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damienthepious · 5 years

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tuesday time for soft and angst and soft (and kisses)

No More Changes (I’ll Still Love You The Same) [Chapter 4]

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [ao3] [chapter 5]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, (tho not THIS chapter certainly), Curses, human!arum, (but not… because he WANTS to be), (it ain’t good y'all), Panic Attacks, Overstimulation, Rilla Is Queen Of Comfort, Damien Does Not Consider The Consequences Of His Words, The Keep Is Best Mom, Body Dysphoria

Summary: Lord Arum and his Keep have fought off curses before, but they have never dealt with one quite like this. They have never dealt with a curse while having a couple of humans around to help them, either… though it remains to be seen exactly how helpful Arum’s lovers will be, in the effort of restoring him.

Chapter Summary: Self-care is vital in times of crisis.

Chapter Notes: We all needed a little soft. And therefore this is. the LONGEST chapter so far. Chapter title from the song Riches and Wonders, by The Mountain Goats. However the song that best fits the general tone of the day is Soft, by Babygirl.

Chapter 4 - Guardians of a Rare Thing

Rilla steps through the portal and emerges on the other side in Arum’s workshop. She sighs in frustration, ready to scold Arum for trying to work in his current state, but as she glances around the workshop she realizes it’s empty. Is the Keep really that disoriented by all this? Did it bring her to the wrong room? “Uh, Keep? Where’s Arum? I need to see him.”

The response comes slow, and maybe a little softer than usual, but Rilla can hear the warning in its tone all the same. Of course. After Damien… Of course it would be afraid for Arum- afraid of Rilla, and what she might say to him. If he’s really as upset as Damien said…

“Keep, please. Let me see him. Damien made a mistake. You have to let me see him. Please, he has to know that we’re going to fix this. He can’t think that-“

She cuts off as the Keep lets out a relieved sigh, and she hears the shifting of vines. She watches as the Keep carries a mass of vines and leaves over to her and deposits it gently at her feet. She can see the shape of Arum curled up, nestled and tucked into the bramble. She can just barely see his face through the tangle of foliage, and his (painfully plain) gray eyes refuse to meet hers.

She gives a relieved sigh of her own, setting her bags down and moving closer to the vines.

“Arum-”

"Has he sent you to convince me?" Arum says, low and bitter, only half his face visible through the Keep’s embrace. "To present me with some ultimatum? Some simple human mathematics to bolster his case?"

"Arum, you know-"

"I suppose the numbers add up, when you truly simplify it, don't they? The happiness and convenience of two humans held against the desires of one monster- oh, and the monster's home, as well, but it isn't as if there is anyone left to understand and translate for it, so it does not really matter what opinion the Keep holds on the matter, does it? And besides, I am sure we are all well aware of the relative value placed on the wishes of a monster, anyway. Or- ha, or do my desires count for more, now that I am one of you?"

“No. Listen to me-”

Arum laughs, or chokes, she can’t quite tell. “A more effective curse than even they intended, I would wager. Weaken me, mute my bond with my creator, force me to face the conditional nature of human affection-“

“Arum. Damien is an insensitive ass, and he fucked up.”

Arum’s eyes finally meet hers, then, and it nearly breaks her to see the pain and hope shining there, the redness from the tears already shed, the shine from those that might still fall. Saints, oh saints but he doesn’t deserve this-

“What?” he says, suspicious, and Rilla sighs.

“I’m sorry,” she says gently. “I know- I know that Damien said some just- profoundly callous things to you. He’s- he’s just-” she shakes her head. “I just shouldn’t have left like that. I’m so sorry you and the Keep got stuck alone like this. That wasn’t what I wanted for you.” She pauses, biting her lip. “Are you- are you gonna let me in, or do you wanna have this conversation through branches? That wasn’t a judgment- whatever makes you more comfortable is fine by me.”

Arum looks away again, working his jaw soundlessly for a moment before he mutters something she can’t quite hear. There is a pause, and then the Keep shifts the vines around him, creaking them apart but not away until it opens a little window. She can see him a little better, then, see him shrunk in on himself, curled into an even tighter ball inside the embrace of his home.

