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 Posted: Thu Jun 18, 2015 8:47 pm
 1/2
The styrofoam cup of ice was innocent, sitting on the computer desk innocuously with its lid halfway on and no straw. Phiel had come to pick her up late from the office, apologizing enthusiastically. He'd been caught in traffic, and he was very sorry, but he had a present for Zuri, he'd said. A snack -- a light, crunchy ice from a restaurant that was the better part of an hour's drive from the house, something they could rarely make it out to get -- to apologize for his lateness and celebrate the week, since Zuri was doing so well in her new workplace. And now it sat on the corner of the desk while Zurine tried to reply to some comments on her latest video.
You're so delicate, one anonymous comment enthused. I've never seen someone so dainty! said another. You're looking all flushed, said a third comment, and continued, are you getting more sun, or just busier? These she didn't mind, even preened over a little bit. Dainty, delicate, flushed -- good words. She had begun to feel a little proud of herself. When she looked in the mirror, she could see the difference now. Her cheekbones more pronounced, faint hollows below them, the soft flush of sun-exposure coloring them bluish. Without the usual frost sparkling in her hair, it was finer, softer; the texture was different, and when she braided it back it was silkier, laid flatter.
She sat in front of the mirror now, looking at herself as the lamp's light streamed down on her. In its harsh, yellow-white glow, her white skin seemed translucent, luminous, and she tilted her head, running fingertips down along one collarbone, looking at the shadows that stood in its hollow, the slimness of her fingers against skin that was warm. It was strange, but even the nausea was becoming familiar. The emptiness, the ache, that was familiar too. It had not been so long since she was full, blooming with frost and cold, but this had its own appeal, didn't it? Her fingertips followed the firm curve of collarbone out to where it turned into shoulder, more prominent as the oversized t-shirt slouched slowly down her arm. She smiled in the mirror, and then looked at the cup.
She wanted it so much, the need for food crying out in her chest, and her smile faltered, broke around the edges and turned ragged. She was so hungry. The warmth was worth it, but why couldn't she have both? She reached for the cup on impulse, her hands trembling as she gripped the styrofoam, which creaked in protest. Zurine exhaled deeply, forced her grip to loosen, resting her forehead lightly against the rim of the cup. Beneath her fingers, the fluffy plastic stuff was so cold it was dampened with condensation, wet and dripping onto the desk below. It had been days since she'd had ice enough in her to drip under the sunlamp, and she felt suddenly as if she might die of dryness, parched and aching, her tongue stuck clammily to the roof of her mouth, her chest tight with longing. The chips of ice shifted softly inside the cup, clinking delicately like a sweet benediction, melting slowly into cold water. Her fingers brushed the lid to the side, and she dipped them inside, daintily picking up a chip of half-melted ice.
It was a strange sensation, to hold an ice chip in her hand and feel it slide in its own melt, instead of freezing crisper in her fingertips. Zurine hadn't quite realized how much warmer she'd gotten until now -- the cube was cold in her fingers, felt palpably cold, stung when she held it longer. For a moment, she felt proud, and then suddenly, sharply, it was fear. She closed her eyes, and stuck the half-melted ice-chip into her mouth quickly. Instead of evaporating into a steamy soft puff of mist, however, it laid on her tongue, foreign and strange. Her heart hammered, and she swallowed, letting cool water trickle down her throat.
Her eyes opened up wide, dark and panicked in the mirror. She pushed back from the desk, upsetting her cup of makeup brushes and nearly upending her chair. The hunger didn't abate, not even as the water slowly trickled down her throat, and she let out a little, stifled sob as she covered her mouth, her feathers ruffled with horror. It was late, but she had to get out, to leave the house, to get away, however she could. Phiel was asleep, so there was no one to witness it as she left the house, the door unlocked, her phone face-down on the dresser.
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Posted: Sat Jun 20, 2015 12:12 pm
2/2
The world was a dizzying array of night-blunted colors and scents and terror as she wandered, arms wrapped around herself. She couldn't discern what she was looking for, not really -- everything seemed too bright, too hot, even this late at night. Even the rush of the incoming sea wind was alien, the sound of it harsh, world-filling as she wandered. How long had it been since she left the house? The edges of the sky were greying with light, and she was just now coming back to herself, feeling spacey and lightheaded as she rubbed her arms with her hands, chafing her upper arms. Her fingers were damp, chafing along her shoulders to try and bring some sensation back. She wasn't too far from home, close enough to know where she was, at least, the familiar greenery of the park and its looming stand of trees a comfort. When had she gotten here? What had she been doing all this time? If it was near dawn, then Zurine had been gone for nearly four hours, hadn't she?
She lifted a hand to pat at herself, looking for her phone to check the time. It usually was tucked into the side of her bandeau, where she could keep it safe and accessible at all times, but it wasn't there now. She couldn't remember what had happened. Why did her head ache? Her fingers touched her forehead, and she exhaled breathily, with a tiny dazed sound. It was a strange sensation, fingertips to skin, oddly tacky, just a little sticky, and Zuri floated a little further, approaching one of the flickering streetlights. The morning was cool now, brisk with the promise of rain on the grey edge of dawn, and she even shivered as she moved into the light, looking down at her hands.
There was red on her fingertips, sticky, tacky red, too old to be wet, really. Fine grey fur stuck to it sparsely, and a lurching horror of nausea twisted in her chest, where it had been blessedly absent before. A whimper of utter revulsion escaped her, any color draining from her cheeks and leaving her white. The last thing she could remember had been trying to eat, trying to take in ice, and the sensation of melting water trickling down her throat, the taste of it, the lack of soft mist to exhale -- and then this, right? But there was something scrambled in between, a desperate flight that she could remember only in half-bursts, as if seeing it in the flicker of the streetlight's orange sodium glow. Flicker, and she had come to the park looking for something she couldn't name, only knowing she needed to be away, knowing she couldn't be at home right now. Flash, and she was in the wooded area, surrounded by life, by noise and motion, frogs and mice and nocturnal things singing and moving and going about their business, unaware of the predator in their midst.
Predator? Was Zuri that? She didn't want to be, but some small, cool part of her remembered the sensation, feathers fluffed, muscles so still that no one would ever notice her, ghostly silent. It was how she had caught Ferdinand, and she could remember that even clearer -- that absolute clarity as instinct took over.
Was that what had happened here? She hurried to the water fountain, washed her hands in the flow clumsily, splashing the cool water everywhere in her frantic desire to be clean, to escape the consequences of this. Had she gotten so hungry, so panicked, that she'd lost her head and gone hunting like a predator?
If she had had any ability to, she would have been sick, but instead nausea just squeezed her throat tight and she bent over, gripping the gravel edge of the water fountain with one hand to keep her a little upright as she choked, tears streaking her cheeks sluggishly. That fine, soft fur-texture that had been clinging to her fingers was a mouse, just like the one she had been taking care of, just like the one who had so recently died. Ferdinand's cage still stood empty and clean in her room, and here she had murdered one, in cold blood. She let out a little sob, tears thick and tight in her throat. Zuri had to go home, to talk to somebody, anybody; she needed to be safe, and to make sure that everything else was safe from her.
The sun was up by the time she made it home, and Phiel was still asleep as she locked the door tight, as much to keep herself in as to keep anyone else out. She was exhausted, her nerves beyond rattled, her body aching all over. Bruises and scratches were standing out lividly on her forearms, and despite her attempts at washing it off, there was still blood under her nails. She didn't have the strength to do anything about it, right now. Even her hunger seemed small in comparison as she leaned against the back of her door. Her workstation was the way she had left it, upended cup still upended, her computer still on. The cup of ice had long-since melted, leaving a ring of condensation under it on the desk. She drifted past it, leaving it be as she took hold of her phone, where she had left it on the counter and crawling into her bed, wrapping herself around her sugar glider, burying her sweaty face against the familiar fur.
Soon the tears came again, trickling down into it, sticking her cheeks to the softness. She had never meant for this to happen; it wasn't supposed to be this way. This was supposed to have been her way back into the world, her way to make the world bigger, not smaller. Where had she gone wrong?
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2015 8:49 am
Starring Characters: Zurine, Cesc
Summary: The morning after. [Spoiler cut for enormous image of texting; vignette by Atma]
Cesc came into a room he knew from two summers ago as meltingly miserable, expecting what he had seen then: for the frost at Zuri's wings to be humid and tacky, for her face to be drawn and her tears to have frozen cold lines in her face.
When he opened the door the air was surprisingly warm and dry, and for a moment he tricked himself into believing she had gone or he had imagined it all, an early-morning hallucination built from fear of what the season did to her.
But she was there, still hugging the stuffed animal he'd won her, her face half buried and still wet. She was flushed -- ill?-- and when he touched her there was precious little cool on her skin, which sent a jolt of electricity through him that would not leave his fingerprints.
What happened? He pressed her and she said she was unwell, just sick, sun-sick he believed until he saw the lamp, strange newcomer, by her desk, innocuous by all the other things she kept: by the laptop and the makeup and the basket of hair supplies and ornaments.
What are you doing? He asked, his hand stroking her hair, his voice low and concerned. She spoke a while and he listened and said no, no, tried to pull a smile from her: you may be partly a plant, but I don't eat grass, do I?
She wept and he scooted the sugar glider to be a pillow for him, and Zurine settled into the crook of his arm and against his chest, and for the first time since knowing her, Cesc did not worry that his warmth was discomforting to her.
It could not, at least, have been as discomforting as hers was to him.
Zurine's Opinion: I think I'm in trouble. It was so nice to curl up with him, though, and be cozy...
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2015 8:57 am
It was midafternoon when Phiel finally sat down, realizing Zuri had been asleep when he woke up around one, and that she was still in there, the door shut. There was a conspicuous lack of air-conditioner sound, and judging from the lack of music or video playing, she was asleep. Zuri had always been a late sleeper, but when two rolled around to three rolled back around to four, worry touched his nerves. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone to fidget with. Who else had Zuri spent a lot of time with recently?
She hadn't visited the bakery much, but as far as he knew she was back in contact with her friends, judging from the phone bill. She'd only been at the job with Nara a couple weeks, but spending at least six hours a day there, five days a week. And if anyone would have noticed any oddities about her behavior, it was Nara, who had a degree in such things. Phiel had noticed that she was growing increasingly more evasive and warmer, and he'd noticed the rather lukewarm reception to the ice he'd brought home to her. What in the world was up with his little charge? She'd not been acting herself.
He played with his phone for a few moments, trying to work up the courage, and then finally dialed Nara, sitting stiffly upright on the couch.
The phone was answered on the third ring. Nara, somewhat distracted sounding, had put him on speaker phone. "Hello, Phiel. How's it going?"
"Hullo," Phiel said. "Sorry for the intrusion, is this a bad time?" He could hear his own echo in the speaker phone. "I can call back if it is."
"No, it's fine. Just writing and such." The squeak of a chair. "What's up?"
"This is a bit awkward, but I'm... concerned about Zurine," Phiel said, an apologetic tone in his voice. "She's... not acting like herself. I know you don't know her very well, but... I was wondering if she'd said anything to you..."
There was a pause as Nara considered his words. "Well... She hasn't said much to be worried about. Her actions are odd, though. I don't want to diagnose her or anything, but I think there may be an issue she's going through. Then again, she is very akin to a teenager, and they're moody."
He thought about it for a moment, picking at a bit of imaginary lint on his pants. "Well, she's never really been a moody person, in my memory anyway," Phiel said after a moment. "She did have that major depressed episode last summer, but I thought the job would help with that. But now she's still not acting like herself... I don't think she's eating right, either."
"Well, depression is part of it, I think. But she's jumpy, too, and very private about her lunch break."
Phiel sighed deeply, and rubbed at the scarred bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "Should I be worrying about this, Nara? I'm asking you as a friend. I know you can't diagnose her or anything."
"I think you should talk to her. You're her father, essentially, and you need to have her open up to you. She trusts you, even if she doesn't want to trust anyone. You have to be kind, patient, and accepting."
It was strange to think of himself as a father, but Phiel understood what Nara meant. He was quiet for a minute, looking down at his knees. "I am absolutely awful at this sort of thing," he said, and he sounded tired and worried, letting his emotions come through in his voice. "But I can't let her get the way she was last summer, can I?"
"No, though I think that perhaps this is not the same thing."
He bit his lip and nodded. "... you're probably right. I guess I really do just... need to sit down and talk to her about it honestly." He exhaled deeply. "Damn. I really am a piss-poor parent."
"No, you're not. All parents struggle with these sorts of things. You just have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and do it."
"Harsh," Phiel said with a chuckle. "But fair. All right, I'll let you get back to what you're working on, then."
Nara chuckled, warm and low. "Thanks. But we should have dinner sometime soon. Are you free next Sunday?"
He couldn't help it, even as stressed as he was -- hearing that chuckle tugged the corners of his mouth upward. "... Barring anything disastrous, I should be free, yes," Phiel said.
"I'll pick you up at seven, then," he murmured. "Talk to you later."
"All right. Later, then," Phiel said, unable to help a little smile, as he hung up the phone. He could handle this! This was something he could do, right? And the warm, fluttery little feelings which he did his best to quell were, like it or not, boosting his ego significantly.
