#nothingbutthenight

[etruatcaelum]

[ @nothingbutthenight \\ for cinder]

Cinder isn’t altogether sure what brought her back to the convoluted ramble of Mistral’s lowest slums. Maybe a vague impulse to recapture the clear, burning sense of purpose she’d felt the last time she found herself stranded here, alone. It had been raining then; it’s sleet now, pelting down in miserable formless globs of slush.

Prowling through the deluge with nowhere to go and nothing to do is not how Cinder imagined this would go.

She’d planned to run.

Salem would come after her, and the unsettling mask of magnanimity would end. There would be pain enough to make what happened on the whale seem like a kindness, and Cinder would endure it all. No more pretending. No more games. Just the unvarnished truth Salem thinks she’s too stupid to realize, that Cinder is nothing more to her than a pawn, dredged up and laid bare.

Exactly none of that has happened. The dark glint of connection through her arm has lain quiet and still for eighteen days. Cinder made it to Forever-Fall like she’d planned—and there had been no chase, no hunt, no vindicating struggle against her fate.

Nothing.

Several tense, sleepless, uneventful nights led her to conclude that Salem believes she’s bluffing, and even worse was the uncomfortable realization that she might be. Alone in the wild dark of that forest, Cinder found that she could think of nothing she wanted that wouldn’t lead her right back to Salem. In pursuit of a new world…

Fuck her.

Cinder scowls, kicking disconsolately at a loose paving stone. Slush splatters everywhere. She’s not going to give Salem the satisfaction of crawling back empty-handed. She won’t.

She can’t. She won’t.

The problem is that Salem has the lamp and the staff, Cinder can’t retrieve the crown for her without first going back to Beacon, and with the whole world forewarned and rallying to Vacuo’s defense, she doesn’t like her odds there alone. And all Salem cares about, the only thing she wants, is those damned relics.

Snarling under her breath, Cinder whips around a corner. There has to be something–

Cinder never gets cold, but few other people are willing to brave the slum’s tangled byways in such foul weather; so her eye narrows when she sees another person coming her way, bent against the driving wind.

No one down here is worth robbing, and the stranger doesn’t have the bearing of a huntress. Still, Cinder draws an obsidian knife out of thin air to hold in her palm as they pass. Talons on the one hand, a blade in the other: if the woman recognizes her, she won’t have time to scream for help.

[raurquiz]

#remembering #shelaghfraser #actress #AuntBeru #starwars #anewhope #AFamilyatWar #MasterofBankdam #TheSonofRobinHood #TheWitches #TillDeathUsDoPart #TheBodyStealers #ATouchofLove #Staircase #TwoGentlemenSharing #Doomwatch #NothingButtheNight #Persecution #HopeandGlory

[itshouseofwarpeddesire]

#nothingbutthenight #filmposter

[quevoisje]

#nothingbutthenight #saintmalointramuros #saintmalo #ruecornedecerf #illeetvilaine #cotedemeraude #bretagnenord #igbretagne #igbreizh #igerbreizh #igerbretagne

[yourbluffpunk]

Me and my band Nothing But The Night are going on a little road trip to Aberdeen! Got some exciting stuff coming up soon!! If you haven't already, check us out on YouTube and listen to our single Downfall!! #guyswithtattoos #guyswithstretchers #nothingbutthenight #nbtn #downfall #youtube #metalband #roadtrip

[raurquiz]

#remembering #shelaghfraser #actress #AuntBeru #starwars #anewhope #AFamilyatWar #MasterofBankdam #TheSonofRobinHood #TheWitches #TillDeathUsDoPart #TheBodyStealers #ATouchofLove #Staircase #TwoGentlemenSharing #Doomwatch #NothingButtheNight #Persecution #HopeandGlory

[yourbluffpunk]

Me on stage at Audio Glasgow during my band Nothing But The Night 's tour :) such a fun gig!! #guyswithtattoos #adtr #nothingbutthenight #live #liveshot #localmusic

[yourbluffpunk]

Got this tattoo today in memory of my band Nothing But The Night's first tour thanks too @tattoo_iain for this tattoo!! Love it!! #guyswithtattoos #nothingbutthenight #band #bandtattoo #instadaily

[yourbluffpunk]

Me and the guys in our band Nothing But The Night are off on tour!! #nothingbutthenight #nbtn #localmusic #scottishtour #letsdoit