She plops down on the floor beside him, because she'd rather die than try to pull him away from the Keep right now, and he tilts his head just slightly, though he does not move either towards or away from her.

"If the Keep is giving hugs, mind if I get in on that? Group hugs with mom are honestly the best," she says mildly, and it startles a weak laugh out of him, and after a moment or two he lifts his arms and the vines part a little more, widening the cozy space inside the tangled thicket. Relieved, Rilla slips in beside Arum, and the steady softness of the moss and leaves around the both of them is almost too comforting for Rilla’s worried mind to bear.

When she’s settled in the small space, her arms safely around Arum, she sighs, her brow furrowing. Arum very clearly doesn't know what to do with himself. He keeps moving his hands, slipping them from her shoulder blades to her arms to her lower back, unsettled and uncertain, and she realizes after a moment that he can’t settle because he wants to be holding her more tightly. He wants to hold her as he usually does, and he can't, now. He only has half the hands he is used to holding her with.

"I'm so sorry, Arum,” she says, and this close she barely has to do more than whisper. “We're gonna fix this, though. If we can keep from killing each other over methodology, we can figure out anything, right?"

Arum sags against her.

"I..." he hisses through his teeth, a pale shadow of the noises he should be able to make. "I intended to say that I have overcome worse. I do not actually know if that is true, this time."

“I mean, we’ve both almost died more than a few times by now, so…”

“And yet,” Arum mutters, his soft blunt fingers fluttering against her shoulders. He sighs. “Amaryllis, I…”

“I’m sorry, Arum,” she says again, steady as a boulder, soft as moss. “I’m here, now. I’m here.”

For a moment, he’s glad he’s slumped into her, that she can’t see his face. The line between crying and not-crying is becoming blurrier, and Arum is so, so tired. He can't even tell, anymore, if he's crying because of the near-pain, or out of relief because he knows that it's going to be okay because Amaryllis is here now and she’s promised they’re still going to fix this, that she understands how hard this is for him, or if it’s because even despite his relief at her presence, his thin belief that they will somehow make this right again, that still doesn't mean any of this is okay now.

"Of course-" he tries to straighten up, but she can feel the way he's trying to accommodate for a tail that is no longer there, and she has to force herself not to wince, not to let the heartbreak show on her face. "Of course, you are the only human whose mind I would trust with a task such as this. Brighter than the lot of your entire tepid species."

Normally she would poke him in the snout for a comment like that. Right now she just scowls, the look in her eye indicating clearly that she knows he's being snarky on purpose. "And you're not so bad yourself, obviously. We'll figure it out. We'll get your real body back."

Arum closes his eyes, sighs, nods against her shoulder.

"We need to get you more stable before you start trying to do science or magic, though, Arum," she says, and he grumbles but he is shaking, just a little, and he knows her stubbornness too well to protest, just now. "And... and then at some point, we need to talk to Damien."

Arum flinches, his eyes flying open, and then they narrow disdainfully. "No."

"Arum-"

"He- Amaryllis, I cannot bear to look at him. I cannot- Amaryllis he looks at this body- this stranger, and his eyes shine, already wondering at all the ways this will fix things, will fix his aberrant affection for such a horrible monster-"

His cheeks are wet, again. Rilla can feel her own heart cracking, and she wishes she could parse out how much of this is just the strange new body, and how much is the hurt. It wouldn't help to know, but- "I know. I'm sorry for that, too, but you know that he loves you, Arum. He does."

"Then why? Why look at me that way? Like he is already living in the future, where his days with a monster are past and forgotten? Why yearn for proper kisses, as if every affection passed between us was some poor imitation?" He scoffs. “He loves me. Perhaps. But it is always in spite. In spite of everything I am. Despite the fact that I am a monster, he loves me."

“Arum,” she says softly.

"He loves me and feels it as a flaw in himself,” he continues, sneering. “He loves me and feels himself broken because of it. That has- that has been thrown into stark relief today, Amaryllis. And I cannot push the question from my mind- if this is how he l-” he squeezes her tighter, and the pressure is all wrong, halved and without the cool touch of claws, and when he tries again, his voice has gone so very quiet that she would not be able to hear him if she pulled away another inch. “If this is the way he loves me, Amaryllis, in contempt of everything I am, is that- is that love at all? Is that anything like it? I have very little practice in this arena, certainly, but it cannot be- it cannot be this.”

