#Terpsichore I dub thee melodrama

[creativenicocorner]

I...I hesitantly want to believe I’ll manage to have ch13 of Terpsichore out by the holidays, and perhaps typing this out into the world wide webbo will help will that into reality. Or maybe it won't - time will tell lol

In the meantime have a collection of disconnected and short Terpsichore sneak peeks:

//

Walter stared down in transfixed horror and shame, his hand hovering over her back, before slowly, hesitantly, rubbing her heaving back.

Walter Strickler squeezed her close as much as his strength allowed.

“Was it real? Was any of it real?” asked Barbara in a whisper so low, unable to look the changeling in the eye - hesitant to relinquish her lasting hold on the thin thread that tied them together.

“Every bit of it.” came Walter’s voice, this time without any sort of pause, with enough reassurance that broke Barbara’s heart and caused her to close her eyes with a blob of fresh tears.

“Walter” she said with a crack in her voice, the dreaded ‘End is Nigh’ in sights.

“It was,” admitted the changeling, holding Barbara close, “one of the most real experiences of my life. Yes it was real. Of course it was real. From being pushed out of your window, to watching Star Trek together, to you getting a bikini wax.”

Barbara gave a knee jerk laugh cry at that, sobbing a cackle into the changeling’s chest. “Oh my go- that’s right, you felt those?!” asked Barbara looking at Walter at last.

His face was warm, and gooey. Not the sort of face she’d ever expect to be an assassin, or some sort of part troll person.

With a gentle brush through Barbara’s hair Walter said, “Every strip.”

This caused Barbara another fit of laughter, fresh tears falling and reddening her cheeks. Streaks of tears fell into the creases of her pained smile. Barbara laughed and hated Walter more for being able to, even now, despite everything, make her laugh.

“Good.” she sniffed, rubbing her nose into his sweater. A final act of close familiarity shared, of held and being held.  

It ached how painfully easy it felt to slip into a sense of before - to warm idle chats with scones, and sitting side by side on a swing-set at the playground on the hospital grounds during her breaks. Though really, their chats were always warm, no matter the setting.

Mustering her strength Barbara pushed herself out of Walter Strickler’s embrace.

To Walter’s wordless, ‘you good?’ Barbara nodded with a sniff, and sat upright once more. Her spine felt cold though.

Then, after a delicate pause, scratching the side of his nose and watching Barbara sniffle, Walter reached into that near Mary Poppins level inside pocket of his, and pulled out a handkerchief for her.

The kind gesture burned at Barbara’s heart like a wild fire. It pained her to smile, nod, and take it.

“Do you still want me to kill Andrew Wakefield?” asked Walter Strickler, leaning to the side some to be at her eye level, but with still a bit of distance.

Barbara’s nose blowing sputtered into an escaped laugh. Dabbing her nose she bit her lip and closed her eyes. “That,” she said in her classic ‘more mad at how such a joke could make me laugh’ look Walter knew so well, and a wave of her finger. She tried with all her might to not be amused, “that’s not funny.”

“I have the connections.” he said, like a used car salesman trying to bribe a smile out of her.

“You’re probably over qualified.” she couldn’t help but snark in equal dryness. Then sighed, lowering her hands into her lap, “…I suppose you can kill him, hu?” she considered aloud.

Slowly, like an arctic wind she knew was in the forecast but hoped would just go away and be mistaken about, she realized, with a cold drain of blood and warmth from her features, the unforgivable as a mother.

“Then that means,” she said with disinfected coldness “it’s also true that you tried to kill my son.” with a look in her eyes that gazed into Walter Strickler’s like an obituary.

//

“Right.” said Vendel at last. He turned to Shuri and said, “Take her to Heartstone. I’ll have to inform the Trollhunter. Come on you.” he added with a click of his staff to the ground at Strickler - waking him from darker thoughts.  

Strickler knew he was walking, but it felt more like a distant experience, observed from elsewhere outside his body. He winced at the neon light of the main medical ward, but didn’t wait for them to adjust - instead he felt himself move toward Barbara’s direction.

Her pained simpers speared through his ears and dug at his heart.

Vendel’s staff intercepted the changeling, a sour faced and all.

Strickler didn’t have any quips left, the wind out of his sails. He had other things to care about. Leaning to the side, and with a hand floating up curl gingerly around the sling, he said, “A blanket. The..heartstone it’ll be warm, I suppose, if the staff felt warm to me, but…” Walter Strickler took a step back and croaked, “What have I done?”