[ Co-written with Patmos of Endtimes ]
Phiel's Opinion: 'Just get her to open up to me', huh?
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Posted: Fri Jun 26, 2015 1:54 pm
When Zurine finally emerged from her room, the day was beginning to wane into evening, and the television was playing softly in the living room. The moment she slipped into the hall, she realized what that meant: Phiel was home. The tension that had eased out of her shoulders from the cozy nap she'd shared with Cesc earlier already was returning. If he was home, then he wasn't at work -- and she'd seen his schedule. He was supposed to be at work. What could this mean?
She slipped into the bathroom first, looking at herself only briefly in the mirror. Her hair was tousled, and her face was tracked with tears, her cheeks hollow and dark smudges under her eyes. She flinched at how fragile she looked, how worn and spent, and she ran water in the sink very quietly so that she could wet a cloth and wash her face. Spreading the soft cloth over her fingers and palms, she rubbed her face with gentleness, too weary and worried to do otherwise. The tears came away easy, and she tried not to think about whatever else could be on her hands or face, skirting around those thoughts as if they were poison. Soon enough, standing before the mirror, the only evidence that something was wrong was the scratches on her arms, and the thinness of her face. Before she could face Phiel, that had to be seen to.
In the hamper, just on top, was one of her favorite shirts, a loose boy's shirt that she couldn't remember where she'd gotten. It was comfortable and hung softly around her, long-sleeved enough to droop over her hands. She had even worried little holes in the seams to poke her thumbs through for comfort, and Zurine wiggled into it quickly. A quick brush of her hair loosened it around her shoulders and face. Even it looked dry, but at least this way she could pretend that her pallor was from sleeping. Was she being a little paranoid? Perhaps, but she even bothered to dab a little lipbalm on. The hunger was returning already, and it was a twisted sort of relief, a reminder that her body could still be bothered to be hungry, even when it felt as if everything was crashing down around her ears.
She drew in a deep breath, then. Phiel was still waiting in the living room, and the longer she put it off, the worse this was going to be. Opening the bathroom door, she emerged, trying to feel composed and calm. When Zurine floated into the living room, Phiel paused, measurably waiting. She knew his habits, and when he didn't immediately speak, she knew that he was looking her over, looking for signs of her discomfort. It should have been comforting, should have reminded her that yes, Phiel loved her, in his way. Yes, he wanted to make sure that she was taken care of. Instead, some small part of her with sharp claws and beak reminded her, it was none of anybody's business how she felt, was it? Her feathers fluffed up with surprise and displeasure. Where had that uncharitable thought come from?
"Are you doing all right?" Phiel asked finally, and Zurine flinched a little. She wasn't all right. If she'd been all right, she'd have found the question easy to answer, and she felt so foolish that she didn't want to.
"I'm... I'm fine," Zuri answered after a moment, feeling her voice flat and unemotional. She didn't have the energy to pretend, to put a smile to the lie. She wasn't fine at all, but it was as if the door had closed itself, as if by telling Cesc this morning in half-truths and sobs, that she had given out all the word she could give on the situation. As if the sickness itself had decided that it was in charge, and not Zurine. Her tongue was dry, and it stuck to the roof of her mouth again as she watched Phiel, saw the thoughts rolling around inside of his head. Would he guess? Would he ask further? She looked down, picking at the seam on her sleeve where her thumb had poked through.
"You're not fine," Phiel said, and it was gentle, gentler than she'd ever heard him speak to anyone. "I don't know why I know or how, but... I can tell when you're not acting like yourself. I promise I'm not here to judge you." He held up his hands -- bare hands, the fingers and palms alike covered with ragged scars, grey-silver-pink against the white skin -- in a gesture of comfort.
Zuri could feel that strange sidestep in her mind again -- the realization that she wasn't necessarily in control of the situation, that blind avian panic that lurched in her chest. The feathers at her temples and her wings fluffed, slowly standing up, until she felt as if her entire body was a mass of discomfort and quills. She couldn't swallow down the building frustration, even though she wanted to. Phiel didn't deserve her ire, didn't even know what she was going through. How could he? He already fit, had a place where he belonged without having to change himself. "I'm fine, Phiel," she heard herself say, the words bitten-off and sharp-edged like frost on glass. She felt like hell, and the idea of explaining herself made her head feel like it was full of edges and angles, insurmountable and impossible. "I can handle this on my own! It's not your problem!"
She watched as if from a distance, remote and untouchable, as that softness, that uncertain gentleness in her guardian withered around the edges, withdrawing. Zurine knew he could see her as clearly as she could see him, knew that he could see the curl of her fingers, the way her nails bit into her palms, the trembling tension written in every feather and the set of her shoulders. She wanted to weep, but she had no tears left, not after this morning. She was so ashamed of herself that it knotted tight with her hunger and her despair into a hollow thing, its broken pieces and cracked edges sharp enough to draw blood. She watched his head nod twice, tight with unhappiness, that familiar tic jumping in his jaw.
"Fine," he said, placatingly, his hands lowering. "Fine, Zuri. But I want you to know that even if you don't want to talk about it now, I'm here. I'm not going to make the mistake I did last summer and leave you alone." Phiel's eyes were suspiciously bright, and he smiled a little. "Do what you have to, but know I won't let you be alone with this."
Zuri's head felt so light that she thought she might float away, but instead, she nodded once, slowly, mechanically, still not feeling fully in control of herself. "Okay," she said, and then as quick as she was able, she escaped to her room, which felt like a trap in and of itself. She just had to calm down, and she curled back up in the bed, trying unsuccessfully to clear away the rubble and clutter at the edges of her mind.
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Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2015 10:12 pm
Zuri felt like a ghost as she drifted through the day at work, neatly writing up bits and pieces for files, mechanically doing her duties. The misery of hunger followed her around everywhere, though she hadn't sat under the lamp the night before. That had felt strange in itself, after having worked herself up to a half-hour a night. To just sit at her computer and not think about the misery of the sun lamp, not baking in her own discomfort, was a little slice of heaven all by itself, just as she'd thought it might be. She didn't dare to speak to Nara, beyond the most cursory of brief smiles and greetings. It was as if the secret of her illness sat heavy in her chest, tucked behind her teeth, and if she opened her mouth too quickly she might spill it, or he might divine that it was there.
So she sat quiet, absorbed in her own thoughts, wrapped up tight in a soft cardigan. The cloth hung around her in a soft knitted cocoon, and she was very aware of the new looseness of the sleeves around her arms. It had always been large, but now it felt like a blanket, the fabric dangling and bunching awkwardly. A patient had arrived earlier, and she was currently waiting on the cozy couch, her battered flat shoes sitting on the floor and her feet drawn up on the edge of the sofa. Her legs were thin, wrapped in purple-and-yellow plaid leggings, and the box pleats of her knee-length skirt were in disarray. Her curly black hair was straightened within an inch of its life, and even in the summer heat, she'd worn a beanie to her appointment.
Even Zurine, with no training, knew better not to stare. But by the list of the folks that were supposed to be coming into the office, she knew that the girl's name was Lisbeth, and that Lisbeth had a little yellow sticker on her folder, next to her name. The thin girl with the wide brown doe eyes was watching Zurine, and despite herself, Zuri couldn't help feeling a little bit strange about that. Should she react? For the most part, when Nara's patients came through, she didn't have to do much speaking, since they seemed to be in and out quite quickly. But Lisbeth was early, and this left the uncomfortable silence stretching out.
"You're not the usual girl that's here," Lisbeth said after a moment, her voice a little raggedy. "'S she okay?" The girl had a quiet, self-effacing way of speaking, as if she wanted to make it okay not to respond. Zuri looked up, and she had to admit that she was simultaneously glad of a chance to speak and terrified that she'd blurt out her miseries.
"She's fine, as far as I know," Zuri said, and she managed a smile that felt plastic and unreal. "I'm just filling in for the summer. My name's Zurine."
"I'm Lisbeth. You don't look any older than me," Lisbeth said, and she tilted her head, squinting heavily-lined eyes at Zuri, who was quiet for a minute. "And you're tiny."
"Sorry," Zuri said, shrugging and rubbing one arm. How did she answer? Was she even supposed to answer, to make small talk with someone who wasn't here to talk to her. "Mister Nara's a friend of my g-- of my father," she said after a minute, and that seemed to appease the girl a little bit, as Lisbeth leaned back, no longer hugging her legs quite so tight.
"Do they let you know what we're here for?" Lisbeth prodded after a second, seeming interested in a low-key way. "Us patients, I mean. Do you look at our files?"
"Of course not," Zuri said, eyes widening. "All I do is look at your name so I can put it in the right place in the cabinet."
"Not even when you're by yourself, you don't look?" the girl pressed, and Zuri's shoulders tensed.
"No," she said crisply, and she felt her feathers bristle, all prickling. "Not at all. It's none of my business!" She didn't have the energy to hold back on her snappiness, and part of her wanted to snap the girl's head off, just for that little bit of prodding at her. She watched Lisbeth's eyes widen, and she wasn't sure if it was fear she saw or not, but the girl was quiet for a few minutes, long enough for Zuri's nerves to settle. She fussed with her hair, and soon her feathers and jangled nerves were smooth again.
"I'm here because I don't eat right," Lisbeth murmured quietly, and that struck a chord in Zuri. The owl frei was quiet for a minute, but her gaze drifted back to the skinny girl in the too-bright clothes with their mismatched patterns. "But Mr. Nara helps a lot. Just having someone to talk to. Um, that's all I meant to say. You looked really stressed out so I... wanted to see if I could talk to you a little." The girl ducked her head, tucking her hair behind one ear. "Sorry if I upset you." She sounded a little subdued, and Zuri's chest ached. If Lisbeth felt like she felt, then she couldn't bear the idea of the girl thinking she was mad at her. Just because Zuri's hunger was driving her batty didn't mean she ought to take it out on anyone.
Especially not if Lisbeth knew what it was like to feel that gnaw of hunger. She felt some small solidarity with the girl, with the vulnerability of her leggings torn at the knee and the beanie slouching to one side atop her head and the way that her pretty face was twisted with the disappointment of having reached out and been rebuffed. "It's... it's fine," Zuri said, and she managed a smile. "Thank you for talking to me. I-I didn't mean to be so harsh." She hated the burn and press of tears behind her eyes, and fought them back viciously. "And I --"
The office door opened, and the prior patient slipped out, breaking the spell of tension in the waiting room. Even the man murmuring a polite platitude as he escaped the office seemed to ease it. And just before Nara poked his head out to invite Lisbeth into the room with a smile, the girl nodded at Zuri, as if to tell her that her apology had been accepted.
It took all that Zuri had to wait until she got home to cry. Maybe she needed to tell someone everything -- if it could help, then what did she have to lose? Even her stubbornness had a limit, and she was reaching it.
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Posted: Tue Jun 30, 2015 10:58 pm
It had taken two days to get up the bravery she needed to do this, and Zuri was still not sure if she had it in her. But after two more abortive attempts to eat, sitting in her too-warm room with her hands trembling and ice melting in her palms, she had been left wanting again. It had crunched in her mouth, stuck to her tongue, but there had been no relief, no chill racing down her spine, only water and despair and fear like she had never known. After managing to dodge it all her life, watching other people go through things, insulated by a layer of ice like glass, her palms pressed against it as she looked on -- now she was feeling it herself. If she had ever said that she understood, well, now she knew that to be intensely wrong -- but now she did.
After having rebuilt her friendships over the course of a year, Zurine had never felt so alone with a thing in her life. How did one come out and say to someone, oh, I was doing something stupid and reckless, and now I'm afraid I might have broken my ability to eat? She bit her lip, the reality of the situation weighing heavily on her shoulders. The sensation of hunger had become so ever-present that Zuri was more likely to notice the lack of it than the feeling itself, and she pulled herself in close in her chair now, shoulders hunched. It was almost the end of the workday, and she knew from looking at the schedule that the appointment Nara was currently in was almost over. After that, there was a block of time that hadn't been accounted for, and it was then that Zuri intended to ask for help.
The door opened, and a tired-looking man appeared. He'd looked tired when he went in, but now he was smiling. His eyes were red, and the smile wasn't big, but he looked, perhaps, less down-trodden than he had before. He shook Nara's hand as they spoke in murmurs. As he left, the man nodded shyly at Zuri and smiled perhaps a little more before he ducked out into the overcast afternoon. Nara was left in the doorway, sleeves rolled up a little, hands resting on his hips. "That went well," he commented off-handedly.
"That's good," Zuri murmured, and smiled a little, suddenly terribly nervous and trying not to show it. Her facade was not nearly as good as it usually was, though, and it was easy to tell in the furrow of her brow and the pressed thinness of her lips that all was not well. "... I-I've been thinking," she started, voice a little shaky. "Can... I know everybody else has to pay to talk to you, but can I... ask a couple of questions?"
Nara's attention came fully on her now, with his serious, calm face and that one eye full of kindness. Finally, she was ready to trust him. Most people were forced to trust him by others, or by their own fears, until they could, with time, really trust him. With Zurine, it had been a very distant waiting game. "Confidentially?"
He asked this because she was trusting him, and he would not lie to her by ommission. If she wanted it to be between her and him, he'd hold to it like a priest with confession. He would, of course, act if her life was on the line, but he was going to do his damnedest to show her that help was needed.