Rilla can’t help but press a soft kiss to Arum's brow, not wanting the touch to be overwhelming but unable to clamp down on the need to soothe. "He's still caught up in how the Citadel expects him to be. He does love you, Arum. He loves you so much, just like I do, and he's trying. And when I talked to him he- he knows that he's messed this up. He knows he hurt you. And I know that none of that makes this any better, and I know that you’re really vulnerable right now and he tripped right into that, Arum, but-" she feels her heart clench, "but even if you can't forgive him." She stops again, and dammit she's not going to cry too. She's not. "Even if this is how this thing breaks, I think you owe it to him and you owe it to yourself to tell him exactly how you feel. To tell him yourself how he hurt you, and if he wants your forgiveness he can ask for it then."

He doesn't respond right away. She imagines the ticking rattle that usually accompanies his slow thoughtful pauses and it burns like a hot coal in her stomach, and then Arum presses his face into her collarbone and clenches his jaw.

"Please," she says, just quietly. "We don’t have to do it right now, and honestly it’ll probably be better to let things settle a little bit first, but I don't... I don't think you really want the last things you say to each other to be... to be that."

Arum sighs again after a long moment. "I don’t… understand. You are just as human as he is," he mutters. "Yet you seem as eager as I, to restore my proper body. Certainly it would be freeing," he sneers, "for you as well, to love another human. That is- that is what I find most painful, Amaryllis. The longer I consider his words the more I fear he may be right. I only make your lives more difficult, do I not? My own pain and discomfort aside, would your lives not be so much simpler if I were human? We would not have to hide, you would not have to lie to protect me or yourselves-“

“But you aren’t human.” Rilla scowls, and she feels hot with anger. “It doesn’t matter what they did to you. You are not a human. You are Lord Arum, He Who Rules the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms. You are a monster, and that’s exactly who we fell in love with. Not some human. You. We fell in love with you. We fell in love with Lord Arum.”

Arum sinks further into her embrace as she speaks, his breaths slowing, growing more even.

"Love is always complicated," she continues, voice softer. "And yeah, loving a monster is new for both of us, just like I bet loving humans is new and strange for you. But it’s… harder for Damien, to let go of the way he thought before. I was never like Damien, though. I never wanted to fit into the Citadel the way he did. There's a reason why I'm still 'of Exile', Arum. I chose to keep that, and I chose to be with you. I chose to be with a magical construct with gorgeous scales and four arms and a tail and a bad temper, and I'm not giving you up without a damned fight."

Arum pauses for another long moment, and then he swallows roughly. "Amaryllis... I- you know that I- I love you," he rasps. "Very dearly."

Not going to cry. Dammit. Dammit. "I love you too, Arum." She closes her eyes, pressing her face into his neck, missing his frill, trying to let his arms and the vines of the Keep around them steady her. "I'm sorry we can't seem to catch a damned break," she says with a weak, wavering laugh.

"If..." he hesitates, "if you think I should... speak with him again, I will... I will trust your judgment," he murmurs, eyes downcast. "If you believe he will listen to what I need to say. Truly listen."

"I think he will," Rilla says softly, and then she kisses his cheek and lets herself smile. "And if he doesn't? I'll just go ahead and kick him in the shins, and then the Keep can dump him in the wettest part of the swamp to think about what an asshole he's being for a little while."

The Keep gives a satisfied sort of warble as Arum half chokes on a laugh, and if it sounds like a sob on the back half Rilla's certainly not going to mention it.

She cups his face in her hands. "Whatever happens, I love you and I'm with you, and we'll figure the rest out together. Okay?"

"... Okay." Arum leans up, hesitates, and then presses the line of his mouth against the edge of her jaw, and it's strange and stiff and awkward and she is not going to cry, no matter how much her heart is breaking for the casual nuzzle of a scaled snout. They're going to fix this, so there's no reason to cry about it. "Okay," he repeats. "I believe you. Despite my better judgment."

“Okay,” Rilla says, her hands gentle upon him.

