked hard to help me be less dependent on her soul's calming nature. I could almost go… like… six or nine entire hours without feeling a Waking Nightmare beginning to bubble up.

Not that I liked to go that long without clinging to her Amwella. But... Tretion insisted. Said that while she would always adore my touch, she wanted me to feel independent and able to function alone if needed.

I… I don’t know why?

Better to be always bound to her soul than alone.

“It’s… it’s been a long time hasn't it?” I murmur. “Since we left?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” She giggles, and the truth the washes out from her soul helps me join her, lean over into her arm.

I’d never asked how many days had passed since we came back.

Hopefully long enough that everyone’s forgotten me.

But… I’m stalling, and she’s waiting on me.

Would wait here for me to gather my courage till the dream’s end.

So with a minor effort of Amwella I focus on my desire, wave the blighted talon, and reveal the–

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I jolt to a halt as I see it just… lying there.

Like a snake or… or a corpse.

“Oh.” Tretion gasps. “I… I’m sorry Lyra, I forgot we left that there.”

Memories, old and… and not all painful. But not pleasant roll through me. Of where I’d claimed the long abandoned blade.

I pull her forward though, and she almost lets my arm go taunt with resistance in surprise.

“It’s okay.” I whisper as I move into the damp cavern and look down at the sword.

Long and sleek and still wrapped in the cloth Bulderii gave it. With a little effort I reach down with my final Naranggas and pick it up.

It… feels lighter… for some reason. Like… somehow, despite doing nothing but snuggling to Tretion’s soul, my tails are so much stronger.

Even Tretion sort of… stalls at the sudden steady rising of the blade.

“I… I’d like to bring this with me. If…”

A flutter of worry causes me to trail off. Almost drop the blade and turn to apologize and…

“Of course.” She squeezes my talon, then asks very carefully. “But… It isn’t bothering you?”

I look back and up at her, my brow probably furrowed in thought. “Not… I don’t think so. I got it from…”

No. Bulderii didn’t give me this.

I can’t stop the grin as my mouth blurts out. “It reminds me of how hard I fought for my Tretion.”

Her soul is suddenly singing of cool breezes of love and affection as her eyes glimmer with tears. Such… such a rare thing for her!

Normally I’m the melty one!

So I pull her into a tight hug snug, press my soul to hers. Let it refract my own… my own love back into her Amwella. She returns the embrace, and I suspect we stand there for quite a while before I feel her settle.

“Okay.” I whisper, wipe a little moisture from my own eyes with a blighted talon. “I’m ready.”

She reclaims my left talon, and a green storm forms to whisk us away.

The rift we wander about is one of lush green jungles and a sprawling city of homes built from dead wood. At first the sight confused me, but… before the question could even bubble out I knew the answer.

It’s not… It isn't a hard thing to grasp. The humans did it, and when you can’t just sing the tree to offer you a home they would do this too.

Murder the forest to claim a home.

It doesn’t bother me… but…

Okay it does.

But I can’t harbor any hate!

How else would they do it?

And the forest has endured worse things than this town could ever hope to inflict. A scratch, not even close to murder. The woods sing of old fires and worse that’ve truly threatened to end it in ancient days.

And besides… it is filled with the cutest fuzzy people I’ve ever seen!

Beings of slick fur and tall pointed ears and really amazing stripes! And their souls! Such wonderful little blobs that sort of… seem to dart about their chests a bit, even swivel about like a big eye that wants to look at everything at once!

There are also some more of the odd horned people, and even mixtures of the two! A few souls both flicker and dart about in erratic fun patterns that entrance me!

Some even watch me back with curiosity, and most of them don’t even seem too worried by my Naranggas either!

As Tretion pulls us up through treetop pathways and into various shops to trade for things, I sort of end up ignoring most of what she’s doing.

Some weird heavy cube of red and green swirls, more nice colored fabric to ask Lenelope to weave into wonderful clothes, and a cluster of other random things are bought and traded for.