She swallowed hard and nodded, the limp feathers at her brow bobbing softly. "I... I probably should have talked to Phiel about it but... I thought I could handle it by myself," she said softly, a little ashamed. "I... but it's stupid and I probably did it to myself..."
He came out into the room and sat at one of the chairs in front of her desk, giving her the barrier to make her feel safe and the seat of power to make her feel in control. He sat casually, elbows on knees, leaned forward so that she would know he was taking her seriously and wanted to help. "Let's talk it out before we judge, alright? Often times a problem looks different after it is out in the open."
She looked at him for a long minute, quiet, her hands resting palms-down on the top of the desk so that she felt grounded, so she couldn't escape, even though she nearly desperately wanted to. Now that she was talking to someone who could possibly help, it seemed that suddenly it was a foolish problem, perhaps all in her head. But then, what better person to talk to about it?
A deep sigh escaped Zuri, and she rubbed her eyes, tired and heavy. "Okay." She was quiet for a second, and then, "I... may have... made myself sick. I... wanted to... to be warm, like everyone else... and one of the men at the lab, he said maybe because part of me is sort of a flower -- it's a rose made out of ice -- maybe sunlight would be good for me and make me warm, so that I could be out and about during the summer..." It all had come rushing out in a sick, twisted tangle, and she couldn't stop now, like nausea, her throat tight as gagging.
"So I started with the lamp and then -- and then it wasn't fast enough because every time I ate, it just cooled me back off and so... so I stopped eating." Finally, the words came out that she had been holding in, and it felt like a weight had left her chest, lightening her head until she felt as if she might float away. "I stopped eating and I haven't eaten in... in almost three weeks." They felt heavy as a stone, thick with importance, and she felt as if she wanted to sob and weep, but she had disgorged the problem, now, and it lay in its simplicity and messiness before her, something she couldn't untangle by herself.
He considered for a time, trying to formulate his response, though he kept eye contact with her. This was important, she was important. His fears for her were realized, but he knew he had to handle it delicately. He took a breath. "Well... they first thing you should know is that you are not alone. While your circumstances are different, you have something happening to you that happens to many people. More people than you think. I want you to know that you are not alone."
He smiled softly, full of compassion. "I would like to know how you feel about what's happening to you. Can you give me a few words about it?"
She let out a heavy breath, and Zuri's eyes slid down to rest on the desk now, breaking that eye contact. Her shoulders slumped. "I'm scared," she said, very softly. "And I hurt. This isn't... what I wanted at all..."
He nodded, breathing in deep. "How do you want to proceed from here? If you could do absolutely anything, no matter how unrealistic, what would you do?"
"I -- I just -- I just want to be able to do what my friends can, to not feel bad during the summer, to not always have what I can do dictated by the weather!" Her tone sharpened, and she looked at her hands, which were shaking, clenched tight.
"I can see that you feel frustrated by that." He clasped his hands together and thinned his lips a moment. "I'm going to ask you a very hard question, Zuri, and I want you to think a moment before you answer me. What is more important to you, being able to be out in the summer, or living with a healthy, balanced body, free of this pain?"
She fell quiet, and let herself think, chewing her lower lip. "... I-if you'd... have asked me that question before, I... I would have said being able to be out in the summer, but..." Zuri exhaled deeply. "... But now, even though I try to eat... it won't work."
"I've seen this sort of thing a lot, Zuri," he said, trying to reassure her. "You've starved yourself, made your body into a sort of biological desert. It won't be solved by a meal or two. In fact, you should not attempt to eat like you used to. You need to take it slowly, a little at a time. Think of yourself as a baby, needing forgiving meals and gradual readjustments."
She looked up at him, eyes widening. "R-really...?" That gave her hope, her heart fluttering suddenly. "I-I... I might not be... in real trouble...?"
"My dear, you'd be in real trouble if you collapsed and had to be given medical attention, which is very much something that can happen. However, I think you are not near that point, thankfully." He reached across the desk, offering his hand. "You are lucky. You admitted you have a problem now, rather than then. Some people don't do that. And this has a possibility of being something you struggle with for a long time. If you like, I can be your help in this, or I can find you someone that will if it makes you more comfortable."
She nodded, a little dazed as she put her hand on his. She bit her lip. "... I... I'll try and let you help me," Zurine said cautiously.
He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Zuri. I'll do my best to help you."
She felt better, hopeful -- this could work out, she might be okay. Her heart was beating against her ribs so hard it felt bruised. "T-thank you!" she blurted, and squeezed his hand back with her own shaking one. "I-I'll... just try to be patient with myself..."
"Good. Now, is there anything I can do for you? Turn the A/C down a little?" He gave her a teasing smile, inviting her laughter.
She couldn't help it -- she smiled a little, and maybe even gave a soft, weary little chuckle. "I think... I think I just want to go home! I've been... so worried all day..."
He gave her hand a pat. "Alright. Have the rest of the day off, my dear. Would you like me to call Phiel to pick you up?"
She nodded, smiling a little. "Y-yes please..."
[ Co-written with Patmos of Endtimes ]
Zuri's Opinion: I can do this... Can it be this easy?
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 8:41 pm
Everything was hot. Frustratingly, infuriatingly hot, sticky-wet-humid without so much as a breeze to stir the air, and Zuri lay still on her back, her head tipped back and her throat exposed. She felt fragile, unstrung, like she was melting, and her hair lay in unbrushed, lank strands tangled in the sheets. The air conditioner had been out for only six hours, but July by the ocean was all sunshine and wet salt air, and there was no relief from it.
The small fan that Phiel had brought in was very little use. It had oscillated slowly, ruffling papers and sheets and hair, but it did nothing to ease Zuri's mind, so she'd turned its rattling annoyance off, and it sat silent on the desk beside the computer she hadn't turned on in two days and the lamp she was too afraid to use again. She'd tried several times since talking to Nara to eat, only to fail each time. Her nerves were frayed, and she found herself again barely holding on. She'd cried on and off since then. Nara had said to give it time, be patient with herself, but she couldn't. Each failure felt like a crisis -- how could she fail at something so simple as eating?
But there was a small, perverse, twisted little pleasure in it, too. She had come so far. Even months ago, lying in a room as hot as this would have felt as impossible as swimming in fire, and yet here Zurine was. Coping. Dealing with the discomfort of heat like any normal person would have. Wasn't this what life was supposed to be like? Normal folks could cope with things like this without batting an eye, and yet it felt like the end of the world for Zuri. Heat and hunger and fear felt like they'd tie her in knots, but she didn't have the strength to fight it anymore. After all, that little voice said, wasn't this what she had wanted? Nothing standing between her and the warmth she had so craved. Nothing in the world that could stop her, not even herself.
Because wouldn't eating cool her down, just as it always had? Hadn't that been the problem the whole time, the reason she had stopped? And there was that perverse, twisted little jolt of pleasure said, yes. Yes, she had wanted this. Yes, she had sacrificed so much pain and effort, and how could she just give up now? Hadn't it been so lovely to lie down next to Cesc and sleep, so cozy, tucked in against his side safe and warm, to not feel as if she was fundamentally and completely broken by her very nature? Didn't she still want this on some level?
She'd lied to Nara, that little devil's advocate said to her, and she closed her eyes, turning her head. Her sticky, salt-wet cheek stuck to the stuffed sugar glider, and Zurine tried to hold back another wave of tears. She had lied to Nara when he had been trying so hard to help her. For shame. This was her fault, after all -- maybe if she'd been honest with him, he'd have been able to help her, but now she was going to have to keep this secret, too -- to pile it atop the others. Zurine had never been a secretive person, but it felt like the lies and the secrets and the hurts were bunching up so tall she couldn't see over or around it, no way to escape the prison she'd built for herself out of hunger and half-truths and fear. All she had wanted to do was experience the world without discomfort, but how could she when her very being was so intrinsically incapable of it?
She sat up, aware suddenly that she was breathing too fast, too light; her ribs ached, her head was light, her lips parted and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Maybe she deserved this, the voice suggested, mocking. Maybe this was what she deserved for trying to be something she was not.
When the panic hit, it felt like a freight train, shattering and powerful and too big to wrap herself around. All Zuri could do was hold on, cling to the face of it and sob while her throat felt like it was closing and the world felt like it was tilting, spinning crazily off its axis. It felt like catastrophe, it felt like nothing would ever be okay again, like her heart would dash itself to death against her breastbone and she'd disappear. Maybe, she thought, disappearing wouldn't be so bad.
Everything stopped, then, like someone had poured ice into her chest. For a moment she considered fighting it, when she felt the restless prickle, the skin-too-tight sensation of stepping out of her own mind and letting instinct take over as it had so recently done, reducing her stressors to predator and prey, to simple black and white. She thought about struggling, about asserting her own will over it to keep her conscious. But by the time she had firmed her nerve enough, it was too late, and the door of the house hung open behind her, swinging softly shut on its hinges to close with quiet finality.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 9:34 am
It was nearly dawn when Phiel came home from work, leaning heavily on the bannister as he climbed the stairs, feeling his bones creak with exhaustion and his head spin. All he wanted was his bed, even if the house was hot. He wanted dark and quiet and space to decompress, the knowledge that all was well and the world was going to continue turning if he took his eye off it for one moment.
When he went to slide his key into the lock, however, he turned the doorknob, just as he always did before turning the key. He expected the lock to catch -- the door was bolted after all -- but instead, it slid open smoothly without so much as a click. The door swung inward, oiled to perfection, into the stifling-hot house. All the lights that he had left on were still on, the fish tanks' filters and airstones bubbling and humming softly and tirelessly away into the night. The fact that the door was not latched immediately pinged something in the back of Phiel's mind --
Zuri.
Where was Zuri? Was she safe in her bed? He felt as if he was walking through molasses as dread swirled heavy around his feet, slowing his steps as he strode through the house, his stomach full of leaden anxiety.
He knew before he even turned the corner that she had gone. She was always very conscientious about closing her door, always private about what went on in her room to some extent, but now the door to her room hung open, seeming somehow wrong. "********," Phiel said with feeling, and suddenly the leaden heaviness had gone and he found himself inside the bedroom, looking around for some clue to what had happened. Had someone taken her? Had she left on an errand? His mind filled in endless possibilities for what could have been the case, but there was nothing in the room to give him a clue -- nothing at all except for an unmade bed, the fan lying crookedly upset against the closet door. He fumbled for his phone, pulled it out of his pocket and hit the icon he'd put on the home screen that sported her smiling face, the first picture he'd ever taken of her. He knew that picture so well, with her eyes round with brand-new baby innocence, her hair loose and her cheeks softly flushed with healthy color. When had he gone wrong?
It wasn't a productive line of thought and he knew it, and he pressed the 'dial' icon, raising it to his ear. He heard a voice whispering what sounded like a prayer, and didn't understand for a minute that it was his own. "Come on, come on," he said tersely, the exhaustion blown from his bones like dust.
The phone rang twice, and then he felt his stomach drop as he heard her ringtone in the room, muffled. A moment's ruffling with the covers produced Zuri's phone, merrily jingling with some cheerful pop song. Holding it in one hand, he looked at the screen for a moment, then hung up his own phone. "<********>" he said again, feeling terrified. Where had she gone? There was no real signs of a visible struggle, nothing but the fan that had been upset. But Zurine was so small and frail, especially recently, that someone unscrupulous could have easily scooped her up and taken her away. He knew Zuri had powers that a human of her stature wouldn't have, but the knowledge was soon drowned by the fear that something terrible had happened.
He dialed Nara quickly as well, his head full of terrible scenarios that all had the same inevitable end. But perhaps she had simply gone on her own to the office, to wait for Nara or to get a head start on her work for the day? Nara's sleepy voice on the other end of the line when he finally picked up made it clear to Phiel that was not the case. Nara hadn't received any calls about the door being opened. The therapist's voice was soothing to hear, but he had no real advice to give other than to stay calm and not jump to conclusions, and to take things step by step. He told Phiel he'd get dressed and come help him look, and Phiel thanked him profusely before hanging up.
Where else could he try? he thought, feeling a little calmer. Who else could he call? Guilt weighed heavy on him, bowing his head, but he looked down at Zuri's phone with its cheerful pink flowered case. His thumb ran across the screen, and he unlocked it after a moment. The home screen lit up with its cheery picture of a deer and an owl in the snow. One missed call, it said in the menu. One missed call and one text.
He was not in the habit of reading her private correspondence, but there were not many folks on her contact list, and the only recent text had come through early this morning -- a picture of a tray of pastries, from Cesc. He bit his lip. He'd almost forgotten with how little he had seen the pink-haired boy in the past year. With his work, and Zuri's work, and the fact that she'd been in such rough shape the summer before -- he hadn't immediately come to mind, though he'd known they meant a lot to each other, at least before Zuri's episode. What if she had gone there?
He put her phone down, and raised his own again. Sitting down heavily on her bed, he dialed the number he had for the bakery. It was as good a place to start as any, and he trusted their honesty. Besides, if nothing else, they could add to the search.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2015 6:19 pm
Phiel was sitting on the edge of the bed as he cradled the phone in his hand, waiting for the other end to pick up. His heart was pounding, and not even exhaustion could have kept him still for very long as he stood up, pacing a circle on Zuri's floor. In this mindset it was hard to keep himself from fussing, and he began to set things right while he waited, straightening the fan and picking up some dirty clothes, telling himself it was the easiest way to look for clues as to where his wayward charge had gotten off to. Despite this, he couldn't keep the thoughts of horrible things out of his head, even though nothing else in the house seemed to be disturbed.