[yourbluffpunk]

The band are excited to go! So excited for tonight!! #gig #nothingbutthenight #band #cantwait

[yourbluffpunk]

Playing a gig tonight with the band! And I'm reppin' #obeythebrave of course! #guyswithtattoos #guyswithplugs #guyswithpiercings #adaytoremember #snapback #instadaily #nothingbutthenight

[yourbluffpunk]

Had a good day recording Nothing But The Night's cover of Mechanical Smile's "Afterlife" with @12inchmedia and @goonzibfw ! #recording #nothingbutthenight #mechanicalsmile #studio #12inchmedia #goodday

[etruatcaelum]

Would Cinder stick around? Tough to say. Summer meant to… have a talk with her, later. Before she took off, the tension in the air had been thick enough to cut with a knife, and Cinder hadn’t said a single word to her since she and Salem arrived from Atlas.

She wasn’t stupid enough to think Cinder felt ashamed of what she’d done to Summer’s daughters. But Salem had been distraught when she told Summer they were gone—fallen through the staff, possibly dead—and talked circles around it for almost half an hour before Summer got her to even acknowledge that Cinder had been there when it happened.

I can’t lose Cinder. Desolate. Pleading.

Like she thought the care Summer herself felt for Cinder would go out the window. (Like she’d forgotten, or else never realized, that Summer dragged Cinder off Beacon Tower and left Ruby lying unconscious in the rubble. That no matter how it tore her up inside for things to work out this way, Summer’d made her choice a long time ago, and walked into all this with her eyes open, and never, ever did anything by half.)

She’d bet a relic on Cinder having picked up on how terrified Salem was of how Summer would react. And—well.

Ruby did have her eyes.

Maybe if Summer were a different kind of person, Cinder would have to worry. It would, Summer knew, be horribly easy to exact revenge, and she knew Cinder knew that; and the thing was, it wasn’t like Summer could just shrug it off like no big deal, that Cinder tried to kill—maybe did kill—her daughters. Part of her wanted to grab Cinder by the neck and scream and shake her until something fell out that resembled actual concern or compassion for someone other than herself. Part of her didn’t feel capable of having a civil conversation with her for the foreseeable future.

But one of them had to be the fucking adult in this situation, and it sure wasn’t going to be Cinder. So. They would be having a civil conversation tomorrow whether Cinder liked it or not. Summer just—she’d already taken the deep breath and pushed through and made the decision not to retaliate, and she hated the thought of Cinder taking off again because she feared Summer would stab her in the back.

“I’ll uh, run interference,” she offers. “If you can pull off polite indifference, that’s really the best way to handle her.”

Come to that, she’d ask Cinder to leave Kiara alone, if she found a chance to do it in a way that might make Cinder actually listen instead of doing the opposite just to be contrary. With a bit of luck, the combined shock of Summer being civil with her and the distraction of five dimensional chess she was playing against Salem would do the trick.

Her gaze fell on the scars slashed across Kiara’s torso for a moment before she looked away. It felt pointless to ask what happened to her, and rude to ask what in the world she wanted so badly from Salem, to swallow her obvious and pretty fucking justified terror. So instead she thumped her heel twice against the bookcase and said, “Y’know, um. Grimm killed my parents… I was eight. I don’t really remember anything before that night.”

She paused.

“Dunno if you’ve heard the stories, about—silver-eyed warriors, grimm flee before them, blah blah. There’s some truth to it; a… light we can channel that can turn grimm to ash, or stone. Only if it isn’t done right it fucks us up too. Mine lit up the first time when the grimm swarmed. I was in a coma for a while, after.”

