by wildbow
I sat sideways in a heavy chimera-leather and wrought iron chair, watching them more than I watched anything else. My left arm dangled, the manacle heavy. The other end was connected to the frame of the chair. My right ankle was connected by the same kind of measure.
“I like part of this,” Helen said. “I like that we’re strangling them.”
“In more ways than one,” Lillian said.
Helen craned her head around to look at Lillian, then twisted around, reorienting so her feet were where her head was and vice versa, without really standing or adjusting her profile. She took on a more easy, languid position as she draped herself along the window seat, and reached up, taking Lillian’s hand in two of hers.
“You’re in a mood,” I remarked.
Helen nodded. “I’m restless.”
Restless was an adjective that paired badly when it was part of a trifecta that was put together with Helen and with the fact that she was holding on to someone I care about.
“Is that the flip side of what you were talking about?”
“I want to be the one strangling. This is… odd.”
“Vicarious?” I asked.
Helen smiled. She moved Lillian’s hand and held it against one side of her face. “Good word choice.”
“It’s something I do,” I said. “And you do strangles, getting a hold on the enemy and then breaking them. This… all of this, it’s really an abstract expression of you.”
“It feels unfulfilling,” Helen said. “I like anticipation, and I like waiting for my prey, but that’s usually when I know I’m going to, hm. I’m not sure how to put it into words.”
Helen was set enough in her ways and specialized enough in what she did that her mental framework wasn’t often tested or forced to adjust. She’d evolved some as she dealt with the breakdown of parts of her design, but she hadn’t often been challenged.
I didn’t press or supply the ideas.
“It’s like it’s all drawing circles, and circles are good and beautiful and strong in so many ways, except it’s embraces, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” I said.
“And here we’re drawing circles, but we have so many that are three-quarters of the way drawn and they’re big and they’re beautiful and I want so very badly to draw that last quarter-circle and wrap all of this neatly in a way that lets me put a bow on top. But that’s not how this finishes, is it?”
“Not quite.”
“Not physically,” she said. “Not with hands on long, slender parts of long slender people and cushy, soft parts of cushy soft people.”
“No,” I said. “Not physically. Not with hands on crooked, twirly bits of crooked, twirly people.”
Helen turned her head, giving me a look, like a mother chiding a child.
“Silly,” she said.
“You’re the silly one,” I said. “I don’t believe you’ve ever truly been teased, have you?”
Lillian glanced my way, taking notice of the word.
“Not left wanting. You’re dangerous enough you get most prey that’s gettable, and you don’t often not get prey.”
“Sometimes I don’t,” Helen said. “But the ones I’ve waited the longest for are ones I think I might get eventually.”
“Like Fray and Mauer?” Lillian asked.
“And others, yes. It’s been years and all of that’s okay. I got close to Mauer and I almost closed that circle in a very inconvenient way. But that’s fine. That’s something else. There are others I wanted and then they went and died for reasons that weren’t me, and I’m very good at being very disappointed for a very short time and then putting that disappointment behind me. But this is something else.”
“Take your time with it,” I said. “Digest the feeling, decide what you want to do with it.”
“And let me know if you need anything in the way of fine tuning, to help you wrestle with it,” Lillian said.
“I will,” Helen said. She moved Lillian’s hand closer to her head and gave it a kiss, still holding it in her own.
Lillian barely reacted to Helen’s strangeness, instead glancing my way. “Speaking of comfort and needs, do you want me to move your chair, Sy? I could cuff you over here.”
“I’m comfortable,” I said. “I’ll have to move again when it’s time to eat, I think, and I can sort of see what’s going on.”
Lillian folded her arms. Her reaction didn’t quite strike me as her wanting me closer and being disappointed when I stayed put. I took note of it but decided that I couldn’t do much about it without more information.
For now, staying put and easing forward felt like the way to go about it. Rash and reckless movements would do more harm than good.
The admin building had always been the trap meant for the Nobles, and we’d prepped it well in advance. The last minute changes had been mandated because of the damage the gossamer thing had done, but we’d developed our workaround.
The trap had taken hold. The building was being enclosed in builder’s wood and greenery, windows and doors blocked. We’d planted builder’s wood around the holes they’d created with the gossamer thing, and we’d destroyed the bridges that provided easy access to the rest of Hackthorn.
We’d baited them in with the premise that we had people within, easy victims and leverage that we were desperately trying to protect, and we’d buried them. Just as we’d planned from the beginning, before Ferres interfered.
But wood took time to grow, even if it was Academy made, vines and branches took time to grow, and so the danger had been that the nobles could break out of the building before the trap was fully in place.
With that in mind, we’d considered a great many improvised measures, and we’d thrown out each and every last one of them. Nobles couldn’t be underestimated.
No. Instead of trying to stop them, we’d let them.
Now a pale gas sat within the enclosed walls of Hackthorn, stubbornly refusing to dissipate fully. The houses on the ground were unable to be seen given the thick vapors, and the Nobles who had broken free of the admin building were… well, they’d escaped the building, only for their way back in to close up behind them.
