CW:

Nightmare talks, recovering memories, beginning talks with a lady and group that want to keep Arudian men enslaved. mhmhmhm!

Betwixt annoyance at people I cannot change, endless worries about the future, and the sleepy quiet of the manor, I don’t notice the thing until I’m nearly stumbling past its whimpering form.

A writhing mess of rippling nonsense no bigger than my chest. Curled up beneath a hallway desk and crying softly to itself.

I freeze, only shifting to lean sideways to make sure what I’m seeing is… is not just one of the Zeridii wandered into this home.

But… no. Already the smell gives away this thing's true nature.

Sweet, but fowl. Like rotting honey but acidic. Burning.

A nightmare.

On reflex I’m reaching for Her Peeling Shrike. Preparing to carefully cut this little monster away like so much disgusting pulp from an otherwise delicious fruit. But… I hesitate as it flinches away from me. This eyeless messy monster’s fear and pain cuts through my bubbling plan like starlight through the clouds.

My fifth lover’s painful longing echoes in my mind, and Inspiration bubbles.

It’ll have to be just right. Her command will ruin the song so easily if I’m not careful. Just… need to focus past this little ugly thing. Think of Her. What She wants, what She needs.

This isn’t a monster. This isn’t a parasite.

And the threats from the void inside me don’t prick or nibble or bite. Because while Her command is horrid and wretched… it was also very specific.

This thing isn’t an Arudian man, and never was.

And so I begin to weave a little song. A twisting of greeting and request and hope. Melody all but drowning in pleading and longing for… for what my Aceso needs. And my desire to not hurt this little thing. Maybe… maybe even to help it?

It goes still, and seems to unfurl itself a bit. Kinda like… if a flower was made of muck and slime instead of actual plant things. Still gross, but… I mean we’re all messy sometimes, and this little one doesn’t seem anything but scared and hurting.

Then I do see what could be considered eyes? And… huh. A hand? Still eck and dribbling weird nightmare goo but…

Reaching out?

My song tilts more to hope and thanks and interest as I kneel down and lift my hand toward it. Try to ignore the growing smell as I carefully let my fingertips touch just the edge of it’s limb and–

Pain.

Oh. OH fuck its…

I promise the Everflame who embraces me so tightly, my fourth mother and all her Sparks, that I’ll be safe. Her grin is a gift of a parent's confidence in a beloved daughter’s skills and training, but… her Cerulean Amwella and Spark and eyes bleed with such worry. Both for the sister I need to find, and for me. She’d come herself, but the Dead Cinders have been stirred lately and she needs to make sure that–

It’s all about my arm now. Biting and stinging and… fuck. But that was a memory! One of Hers!

So I keep singing. Keep pleading with this little monster to give me m–

Giggly happy time! Wiggling about biggest mother while she sings to us all! Little bits of soft flesh still itchy ticklish as she play pounces on me and gives silly songs to help me understand how to keep growing more me into outside places with tasty home from the big between of–

The song cuts off, and it takes me a second to hear the words around me. To feel the hands at my cheeks and to blearily see the eyes of a lover in front of me.

“Wh– wha?” I stammer, then cough.

“Help help help help HI!” Titters a far off mumbling of worry.

“Ina? Can you hear me?” Jevita whispers from her kneeling spot in front of me, cool hands cupping my cheeks. She seems really worried. And it takes me a second to remember…

The nightmare.

I bolt up from the slumped heap I must have fallen into. Almost bonking heads with my lover as I look about the room to find… Nothing.

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Just Jevita, the long cutie on her shoulders, me, and Rahdian’s little cutie seeming to hover between us at the spot beneath the desk where the monster sat. But even the smell of it has faded and gone.

“Woah, Ina I… are you okay?” She asks. “What happened? Wh– We… I can go get Kque or… or maybe we should take you to a room while I go get everyone?”

I shake my head. Adjust to sit more comfortably as I warily look about. “I… yeah. That’s… but…”

The long piece of the Zeridii about Jevita’s neck wiggles and burps, then scuttle slithers down from her shoulders to settle upon mine. Curls close.

I reach up to give it scrutches as I look around Jevita to where Rahdian’s little cutie still sits.

“Um…” I whisper, then wince as I look down to see…

Little marks on my hand and forearm. Small. Not bleeding. Easily missed or passed off as a lover's nibbles.

“I’m okay. But we need to check on everyone.” I whisper. “Don’t think they’re in danger but… there was a nightmare here, and I was able to get a few of Aceso’s memories from it.”

** ** **

The Conclave table’s glow is… lessened. But not in a bad way? Feels more restful. Like before it was forced to shimmer and shine despite the slowly dying lights within.

And now it burns bright only if the Zeridii wants it to.

I glance up and about the women sitting with me all around the table and imbibe the rumbling echoes of their chatter. It’s… so much different now. What was once five women considering the future of Arudia is easily a dozen and a half now. And while things still get heated sometimes… It's actually refreshing to see that happen. With the Doyans before it was all just… posturing and control over wealth they could easily stand to see lost. Almost more like some big game that happened to impact others but… never really them.