With her leg taken care of, it was time for Kiara to remove her arm. Using hand sanitizer on her stumps without applying any kind of moisturizer afterwards was bound to dry the skin out, but better that than fungus or some other kind of infection.   She listened to Summer as she struggled with her zipper and then shrugged off her jacket, reaching up under her shirt to undo the chest strap of her harness.   She slowly calmed and the shaking petered out, as Summer spoke about Cinder. It was reassuring to hear that Summer held the same opinions about the girl as Kiara did, even with her much greater understanding of her character. It was a lost cause right from the start, Kiara was fine. She really wouldn’t have cared so much about keeping peace with Cinder if she wasn’t so frightened of incurring Salem’s wrath or being found bad natured. But as it was, she’d felt it a personal failure every time she’d managed to provoke the girl. Now it seemed perhaps that wasn’t the case. Egg shells. Indeed. If she had failed, that was it. That seemed right, didn’t it?    She pulled her unfastened prosthetic, harness and all, out through the sleeve of her shirt and laid it across her lap to wipe out and disinfect the socket.   As for Salem . . . did Kiara wish her well? Yes, she supposed for all intents and purposes she did, she certainly didn’t wish her ill. She yawned widely, tears leaking out both eye corners and sliding down her face.   “Thank you.” She said in response to Summer’s offer.    She would just have to . . . were egg shells good for Salem though? Careful seemed advised. Danger. Even if she didn’t mean to be. But Cinder . . . Summer had offered much advice, as if . . .  “Will Cinder . . . I mean, she lives here with you guys, right? Will I see her again? Should I . . . prepared? Be uh, prepared? For that?”   She reached the towel up under her shirt to dry her shoulder stump, rucking up the front and exposing some of the scars along her abdomen to the air. It wasn’t chilly here, but the air felt cold against her freshly uncovered skin and she shivered. All the scar tissue felt knotted and tense, like a strap wound through her muscle and pulled tight, making her rigid. She wished she had some of her ointment with her to soothe the ache. It never did much for her limbs, but it did help for her torso. Summer had brought some kind of pills for her to take so, maybe those would help.

[etruatcaelum]

“Ungrateful…?”

Well. No. But right now felt like an inopportune moment to say that Salem’s little outburst had been provoked by… some sort of perceived insult to Summer, and for once even Summer couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on in Salem’s head. Kiara was clearly uncomfortable and wigging out, sure. On the brink of maybe becoming hysterical, even, but people were never at their best when they were scared and tired, and the woman had made a valiant effort to hold a conversation.

It was kind of—almost—sweet of Salem to be indignant on her behalf. But. Come on.

The Cinder problem, though, that was easier to handle. “Cinder… look. I love Cinder, I do—but. She’s not a person you can please, alright? The only way to win with her is to not play into her fucked up little mind games. Don’t try for her approval, don’t walk on eggshells, really don’t assume she’s acting in good faith. Been seven years and I still don’t know what the fuck happened to make her like this, but she treats every conversation like it’s a war.”

Knives out, claws out. Venom in her teeth. Summer had figured the girl out years ago, though, and stymied her conniving bullshit by the simple expedient of responding with pleasant, bland indifference every time. Cinder had gone from honey-sweet ploys for Summer’s favor to verbal jabs and outright hostility, then when that failed to provoke a reaction spent a solid few years passive aggressively raging out, tried a couple times to slice her to ribbons under the guise of sparring practice, and then just�� stopped.

Started listening when Summer talked. Cut it out with the head games. The wariness in her eyes never quite faded, but the girl seemed to tentatively accept that Summer wasn’t a threat, and they’d got along well enough after that.

But she wasn’t under any illusions about what kind of person Cinder was. Cruel, spiteful, duplicitous—and distrustful—and very angry. Someone like Kiara would bring out the worst in her. Blood in the water.

“She’s mean,” Summer said bluntly, “and the most manipulative person I have ever met. You didn’t do anything except for, I’d guess, somehow getting roped into her ongoing—I mean, you must have noticed the way she treats Salem? Things’ve been getting close to a boiling point with them for a while now. You just got hit with the shrapnel.”

Sighing, she continued, “But Salem’s—literally, I don’t think it would even cross her mind to think you’re ‘ungrateful.’” That would, for one, require Salem having self-esteem. “She’s… I don’t want to say she’s kind, because she often isn’t. Or good. She isn’t. But when people just give her a chance—” A helpless, grasping gesture. “She can be incredibly, incredibly ruthless, if she feels cornered. I just… I’ll tell her you wished her well. She’ll appreciate it.”

Kiara nodded slowly, careful not to move her head too fast, and opted to really try and focus on what Summer had said, rather than the act of peeling off her liner, and then, one by one, the three socks beneath it. But the smell reached her the moment the liner came off, her sweat having soaked through all three layers. She dropped each sock on the floor at the end of the bed absently, separate from each other so they could dry out. They needed to be washed, desperately, but she wasn’t about to ask Summer to do that. It was disgusting enough to see to it when it was your own mess, but someone else's? They would be a bit crusty tomorrow, but Kiara would survive. She wouldn’t need them much longer anyway. 