"Vermillion bakery," came a voice, professional but friendly, on the other line. The soft Castillian accent and warmth in the tone immediately identified that voice as Cesc's. It was early for a call-- too early for bakery hours to have begun-- but it was obvious that the stag was already up and working, as there was no surprise or grogginess in the greeting.
Phiel exhaled softly, and gripped the phone, closing his eyes. "Hi. It's Phiel," he said, and his voice was a little terse, a little rough. "Sorry to call at this hour. Er... but I'm hoping you've heard from Zurine. Have you? This morning, that is..."
On the other side, there was a slight noise as Cesc turned back toward his pastries-- the same ones he'd sent, not so long ago, in a text message to Zurine. Ever since her cry-out, he'd been trying to keep in contact, keep in arm's reach of her, just in case she were to need it. Silly boy--so far he had thought he'd done quite well.
Phiel's question put that notion right out of his head.
Cesc straightened and stiffened, stopping his work, his brow furrowing as the muscles at his neck and shoulders tightened.
"I haven't," he said slowly. "Not-- not this morning."
He fumbled for the phone in his pocket, getting a streak of powdered sugar across his hoodie and a handprint of white over his phone. No missed texts -- of course no missed texts. His voice held a note of alarm in it as he spoke again. "What's going on?"
"I just got home from work," Phiel said slowly. "The door was unlocked, her door was open, and her phone was left in her room, which was also open. I don't mean to alarm you -- I'm just calling to see if you have seen her." He was quiet for a moment. "I know she hasn't been feeling well this summer. I know she's been talking to you, you're the last person she texted -- I'll apologize for snooping in her phone when I find her. Do you have any idea where she might have gone if she was upset?" He was trying to keep his voice very steady.
Cesc was listening, but the more he listened the louder his heart pounded, trying to get his attention. He felt suddenly like the room was too small, poorly ventilated, like he was too big for his clothes and they were tightening, constricting around him. Zurine was gone somewhere; that wasn't too odd, was it? She had come to visit him on whims now and again, in the winter, showing up at his window with a tap and a smile--
-- Rhedefre thought of her in that dark room, cradled around her sugar glider plush, tears staining her cheeks. Her choked admissions about warmth and the light and how much she wanted to be different from that perfect porcelain put-together creature she was, like a china doll begging to be made straw. The feeling that washed over Cesc, that washed away the calmness of his reasoning, was fear-- and anger.
This was the second year. The second goddamn year! The second year summer had fiddled with her psyche, the second year he'd been outside of it, the second year Phiel had done or known nothing before it was far too late.
There was a brief silence on the line. The anger crept up the sides of Cesc's face and squeezed tight his jaw. The second year she'd be alone somewhere, grieving somewhere for ********-- ********, that little bird-brained beauty, that precious idiot-- what was there to be upset about?!
He pulled open the side door, full of angry upset, full of fear for her.
"I can find her," he said, voice pinched. "Thank you for calling; I can find her, just give me-- just give me a little bit, okay?"
Usually those promises were tempered by the words 'I think,' or 'I'll try.'
For a moment, Phiel could have sworn he could feel that rage coming through the line, as if his guilt could have weighed on him any heavier. He closed his eyes and nodded, exhaling deeply. "... I hate to have had to call you. God, I-- j-just --" His own voice tightened, sick and fearful. "... When you find her, I -- take care of her, all right? I know you will, but..." He rubbed his face hard, feeling suddenly as if he was the worst man on the face of the earth, as if nothing he could ever do would apologize more fully to Zuri. Perhaps someone else ought to have been chosen as her guardian. Maybe --
Right now there was no time to think like that. He'd feel sorry later, once Zurine was safe and found and he could sit down and talk to her.
"Yes, sir." It was amazing how that habit never went away. Cesc did not feel like calling Phiel 'sir.' He did not feel like being particularly respectful. He just felt like getting off the goddamn phone and finding Zurine. His rational mind was swirling-- he couldn't leave! What about the pastries?!
Oh, ******** off, he told his rational self. The pastries would be fine. And if they weren't, who gave a s**t.
He pulled open the door and yanked off his hoodie, fluffing out his wings and preparing for flight. "I will. I'll call you when I do."
"All right," Phiel said, swallowing hard. "Thank you. Good luck... I'll have my phone with me."
Cesc clutched his phone in one hand and hovered in the doorway. His heart was still beating, still thudding in his chest. He needed-- he needed something of Zuri's, something that needed her, felt her loss. He needed the scent.
Did he?
Angrily, he bade his heart be silent. He frowned darkly and closed his eyes and tried to picture Zurine. He pushed aside the image of her bent in her bed and weeping. He pushed aside the image of her in Cruz and Anita's bathroom, frost rimmed lashes and pink eyes.
He thought of her smirk as she won her keychain at the fair. Her hair haloed in orange light and crowned with breathing, fluffing feathers. He thought of her gleefully taking his popsicle because it suited her better than her smoothie, or the angle of her cheeks to her chin when she laughed. He thought of the delicate way she braided her own hair and spoke so carefully and prettily to her webcam and absolutely loathed it when the camera jostled when he'd bump the table with his elbows.
The way her hand was small in his, the way she decorated a cupcake without patience and longed to taste one already. Her text messages with twenty five extra emoji than necessary. Her phone always running out of batteries and her begging him to use his for her Insta.
The dawn was starting to call him, to fill him with energy and light. Gold filled his antlers and his eyes beyond his irises. It had not yet arrived, had not yet broken, but his mother felt his need and gave him more strength, more power.
He took flight.
Zurine had been lost. Perhaps at first she had not wanted to be found -- whatever predator-brain kept taking over in insistence that she hunt before she starve would have driven her to hide, to take cover, and she had been doing that for hours now, curled in the darkness and trying her best to be a part of it. But she didn't have an owl's shape, or wings that could truly fly, and the temptation to simply let the owl's instincts take hold was complicated by that. She couldn't roost. She couldn't hunt, not really, not with her hands trembling-weak and her body heavy with exhaustion. Zurine had gone beyond that, and each time the owl's instincts sent her skittering after something small and squeaking in the dark, it had ended with an undignified crash.
She had wandered out of the park, and now, half in control of herself, she floated further in the hazy grey light, feeling the warmth of the sun approaching and rubbing her arms, squinting up into the east and huddling deeper into her nightshirt, as if the light cotton cloth could protect her. She was so hungry. So empty, like the last rattling bone of something picked clean, already gleaming with grim finality. What else was there, if her body had decided she couldn't eat anymore? Was she going to die?
Stopping against a tree, she felt tears streaking her cheeks. She'd thought she was done crying, but as the world began to come slowly and in pieces back into full focus, everything seemed too hopeless. She didn't even know where she was. The street signs were unfamiliar, the buildings weren't right, and she had no idea what direction to turn to get back home, even if she could have made it back. She sank down slowly beside the tree, resting with her back to it, her feathers ruffled by the rough bark. Her phone wasn't even with her, not in the nightshirt she was wearing. It was too loose to even hide anything in. Without any other option, she just wept.
For Cesc, there was no hunt. No peeking around branches, no lying in wait, no strategy. There was only the coming dawn and the golden thread that lead him, the terrible-wonderful power he was never fond of comfortable with that made this-- this! -- this terrible scenario find him over and over. The jungle, with Dr. Kyou. Xiu's voice leant to that demon man. Lazarus, alone in that mausoleum, his wings torn from his back.
He did not want these things, did not want the ever-tightening, ever-focusing of that gold cord that tied him to the lost. But even more he did not want the alternative. Dr. Kyou wasting away while they lingered in the heat of the jungle. Xiu mute, the demon and his woman long dead. Lazarus bleeding out in the quiet of night, with only the dead to see his wounds.
And Zurine. However she was, wherever she was. He needed to find her more than he needed to shelter himself from seeing her broken. He needed-- he needed to find her, to see her, to make her safe.
Rhedefre could feel her now as he darted above the treetops like some unwieldy bird, his wings ever-growing as the dawn began its ascent, his antlers spreading like branches reaching for the sun. The dawn spread through him, relaxing him, taking the calm that surrounded him and pushing it even further outward.
He narrowed his eyes on the horizon. The sky was pink and he was coming closer--
-- there, there she was, huddled and alone and draped in a nightgown that was torn and dirty, and Cesc couldn't breathe, couldn't think, as he landed, soft but desperate, beside her.
"Zurine," he called, quiet, soothing. "Zurine."
For a moment she didn't look up. For a long breath she was certain that beloved, familiar voice was just something her subconscious had conjured up to make her feel worse about the situation. Hadn't she told him before that she was afraid of being lost, and that was why she wouldn't even go to the aquarium alone? She choked back a sob. Her mind was too cruel, she had decided, and that was why she was in this situation -- the unbearable unkindness of a mind that wouldn't allow her to just be happy with what was, would reach and reach and reach until it found something sharp to wound itself and then dwindle back down into itself.
But after a moment, she had to look up, her dark eyes hollow and her cheeks wet -- and when she saw him, glowing and brilliant like the sun, her mouth opened. A strangled, hoarse sound escaped her, and she tried to lift herself, but she couldn't, too weak and exhausted to even stand at the moment, overcome by hunger and weariness. "... You... you're really here?" Zurine asked, and her voice was hoarse and ragged with tears. "You... you found me..."
The dawn rose and Cesc saw Zurine with the light on her, bruised and tiny and face wet with dirt and trailed with tears. His heart twisted painfully as he saw her black eyes trying to focus on him, on the light of dawn that made and fed him. He came forward to her as she made a noise, unlocked by the pitiful cry of her voice.
"It's okay," he whispered, quiet, frightened. He gathered her gingerly, gently, to him. "It's okay, Zurine, it's okay. You're never lost. I'll always find you. It's okay. You're okay now. I have you, Zurine."
She curled up against his chest, burrowing her face against his shoulder, as if she could hide there, and not have to face the world. "I-I -- I'm sorry," she whispered, letting him take her meager weight and hold her. "I'm sorry a-and I -- s-should have told you how bad it was but --" She was shaking like a leaf, trembling, utterly spent, unable to think of words that could make this okay. Even in the wreck she was, she felt bad for having lied by omission to him, having not told anyone what the real extent of the problem was. Now it was painfully clear, words or not, and she found herself speechless, just clinging as if without his steadiness to hold onto, she'd fall apart.
"Shh now, hush," Cesc murmured, extending his wings up and around her, cocooning her in pink and golden light. His heartbeat was quick in his chest, and his mind numb to keep from going wild, but he managed to keep his voice steady. The calmness that surrounded him enveloped her in a warmth that wasn't physical, soothing her, imploring her body to release its tension and relax. "Don't apologize. I'm here now. I'm here."
That soothing warmth and light wrapped around her slowly began to ease the sensation of being strung too tight, and slowly she began to relax in his hold, her breathing slowing to a more normal rate, the trembling slacking off by slow degrees. Zurine was so tired she could have fallen asleep there, wrapped in the comforting scent and closeness of her best friend's presence. Her fingers gripping his shirt loosened until it was just a hold, an anchor to remind herself where she was. The guilt still sat heavy in her chest, but it felt more distant now, smaller, easier to bear. She swallowed softly, gently nuzzling her forehead against his shoulder as her own heartbeat grew steady and calm, as if it could match the one she felt under her cheek. "You always rescue me," she murmured after a long few moments, just a little muzzily.
"Returning the favor," said Cesc very quietly, gathering the strange half-weight of a Raevan against himself, bracing Zurine with one hand as he tilted backward, opening his wings to fly.
"Zurine," he said carefully, softly, stroking her mussed hair with one half-clumsy hand. He did not want to focus on her too distinctly, did not want to see what she had done to herself before they were away from here. His wings were still massive from the dawn, strong and powerful enough to take them both. "I want to move you. I'm going to take you from here. Do-- do you want to go home or to my home? Where can I take you that you will be easy? Where do you want to be?"
She held onto him, aware of what was going on, but dazed still. She knew that Phiel was going to be upset, that he would probably blame himself. And she also knew that she needed to rest, to be comfortable and calm while she got her bearings back. She probably couldn't do that in her own bedroom, where the images and emotions were drowning-deep in the air. And Phiel would want to talk. She thought perhaps she was ready to, but she needed to rest first.
"Can I go home with you, for a little while?" Zurine asked softly, opening her eyes again to look up at him. "I-I... probably need to... be honest with Phiel... but I'm so tired." She couldn't help the plaintive tone in her voice, but hated the wavering sound of it nonetheless.
"Okay." If there was anything in Cesc that felt angry with her, upset with her shoddy treatment of herself, disappointed, his voice did not betray it. He spoke with calm assurance, his wings pushing hard downward to lift him and his cargo upward. "It's fine. We'll take you to the bakery, clean you up, and you can rest. You can see Phiel whenever you are ready to. Is that fine?"
He flew more slowly now, carefully, not wanting to jostle her lest she shatter like an icicle. Cesc had heard a story, heard that Zurine was not the first ice rose…
He frowned, his jaw twitching. Unprofitable thoughts.