But eventually, after a quick Riftwalk back to the manor to drop off the bag of goods with Lenelope, we’re back in amongst the trees. This time the edge of the city. A single big building of stacked rock more akin to some Theradas homes stands before us.

“Alright, last stop!” Tretion chimes, and her soul sort of… bubbles in relief.

I… I hadn't even noticed the little stress that had built up over the course of our trip.

I squeeze her hand and soul gently. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were getting upset.”

The relief turns to a resonance of love as she peers down to me. “I’m just… Not always the best at getting out and about. Too many people can be a little tiring. Thank you, Lyra. I’m flattered you noticed and asked.”

Can’t help but grin back. “You're welcome.”

After we step up and Tretion reaches up to rap off a polite pattern of knocks, a large watcher answers the door.

She, unlike Tretion, is not just tall but wide! Yes with muscle but just… girth! A big belly and head of bobbing eyestalks. Her skin is the darkest I’ve seen of their kind, and with pretty blue eyes with little ripples of red sparkling about.

“Cousin!” She exclaims, eyes going wide with surprise and joy.

“Hello Getrik.” My watcher replies kindly and steps into a quickly offered embrace that includes wrigglings of eyestalks and head tendrils.

“OH, ow ow!” Getrik exclaims in good humor as a few of her eyestalks are poked a bit by a few of the pointed ends of Tretion's.

Tretion just giggles and pulls back. “It’s wonderful to see you, are you well?”

“I am! Please Come in! Come in!” The large watcher exclaims.

It’s only after the door is closed behind us and I get to look around in wonder at this nice comfy home that something is directed at me amidst their small pleasant babbling. And I feel the familiar weight of a watcher's Amwella smothering. But… it honestly barely bothers me. Like a cool drizzle of rain on my soul.

“And this one is?” Getrik asks.

“Oh, um…” Tretion’s soul ripples with nervous joy, making me turn to look between them. “She’s… um… This is Lyra. And she’s my Bound Beloved.”

A long pause, and Getrik’s eyes have gone from passive curiosity to bulging.

“Y– Your…” Looks back to Tretion, then back to me. “Beloved Bound!?! For how long!?!”

I pull her hand close, trying to offer support as her soul titters a bit in embarrassment.

“A little over a year, I think.”

“And you didn’t even invite me to a celebration? What…” Getrik’s eyes flit back to me, and her face goes… odd. “I don’t wish to be rude, Apologies Lyra. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Getrik, watcher and woman of none.”

“Oh… um…” This is the first person I’ve talked with outside our manor since… um… a while. “Hello.”

Getrik smiles with a decent amount of warmth as she looks back to the cousin’s warming cheeks. “ You should both stay for dinner. We should celebrate!”

“Oh, I just wanted to gather up any messages after a quick resupply.”

“Please, Tretion, my favorite cousin.” She lays a hand on my watcher's shoulder. “Let us celebrate our new lives! Honestly I should insist you stay a week, what with the matron dead and rotting.”

Twitch twitch goes the Talon as the Waking Nightmare hits without warning or mercy at the images her words dredge up.

I feel the blight and rot roil in the pit of my soul. Almost… almost taste her flesh and soul as she keeps resisting the inevitable death at her heels. Such sweet blood to mix with the song before she tears out my throat and leaves me to decay with all the others.

Then Tretion is in front of me, kneeling and gripping my face as I’m wracked with fast panicked breaths. “Love, come on. Squeeze tighter. You're safe.”

Her words choke a sob out of me, and I obey. Let the sword drop and clank to the floor so that all three tails can wrap around her cool and calming Amwella.

My eyes squeeze shut.

They all HATE me! Too many eyes, all open, all dead.

“That’s it, good girl.” She coos, lips pressing against my eyelids and trailing down my cheeks to clean my tears.

I don’t move. Can’t… can’t speak or let thoughts be anything but her glacial love and harmonic devotion. This settles the muck at the pit of my soul to stop bubbling over.

I taste iron and weeping soulflame.