The skin of her stump was red and angry and somewhat pruny from being trapped in moisture for so long. It felt good to have air on it again, but it really did hurt like fucking hell. She picked up the towel and began to dab it very gently, sucking air in through her teeth the first couple times. 

Kiara never ever took her prosthetics off in front of anyone. It was a deeply private thing. But today, she somehow found she simply didn’t care. Nothing seemed very real right now, it was all a bit distant.  

When the pain of touching her stump stopped coming as such a shock, she mustered a verbal reply. 

“That . . . makes sense.” She said, voice tight as she continued to pat dry.  

“I know she’s as old as the hills.”  

Who could say exactly how long she’d been alone for? Or how many times it had happened in her life? And while Kiara couldn’t say she’d ever suffered solitary confinement, she did think she understood, in a way, at least a little. When she’d first moved to Mistral, she was suddenly utterly alone. Not literally – there were people all around her, it was a city after all, but she knew no one, had no one, and she didn’t really speak to anyone outside of the man that would eventually become her manager when she went for her job interview. It was isolating, and miserable.  

She grabbed her liner with her pincer and stuffed the towel inside it, twisting it around to wipe out the condensation.   

“When you return to her . . . could you – I don’t - I . . .” She trailed off, struggling to form a coherent sentence again. What exactly did she want Summer to say? 

“She’s been very generous to me. But she – she . . . must think I’m awfully ungrateful. Could you just tell her that’s not true? That I’m sor – I already told her that.” She sighed in frustration, with herself more than anything, then pumped a small amount of hand sanitizer on her towel and began wiping out the liner again.  

“It’s just, I can’t talk to her, every time I open my mouth, I say the wrong thing and you - you don’t understand, it’s not just that she’s tired, I do it with Cinder too -” She felt herself getting angry now, which was really quite stupid, it was a stupid thing to get so worked up over, but she found that suddenly she couldn’t help it. Was she normally so emotional? 

“You aren’t getting upset with me because you’re too nice, but they – and now I know that – I mean, I assumed, even at the time, but – Cinder, any time I made her cranky I’m sure that just made things worse -” 

Finished with the liner, Kiara began to rub hand sanitizer on her stump. In her state of aggravation, she was a bit too vigorous and stifled a yelp. She clenched her hand, the smear of sanitizer squelching in her fist, and glowered at it. 

“I don’t mean to be a problem, I don’t want to be I just . . . can’t seem to help myself . . .”  

She let out a shaky sigh and returned to rubbing her stump, much more carefully this time. She was vaguely aware that she was overreacting. Summer had told her not to let it get to her, hadn’t she? But Kiara was convinced that she’d been awful to Salem somehow and she didn’t want her to think – she was afraid she would think – Kiara wasn’t that kind of person! With everything she’d lost, she had to hold onto the things she’d gained, and being humble, being respectful, that was part of who she was now. Cinder might not believe that, but it was true. She just wanted Salem to know, and not be angry with her anymore, and . . . and . . . She was shaking again, and her headache had returned in full force in a split second. She just needed to finish this and go to bed. 

[etruatcaelum]

The window creaked as she slid it open, letting in a warm breeze. And then, because Kiara seemed to want to talk now and Summer had never been great at using furniture the way it was meant to be used, she hopped onto the low bookshelf sitting in front of the window to sit and listen.

Kiara’s first question prompted a raised eyebrow. Medical condition was a new one, as far as weird conclusions people jumped to about Salem’s occasionally weird behavior, but one that did raise Summer’s estimation of her a bit. At least it bespoke an inkling of concern for the witch’s well-being.

Still, the idea of Salem having a stroke was—kind of, vaguely, funny. In theory, maybe not impossible. But Summer had seen Salem lunge across a clearing to snap a soldier’s neck with half her head missing, brain pulped by a shotgun blast; she didn’t think a stroke would even slow Salem down.

As she got to her feet and ambled into the bathroom to grab the softest-looking towel and hand sanitizer—and aspirin from the mirrored cabinet too, while she was at it—Summer said slowly, “Not anything like that. It’s–”

She sighed. Set the towel and bottle of sanitizer down on the bed beside Kiara, popped the safety cap off the aspirin and put that on the end table within the woman’s reach, then ducked into the bathroom again to fill a glass of water.