Sympathy was not found in the old troll’s eyes, nor as he inhaled slowly through his nose. “Enough. I’d say you’ve done enough.”

The changeling didn’t move, but watched misty eyed as Shuri carried a groaning Barbara out a side door.

“A funny thing, consequence.” Sniffed Vendel. “You will have plenty of time to think of that soon - for now it is imperative the bond between you is broken.”

“What if the heartstone won’t work?”

“Changeling, are you listening?”

Walter’s mouth felt dry, his throat lumpy and in need of clearing, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “Gumm-Gumm magic. The bond is made by Gumm-Gumm magic…”

Vendel gave the changeling a look that was the closest to the trollish equivalent of a dryly delivered, ‘no shit Sherlock.’

Strickler continued, “I had Angor carve it into totems...what I’m saying is - they’re could be backfires - erm,” he paused to think of a better word, his fingers snapping quickly as if it’d help speed up his mental search “side effects.”

“Heartstone is more powerful than anything you, your kind, and your Gumm-Gumms could possibly divine. I have faith in it, and so should you.”

“What, cause my blood glowed? Sound thinking, that- sure. No further research needed - case closed - treatment : Glowing rock, side effects: hopefully tickety-boo.” to which Strickler crossed his fingers at Vendel and smiled gruesomely. “While we’re at it why don’t we rip out the entrails of a dead rat and see what the horoscope for the month will be, hm?”

Vendel looked down his nose at the changeling, and said nothing. Then with a tap of his staff and a gesture of his arm, had the changeling walk in front of him - where the Trollhunter and others were waiting.

//

It was during one of these moments that a pair of trolls hurriedly crossed to the other side of the road tugging at a child in hand. Unfortunately the child stumbled in Strickler’s path.

The trolls held their breath, as if anticipating a sort of bomb to go off.

Strickler slowly turned his head to look solemnly down at the young troll. Their eyes were wide. Their breath quickening in horror. Looking up into the face of the flesh and bone creature that had heavy unblinking eyes.  

But Strickler didn’t act, or move, or did anything - he just waited, either for the troll to pick themselves up, or for someone to help them up. He even took a moment to look at Blinky to see if he would do anything, but the troll seemed momentarily distracted with a bookseller.

When nothing happened Strickler sighed upward, unable to refuse his teacherly paternal like nature, and leaned leaned forward with an outstretched hand. The bare minimum, really.

The young troll flinched away, covering their face as if that would cast the pretend troll out of existence. They tried hard not to think about what it must feel like to walk with a soft outside and rocky inside - and she tried not to think about how strange this fleshy creature walked without a sound without rattling with the bones inside…surely bones rattled, right? Or were they more like trolls but with their insides stretched on their outside?

Curiosity getting the best of them, the child peaked through their fingers. Eyeing the offered soft hand with hairy knuckles.

“Are you inside out?” asked the little troll.

“Not presently, no.” said Strickler “But the future is full of possibilities.” and then he gave a small ironic sort of smile.

The little troll removed their hand from their face and, found themselves smiling in return. Then slowly…hesitantly…reached towards Strickler’s hand.

//

And onwards they continued. They moved discreetly through a winding stretch that became more desolate with every step, tented carpets, and around a wall of piled televisions which Strickler couldn’t guess the reason of it being there for the life of him. If the circumstances were different, he might have asked Blinky.

There were less neon signs near the stronghold, as if preserved in an area that found light and electrical currents moderately suspicious at best. Not that either Blinky or Strickler found this to be a problem, the slow decline of lights helped in favor to their eyes adjusting. Sharp greens and screaming purples and icy blueberry blues diminished - replaced by one tone browns, a splash of yellow, and perhaps the idea of orange.

The trolls guarding the threshold were at shoulder height the same size of an average moose, and frowned with the grace of a snarling gargoyle as they passed.

Here, none of the guards seemed surprised at the sight of the changeling. Their primary reaction being a tighter grip on their halberds, and a low growl that rippled bear like past their jagged yellow teeth.  

“Cheerful.” commented Strickler dryly, “Like being greeted by sadistic bellhops.”

“Show any sign of a trick, and I don’t think you’ll enjoy their version of asking for ‘a tip’.”

Strickler held his wounded arm closer to himself with a dry gulp, “Well, I give shoddy advice at best.”

“No not that kind of-!” Blinky turned and looked at the deceptively calm expression on his face - patient as an iceberg. Blinky’s frown deepened. “Oh, you’re joking.”

The changeling gave an ironic, serviceable bow.

//

And that’s probably it for sneak peeks until the chapter is released (maybe)