It's probably half the reason over half of them, and the Matrons that sponsored them to these roles, fled when the storm struck.

But the women about me now? Their lives are here. Friends, partners, lovers, daughters, and… well… everything. Their stores and trading posts and businesses. The few that could possibly afford to leave and rebuild elsewhere have been turning that wealth back into helping this place. Not always as much as I would like, and sometimes it's kinda callously done. But… I’ll take their careful investments over the pitiless control of their predecessors.

“High Duenna?” A woman asks from three chairs down, Totlettia? I think?

“Hm?” I turn, “Yes?”

She has another question about fluctuations in the Glyphs. Nothing major buuut… I promise to ask the Zeridii about it without committing to their actions. It sounds like these are secondary, and I’ll need Jevita and/or Kque to explain it better than she did.

More questions, more assurances and clarifications. On and on.

But the mask I wear is comfortable. Soft and assuring and without the ugly sharp edges I needed to keep ready when speaking to the Doyans from before. This is a day that I only have Zigdara with me since Ophrit and Delphian wanted to be out to speak with more of the traders from the Paths. I’d wanted my lovers and I to do that… but apparently they wanted me here in case something changed.

And… I’m able to think back to my last Dream with my Fifth lover…

She impresses me. I feel her fear, pain and spiteful annoyance as I tell Her about the nightmare. But… I’m safe, and She doesn’t shout or explode or otherwise let Herself be anything but quietly upset. Head tendril’s writhing mess the only motion She lets show me Her disapproval.

And held between us are two new memories I’ve found. Pulling them into Herself doesn’t wash away her pain or bitterness. But, they do soften Her though. Calm terror into focused considerations and longing for more than just the two little recollections.

“That was stupid.” Aceso hisses, but softly. “And reckless, and feels like you broke a promise to me.”

I don’t interrupt Her or move close. Not because I’d rather let Her bubble like an overflowing stewpot alone rather than sweep her into a messy embrace and refute Her with my affections. But… because I want Her to tell me when She wants those. Communicate Her desires clearly.

“But you didn’t, and these are wonderful, and…” She huffs and glares up at me. “Thank you. I’m still furious that you endangered yourself. But thank you. So much.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile back softly. “I’m sorry for worrying you. Our lovers kinda agree with you, were really worried when I told them about the little thing. But... They think the idea is good.”

Aceso sighs and looks back down at the gifted memories. “And… you never found the nightmare? Saw where it went?”

I shake my head. “No. It took some of my Amwella, I think. But not a lot. And when I pulled from the memories it was gone.”

My Dream lover bristles at that, “And… what if it just… finds another woman to hurt? One of… of ours? Or comes back when you’re asleep!?!”

She’s not trying to threaten or hurt me, I can feel how much those things really really scare Her too.

I glance out into the sea, and consider Her question carefully before replying. “Rahdian said she’s dealt with two, and will keep an eye out for danger. Lule also would smell something, honestly. But… Aceso?” Turning back to her, I whisper softly. “Since I can’t do much about the nightmares here, I’m going to try out there.”

She winces, tendrils back to really angry wiggles. “Challa…”

“But.” I prompt. “I’m going to be more careful. Have Zigdara and my little Zeridii friend with me at least, or Rahdian close enough at most. This is your body too, and I mean to keep us safe. Won’t hesitate to use your Peeling Shrike if I think one of these might just attack me.”

“It’s… my memories aren’t…”

Worth the risk? She doesn’t finish that lie. Can’t. Not with the two treasures still clutched to Her chest.

Her tendrils slump in defeated annoyance, then she crawls up and into my lap. Curling up and snuggling the twinned memories close for the rest of the Dream.

Torn between such hope and terrible fear.

It’s a nudge from my duenna, and silence that pulls me from my memory and murmured talk with a local business woman. Something about… wanting to know if a specific dust would be safe to use. I’d been assuring her it was fine, so long as she wasn’t getting it from moving or seemingly growing Gemstones.

Then I turn and see… Boletii, the former Grand Doyan and current Envoy to the Matron of Rell, standing in the entryway to the Conclave with a duenna on either side of her.

No. Not duenna. Murtaziq. Each woman bearing a vast multitude of Cultivation changes across their skin and midnight obsidian blades holstered at their hips.

I’d considered what to do about women such as this. But their changes are mostly settled and just… part of them now. Not like Gemstones that need to be activated. Part of them in ways the Zeridii can’t undo without focus and significant risk to both the woman, and themselves.

Boletii inclines her head, “High Duenna Inamatorii, ladies of Arudia. I’ve been asked to join you all and speak on behalf of Matron Veletross.” Then she looks about, eyes falling on her old place at this table.

The woman in that seat lets out a bit of a squeak as the former Doyan’s eyes meet hers, quickly moving to stand beside some others. Then Boletii gives her a polite nod and steps over to take her old seat opposite me.