“—Salem was alone for a really long time,” she said. “I… don’t know if you know anything about what that does to people, but I—and Salem doesn’t like talking about it, so—I’ve just read stuff, you know, about solitary confinement, and that kind of thing. It really fucks with people’s heads. It’s disgusting that we do that—”

(She couldn’t think too hard about the oversized coffins that passed for holding cells aboard Atlesian warships, or she’d start thinking crazy thoughts like maybe Atlas deserved to fall. Maybe it did, but the hundreds of thousands of refugees stranded in Vacuo now didn’t. It was just…

Even before she met Salem, it made her uncomfortable. Right after they left Beacon, she and her team had gone to Mistral to bolster the flailing counter-insurgency—made her cringe to think about now—and she’d spent way too much time aboard one of those warships. It was creepy, standing on the observation deck and seeing those cells lined up on the bulwarks like teeth; wondering how many of them had people inside.

Things like that, she thought, shouldn’t be allowed to happen.)

The water, too, went to the end table, and then Summer returned to her perch on the book case. “So she like—it’s a mental thing.”

Not a lot of delicate ways to put it. Not that Salem cared about that; the one time she’d cracked herself open enough to divulge any of it, she’d been… pretty fucking blunt. You say I’m two hundred million years old. You don’t expect me to still be sane, after all that time?

“…Um. The other thing is, Salem… isn’t… normal about pain. Y’know like—your leg hurts,” she said, gesturing, “you want to sit down and take the damn thing off and rest, yeah? Salem just powers through until she drops. It’s—I mean, she’ll seem fine and seem fine and then fall off a fuckin’ cliff. If she quarreled with Cinder then, yeah, that’d do it. But… she’ll be okay. I’d bet you’re feeling pretty loopy right now after the day you’ve had? It’s the same thing, just—you know, ‘loopy’ for her is a lot... loopier.”

Being picked up off the bench was akin to being plunged into freezing cold water on a warm summer day; unwelcome, unpleasant, a shock to the entire system, hard to breathe through. But when the air is warm, despite how cold the water may be, the body adjusts quickly, and so too did Kiara. It wasn’t so bad really. Summer was strong and sure, Kiara felt in no danger of being dropped or otherwise hurt, and the warmth of her body was . . . comforting. It was something Kiara hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

Once upon a time, she hadn’t been opposed to hugging people on the regular. Her father, her mother, her friends, family friends, even a stranger or two now and then, if they initiated it. But that had all changed after she lost her limbs. And her father. And herself. She had retreated within and shut out the world, the only touch she’d accepted was from Firnen, who had been the one to look after her during that awful in-between year, and even then, only when it was medically necessary. After moving to Mistral, she softened up a bit, became more normal about touch again as she settled into the new person she’d become, but even with Misty, the one she was closest to, the most that was shared was a hand on the arm or the back, a gentle pat now and then. Neither of them were huggers really. Not anymore.  

Kiara hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this – close contact, the heat of another body. Stray memories from her childhood drifted through her mind as she gently bumped along to the rhythm of Summer footfalls. She’d been such a wanderer, carefree, fearless. It was not an uncommon occurrence for her to fall asleep somewhere in the great outdoors. And on most of those nights, her father would find her, and she’d wake halfway to the comforting sensation of being lifted into his arms, and fall back asleep as she was carried home. 

A single tear slid down her cheek and she sighed softly, head listing slightly to one side. 

Away from Salem and the other grimm, carrying her and chattering at her reassuringly all the while, Summer didn’t seem so threatening anymore. Maybe whatever reasons she had for this operation were good ones. Maybe she hadn’t hurt Salem after all, maybe the grimm woman just agreed with her cause, found it something worth fighting for. 

Summer was saying something about first impressions, promising Kiara that Salem was not usually so unpredictable as she’d been today. Kiara was also vaguely aware that she’d been saying something about Cinder, about her being the cause of Salem’s bad mood. Well, that tracked. It had all started after the girl had had her own outburst and smashed that teacup before she violently exited the shack. Kiara had wondered about their relationship, been confused by it, along with everything else. It made sense to learn that Cinder was seemingly more than just a soldier. She wondered where the girl was now. Now that Kiara knew they had made it to Beacon . . . she wasn’t sure if she’d see her again. The trip was over, Cinder had no reason not to run off and do her own thing. But that was neither here nor there. 