She nodded, breathing more deeply, more steadily. Her eyes were closed, and she was smiling just a little. "That's... perfect. A little rest will... make me feel a lot better." She was quiet for a few moments, then said softly, "I'm sorry if I'm too heavy..."
There was a long moment of silence as Cesc had to bite down his reply: I wish you were heavier. Instead, he said nothing, tightening his grip on her gently, trying his hardest to navigate flight with a passenger. He was thankful of the timing -- blessed dawn, blessed wonderful dawn!-- for his added strength. It wasn't until he spied the bakery, his arms tired but locked, his back and wings beginning to ache, that he replied. "It's nothing."
He landed them at the side door of the bakery, his wings shining and folding back to their usual size. The stag held her for an extra moment as he fumbled with the door handle. Work-- ********, so much work he had to do yet, so much still undone before open-- would have to wait an extra moment.
"Zurine," he said softly, taking a few steps toward the staircase to the residence. "Do you want me to clean you up?"
By the time they had made it back to familiar ground, Zuri was more drowsy than not. But when he spoke again, her eyes snapped open as she lifted her head, looking up as her mind processed what he'd said. "A-ah -- it... it would be nice to be clean," she admitted. "But if you need to do something else I can probably do it myself..." Already she felt like a burden, a useless weight for others to carry, heavy on those whom she'd never wanted to worry. Someone she had wanted to surprise with good things, and after all this time and effort, it had gone so terribly bad...
She swallowed down the lump rising in her throat. "I know you were probably working on something before you had to come find me."
"It's okay," said Cesc, shaking his head. He fumbled with the door handle to the stairs and realized belatedly he was still somehow managing to clutch his phone -- he set it aside for now, on the floor at the bottom of the steps. There was still a smudge of powdered sugar from the normalcy of the morning, and the bakery itself was suspended in a sleepy stasis, waiting for the normal routine to begin again.
"It's not a big deal," he said again. He floated up the stairs in half-balance, taking Zurine straight to his bathroom. He pulled open the curtain and eased her down into the tub.
He paused, half-crouched over Zurine. What to do now? He couldn't-- disrobe her. They weren't -- hadn't --
Cesc squashed down the thoughts and reached up, pulling a washcloth off the towel rack. He turned on the water from the tub spout and not the shower-- all cold, as cold as it could go-- and soaked the towel. He craned his neck and reached forward, slowly mopping her face with an awkward tenderness, unsure of what to do.
As the temperature of the water reached her senses, Zuri's eyes flickered open as she gasped softly. Even that ordinary, plain cool water felt icy, and goosebumps prickled her skin, the wilted little feathers at her hairline standing up at attention. She'd been sleepy, but even this chill felt so good that she wondered why she hadn't tried it before. Instinctively, she nuzzled her cheek into that soothing hand, her nightshirt sticking to her skin and outlining the frail thinness of her limbs. "Oh, that feels so good," she sighed sweetly.
Rhedefre could not keep himself from looking down at her body, but there was nothing lewd or lusty in his gaze. His cheeks hollowed and the space under his eyes darkened with concern. How had she kept this from him, this loss of curve and muscle, the unhealthy lines of her collarbones deep and straight. He swallowed; the water should have, would have turned frosty on her skin by now, instead of trailing drops down her face, muddy water swirling down the drain.
The water kept coming in colder, and Cesc thought-- the walk in, the freezer, he could put her there to rest. For now, he cleaned her face and cupped his hands under the faucet to clean her hair.
Behind him, he heard Shepard's footfall, the crack of the door, and a wordless escape. He half-turned but only saw the man's retreating footfall and subsequently his descent into the bakery-- good. Shepard had understood. The work would be done, and Cesc could focus here.
"How are you feeling?" Cesc asked, bracing the back of her head in one of his hands as he poured the water over her hair-- her hair, usually so silk-soft and well groomed, plaited so carefully that not a strand was out of place. What had she gone into that wood for?
She couldn't help it -- it felt good to be taken care of, after the hell she'd put herself through. It felt wonderful to feel those gentle hands supporting her, the cool water flowing around her, soothing. To be clean was a wonderful thing, and she willed herself to ignore the shame. "A-actually... the water feels so nice," she murmured softly, and some color came to her cheeks. "I didn't realize how... how overheated I was." She looked to one side, and a few tears streaked down her cheeks unbidden. Zurine hoped that they were well-camouflaged by the water soaking her hair. "Am, I guess. -Am- overheated. I guess that's... a large part of the problem..."
Cesc watched her glumly, the reality of the situation beginning to weigh on his heart. Poor Zurine! She looked every inch of her a bird in a storm, wet and small and unhappy. He wanted to wipe the sadness from her like he had the mud. How had it gone so south so quickly? Weren't they out and about just weeks ago, rebuilding their friendship, taking steps toward being right again?
"You are," Cesc agreed, nodding. He lay his wet hands loosely at the edge of the tub. "I want -- let me cool you down a little. Don't say no, please. We have the walk-in freezer. Let me take in some pillows. Take a nap in there; its clean, it's possible." He ventured a tiny smile, trying to catch her eye. "It smells like ice cream."
Part of her wanted to say no. That traitorous little slick, slithering voice lurking at the corners of her mind, clinging to the darkness, whispered you'll undo all your hard work, and then again after a moment, don't you want--
She swallowed tightly, eyes closed for a moment against the sickness, the compulsion, that secret shameful pleasure she took in feeling empty and warm. It felt suddenly too big to get over, like staring down a wall with her wings clipped and her hands tied behind her back. Nothing had ever felt so insurmountable as taking the whole of the summer's misery and letting it go in one fell swoop, throwing the hard-won warmth away, even though it could very well be the death of her it she let it. And it would have been easy to let it, too. Her hands rose, and she rubbed her upper arms, the wet cloth of her nightshirt rucking itself up around her shoulders as she sniffled, fighting the tears.
Finally, after a moment, she looked at Cesc, that little smile, that hopeful look in those much-loved eyes. She was so tired, it didn't take much convincing. The freezer would be quiet and cold and safe, away from the sun and the worries of the world. And, she thought to herself, he was right, it smelled like ice cream. She couldn't help the way the corners of her lips curved into a fragile little smile, and a few more tears spilled over the edges of her lashes. "Okay," she agreed, her voice small, and then again, more sure this time. "Okay... I'll try."
"Wait--" Cesc scrambled up from his position, wanting to act before she could change her mind. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, to stroke her hair, and then he rose. "I'll set it up and come get you. One second."
He held up a finger and floated backward out of the bathroom. Moving quickly, he darted into his room and ripped the pillow off his bed, then the ones in the linen closet and the blankets off the couch. With this small mountain he went down the stairs and into the bakery, where Shepard was working in an undershirt and athletic shorts and flip flops, an apron slung over his neck and not even tied around his waist.
"Everything okay?" Shepard said without looking up, lifting a tray of dough balls and setting them in the far oven. They were behind, still, Cesc could see at an instant, but he would help-- after Zuri slept.
"Not really," the stag replied, opening the freezer and pulling in a large basket, dropping the pillows inside. He made a small nest, he thought with vague amusement, looking at his handwork. He tucked the blanket in and propped up the best off the floor, onto an empty wire shelf. Slightly close quarters, but it would do comfortably for a small Frei.
"Does she need to sleep something off?" Shepard pressed. There was a note of warning in his voice: don't do this alone, whatever it is.
"I think it's the heat," said Cesc. "I think she just… overdid it."
It wasn't a lie. He just didn't have the truth. And he'd go into it after Zuri slept, after he could really speak with her, really see what was going on.
He went back up the stairs and opened the door, 'crouching' back over the tub lip. "Zurine," Cesc breathed, touching her shoulder gently. "Are you ready?"
While he was busy making the nest, she'd spent all that time second-guessing herself and her decision, letting that small sick voice tie her up in knots inside, filling her head with disastrous what-ifs that made it feel as if the world was ending. She'd backed herself into a hopeless corner, and she felt paralyzed as she slowly wrung water from her hair with one hand for a moment, then lay quiet again. The coolness had restored just enough of her vitality that Zuri wasn't immediately dozing off, which was both blessing and curse -- it meant she was awake enough to worry, even if she was laying mostly still.
When he spoke and touched her shoulder, she looked back at him with a careful smile, trying not to show how fragile her composure still was, how violent the conflict was in her chest. It was infuriating, the realization that even after all the hell she'd been going through, that Zuri couldn't get herself to be of one mind where it was concerned. She did want to get better, didn't she? The fact that those words -- 'get better' -- felt like such a loaded phrase was so ridiculous it hurt. "I-I'm... ready," she said softly, trying to push herself a little more upright.
There wasn't a need for Zurine to speak up. Cesc knew it was too much to hope for that a little bath would make the owl feel any better-- and if it did, the benefit would surely be small. He wanted to ask her what had happened, why she had been lost, what she had been looking for-- I can help, he wanted to say, let me help. His power to feel loss, to feel grief, emanating from another unguarded soul, spoke clearly enough for her. It hurt, it stung him to feel it from her, but Cesc knew there was little he could do until she decided it was time to tell him.
"Okay," he said, twisting off the tub faucet and reaching up for his towel, draping it over her shoulders. He held up a finger and rose, disappearing for a moment before returning with a folded heather grey tee-- one of his, the first shirt off the top. He was so much bigger than Zurine now that he knew it would drape comfortably over her, more than her nightshirt.
"Here, something clean. I'll let you dry off and put it on?" Rhedefre pulled back the doorway to give her privacy.
She managed to get herself up, and to peel the sodden nightshirt off over her head. In the cool of the room, actual goosebumps prickled her skin, and as she dried herself with as much vigor as she could, she couldn't help but take a little pleasure in that. It was so nice to feel cool again, so pleasant to exist without the looming heat in the room, or the sun lamp beaming down miserably at her. She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath and then slipping into the shirt. It was big and loose on her, and the soft cotton fabric covered most of her, sliding off her dainty shoulders as she lifted herself up nearly to her normal height, though it was an effort, and she had to leave the wet shirt on the floor of the tub.
"Do I look... a little better?" she asked him, smiling uncertainly. Even as sick as she was, Zurine couldn't entirely help her vanity.
Cesc waited outside the door with anxiety shuddering through his veins. He felt like he needed to do some action, to do something definite that would solve everything somehow.
It felt like too long before Zurine exited the bathroom, practically swimming in his tee. He swallowed, and then he smiled just slightly at her question-- sick, exhausted, worn down, secretive and unknowable, she was still herself.
"It would take a real act of God for you not to look good," Cesc said gently, holding out an arm to her to take. "Come… I made you a nest."
She took hold of his offered arm, feeling relieved. When she had come to in the woods it had felt like everything was over, that nothing could possibly save her from this. But holding onto him, Zurine felt hope beginning to rise up in her chest, her heart fluttering with renewed strength. And maybe sleeping in that cold freezer would give her more strength, until she could talk to someone who might be able to help with her feeding problem.
She rested her head against his arm, wet hair soft and still smelling of her shampoo despite the mess she had been. "Thank you," Zurine whispered softly. "Even though I'm a mess, I'm safe, which... helps. A lot."
"You can always come to me," said Cesc. He'd thought it was obvious, unnecessary thing to say--but then again, he would have thought the same a year ago, and what had that helped? The older he got, the more Cesc realized that nobody knew anything unless told; that they were loved, cherished, adored--even when painfully obvious, humiliatingly evident to the person feeling it.
Cesc helped Zurine down to the walk-in slowly, not wanting to tire her. The kitchen was empty, Shepard thankfully out in the bakery front pulling down chairs and making coffee, so they had their privacy. He ushered her in and helped her into the nest he'd built.
There was a moment of quiet in that frigid room, frost on the walls and touching the various steel bowls all around, a strange manufactured landscape imitation of their happiest moment together.
"Please," Cesc heard himself say. "Please, stop… stop hurting yourself." His eyes were anguished, glassy. "Please. You're perfect how you are."
The nest was perfect, and the cold in the freezer felt like heaven, like something she had been longing desperately for. The ache, the heavy misery -- all of it began to lift, and she hadn't realized the weight of it until now, as the quiet, icy air began to carry it away.
She was already halfway to tears when she heard him speak, when her gaze snapped back to him, and those words fully registered in her head. The sheer depth of feeling in them staggered Zurine for a moment, and she had no words to return. He thought she was perfect, she thought, and that brought with it a giddy little tingle despite herself. But that tone, filled with unhappiness -- the look in his eyes felt like a knife biting deep into someplace soft, and the tears were suddenly back. Zurine couldn't stop them from coming if she tried, or the words. Everything came tumbling out in a rush.
"I-- I don't want to do it anymore," she said raggedly, trying to speak around the lump in her throat. "I don't even c-care about being warm anymore, I just want to be happy and not hungry and well but I wasn't eating and now I can't!" She raised her hands, fighting a racking sob that threatened to shake her apart. "I've tried. All it does is melt and I'm still hungry and then I panic!" Admitting to it felt like being sick, like lancing a wound. "That's what happened when you came and napped with me, why I was so afraid... and that's what happened last night, too. I panic a-and lose track of where I'm going and... and wake up somewhere else. Probably b-because I'm so hungry. I stopped using the light, so why can't I just go back to normal?" She looked up at him with her eyes wide and wet, tears streaking her cheeks again.
