“From graveyards afar comes our underworld’s queen. Right at her side, her king, so musically keen. With his song and her magic, what wonders they’ll do! You’ll never be the same after they’re through.”
Peony leads Sebastian to the stage and stops him short of a little mahogany table with the doll of the lamb sat atop it. She dances to the front of the table and turns to address the audience, who slowly cease their applause.
“Thank you, good patrons!” She begins, “Now, before me here lies the body of a lamb. By my powers and the song of my partner, we shall bring it back to life!”
A ripple of oohs spreads across the stands. Peony turns back to Sebastian and nods. Even though his thoughts are still in a haze, he starts to sing.
All that’s between us now is time
Not mountains wide or ocean’s divide
I’d come running home to you if I could
But I’m afraid my legs won’t work like they should
Peony looks up from the doll and back at Sebastian. His song is a little odd for a necromancy show, but the pink glow falling from the air makes for a rather sweet ambiance. She stares off into the air for a minute, then drags herself back down to the table set again.
She rubs her hands together and mutters under her breath. It isn’t exactly necessary for her to speak, but she worries she’ll lose focus listening to Sebastian. Her tentacles reach up behind her far into the air, drawing in tufts of purple haze from the shadows of the tent. The more smoke she draws through her tentacles, the more spills from her hands onto the table. Eventually, the entire surface is covered with billowing smoke. The golden rings on her void hands freeze on her fingers as she slowly casts her spell.
When summer comes ‘round, I swear it’s true!
I’ll come bounding home to you
On my life, we’ll make our peace
No one here but you and me
She only needs to slip from her focus for a second to find it hard to return to her work. She knows she needs to animate the lamb before her, but her mind only wants to imagine their home. She glares at the toy, but her sight fills with visages of green grass on star lit hills in the warm evenings of June or July. She takes a deep breath of the icy smoke, but it smells like mint leaves and overripe berries. She tries to focus on the cold metal on her hands. For a minute, it works. Suddenly, though, she’s overcome by the thought of Sebastian slipping his hand into hers.
She grips the table like a vice. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving splinters in her fingertips. She shoots a ravenous glare at Sebastian, then at the audience, and neither of them appear to notice. The fog around her wrists begins to cool into a deep hue of blue, and little buds of water cloud around the lamb’s button eyes.
She takes a deep breath, then another. She knows if she isn’t careful, someone will notice. Little tendrils of waxy sinews creep from the lamb’s neck to her fingers, and she slowly takes hold of them. With a slight tug on the strings, the lamb jerks to and fro on the center of the table. As the sinews grow thicker and thicker in her hands, something almost like life begins to seep into the doll. When the sinews start to throb, the lamb stands on all fours, slowly rising to its back legs. Peony quickly blows the smoke from the table, and swarms of fireflies descend to the scene to light up the animated toy.
Wait for me, my honey! All the things I’ll say
When we’ve no eyes to watch or ears to hear our play
Pull me closer, little voice in my head
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
When all is gone, at least you’ll understand
Peony almost falls to the ground from her slip in focus. She shoots back in some unsightly movement, then rises again to stand. The sinews constrict around her fingers, and now find themselves wriggling around under her fingertips where the splinters made themselves at home. In a panic, she grabs at her arms, rushing to find where the waxy threads have dug themselves in. The strings connecting to the lamb have already grown pink, but if she cuts them loose now, she’ll only lose more blood. That, and the sinews will only fester around inside her.
She looks at Sebastian, and then back at the doll. It would be painful, but she can’t think of anything else to do. Fuego can heal her later. With a sudden haste, she digs her fingers into her opposite arms and tears away her flesh, prodding away at her muscle tissue to find where the sinews end. Exposed to the open air, they writhe about her arms like worms in the sand. As soon as she sees the pale roots, she grabs them and yanks them out of her body. The force alone severs them from the lamb, but not before sending it flying up into the air. The fireflies, not wanting to miss a good show, dash upwards to capture it in their light. Peony, meanwhile, casts the mass of parasites to the dusty ground and shoots them with a sort of violet flame from her tentacles. When the smoke clears, they have turned to dust.
When summer comes ‘round, I swear it’s true!
I’ll come right home to you
I’m one cloudless day away
I’ll come right home to you
As Sebastian finishes his song, a new visage of flowers casts itself in the light. Petals of glistening pinks and blues dance in the air as the fireflies hoist the restless lamb into the light. A gust of warm wind cuts through the stale air, carrying with it the sweet smell of roses and lavender. The crowd goes insane.
Peony quickly grabs Sebastian by the arm and guides him towards the alcove. She knows she'll have to keep her bad arm out of his sight, even if it hurts. Anything to not worry Sebastian. She holds it behind her back with the grace of a courtesan, and decides to simply use a tentacle in place of an arm for a while. The warmth of her blood tickles against her back, and pangs of ache shoot up to her shoulder. Still, she manages to keep an even face. It isn't the worst pain she's felt. It's not pleasant, mind you, but it's certainly not the worst. Really, her concern is with Sebastian taking notice of it. The only downside to a spell wherein the affected can only see the effector is that there’s nothing the effector can hide.
Sebastian, despite the incapacitation of his own infatuation, knows something is off about Peony. Something about the haste in her step, the sudden fear in her eyes, the tightness of her grip, everything feels dangerous. The slow anxiety of something perhaps hunting after her starts to fill the darkness that surrounds him. Even though he knows not of what is around him, he decides to quicken his pace to get Peony to safety. Peony, feeling Sebastian’s acceleration, in turn hastens even more, and soon the two are running in an outright panic to the backstage. If it weren’t for the worry of being too loud backstage, the two would have turned to each other and shouted, why must you run, my love?
Suddenly, Peony stops. Sebastian stops too, wondering if perhaps they outran the imagined pursuer. Peony lets go of his hand and stands before him, out of breath from the chase. She holds her arm so he cannot see the wound.
“Sebastian, stay here,” she says, wincing from the pain, “I’m going to find Fuego.”
“Why?” Sebastian asks.
“I need help with something.”
“Can I not help you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then can I try?”
Peony looks down at her arm, then back at Sebastian.
“I mean,” she begins, already regretting opening her mouth, “Sure, I suppose.”
She looks away from him in shame as she extends her wounded arm to him. Sebastian looks on in shock.
“Just promise you won’t blame yourself for this,” she calmly commands, “You had nothing to do with it.”
Sebastian flushes pale at the sight of her torn muscles. His hands quake at the wrists, and yet he can’t seem to move them in any other way.
He stutters. “I’ll go find Fuego or some bandages or something. You stay here.”
“Sebastian, you can’t see!” She scolds, “Nobody can see you! You’re gonna get hurt.”
“Not as badly as you!” he retorts, “Let me help you.”
He opens up his wings and at once a green flash sparks open the eyes that mark his wings. In his eyes he finds the outlines of things– where the walls meet the ground, where the crates stand near the walls, where the other people sit atop the crates –which is just enough to get by.
“I can see just enough now,” Sebastian says, “I’m going to help you.”