Vaguely aware of little bruises I’m leaving on my beloved’s soul.

That breaks the final bit of the Waking Nightmare, and then I’m sobbing into Tretion's shoulder in earnest.

She embraces me, murmurs soft nothings and encouragement as tendrils wrap around my head and wriggle through my hair.

“Wh– Can I help in any way? Get you anything?” Getrik stammers from about five feet away. Eyes filled with worry.

“Just… Any messages?” Tretion whispers. “I’d like to take her home. She’s been so brave today.”

“Oh um… just one.” She murmurs, tip taps her belly. “It… but it’s from the old days before… Um... things.”

I pull back, let out a huff of… of guilt and embarrassment. “I’d like to celebrate.”

That surprises my watcher.

“I.. I’m sorr–” I begin, but Tretion’s soul sort of… flares a bit. A reminder of her past words.

“Never apologize for these.” She’d demanded after my third waking nightmare in a single very very bad day. “Lyra, you are perfect and wonderful. These are born of you surviving torments, not any mistakes on your part. Your healing is something I am delighted to help with. Even on your worst days. Especially on your worst days.”

“Food sounds nice. Grown food.” I wipe my tears, turn to offer a smile at the big watcher. “And you seem really sweet.”

She returns my own pained and guilty smile. “It would be my honor to host my new cousin and her Beloved Bound.”

And she was. The meal had to be… adjusted a little to accommodate my limitations, but Getrik was happy to run out to grab a grand platter of fruits and vegetables and really nice bubbly wine. She insisted we make ourselves at home and I definitely enjoyed the good half hour of just… snuggling to Tretion in a big fluffy chair.

Basking in her lovingly cold soul before the meal.

As we sit around a pretty big table, I’m happy to just let them talk. I can tell that there is a little agreement to avoid the topic of their former family members that dwelt within Theradas. I feel a little guilty, but then Getrik asks a question I can see was burning on their soul.

“So, Lyra, may I ask where you’re from?” She asks politely.

Tretion tenses a little, but the question doesn’t bother me too much.

“Um… well I guess the home I spent the most time in was the Cursed Wood.”

A long pause, then. “Uh… I’m not familiar with that forest or her… denizens.”

Oh. Then their polite probing becomes clear. The focus of their questions revealed.

“It’s… um… It’s in and around the Fae Wood.”

“Ah… so then… you are…?”

“Mhm.” I nod and swallow a wonderful bite of some fluffy red spikey thing. Then take a big drink of wine. Let it flutter my mind a bit with its buzziness. “I’m Fae.”

Another pause, then Getrik lets out a huff of laughter. “My cousin, two steps from being the family's second exile if not for her brimming intelligence. Binding herself to a Fae. There are certain people whose eyes would pop out in such jealousy.”

I can’t help but… but blush at their words.

Tretion smiles, leans over to place a chuckling peck on my cheek. Before she can lean back I reach up and pull her back down for a proper kiss. Getrik only laughs, hand upon her belly as she leans back.

“You seem well and happy, despite everything, Tretion. I’m glad. You deserve this joy.”

I turn back, notice a small and sudden flash of worry and guilt in the big watcher’s eyes. Feel my tummy turn over at… an old truth.

All others will scorn or ravage you.

I bite my lip and look down. Am about to turn and ask Tretion if… if we can leave now. Old stupid fears already mucking up the wonderful buzzy feelings the wine is giving me.

“Um… So that message.” Getrik drums the table a few times gently. “I um… I’m sworn to only give it to you. And… eh…”

Tretion winces. “Ah… let me just rift Lyra home and I’ll see about popping back?”

Oh…

Oh! My brain realizes the source of their worry. Not me being Fae, but a message for just Tretion.

I reach for a sweet blue thing, enjoy the crunchy texture and fizzy nature of the juices.

“Oh it’ll just be a moment. A quick pop into my study and then back here. We can just let your beloved enjoy her meal. I’ve heard how odd the manor’s food can be.”