Cesc watched Zurine and his heart broke for her. Her own pain poured from her to him like a waterfall into a river, wild and cold and untamed. He watched her with helpless eyes, his hands smoothing her hair, his mouth downturned. Was this how she had felt? Seeing him after the jungle, when the positions were flipped and he was struggling; was this the hopeless, terrified feeling that filled her, afraid something had been irreparably broken?
But no, no-- that couldn't be. He was fine after the jungle, repaired and bandaged and strong enough to face worse. Zurine would be, too.
"Shh, now," Cesc whispered, soothing. He let loose the calm of his aura once more, enveloping her in it, offering it to help her find solace. "Don't scare yourself. Don't fret. You can't solve everything right now. You can't do steps one through ten right now. We'll figure this out. I promise you. We Raevans, we can be finicky eaters. We'll figure it out. Let's start at one now. You're tired and you're overheated, and we can solve that. Let's start with that. Let's just do that first."
She cried herself out as best she could, with that warm calm aura wrapping around her heart and that beloved voice whispering soothing things to her. If Cesc said it would be okay and that they could figure it out, then it had to be okay. Now that he knew the whole story, Zuri thought with a guilty little hitch. Now that she had told him everything she had to tell, if he still thought that they could figure out a way to fix it, then she'd be okay.
In the comfortable softness of her little nest, she looked up at him with eyes that were heavy-lidded with exhaustion and swollen with crying, and she drew a deep, shivery breath. "Okay," she whispered. It made a lot of sense, didn't it? "One s-step at a time..."
"Sleep now," murmured Cesc. He moved his hand from her hair and touched the side of her face, light and soft. Already she was colder, as he was growing as well. That could only be good, couldn't it?
He wanted to have answers for her. To lead her to some resolution. He knew feeding to be strange--Melisande's, his own, so many others. There was always a secondary way to feed, wasn't there? Zurine just needed to find it. To ask the Lab. Dr. Kyou-- he was awake now. Cesc had seen it himself. He could help.
Cesc resolved: he would not stand idly by. Whatever Zurine needed, he would help it happen.
It did not take Zurine long to slide into sleep, after that, her breathing slowly evening out and her expression softening slowly. She hadn't slept well in a long while, but in this chilly little improbable nest, it felt a little like home.
Cesc exhaled as Zurine relaxed. He took his hand off of her and slid back, opening the walk in and letting himself out. He felt tired despite being well fed and slept, his eyes raw and his shoulders sore. He wanted to go back to bed, to press reset on the day.
What was with Raevans, he wondered. Did humans have to go through so much bollocks?
Shepard was behind the island counter, focusing on decorating a cluster of tarts. His focus was total, his large hands working deftly although as of late he worked less and less in the kitchen as Cesc took on more and more. Cesc watched him for a long moment. Last year at this point he had worried so terribly for Shepard. He had been so sure that they would all be torn asunder, that Shepard would, with finality, leave them.
And here he was. Still well. Happier than ever before.
It was possible to get better.
"Things any better?" Shepard said without looking up.
"I think they're getting there," said Rhedefre, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. He smiled a worn smile, crouching by the stairs and picking up his phone.
Three missed calls from Phiel. Cesc exhaled and unlocked his phone. He'd promised Zuri she would only be accountable for step one for now. Now, he'd go ahead and take step two.
[ Co-written with Atmadja ]
Zuri's Opinion: If there's one place in the whole world where I'm safe from even myself, it's here. Thank you for always being my safe place...
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Posted: Mon Jul 13, 2015 9:53 pm
Zurine slept for nearly a full eight hours curled up in the little nest in the freezer, ostensibly eight calm, easy hours. No matter how often she was checked on, nothing changed -- her fragile little body stayed cuddled in against the pillows. However, a slow frost was creeping up over her, settling in the damp spots in her hair, adding soft crisp texture to her cooling skin. When she finally woke, she was sober and quiet, but some of the sparkle was back in her eyes. She could move freely, and it felt for a few moments when she first woke that perhaps all was well again. That maybe everything had resolved itself and that she would be all right.
Of course it was not, but Zurine had hope. She was hesitant to go when Phiel came a couple hours later to pick her up. Nara's little red Fiat sat humming away cheerfully at the curb, and he stayed in the car while Phiel came in. The hot beaming glow of the sun was so bright today, the humid airless late-afternoon meant that Phiel had told him it was best that someone keep the car cool. Nara had almost burned his palms on the steering wheel, and the air conditioner was already struggling to keep the inside of the tiny car livable. Zuri was struggling so hard that even though he knew very little about the cause, Phiel was hesitant to put her into any more hot weather than he had to. So that meant he faced the music on his own.
Still, the reception was a little chilly when he came into the bakery. He wasn't sure what he'd expected -- after having to call at an ungodly hour in the morning for someone else to go and rescue his daughter -- his charge, he reminded himself, his stomach wrenching at the reminder of what a terrible father he'd make. Phiel knew he'd been ludicrously ineffectual in this case, and his own insecurity sat in his aching belly like a wide-open pit. It felt a little like a hostage negotiation, but perhaps worse because no one was rude or even unpleasant. Everyone spoke gently, though he could see words that were aching to be said that were being bitten back. He had a few of his own, some of them bitter as bile, some of them honest and appreciative, and the two curdled in his belly. How did one thank someone for doing something one should have done oneself? So he didn't, not just yet.
And the worst part was Zuri, who didn't float over to greet him immediately, but hung back, not quite meeting his eyes. She was still wrapped up in the borrowed shirt, looking smaller and frailer than he'd ever seen her. Her hair was loose, but hung dry in soft pale streamers around her slim shoulders, where the grey cotton just couldn't quite cover. She was fiddling with the hem with scuffed hands that led up to bruised arms, and Phiel could not help but see the lines of stress on her face, the furrow between her brow where the three jewels sat, the pinch of her mouth into a tight little line. Even her wings were folded, and Phiel realized that he'd never seen his little owl look so small and vulnerable, as if all the fight had been knocked out of her somehow. The effect put him in mind of someone in a hospital, under a doctor's care, and he had a sudden rush of fear. What if he couldn't make this better? What if he couldn't help her?
He wanted to ask what had happened, to gain some insight on what he could do to fix it. But he knew by looking at their faces, especially Zuri's, that the information wasn't something she'd share here in public, not with customers milling about. Still, after some quiet words of appreciation, Phiel took her out to the car. He pushed the seat forward so that she could crawl into the back, and she curled up on the seat, her cheek against the upholstery, and closed her eyes. She didn't seem inclined to speak, and Phiel felt that forcing it would only hurt the issue. Useless, impotent anger tangled with the need to help, and he buckled himself back into his seat, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Nara and stewing in his own intense emotions, aware that Zuri was probably feeling worse, but as unable to reach out to her as if she lived on the moon.
She either slept or pretended to sleep until they were home, and Phiel was silent, too.
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Posted: Mon Jul 27, 2015 8:17 pm
It had been nearly a week since the outburst that had landed her last in hot water, and Zuri had to admit that she was feeling a little better -- the chill of the freezer had restored some of her vitality, and Phiel had made very sure that her room was cold again. He had dismantled the lamp, having made some connection that the troubles had only started when she started using it. That was fine by Zurine -- the last thing she wanted to do was make this worse. She still hadn't been able to eat, but she wasn't going to melt the last of her defenses even more, not if she could help it.
But still she had committed to working for Nara, and after missing two days in a row she was surprised that he still wanted her help. She'd heard of people getting fired for worse, but somehow his pitying, gentle look made her feel worse than even that might have been. It was like he knew, he knew and he wasn't going to tell Phiel, just how bad everything had gotten. As far as she knew, he hadn't told, which despite herself, made the whole mess feel even bigger. She was one of those sad, anxious people who sat in his office and told him their problems (she hadn't listened, but that was what she assumed happened anyway) and she couldn't even have the strength to do that. She had money now, so that wasn't the problem, it was just the fear that held her back. Cesc had promised they could fix this, and she had agreed. Zuri would do everything in her power to make it work.
But evidently her body wasn't cooperating. She had broken down three times and tried to eat and each time had failed her miserably. Even sitting in her cooled, cozy room in secret, she hadn't been able to trigger whatever response turned 'putting ice into mouth' to 'feeding'. It was intensely frustrating, and only whetted her appetite more, gave it a keener, bitterer edge that she couldn't seem to get around.
It was with this utter emptiness that Zuri found herself sitting that evening in the chill sanctuary behind her desk at Nara's office, where her pens and papers were all perfectly organized at neat, right angles to themselves, all straight lines and prim dark lines of faux woodgrain peeping up between the stacks of uncrinkled white. Something about the neatness was soothing, and she could breathe a little while she waited for something -- anything -- to distract her. She hadn't slept well, and it showed, near-bruised circles under her eyes that even her usual makeup couldn't distract from. Her wings hung a little limp, and her head was low, and she hadn't even bothered to take a lunch. What was the point? Might as well stay behind the computer and play solitaire.
Life was a complicated thing, Nara had always found. Some people looked at life in black and white, some in greys. Nara didn't just see it as shades of grey, but as an entire palette of colors. Everyone was different. It made what he did challenging, and he wasn't afraid to say he'd messed up before. Today he was going to take a chance with Zurine. It might result in total disaster, or it could be the break needed to take her into a better state of mind. Still, he had to try. Sometimes people needed a little push to see what was really bothering them.
He opened the door into the waiting room and took a look at his secretary. Phiel might have allowed her to work here knowing that Nara was meddlesome, but at the very least Phiel meant well. He wasn’t doing it for Phiel, though. Zurine was a good girl, really, she just seemed very lost. That was part of growing up, getting lost and finding your way on your own. But sometimes people got stuck, or made mistakes and needed help. He planned to help. He smiled his gentle, understanding smile and cleared his throat a little to get her attention.
"Zuri. Would you come into my office for a bit?" He tried to keep his tone level, light-hearted, but firm enough to be taken seriously. It wouldn’t do to have her bolt.
Zuri looked up at him in surprise, her expression weary but guarded, her pupils pinpoints of fear lost in the black. She bit her lip, looking over momentarily at the calendar -- the block was colored in, indicating an appointment, and for a moment she felt a rush of relief. "Okay," she said dubiously. "Don't you have an appointment right now, though?" She had never gone into the room where the therapy actually happened, and irrationally she was a little afraid of what it might be like. She knew the layout, knew what it looked like from the doorway, but her mind was still buzzing-full of the nightmares of last night and the worries of the day, and it seemed like someplace frightening in her compromised state.
"It's fine," he reassured, stepping back and gesturing her in. The place was clean, yes, but there was an absent-minded sort of clutter that made it feel more home-like. The blanket on the couch was ruffled, the pillows not neat and orderly, and several children's toys were still out on the rug in the corner. Even Nara's desk was a bit haphazard, files stacked roughly, pens and pencils bristling out of a clay mug that looked like a child's creation, and a plum sitting on a napkin. "I'd just like to talk to you a little. I scheduled this half hour for you."
She let her guard down a little, fidgeting as she floated around the desk and into the office, her fingers aching with clenched-fist tension. The office didn't feel as tense as she had expected, but it had a lingering feeling (at least she fancied it did) of spent emotion, of other folks' baggage strewn metaphorically over the rug, hiding sharp and small in the cozy folds of the blankets. She was on edge, every feather trembling, her wings just a little open as she watched him, marshaling the last of her self-control into sharp uprightness and a mask of calm around her face, frayed at the edges but still convincing. "For… me? To talk about what?" Zuri asked, resting her hand on the couch's arm, trying to pretend she was comfortable when she wasn’t at all. She hadn’t asked for it, and some small rebellious bit of her was intensely upset about it, though rationally she knew it was a kindness.
He closed the door quietly, resolving himself to this action. She might not like it, and he was guilty about somewhat forcing her, but she really was free to leave if she wished. "I wanted to know how you're doing with what we talked about before. Have you stopped the harmful behaviors?" Nara crossed to the chair beside the couch, sitting down and hoping she would mirror him. She didn't look much better than the last time they spoke of such a serious matter, at least to him. He knew that could be deceiving, but he wanted to make sure she was improving and didn't need medical help for it.
The door closing felt like she was suddenly trapped, and she swallowed a lump of absolute, irrational panic at the sensation. There was no way out, in her eyes -- nothing but the confrontation between them and the wild tangle of her own emotions, which had never felt so hopeless. Despite the rising tide of fear drowning her, she slowly lowered herself into a more seated position, forcing her reluctant bones into compliance. "I... have been trying," she said slowly, guardedly. "But I still can't eat..."
He frowned slightly, a line forming between his eyebrows. His fingers were laced together, elbows on knees. He recognized that she was uncomfortable, but that seemed to be a normal state for her these days, and he knew she needed a release from such tensions. A boiler with too much pressure had two options: It needed gradual venting of that pressure, or an explosion all at once. If she wasn’t able to get these things out gradually, an explosion was necessary. "Do you trust me, Zuri? I ask this because I want to help you, and I hope that you'll let me."