From my perspective, slouching in my seat with my chained arm and chained leg dangling over different arms of the chair, I could see out the window to where the white gas lapped against the outside of the admin building and the perimeter wall of Hackthorn Academy. I could see the admin building itself, more a gnarled twist of wood and vines than a proper building now. I could see the distant silhouettes of the nobles who stood or sat on the roof and the branches that were reaching over it.
They barely moved. Almost anyone else would have gotten impatient, paced, or given some indication that they were talking among themselves.
I wondered how much of their decision to stay as still as they were staying was because they were trying to conserve their energy and strength, how much was because they knew they were being watched and they were trying to unnerve us, and how much had to do with the fact that they had left their humanity long behind.
“What are you thinking, Lil?”
Lillian turned to look at me over one shoulder. It was a stern look.
“Hush, ignore him,” Helen said. “He’s cranky because we’re waiting for food.”
“What makes you think he’s bothering me any?” Lillian asked.
“I can hear your blood,” Helen said. “It creaks as it runs through you. Also, it takes a moment, but if you’re close, I can smell irritation.”
She still didn’t like the ‘Lil’ thing. Still, it gave me a way to gauge where she and I stood.
I cleared my throat, being careful to keep my tone light as I said, “Why am I the cranky one here? I asked a simple question.”
Lillian gave me a look that was almost rolling her eyes, then asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to move you?”
“Am I missing something? You’ve asked me three times.”
“Twice,” Lillian said.
; “Three times, if I count you asking me if I’m comfortable and okay with where I’m at, when you first chained me here.”
“Yeah,” Lillian said. “I guess you’re right. And I guess I don’t like that I can’t watch what’s going on out there and watch you at the same time, Sy. I feel like I’m going to turn around to check on you and that chair will be empty, and you’ll be up to something that leaves everyone in tears.”
“Ahhh,” I said.
“Sorry.”
“No, no. It makes sense. This is our present reality.”
“Yeah, Sy. I suppose it is,” Lillian said. The lines of tension were still standing out in her body language, but now… I saw a hint of sadness as well.
“Well,” I said. “I think there’s an easy answer to that one. How about you unchain me, to start off?”
“Uh huh,” Lillian said, without humor. “Perfect solution.”
“Well, that’s only the beginning, dummy.”
Lillian arched an eyebrow at ‘dummy’.
“See, you unchain me, bring me over to the window, like you’ve been wanting to do, and just huck me through it.”
Lillian snorted.
I was glad to see a smile on her face, cutting past the prior tension.
“Or you could dangle me by the chain.”
Lillian’s smile widened, and she allowed herself a chuckle, pausing to glance back at the gas that saturated the lower grounds of Hackthorn.
As Lillian watched, I saw her pause, gathering her composure, getting ready to say something more serious, then giggle to herself, so brief and quiet I might have missed it if I hadn’t been studying her.
“I imagine Helen idly swinging me back and forth.”
“I could,” Helen said. “Or I could climb down to say hi.”
“Ah, that’d be nice. Are you keeping me company?”
“Absolutely, Sy,” Helen said. “And I could torment you for bribes while I do it.”
“I’m probably overdue for that torment,” I said. “When I think of torments, I’m imagining something like you adjusting my shirt so it covers my head and arms, and tying it into a knot at the end, while I’m dangling from my ankle there. Me, upper body bare to the world, everything from the armpits up bagged and tied.”
Lillian’s focus was on the window, and I could only see a bit of her face, but I could tell from that bit that a grin had spread across her face.
“Maybe do me a favor and undo my fly just in case I have to go?”
“I promise that if you ever find yourself in those dire straits, I’ll arrange you appropriately,” Helen said.
“Sy,” Lillian said. “You’re aware that just wouldn’t work, logistically? If you relieved yourself while dangling from your ankle, you’d be sure to get some on you. To the most tragic degree.”
“I’m the one with the appropriate equipment, thank you,” I said, in my best indignant voice. “I’ll have you know it’s a question of maximizing how much I push and minimizing how much I dribble. I have a Wyvern-equipped brain, so I’m sure I can optimize. Or wiggle my tied-up head and arms to move them out of the way.”
Lillian’s giggles were nonstop now, as much as she was trying to suppress them.
She managed in the midst of the giggle fit to pause, do her best to gather her composure. In the midst of it, as if purely by accident, she shot me a look of such pure, unadulterated warmth that it nearly knocked me out of my seat.
Which served to make me mentally stumble, my next few lines dashed from my mind.
“Ah,” I said.
Now Helen smiled like there was a joke that only she got.
“Shush, you,” I told her.
“I didn’t say a word,” Helen said, letting go of Lillian’s hand, arching her back in a stretch, before turning, so she was facing the window, her back and side to us and to the room.
I found my words. “So there I hang, dangling in more than one sense of the word—”
“Sy,” Lillian said, between giggles. “Puns? You’re better than that.”