“It’s not as if I could stop you anyway,” he mutters. “I think the Keep can hear you better than it can hear me, just now.”

Well. That hurts too.

“Alright,” she says. “Alright, we’ve done enough collective moping for today, huh?”

Arum makes a noise, and she imagines that he’s attempting to growl. “I am not moping, Amaryllis-”

"No, no, I think we both were, for a minute there. But I’ve had about enough of it, I think. And as cozy as it is cuddled up in here - thank you, Keep, I really needed this too - I think we need to get you a little bit cleaned up, maybe.”

“Cleaned-” Arum hunches, defensive, and swipes his hand across his face again.

“First thing you did in this body was to fall in the dirt, Arum, and your hair has literally never been washed before. And, yeah, I think you’ll feel better if you can wash your face, too.” She smiles, as best she can. Little things, just little things until she can shift her focus to fixing the one big thing. “That sound good?”

“I don’t need you to- to coddle me,” he mutters, but he makes no move to push her away.

“Look, it won’t fix anything, but you’ll feel better if you’re not all grimy and stuck in robes that don’t currently fit you.” She shrugs. “If you wanna call that coddling, fine, but I just want you to be as comfortable as possible right now.”

He considers that.

“Fine, fine. Keep,” he pauses, mouth pressing awkwardly closed for a moment. “Keep, can you… hear me?”

Another pause, perhaps a little shorter than before, and then the Keep sings around them, light and attentive, and Arum exhales in obvious relief.

“Prepare a bath, if you would,” he asks, soft, and the Keep chimes a clear affirmation, the leaves of their small shelter shivering around them. “Good. Yes. Th-thank you.”

Rilla holds Arum gently for another moment, then releases him so she can press her palms against their shelter, and the tangle surrounding them slowly creaks outward until they can clamber out. Rilla carefully helps Arum back to his unsteady feet, making sure that he’s leaning safely against her as she leads him through the new portal the Keep has provided to the washroom. It’s heartening, that the Keep is stable enough to do so without explicit instruction.

“Alright,” Rilla says as the enormous cupped-leaf basin that serves as the Keep’s bathtub fills with gently steaming water, “get your robes off, and then when we’re done I’ll find something that fits you a little better for the moment.”

Arum- flinches, clinging to the soft purple cloth covering his unfortunate new frame despite the way it still overwhelms his senses. “I- but-”

“Arum, I’m a doctor, I’ve seen like, hundreds of naked human bodies. It’s not even close to a big deal.” She glances away, and then back towards him with a painfully understanding look, and she does not say that she knows he does not want to look at himself like this, not bare and vulnerable, but he knows that she knows, all the same.

He huffs, but then he rolls his eyes. “I suppose that makes sense,” he grumbles, and then he steels himself and starts to pull the robes off, wincing as he goes, gritting his teeth as the cloth slides over his sensitive skin, shuffling it down and baring a decidedly uncomfortable amount of this soft terrible skin to the open air.

“Oh- dammit, Arum, hold on-”

Arum blinks and freezes as Rilla comes close, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and angling the limb so she can see his forearm. With no small degree of bewilderment he sees a distinct scrape, speckled with grit and purpling dark with bruise beneath the redder parts of the wound.

“I- when did-”

“Probably right when you first changed- when you fell,” Rilla says, her brow furrowed with irritation. “You must’ve hit a rock or a root or something, and you didn’t notice because of all of the rest of it.”

Arum huffs, gritting his blunt teeth together. “Ridiculous fragile body cannot handle a fall of a few feet? Absolutely absurd-”

“Hold still, would you?”

Her medical bag is still at her hip, and she starts methodically pulling out what she needs to treat the injury as Arum stands and scowls and shuffles his feet. Now that he is aware of the wound it feels sharp and strange, much more present than a similar scrape would have been on his scales. That would have merely been superficial, and certainly this must be as well (humans cannot possibly be fragile enough to take permanent damage from so small a mishap, they simply cannot), but regardless it feels so vivid. To feel an injury this much in his proper form, it would need to truly pierce his scales, not- bruise him.