She was quiet for a moment, watching him, her words not coming. She hesitated slowly, and then looked down at the tip of her ribbon, which twitched slowly back and forth, just exactly like a cat's tail. Did she trust him? She didn't distrust him. But could she say that the opposite was true? He was a good person, he was Phiel's friend, and he'd been good to her so far -- but trust, that was a bold word, a big thing to promise when Zuri felt as fragile as she did right now.
"I... I suppose I do," Zuri said, and this time she didn't have the energy to cry.
"I'd like to help you on a weekly basis, if you like. Have you in to talk about your troubles." He shifted a little, giving her a direct look. He’d try the gradual release first, just in case. "You'd be amazed how talking about things can help clear your mind. I think it would make Phiel feel more at ease, as well."
"You want me to be a patient, then?" Something in her chest twisted, and she felt her wings fluff, feathers standing out a little in some unnameable emotion that surprised her with its violence, from somewhere deep inside her. It was the same place from which had come the dissociation, the outbursts that had left her so spent and exhausted in the forest. She didn't like it, tried her best to swallow it down, and it was an almost visible struggle with herself, fingers flexing slowly back and forth as she shifted, staring straight at him in distinct avian aggression, though she’d have never known that was what it was. "I... I don't know if... if that could help..." Her voice wavered, hesitant and slow, but a little louder than necessary, as if she could drown out the buzz of overwhelming emotion.
Nara tipped his head, lips thinning. Her continued tension made him nervous, but he was good at hiding it. "I think you should seriously consider it. I've helped a lot of people, and I'm worried that if you don't get some help soon we might have to seek medical attention for you."
Her wings tightened in, soft blue feathers clamping in against her back as she straightened, rigid, her head tilted and her body angling forward, very subtly. "We? Who do you mean...?" She knew he was just trying to help, oh, she knew that very well -- but part of her was so aggressive with hunger and weariness that Zurine wanted to lash out, no matter how helpful the suggestion seemed. "And what could a doctor do for me? It's not that I don't want to eat -- " He wasn't listening, he couldn't hear her, not really. Her eyes felt so dry, but she wanted to weep -- the tears wouldn't come, not even to relieve her.
"I mean ‘we’ in the sense of everyone who cares for you. And there are ways doctors can help you get better." He moved forward out of the chair, kneeling in front of her. He gently took her hands, smiling softly up at her. "I don't want to see you wither away."
She stiffened -- his hands were warm, and gentle, and that kind smile made her chest ache. Not hearing, not hearing -- not understanding, Zurine's mind told her, delirious with hunger and exhaustion, cranking every reaction up to its maximum. Just the air on her skin felt crushing. Those warm hands on her lukewarm ones were like exclamation points in her head, like electric shocks, and Zuri tensed, letting out a half-feral sound, pulling away as quickly as she could, a little panicky. "I don't want to wither away either!" she said aloud, and her voice was hoarse, harsh as an owl's cry, crashing backwards on the couch, flapping her wings and feeling the feathers bend, a few of the shafts cracking painfully in their awkward position. "I don't want to die -- "
-- there was a flash, dark hair wet against the snow in her mind's eye, blotting out everything else --
Zuri let out a dry, heaving sob, but no tears came; she nearly tossed herself over the back of the sofa, wings to the wall, the tips of several flight primaries twisted and hanging from their shafts of her left wing, and drops of dark blood welling sluggishly to stain the down beneath. She trembled, eyes wide, looking at Nara like something trapped. "Please -- please don't touch," she tried, her tongue feeling clumsy, uncoordinated with unbidden panic.
He sat up straight, surprised but not alarmed, and put up his hands. He would definitely respect such boundaries as that. "Alright, Zuri. I won't touch." He stood slowly, watching her steadily. She was poised on the point of explosion, he thought, but that was no reason to be cruel. "I'm sorry. You're safe, you know. I won't hurt you."
Approaching her carefully, he put his hands out in entreaty. "None of us want you to die. Everyone wants to see you feeling better, but you have to let out all this negativity out."
She tried to calm down, she really did -- her heart felt like it was beating so quickly, it might bruise itself against her breastbone, and her eyes closed. She pressed her palms to them, not wanting to see the approach, trembling and swallowing hard. She needed to be calm, to be quiet, but the cracks at the edges of her mask of calm had spread, and she couldn't pull it back together again. Zurine had nothing to hide behind, and all she could feel was the overwhelming fear. She wanted to go home, but that wasn't an option right now; her body's natural response was to bristle with icy spikes of defense, but she couldn't do that, either. She had failed completely, all of her defenses had gone and she could do nothing else. Her hands rose from her face, her eyes squeezed shut, and her fingers were curled, prim little nails glittering with rose-pink glitter polish, filed to pretty little almond-shaped rounded points.
That part of her that had been taking over, that instinctive part that tried to feed owl-style in the forest when all else had failed, could feel Nara approach. All she could feel was panic, was predator, bigger than her, stronger, and approaching. She couldn't speak, only shake her head, trying to reassert control. Even though she was afraid, she was still Zuri -- she had to be herself, didn't she? Nothing else had worked so far -- but it was so hard to stay with all the panic and all the tangled morass of misery that was all she had left right now, so hard to keep her mind together when all parts of it wanted was to let go and just let herself continue down the path of least resistance, now that she had come all this far --
She lashed out, blind, letting out a ragged breathless screech, high and piercing and plaintive. The first reach found nothing, and the helpless passenger that was her rationality breathed relief.
The second, however, found skin.
It was remarkable how time slowed when bad things happened. It felt like Nara had a full minute to contemplate how thoroughly he had misjudged her as he watched her claws approach his face. He could have sworn he could hear the sudden panicked pulse of his heartbeat, and he could not stop it.
His ability to comprehend the situation skipped a beat, and he was on top of his coffee table, which was inexplicably up against the chair. There was blood on the wall. He felt like something bad had happened to him. He blinked, and it was the worst idea of his life. Searing pain lanced through his face and skull. Could he feel his eye or was his brain still not letting him? His face was wet and felt burned. Had he made a sound? Was it still echoing or had it been lost in her screech? God, the pain! He slid hard off the table and curled up, hand to face. So wet! His hand slipped in it. Was it just blood or was there more in that?
Ragged breaths pulled at his chest; he heard whimpering and it had to be his own. Somehow it made the pain easier to deal with to be vocal. "Ah! Ah! Oh god!" He needed to deal with the situation. He had to pull himself together. Oh god was he holding his own eye in or was it just his paranoia?
Her fingers were wet -- her fingers were wet and Nara was making those panicked sounds and Zuri felt as if she had suddenly been hit by something going very fast. She had no air, her eyes were wide and suddenly clarity hit, almost too much, too fast, like the worst drug ever invented. Zurine was suddenly more aware of things than she had ever been, more focused -- and that perfect awareness felt like the sharp and ragged edges of glass against her already-frayed emotions. Blood dripped from her fingers onto the end of her ribbon and at the end of her ribbon was Nara, he was bleeding, head down, hair like a flag of dark blue, and all she could think of was her dream, all she could see was Nara now lying in the snow, cold and heavy and dead --
But he was alive, he wasn't dead, he was alive -- Zuri's thoughts raced frantically -- alive and she had hurt him, this was her fault, he had only been trying to help. Her lungs expanded, a cramped gasp of air like sipping through a straw finally got to her, and she grabbed the blanket from the couch, the soft tan fabric streaked suddenly with alarm-bell scarlet from her fingers, taking Nara's free hand and pushing the cloth into it to staunch the bleeding. She wanted to scream, to be sick, to escape, but this was reality, and she was desperately grounded in her body for the first time in months with that broken-glass solidity. Every ache and twinge was her and belonged to her body and was as inescapable as a heartbeat.
Zuri had been trying so hard to change herself and escape herself that in the light of that terrifying awareness she felt like all the decisions she had made had been childish and pointless, utterly useless. Childish, to think that she could escape who she was. She was as much owl as she was icy frozen rose, and the owl had brought with it this instinct and violence. Without the icy isolation she had kept herself in for so long, the reality of the world seemed so sharp and bright it hurt to look, but she had no choice.
And since that truth was something she couldn't escape, then the result of that truth was inescapable too. This was her fault, and panic would do nothing to mend it. "I'm -- I'm so sorry," she said uselessly, but it felt so much more immediate, as if everything that had happened before had been on a delay, a worn-out tape being shown behind a layer of thick glass to dull it. Zurine was real, Nara was real, and this was happening, and the phone was in her hand to make the ambulance call before she could even process reaching for it.
Thank god, Zuri... Zuri seemed back in control, in a way, trying to help. Nara didn't like pressing the blanket to his face. It all felt raw and scraped, exposed, and pressing anything to it hurt so badly it stole his breath a moment. However, he knew it would help and so he held it fast to the cuts, forcing himself to breathe. It was shuddery and whimpers kept bubbling up, but he wasn't going into shock, he thought. That was good, but really he couldn’t tell. How was anyone supposed to tell such a thing?
Zuri had her phone. He didn't listen but he thought it was emergency services. God, he wanted Phiel to be here. He wanted those strong arms to help him, hold him maybe. And to reassure Zuri it would be all right. He didn't blame her for this, for he'd pushed her buttons too much. He looked up at her through one blurry eye, tried to smile even though he felt the tug of a cut on his upper lip, then faded back down again. This was, by far, the most violent session he'd ever had, but maybe... maybe it would be the most productive.
"I'm so sorry," Zuri said again, and as the operator asked what the nature of the emergency was, she heard herself giving the clearest, plainest explanation, then the address of the place. She had never felt worse about an action in her life, and as much as she wanted to, she could do nothing about it but follow through, take care of this atrocity that she had committed. And somehow, that fragile little bloody-lipped smile, that wavering half-focused eye made her heart hurt even more.
This was her fault.
"Okay... an ambulance will be here v-very soon," Zurine whispered, and she reached out, almost touched him, almost tried to soothe him, but realized before she did that he probably didn't want her touching him at all, not when she had just nearly ripped his face off. Not when the once-clean blanket was already soaking up scarlet and the room smelled of wet copper and adrenaline. "D-do you... want me to call someone else for you?" Her voice was trembling, but her gaze was clear, her lips pinched to hold herself together.
"Phiel," he said, uncurling a little and sagging against the couch. "You should call Phiel, sweetie."
Waiting was the hardest part. They were stuck in silence the whole time, her probably too guilty to say anything to him, and he too consumed with the pain to form more words.
The paramedics, when they arrived, said he needed a lot of stitches, and that he'd need his eye examined, but it wasn't busted. Nara sat on the gurney, patiently letting one of them clean the cuts and put a truly ridiculous amount of gauze on. His hair was ragged and sticky with blood, but he'd been through this sort of thing before, long ago. It hurt, not just his face, but his heart. He'd provoked her, but still. Well... he could hope that in the future they would trust each other again.
Phiel arrived after they had taped Nara back together, and he didn't know what to say to either of them. Zurine was strangely calm, though the paramedics had checked her too, and asked both of them what had happened, if Zuri needed to be admitted for observation. Both of them had denied it, and she had cast Nara a grateful look. Human medicine would have done little to help what ailed her anyway, and besides, the way forward had never seemed so clear before. The obstacles were so perfectly obvious that she couldn't see why she had never noticed them before.
A police officer that had been called by someone asked if Nara intended to press charges, which he flat out refused to consider, and he bullied the man until he went away. Nara knew that the majority of fault was on him.
In the end, Zurine told Phiel to go with Nara to the hospital, and Phiel insisted that she come with them. She couldn't find it in her to argue, even watching Phiel try to subtly fuss over Nara without being overt. It was as if all the anger and all the fear had gone out of her, replaced with purpose, as she floated beside Phiel in the back of the ambulance, watching her guardian fight the urge to take sides. Guilt filled in all the little places where the other emotions had been, and she didn't speak at all until after they had gotten to the hospital.
[ Co-written with Patmos of Endtimes ]
Zuri's Opinion: I can't believe I did that. I can't imagine that I'll ever be able to apologize to you, Nara. But... I think I know what I have to do.
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Posted: Thu Jul 30, 2015 10:42 pm
It was a waiting game for Zuri after that. The hospital was crowded in the intake room, and they bypassed the ER, since Nara's injuries were not life-threatening. She was incredibly glad that was the case, but they still wanted to admit him to get everything cleaned up and run some checks on the eye, and since Phiel was here, they stayed. Zuri didn't mind too much. She had a lot of things on her mind, and most of them were guilt. How could she have done such a thing to him, when he had just been trying to help her?
But in a way, she thought, he had. It had taken her the remainder of the ride up to the hospital to get her head around what the whole thing had meant, but she had learned something. Now, she was floating slowly up and down the halls, having left Nara getting his face taken proper care of, and Phiel sitting with him. She didn't begrudge him the time with her guardian, and it suited her just as well to be alone right now.
She had once heard that they kept hospitals cold to slow the spread of diseases. That germs couldn't survive so well in chilly temperatures, so between that and the overwhelming astringency of antiseptic that permeated the whole building, they didn't stand a chance. But for Zurine, the longer she spent here in the chilly temperature, the stronger and better she felt, and so she was just enjoying the quiet. She wished she could go and nest back in the bakery's freezer, curl up in her cozy little basket away from the consequences of her panic, back under Cesc's gentleness and understanding. She'd been so stupid. How could she have expected or even wanted to change, when she had such kind and good people around her who liked her the way she was?