Tretion pauses, a nervous worry rising in her soul. She’s about to reject the idea.

“I’ll be okay.” I murmur to her.

A look, eyes meet mine. Are you sure?

I nod, give her a smile that’s probably stained with a dozen different colors.

She grins, her soul swoons a bit in desire. Almost a soft promise to explore the flavors I might carry back with us.

I blush as I imagine her wonderful tongue wandering across my lips and teeth and–

I shove another fruit in my mouth, looking away. Work to untangle my tails from her soul. A sign to her that I’ll be okay.

And I was at first.

The two left, but I can hear the soft murmur of their conversation a few rooms away. Lost in the delightful cacophony of flavor, I don’t notice the front door open, nor the footsteps until she’s standing at the entryway to the dining room.

I turn, more curious at first, but feel my everything freeze as I see her enormous frame and matching bow.

“Little Reaver.” Bulderii murmurs.

But…

B– but this…

She can’t have–

Naranggas draw close, wrap around my trembling core as I think I’ve suddenly drifted into another Waking Nightmare.

“B– Bulderii?” I whisper, heart thundering in my chest.

She takes a step forward, and I flinch back. Nearly falling out of my chair. My mug of wine kind of jerks and flings the sweet liquid about though.

But the big woman pauses. “I come with a message.”

“I… I’m sorry.” I plead. “They– The Fae found out! Th– They wouldn’t stop coming and… and I–”

She raises a single hand, cutting off my words. “Awnya of the Fae, calls for you to return to the Twilight Court.”

Awnya’s name stings, but also… doesn’t make sense.

“Wh– why?” I begin to ask.

“Her father is near death, and your sibling suffers. She asks that you aid in their healing.”

Why is… why is Bulderii delivering a message for her?

A long pause.

“Why are you telling me this?” I grasp at… at making this all make sense. “How did you even know I was here?”

Bulderii shrugs, adjusts her bow.

A long pause.

“What’s your reply?” She presses.

“I… I don’t know!” I hiss and set aside the mug I’ve been clutching. “Last time I was there… things… They didn’t go well, Bulderii. And I don’t trust them.”

She glances around the room, nods.

“Be well, little Reaver.”

And then she’s turning to leave.

I only understand the sudden end when she’s halfway out the door.

“W– Wait!” I scramble after her.

She stops, looks over her shoulder to regard me.

“That’s it?”

Just a raised eyebrow. What more did you expect?

“You… But…" I whisper. "I never came back.”

No reply, just… annoyance. Like I’m just being stupid and wasting time.

“Is Thendra okay?” I press.

A sudden deep fear that… that she’s–

“Yes.”

I sag in obvious relief. Bulderii turns to continue leaving.

“Wait!”

She doesn’t stop, just… throws back over her shoulder. “I have duties, little Fae.”

“B– But…. Why!?!” I nearly shout. “Why isn’t she the one here? Why isn’t… why isn’t the message telling me to come back!?!”

She doesn’t even stop. Just… continues forward.

“Bulderii!!!”

But… she’s already disappeared into the forest city beyond. Leaving me to… to consider her words and… and why I wasn’t commanded to return.

Then a cold horror seeps through me.

She… She doesn’t…

No Waking Nightmare hits. No twitching of talons. Just… just a deep horrible ache in my heart as I realize the truth.

She doesn’t want me anymore?

Tretion finds me standing there. My eyes fill with tears as I stare off into the trees.

“Lyra?”

I don’t hesitate, just… wrap my Naranggas around her wonderful cold soul and desperately try to bask in its chilly balm.

But… it doesn’t help. The pain gets worse. Tretion takes me into her arms and I dissolve into a mess of blubbering sobs.

Too cold.

“Is um… Is there anything I can do?” Getrik’s voice murmurs from behind.

“Pass me that sword, would you?” She murmurs, and for the first time I am shivering in her embrace.

Wracked with a desire for warmth and spice.

A weight presses against my back, thanks are murmured to her kin, and Tretion carries us home.