There is a safety in the look on Amaryllis’ face as she attends him, though. A familiarity. In matters of healing her focus is always unwavering, a universal force he trusts without needing to even consider it. By the time the bandages are safely wrapped around his new skin, his new injury (do bandages always itch on human skin?), he feels reassured for more reasons than just the treatment of the wound.

Amaryllis solves problems.

Foolish as it may be, he trusts that she will help him fix this one.

“There,” she says, voice soft and steady, and instead of letting go of his arm, she simply slips her hand down to take his, brushing their fingers together with barely any pressure at all. “Now. Let’s get you in the water, okay?”

Her grip on his hand is a bit tighter as he dips his toes in, and it’s a good thing, too, because these damned feet have no grip, no claws or scales for traction, and he nearly slips on the edge. She keeps hold of him, though, and with no major incident and only muted grumbling he settles into the mellow warmth of the water. It is still… somewhat overwhelming, but less so than the cloth of his robes, and at least with the water in the way he doesn’t really have to look at his current form. He cups his hands in the water first, then, and splashes his face, as if one sort of water can pretend away another. He does… feel marginally better, after even just that little bit.

Rilla sets her bag aside and settles to sit by the edge of the basin behind him, taking the basket of soaps and other mysterious jars and oils that the Keep dutifully hands to her with a smile, and Arum tries his level best not to feel like a damned helpless hatchling, forced to rely on Amaryllis and his Keep for something so very simple as bathing himself.

The frustration must show on his face, though, because Rilla’s expression goes infuriatingly sympathetic again, and she sets the basket down and reaches out, gently nudging him forward.

“Lean back for me?” she says, soft, and he gives her a suspicious look. “Gotta get your hair wet before anything else,” she elaborates, and Arum works his jaw stubbornly, still feeling so unutterably humiliated for a tense moment before Rilla exhales sharply. “C’mon, you’ve helped me wash my hair before, just- let me do this for you. I want to do this for you, Arum.” She pauses. “Please.”

Arum looks away from her, his throat feeling tight, and then he leans into hands, allowing her to dip his head into the bath, the bizarre sensation of warm water on his scalp making him shiver.

“Okay,” she murmurs when he’s up again, and then he hears her uncork something, and then she says, quite seriously, “You have to let me know if it feels like too much, Arum. Okay? Last thing I want right now is to make anything worse.”

He grumbles something wordless, not really wanting to acknowledge the idea that a simple touch might push him past some limit, but she does not touch him yet.

“Promise me you’ll tell me, Arum,” she says behind him, and Arum is absolutely certain that he has never in his entire long life done anything to deserve this degree of care.

“Fine, Amaryllis, fine, I will inform you if this pathetic form is overwhelmed by soap, are you happy?” he gripes, and he is satisfied to hear her laugh lightly at his back.

He sighs, settling an inch or so deeper into the water, covering his shoulders, and then he feels her hands, just light at the nape of his neck, slipping up into his unfamiliar mess of hair, and Arum’s eyes slip closed without a thought.

It feels-

It is intense, certainly, especially when whatever soap she is applying starts to foam, and when she starts to work her careful fingers through the tangles, attentively working them out, her blunt nails dragging along his scalp, he understands why his humans- why Amaryllis enjoys it so, when he runs careful claws through her own hair.

“So, obviously, this whole situation is rough,” Rilla says suddenly, without preamble, and Arum scoffs at the understatement as he pulls his knees towards his chest, curling into a more awkward ball. “I'm not going to pretend that it's not, Arum, and I don’t expect you to be happy about any of it. That being said, though… you know, it doesn't have to be all misery and gloom. You've got a pretty unique opportunity, here!" She grins, pulling a hand from his hair and rinsing off the soap so she can touch his shoulder, stroking her thumb over the crook of his neck and watching the way that makes him shiver. "We'll get your body back. Obviously." She shrugs, as nonchalant as she can manage even though he’s still facing away, even though he can’t see her. "But in the meantime, you get to have, just, a bunch of unique new experiences that it's unlikely that any other monster has ever gotten to have!"

"Such as... what, precisely, Amaryllis?" He glances at her suspiciously over his shoulder, but he is leaning towards her as he resumes his former position, allowing her hands back in his hair and obviously more curious than he wants to let on.