She drifted past a room, its door cracked, where the occupants were all crying, it sounded like. Soft, endless, distant sobbing came from inside, and the beeping quietness of a monitor inside, singing quietly in counterpoint to the tears. Someone was not doing well, and Zuri swallowed hard as she drifted past them. The hospital was filled with people who were sick, and most of them, it was not their fault. Sickness was something that had happened to them, not something that they had done to themselves. Zurine had chosen her sickness, and why?
It was because she couldn't accept who she was, in the end, wasn't it? She was violence and instinct and delicate frost and flower-fragile, all of those things that she couldn't have gotten rid of. Trying had only made her miserable and sick, and dragged her family through misery -- she could remember the look of twisted-up sorrow and anger and worry darkening Phiel's face as he stood beside Nara, who lay quiet in the ambulance because of something that Zuri had done. It had been one thing when her sickness was only hurting herself, when she was the only one feeling the effects, but for it to have gone beyond her and made someone else hurt -- that was where Zurine had to draw the line.
But the question remained; how could Zurine beat it? How could she learn to accept the parts of herself that had made her so miserable? She drifted deeper down the halls, quiet as a ghost. Several nurses passed, and Zuri didn't meet their eyes, distancing herself, and no one commented, other than a soft 'is everything okay' here or there. She must have looked like she wasn't feeling well -- a fragile girl in a short dress, her hair disheveled, the soft cloth dirtied in among the flower patterns with rusty stains. Today she couldn't have cared less what she looked like -- it was like something was so close to clicking in her head that she couldn't be bothered.
No matter who or what she was, Zuri thought, she was loved. Even if she couldn't do all the same things that others could, she was still loved. Even after what she had done -- she swallowed back tears at the memory of warm blood on her hand -- Nara had still smiled at her around the red ruin she had made of his face. Even if she couldn't accept what she had done, maybe she could accept who she was? It was a hard thing to propose, though; it was especially hard when she thought of the summers she had spent so unhappy and in so much misery because of the heat. But all of those summers, barring one, she had had support. She'd had help, gentle guiding hands to keep her well. And the only one she had been alone for, it had been her own fault. Even this summer, with all the misery and the hunger that had plagued her and made her ache all over -- Zurine hadn't been alone. She'd been loved, worthy of love, just as she was, wasn't she? So maybe, just maybe, if she could accept herself, everyone else would accept her too. Just the way she was...
She was mulling over this thought as she found herself in front of a refreshment station, next to a lounge for patients' families, right outside the cafeteria. Here she was a little less out of place, as people wandered in and out, coming and going without really talking to each other. They all looked stressed, deep in their own thoughts, and Zuri felt for them. There was a machine outside the cafeteria that dispensed water and ice, and a stack of neatly-wrapped plastic cups next to it on the counter. Did she dare to try? Despite the guilt about what she had done, she was feeling as if perhaps the frustration had bled out of her, and now perhaps she was ready to try to eat again with a clear conscience.
Her hands were trembling as Zuri picked up a cup, holding it carefully in both hands. The emptiness of it felt so heavy, so charged, that she hesitated before putting it under the ice dispenser. A quick button press, and a cupful of ice chips fell with a cool soft crunch into the bottom of the cup. It smelled delicious to Zuri, and she licked her lips, feeling her mouth desperately dry. Cool air wafted softly up off the ice, and she tilted her head down to look at them, her heart in her throat. Nervous flutters filled her chest, and she swallowed hard, tilting the cup so that they rattled softly in the depths, and then carefully she picked out an ice chip, feeling the crisp frostiness begin to melt in her fingers, watching the opacity fade and the surface turn glossy. She had to try, didn't she?
The ice slid into her mouth easily. For a moment, it lay on her tongue, and Zuri closed her eyes, which burned with tears she didn't have. "Please," she whispered around her mouthful. "Please, please --"
It felt like breathing, like swallowing; the world tilted on its axis, the cup thumped softly down onto its bottom as cold rushed down her throat, as steam trickled from between her lips. Her fingers tingled, her head felt light, and Zuri let out a dry little sob of shock. Another ice chip followed it, and again the sensation of feeding, a sudden tiny rush of energy, and again, and again. How long had she simply not accepted herself? How long had she starved herself just because she couldn't bear to be who she was? How long since Zuri had allowed herself just to be, unexamined, uncriticized -- just to be?
By the time she had finished the cup, a fine frost had crept up onto her skin, and Zuri was weeping openly, sobbing softly into her hands. The tears felt crisp and cool on her cheeks, rolling slowly down. Had she been at her full power, they would have frozen, but they felt cold to her fingers, and that just made her weep harder, shoulders tight and her chest racked with silent sobs, her wings pinched tight to her back. The edges of her feathers felt frosty, the faint rustle of ice on ice returning slowly. It would take a long time to recover fully, but for now, the screaming ache of hunger had silenced itself, her body feeling cool and light in the hospital air conditioning. The weeping felt like a benediction, like rain after a long drought, like life was slowly returning to every cell.
When she had finished crying, she straightened up, swallowing and wiping her face. Zurine couldn't change what she was. She couldn't change what she had done. But she could move forward knowing who she was and what she was capable of -- both capable of enduring, and where her limits were, and what she was capable of doing to others. It wasn't a fresh start, but it the start she had, and it would have to do.
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Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2015 3:39 pm
It was only a couple hours off from midnight when they left the hospital. Phiel had insisted that Nara come home with them, and they had stopped over briefly to clean Nara's cat's litterbox and give him extra food. Nara had not left the car, and neither had Zurine. He was more than a little medicated, and Zuri was still reveling in the slow pleasantness of not being hungry. She had brought with her a cup of ice, and finished that too before they got home, relishing the way frost slowly crept over her skin.
It was dark, and she was exhausted, but there was no physical pain, just the guilt that washed over her every time she looked at Nara. He lay in the front passenger seat, reclined a little, his head tilted to face Phiel. Nara was asleep, and every time they passed under a streetlamp, the orangey light reflected like neon on the clean white gauze that had been taped in place over his eye and the mess she had made of his cheek. The doctors had patched him up pretty well, though she had heard as she returned to the room that they would have to watch the eye, that it had been nicked and they'd need to observe it to make sure that nothing had been permanently damaged. But he was asleep now, filled full of pain medication, and his long nose and that usually-smiling face pointed toward Phiel, pale and drawn now. Zurine was sitting in the back seat, playing with the cup while Phiel drove.
"Are you all right?" Phiel asked softly, his voice a little unsure, a little unsteady. Zurine could see his eyes glance up at her in the mirror, filled with worry and confusion. She hadn't told him much, but even though there was reproach in his gaze, there was no blame. "Nara told me what happened. He told me he pushed you into this, that you were already not well..."
Zurine swallowed hard. "I... I wasn't well. I wasn't eating. I couldn't eat, and it kept getting worse," she said slowly. "I wanted to be warm, like everyone else is, because I was afraid if I didn't try something, I'd get depressed again." She didn't look at Phiel, telling the tale baldly and quietly, as if resigned. "I told him about part of it -- the not eating part -- before I wandered off into the forest like I did, and Cesc had to come rescue me. And after that, when I came back to work, Mr. Nara was worried." She lowered her head. "He was worried, and I hadn't eaten since I started using the light, not really, so I was... starving. I couldn't even eat when I wanted to, it just wouldn't work... He tried to talk to me because he was worried, and I panicked." She swallowed hard. "I clawed him."
Phiel's eyes were on the road again. Nara slept, snoring softly, content and peaceful. "But how are you doing now?" he asked after a moment. "I saw you eating just now..."
"I... I'm... I think I realized why I couldn't eat," Zuri said. "Part of me maybe didn't want to... maybe, I couldn't accept that I'd failed. Or I couldn't accept that I can't change who I am." She looked down at her hands, wringing them just a little and letting out a soft breath. "Maybe I wanted to, maybe... maybe I didn't want to be me. I was really afraid that I'd never be happy or accepted if I stayed cold."
Phiel was quiet for a moment, then he drew a deep breath. "I know I haven't said it enough," he said slowly, "but I love you. Just the way you are. Even if you were never what I expected, you're... important to me. Maybe I never told you that enough, maybe I've been so wrapped up in myself and my work and my own issues that I never said what I needed to say or did what I needed to so that you'd know how I felt, I suppose. Everyone who knows you, loves you."
Zuri couldn't help laughing softly, running a hand back through her hair. "I... I know. I think it's just me that's having the trouble. But... that being said, I... I've accepted it now. Whether it's good or bad, I guess, I'm me... and I don't think I can change that." She watched Phiel nod, and maybe there was a smile in the rearview mirror. "I'm just sorry I didn't tell you, I think. That I knew I wasn't well and just decided not to say so..." They were home, pulling into the drive with the crunch of familiar gravel under the wheels as Phiel parked the car neatly under the house, and sat idling for a moment, Phiel's gloved hands on the wheel and his expression beyond tired. He exhaled deeply.
"I've never been good at inviting confidences, probably because I don't usually confide in people either," Phiel said slowly, though Zuri couldn't miss the slide of his gaze over to Nara, a slightly tender look. "So when you're not feeling well, I just let you be, because I'd be upset if someone pushed me to confide when I don't want to. But this is the second year in a row I've failed to be there and push when you probably needed me to. So... please forgive me, but I'm going to try harder to be there for you. I'll probably ******** it up, by being too nosy or by being not nosy enough. But I want you to know that your well-being's important to me," Phiel said as he turned the car off, letting the engine quiet and leaning back against the seat back. "So... just be honest with me, and I'll be honest to you, since... even though you've been with me for five years, this stuff is still new to me." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and suddenly Zurine's hand was on his after a moment, and he didn't fight it when those cool little fingers wrapped around his, and held his hand gently but tightly. He felt something unwind in his chest, and he could remember with wonderful clarity the first moment they'd locked eyes, the wary unsure look in her eyes, the anxiety under it, and the senseless new-parent terror in his chest that had been haloed with such instant, easy love that there had never been a moment's doubt that he'd do anything he had to for her safety and comfort. Maybe he'd forgotten that feeling, but now in the midnight quiet after a long day, with her still-small hand in his, it seemed to come back as clear as if it had been yesterday.
They parted a few moments later, both exhausted, and Phiel told her to go on upstairs and get to bed, that he'd handle Nara and get him safe and comfortable. Zuri wanted to protest that since it was her fault, she'd help, but her bed called to her irresistibly. She climbed the stairs at a glacial pace, to find the inside of the house cool enough to keep her new-budding frostiness crisp. He'd got the air conditioning fixed, and she slipped into her room, turning on the window unit.
She washed her face carefully, avoiding the mirror, and plugged in her phone, which had died hours ago. She didn't even have time to wait for it to turn back on before she laid her body down on the bed, pulling the sheets up around her as she cuddled against her sugar glider, laying mostly atop it as she always had. If she hadn't been so intensely exhausted, she might have let herself examine the day and overthink it, but with her body newly full and no energy left for bad thoughts to prey upon, she let herself lapse into a deep and dreamless sleep.
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Posted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 11:49 pm
Zurine didn’t want to talk to anyone about what had happened, but small and tender feelings had begun to bloom again, some strength returning to her fragile form, some determination, the cool, slow certainty of things are okay, the faint crisp frost blooming on her skin when she ate.
The household breathed -- Phiel slipping off to work while the others slept. Nara leaving the house, then coming back later that night with food, or wine, or clean clothes. Zuri’s weakness abated, but she didn’t leave the house, not for some time. It wasn’t anxiety or sickness that kept her quiet, it was simply thoughts. Simply waiting, with plant-like patience, for something that didn’t come, something that built slowly, bit by bit. Wellness was the first step, and then, and then, and then --
And then one morning she woke, and though she had fallen asleep face-down on her bed, wrapped around her favorite toys, she was laying on her side, her sleeping self heavy and cool and pressed into the soft, well-loved plush. Her eyes were still closed, but in the chilly stillness of her room, she felt the strange sensation of being larger, of being more. It was something of a familiar sensation, the feeling of spreading out into her bed, like blossoming, as if Zuri could feel the gravity of the world gently holding her down, like a mother’s hand rocking the cradle of a child, as if to keep it asleep. But she was hungry, suddenly and intensely and gnawingly hungry, and the grasp of sleep couldn’t hold back the pangs.
She sat up slowly, and the blankets fell from her shoulders, down to her chest, and lay in folds around --
Her waist. Her hips. Her hands rose, and she peered down at the pale iciness of her skin, the way the frost clung to her fingertips, the way Zuri felt as if she’d never been so strong in her life, as if the cold was quivering unexplored beneath her skin in potential. Her loose hair swung silky around her back, and despite the sleep-heavy protestation and the new center of balance, Zuri righted herself, and looked down at the new shape of herself, the growth that she’d achieved. A cool, bubbling effervescence of joy and hope sprang up at the center of her chest, and she closed her eyes, letting it bleed out into the rest of her.
Phiel was at work, and Nara had stayed at home the night before, and the house was empty this morning, so when she burst out of her room there was no one to witness the glory of her change. This was somehow unsatisfactory, but she knew one person who would appreciate it with her. After all the bewildering misery of the summer and the horror of losing control so completely, this felt like a step in a good direction.
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