“—and while I’m doing my best to water the grass far below and not to waterboard myself, all of the humorless black coats and aristocrats are no doubt peering through the window watching, not quite able to convince themselves it’s not a part of our devious plan that they should be very concerned about.”
Helen twisted in the moment and caught Lillian as Lillian sagged into the window seat, the stress of a very long few days, if not weeks, months, and years finding giggly release in irredeemable childishness.
I left it at that.
I was pretty content to watch Lillian smiling, with the occasional glance spared for the Nobles, who had shifted their position a little as the overall footing had changed. Three of them had gathered together to talk. I was content to bask, too, enjoying that memory of Lillian looking at me in a meaningful way that everyone wanted to be looked at.
That it had happened while I went on at length about my being tormented said something, but I wasn’t about to second guess the weirdness of my fellow Lambs.
Things eased down from there. We watched the enemy through the window, as the gas and circumstance strangled them.
Two students entered the room, carrying a tray of tea and a tray of fruit slices, breads, cheeses and nuts.
“Are there treats to go with the tea?” Helen asked, sitting up, her hands in her lap.
“After,” the student said. “Kitchens are packed with preparations for lunch. We’re aiming to have something for tea in the early afternoon.”
“Alright, thank you,” Helen said.
The students departed, leaving the four of us alone in the room.
“I think I’m being tormented,” Helen said.
“Yeah,” I said. “But it’s the kind of anticipation and torment you can bear.”
“It is,” Helen said.
Lillian glanced at me. “Do you want tea now, Sy? I know Helen waits until there’s something to have with it.”
“Not now, thank you,” I said.
“Alright. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good, all things considered,” I said. I waggled my foot, the chain rattling slightly.
Lillian made a small snorting sound, hiding her face.
“Don’t tell me you’re still on that?” I asked.
“Shush,” Lillian said.
“Come on, Lil, there’s gotta be rules about how long you’re allowed to laugh at something, when it’s behind us.”
Lillian let her head loll back, and she groaned.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
Lillian rose from the seat, giving Helen a pat on the leg, so Helen would move her leg and free her to walk away. “Sy.”
“Lil,” I said, pressing it.
She stalked her way to the chair I sat in. I remained in place, staring her down.
“Watch your head,” she said.
Then she heaved, tipping the chair backward. It struck the ground with the impact that only a chair with a heavy framework of wrought iron could do. The dense padding in the leather didn’t help with the weight.
For my part, if it wasn’t for the cuffs that bound me to my seat, I would have bounced clean out of the seat and sprawled on the floor. Instead, the chains jerked.
“I’ve told you countless times, don’t call me Lil.”
I closed my eyes. “Did you? My memory is terrible.”
“Ha ha,” she said.
I remained where I was, assessing my situation. The chair was such that I doubted my ability to lift it into an upright position again, which would be harder than tipping it back would be, especially with the irregular shape. I’d humiliate myself trying. That left me to figure out where I was going. I could sit on the front edge of my chair, but it was hardly comfortable for the long term. I could ask to relocate, as Lillian had recommended I do two or three times now, but that meant asking.
Instead, as I lay there, I tried to be very still. My face changed, starting at a neutral positio
n, but a grimace tugged at the edges, made my features contort. The grimace became a look of anguish.
“Sy?” Lillian asked. “You’re a charlatan. Don’t think I believe you for a second.”
I measured my breathing, letting it grow tighter by the second.
Even Helen had perked her head up, curious or concerned.
Lillian drew near, bending down to kneel at my side. I wrapped the excess chain around her neck, toppled her, and pulled her to the ground.
She reached out, and I matched her. My palm met hers, and I gripped her hand hard, fingers between each of hers, my grip firm.
Wait. Wrong hand.
I switched, moving to snatch her other hand, doing much the same thing. I was just in time to catch it as the syringes sprung forth from beneath her fingernails. With my fingers where they were, I could keep her from bringing the syringes down to catch me. I matched her attempts to move her arms with resistance. One of my legs helped to keep her from moving her lower body too much.
“You’re such a butt, Sy,” Lillian said.
“Very mature,” I said.
“Such a butt.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What are you gunning for, Sy?”
“Gunning?”
“The goal here? With this.”
“Making you wish you hadn’t tipped over my chair, for one thing.”
“Achieved,” she said.
I was studying her expression, trying to find the hints of discomfort, the imminent break I’d seen back in… wherever that city had been.
“You’re aware Helen’s watching?” Lillian murmured.
I moved my head, looking across the room. Helen was still there, lying across the window seat, one hand dangling, fingers touching the floor. She was staring at us.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I’m being taunted,” Helen said, mournfully.
“Are you, now?” I asked.
“My only joys are the vicarious and postponed,” she said.
“Helen,” Lillian said. “Please.”
“If you two had any grace at all, you’d close the circle. Honestly.”
“Helen,” I said.
“I know,” shes aid. “I understand. I know these things.”
Then she stood, and she strode from the room.