Which. Saints bless. It's been so hard to see him this unsteady, this upset, and if she can just draw back some of the fire in him- well, he deserves to at least have some good in this horrible ordeal. Plus, gauging his reactions to new stimuli might turn out to be helpful in figuring this mess out, too. Rilla is a big fan of tasks with multiple purposes.

"Like... right now, like how you’re getting first-hand experience in how it feels when you play with my hair." She grins, and Arum’s posture goes a little stiff, his face a little blank, because it feels as if she has plucked that thought from his very mind. "You can see how it feels to us, to touch things with our fragile human skin. I can show you how kissing like a human feels, just for comparison." She pauses, and he glances over his shoulder again to see the slightly awkward tilt of her smile. “If- if you would like that, I mean.”

“A-ah.” He flushes dark. She misses the frill pretty acutely, for a moment, but it's interesting to have confirmation of her perpetual suspicion; Arum blushes easily.

Her smile softens again, and she cups his cheek very, very gently in her less-soapy palm. "We'll fix this sooner rather than later, so you'd better see what all this being human stuff is about before we change you back, right?"

“If… if you say so, Amaryllis.”

“I do say so,” she says, and he assumes that the smugness in her voice is a veneer. He can respect that. Her hands scrub across his scalp with just slightly more pressure and he- he cannot give the gentle throaty rumble he wishes he could, but he can sigh, at least. “Lean back for me again?”

He does as instructed, indulging the herbalist with a mild frown, and when his hair is submersed her careful touch works to rinse the soap out, and even if it feels just on the bare edge of overwhelming it is the most pleasant sensation he has felt in this body so far.

Damien always loves to say that their herbalist has healing hands. Arum abhors hyperbole, but at least in this assessment, Sir Damien speaks with precision.

He lifts out of the water again, and Rilla works something new into his hair, something smoother. Then she holds out a cloth over his shoulder, for him to take. “Here. Help me multitask and we can get you out of there before the water gets too cold.”

Arum takes proffered cloth from Amaryllis, but as she hands him the bottle of soap he fumbles it. His grip is all wrong, he no longer has to accommodate for sharp claws, and so his loose grip and stubby fingers are not strong enough to hold the nearly full bottle. It falls into the bath with a loud splash, and he snarls automatically and flinches away from the water that splashes up into his face. This- this absurd body, these hands. The frustration- the frustration he cannot even find words for, of trying to reach, trying to catch with limbs that are no longer a part of him, and he feels so useless as Amaryllis gently reaches around him to pull the bottle up out of the water and pour a bit of soap onto the cloth for him.

He bites back a snappy remark about how at least she trusts him with a cloth, if not a soap bottle, because she’s… trying. This is difficult and frustrating for him, but that doesn’t mean he has any right to take it out on her. She’s trying so hard to make this better for him. He knows she’s not… judging him for this. He hates feeling pitied (Damien’s voice in his mind, overly saccharine and indulgent and eager: I am sorry you have been so maligned, darling, but no curse could ever-) but Rilla doesn’t make him feel that way. Of course she’s sorry for him and he knows that, but she never makes him feel uncomfortable. She’s always rational and logical, never overwhelming him with emotions like… well.

He shakes his head to clear that thought and focuses on the feel of Amaryllis’s hands in his hair again, slow and easy. After a moment, he takes the washcloth and begins to run it over his arms. As he runs it over his left arm - careful to avoid getting the fresh bandages wet - he notices the skin there, just above his elbow, is unmarked. The scar that he’s… grown accustomed to, since his first meeting with the little knight, is gone. As if it never happened.

It’s… fitting, he thinks bitterly. He can almost imagine what Sir Damien would think of this new development. You see, my love, just as this new form brings a new kind of freedom to our relationship, so, too, are the old injuries and mistakes erased.

He bites down a laugh he would be unable to explain to Amaryllis. How Damien would thrill at the idea of that old injury merely ceasing to exist. How happy he would be, to know the harm he had caused could simply vanish from the world as though it never occurred. The harm, yes, and also- also the erasure would absolve Sir Damien of his heresy, that blasphemous mercy his Citadel would only ever condemn him for. As if it never occurred.