When Summer set her down, Kiara leaned heavily into the wall beside the door, her legs nearly giving out beneath her. She started shaking again, but this time it was due to the strain placed on her overtaxed body rather than fear. She still felt a bit wary, but her exhaustion, her gratitude, and Summer’s easygoing nature had finally managed to override that. Mostly. 

She struggled through the doorway at Summer’s behest, and over to the bed, feeling a massive flood of relief sweep through her as she sank down upon it. She lay her cane across it’s foot and looked around. She didn’t know who Arthur was, but she appreciated his cleanly nature. It would serve her well now. 

When Summer asked about the window, Kiara nodded absently. She felt extremely dazed. Her headache had receded somewhat, but it was still there, compounding the difficulty she was already having in processing things. Questions skittered across her mind like little lizards over hot desert sand, tickling her thoughts but nearly impossible to catch. Still, most of them were about Salem and the other grimm, or things Salem had told her – half remembered and very jumbled, as well as things she hadn’t told her, and a few about Cinder, and Summer herself. With so many thoughts centering on Salem, one of those eventually settled, allowing Kiara to close in around it. She wanted so desperately to understand Salem even just a little better, and she’d decided that Summer was actually rather fond of the woman, and would not use anything Kiara might bring up against her. 

“Does the stress that Cinder . . . Does Salem have some sort of – is she sensitive to it? I mean, medically.” She seemed perfectly unable to order the words coming out of her mouth so that they might make any kind of sense. She tried again, with a different approach this time.  

“When I first met Salem, she was very calm and reasonable and – and. And then I uh. Fell asleep. And while I was asleep, I think . . . I think she and Cinder fought. And after that, she seemed, well, not just agitated but actually unwell and. I think she had a stroke. It was very concerning.”  

Kiara’s brows scrunched. She was quite unsure if she was making sense. She decided that she didn’t much care. It was nice to be able to talk and not feel petrified.  

And, finally at a distance from Salem and speaking of their meeting, she was again able to feel something other than fear and respect towards her. Kiara was grateful to Salem, and she really had been concerned. She thought about how poorly she had looked when Summer left her side to bring Kiara here, and frowned. She probably shouldn’t be left alone for long. What if she had another stroke . . . or something? 

Kiara began gingerly peeling down the sleeve of her false leg and grit her teeth. It hurt to do, despite the fact that she wasn’t even touching skin yet, and she winced as it came all the way off. Her stumps were mostly numb now, but this one was beginning to throb again, now that some of the pressure on it had been released. She was both dying to, and dreading, removing the liner and socks still encasing the end of her leg. She heaved her metal and carbon fiber contraption onto the foot of the bed alongside her cane. Summer had offered help, she thought. Hopefully she’d heard right. 

“Could you grab me some hand sanitizer please? And maybe a towel?” 

[etruatcaelum]

It could not be more obvious that Kiara hated the idea of being carried, but Summer wasn’t about to stand around fretting about it. Carefully, she scooped the woman off the bench and strode for the exit.

“It’s fine,” she said, “really.”

And then, once she’d knocked open the door with one foot and gotten outside—with a judicious few twitches of her semblance to make sure she went through without banging Kiara on anything—she continued, “And, look, don’t worry about Salem, alright? She’s… tch. I’m sure you picked up on this, but she’s kind of insane about Cinder–”

To put it lightly.

“–like, overprotective, kind of thing. Freaks out every time Cinder gets hurt. Anyway, so, long story short, Cinder’s been MIA, this is the first we’ve heard from her in two weeks. Salem has been, like I said, freaking out.” Summer snorted. “The point is. You’re catching Salem on a really bad day. Like I have never seen her this bad, and I’ve been with her fourteen years.”

She hung a left around the cafeteria building and lengthened her stride as she crossed the quad. Whether Kiara could actually process anything Summer was saying or not, she hoped the sound of her voice would at least provide a distraction.

“…I’m not gonna say ‘cut her some slack’ because I do get that she’s—you know, a lot, and it’s easy for me to say she’s just misfiring ’cause she’s stressed out and tired when I’ve known her for so long. First impressions, not great, I get that. But! Try not to let it get to ya. She’s not… snappy like that, usually. She’ll be fine again tomorrow—just needs to get some food in her and sleep and she’ll calm the fuck down.”