It would never occur to Damien that the mark he left on Arum would be… significant. A reminder of exactly why he lo- of where his interest in Sir Damien began. A single act of mercy, and with it a promise. A promise that Arum’s monstrous nature was not enough on its own to condemn him to death. A promise that Damien wanted him, a monster. Wanted him alive, if nothing else, and then more than just that.

Now even that simple, meaningful mark is gone. Just as Damien-

Well. Amaryllis does not wish for him to wallow in misery in gloom, does she? Why he is even thinking of the poet now- it’s ridiculous. He is being ridiculous, and all the while Rilla is steady behind him, hands holding him as safe as he can be in this form, and he should allow himself to enjoy that, shouldn’t he? He cannot say how much longer he will be allowed it, after all.

Because even if Amaryllis is correct, even if they can overcome this, even if this time tomorrow Arum is wearing his own skin again, he cannot say what will come of his- his relationship with these humans he has allowed into his home. Into his- into his heart. His two partners were intertwined long before they knew him, after all. If he breaks from one of them-

How could he expect the other not to break as well?

Arum feels his throat clench again, feels the tension in his chest that he is unfortunately becoming quite familiar with.

Arum- Arum needs to let her know. To let her know it’s okay. She has offered so much- so much gentleness and care, more than he could possibly deserve, and-

He may as well say it now, he thinks. He may as well say it while her hands are upon him, while he needs not look her in the eye. He does not think he would have the bravery to say this, otherwise.

"I know you have promised, Amaryllis, to... to assist me in this. To help restore my form." He pauses, and she doesn't, her hands steady and soothing in his strange new hair, working some mysterious softness through his dark locks. "But… but I will understand, if Sir Damien and I cannot reconcile-" he swallows, and forces himself to continue. "I will understand if you and I must part as well, in turn."

Her hands finally stop moving, and she pulls them away to rinse off in the water before she tilts his face back towards her, cupping his cheeks in her hands. "Arum. What?"

"I would not ask you to part with your betrothed," he says, and he still cannot meet her eye because if he does he will dissolve again to nonsense, because all he wishes to do is draw her closer and closer until she can never leave, because he is selfish. "If he and I- if we cannot endure this together, I do not expect that you will humor me alone after you are finished with the task of restoring me to myself. I would not ask this of you."

Her breath catches, and it doesn't sound quite like a laugh. "Arum. Do you really think that I would just-"

"There would be a symmetry to it," he murmurs, very suddenly unwilling to hear her confirm his suspicions. "A symmetry- you came into my life because I needed you to heal my Keep- if we parted after you helped to heal me- yes, it would be a rather logical arc-"

"I'm not going anywhere,” she says, her voice thick, and when he glances to her in surprise her eyes take on a determined glint. She pushes closer, lifting her leg over the edge of the basin and slipping into the warm water beside him fully clothed, despite his surprised yelp of protest, and she wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight. "I'm not giving you up, you absolute idiot."

"Amaryllis- I- I know you feel the need to- to comfort me,” he says, his new voice shivering wild like an aspen in a light breeze, “and I- I admire your kindness, you commitment, but-"

"Idiot," she hisses. "I don't know how things are going to work out between you and Damien, Arum, and yeah, I'm not going to pretend that doesn't break my heart. I'm not going to pretend it's not going to be hard, no matter what else happens. But I love you," she presses her face into his neck, the pads of her fingers digging sturdy and solid into his shoulder blades. "I love you. And I already told you, I'm not going to give you up without a fight."

"Amaryllis this… us. It's all so new, and difficult, and... Damien and yourself- you fit together so perfectly already, as though you were made for each other. I do not… I do not belong with you the way that he does."

"I don't believe in fate, Arum. I believe the choices we make create our fates. And I chose you, just as much as I chose Damien."

Arum squeezes his eyes shut. Why she chose him, he’ll never understand. After all he did to her, after what he almost did to all of them-

"And... to be honest, Arum? If... if Damien can't see how much he's hurting you-" Rilla pauses, and Arum can feel the tension in her frame, can feel that she's holding herself rather tightly. "If he really has convinced himself that this could be better for you, somehow, if he's really willing to be that selfish, and that cruel… I have a hard time believing he's still that deluded, but- if he really is... I don't know." She exhales, her shoulders drooping. "I don't know. I- it would be... hard. It would be hard to- to be with him, after that. I feel like I would need some time- that he and I would need some time away from each other, at least. To figure out how I feel about that."

“But-” Arum’s mouth hangs open for a moment, “I-” he pauses. “And if- if Damien and I- if we cannot reconcile, and Damien remembers that he does not wish to share you with some- some monster any longer?”

She scoffs, her expression going wry. "Frankly, Arum, I don't respond all that well to ultimatums. If I actually felt like I was in a position where I absolutely had to-" she makes a noise that's not really a laugh, "to choose between the two of you, I don't have the first clue what I would do with that. I love both of you. I love both of you so much, I don't know how I would- how I could possibly-" she pauses, inhaling sharply and visibly centering herself. "But. And honestly I very much doubt that Damien would ever do this, but if for some reason he thought he could come and try to twist my arm in some tacky "it's him or me" scenario- well, let's just say that I don't think that would end particularly well for him."

Arum cannot speak, not for a number of breaths after that. Rilla doesn't speak either, but her silence feels more deliberate. "A-Amaryllis," he says eventually, uncertain and unsteady. "You- you should not be forced to toss aside your bond with Damien, not for my sake-"

"I wouldn't be," Rilla says, and her own voice is even, now, her cheek resting easy on his shoulder. "I’m not saying I’m gonna snap my fingers and say goodbye, but depending on how this breaks- I might need some time to think about whether or not he’s the person I think he is. And- and if that's the way it works out, it will be a choice I make for myself."

There is no response Arum can give to that. He can hold her, though. He can hold her, even if it feels like a half-measure, less secure with two less limbs, as if she could slip from his grasp with barely any effort.

She does not want to, though. He reminds himself of that.

“You’re gonna get all pruney if we stay in here much longer, though,” she sighs, squeezing him and then pulling back enough to meet his eye. “Did this help? Even a little?”

“You helped,” he mutters, glancing away and feeling strange heat in his cheeks. “You always help.”

She makes a noise, and when he looks towards her again, she-

There are tears in her eyes.

“Amaryllis,” he breathes, and she laughs strangely, lifting her hands and brushing the heels of her palms beneath her eyes.

“I know, I know,” she says in a thick sort of voice. “I’m sorry, ridiculous human emotional whatever, I’ll have a handle on it in just a second-”

“Amaryllis,” he says again, and he draws her closer, lifting a hand and almost, almost touching her cheek. “No, no apologies, Amaryllis. You-”

She has been holding herself so carefully, he realizes. Spine straight, hands gentle, smile sturdy. And she has been doing so for his sake.

“No,” she says, sighing as if the tears are an irritating sort of imposition, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it, just gimme a sec, here-”

“I love you,” Arum says, helpless against the tide of it, and her breath hitches as he cups her cheek and thumbs away a tear and he- he hates this curse all the more, that it is hurting her, too.

She looks up at him (less up than usual, but still), her lips tilting wryly, and Arum-

Arum sways towards her.

He is accustomed to brushing the thin, inelastic line of his mouth across their lips in request, accustomed to allowing the humans to lead a ‘kiss’ as they desire it, but this time when his mouth meets hers he has even less idea what to do than he normally does.

He understands the fondness they have for the act, though. Why this gentle human curve is so intensely sensitive is beyond his understanding, but the strange sharp tingle of even this unpracticed, unsure kiss is like some sort of wildfire. Skin. However humans manage not to collapse from the intensity of every touch is a mystery.

He also realizes, with some mortification, that he does not know at all what to do next.

In his own body, he would-

He parts his lips, nipping Rilla’s bottom lip with these odd blunt teeth, and she laughs in surprise, pulling away just enough to meet his eye before she dissolves into laughter again.

That is like wildfire, too. Her laughter. The brightness it kindles in his own heart. He smiles when she collects herself, and she shakes her head at him.

“Ridiculous lizard,” she mutters, breathless, and Arum can’t help but laugh along with her.

#elle's writing #sky's writing #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #the keep #this one is SO LONG OOPS #also please god please tell us what you think i'm dying

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