Not that Salem was going to make it that easy, Summer thought, vexed. Coddling.

They came up on the dorms, and Summer paused the chatter to focus on manipulating the door handle without dropping Kiara. Inside, it was stuffy—airflow in these old buildings always sucked, and no one had vacuumed in more than a year now—but the rooms would be better, and she hurried down the hall to the block of rooms she’d cleared out and made up, somewhat optimistically, to have space for everyone.

Hazel, Arthur, Emerald—two dead, one defected. Tyrian and Mercury were in Vacuo. It added up to a handful of empty, but habitable, rooms.

“…and, uh, here we are. I’m gonna put you down, now—”

She was already lowering Kiara to the ground as she spoke, close to the wall so the woman could lean if she needed to take some weight off her knees.

Then, as she unlocked the door, Summer said brightly, “I’ll leave the key with you when I go. You can, um, I dunno what kind of maintenance you’ve gotta do, how involved it is, but I’d be happy to help if you want. This is—was supposed to be Arthur’s room, so there’s already all the disinfectant stuff you could want in the bathroom—man was kind of a neat freak. If he hadn’t…”

Died. Grimacing, Summer pushed open the door and waved Kiara inside. She’s been about to say that Arthur might’ve been able to put together some nicer prosthetics, but, well. He was dead. Seemed insensitive to bring it up when it wasn’t an actual possibility.

“Anyway,” she said. “You want me to open the window? Air out the room a bit?”

Summer’s demeanor hadn’t changed. She was still being friendly and accommodating and while Kiara hadn’t caught everything that had just been said between her and Salem, she got the impression that Summer was excusing Kiara’s . . . whatever she’d done to upset Salem. So it would seem Kiara had been mistaken, and it was only Salem who was angry with her. What with Summer being human and all, and also not . . . ill in any way, it was probably a lot harder to accidentally upset her, which was good, and Kiara concluded she would have a much better chance of staying on her good side than Salem’s. And as long as she did, she was likely quite safe. And yet. That conclusion didn’t stop her body from starting to shake when Summer offered to carry her.  

It was really very kind of her to offer such a thing, something in Kiara still knew that despite her current state. But visions of being thrown over Cinder’s shoulder grabbed her mind and turned her stomach. She knew Summer would carry her much more nicely, but – but . . . But she hadn’t been carried like that since she was a little girl. How could she bear to let someone else carry her the way her father used to? Someone she didn’t know, didn’t trust, someone who was tearing down the whole world? 

Reluctance and uncertainty glued her mouth shut as she used the very last bit of energy she had left to wage a war within her own mind. She wouldn’t make it. She couldn’t stay. She didn’t want to be carried. She didn’t want to be rude. She wanted to go to sleep. She had to answer. She needed to be grateful. She needed to try. She didn’t have the energy to try. She had to have the energy to try. She wanted the wheelchair but she didn’t really want the wheelchair either she wanted to be able to walk there herself but she couldn’t -  

She forced her mind to go in the right order. She couldn’t stay here with Salem and the snake, that absolutely wasn’t an option, especially with Salem in her current state, so the wheelchair was out. She couldn’t walk there herself, so . . . so she would have to let Summer carry her. She almost thought she’d rather be dragged behind her by her leg than face the intimacy of such close contact, and the memories it would bring. And then there was the shame and apprehension about being such an inconvenience. Nevertheless, it was decided.  

She ceased the flexing of her prosthetic and tried to still her shaking, to only moderate success.  

“Yes, th-thank you. I’m s-so sorry for the inconvenience, really, if-if there’s - when I’m rested, tomorrow, I can maybe h-help you out with something around here?” 

It was really awful, this whole situation. Someone taking a guest into their . . . headquarters, feeding them, being all sorts of politeness and hospitality, having to carry them to their room for the night; and the guest being nothing but a confused, shivery mess, unable to even offer up polite conversation in return, barely able to string a sentence together. Whatever Summer was, Kiara still felt as wretched as an uninvited house pest now, on top of everything else. She watched Summer guiltily, and braced herself for her touch, picking up her cane and holding it tightly, fear still swimming in her gut like rancid lake water.