DeathWatch II No. 16 – I Don’t Know How To Act Around You

This is Issue #16 of DeathWatch, Book II: tentatively called Heart Of Ilona, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find DeathWatch, the first in the series, or start from the beginning of Book II!

Happy Reading!

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* * *

Sour-faced, irritable that the Legatus would take the side of the insistent her, in her head, Jules said, “I need a drink. Give me five minutes to clean up and — do you even have any clean clothes that would fit me?”

“They’re in your room,” he said, gesturing through the other doorway.

“My room?” Jules said, looking baffled.

“That’s what it’s called for now, yes. You’re living here, with me; that’s your room. Unless you wanted a different one?” His voice was mild; the question was sincere — he would move her, if she wanted to.

Frustrated, Jules sighed, “I don’t know how to act around you.”

Coryphaeus shrugged, saying, “Neither do I. I suppose we have a great deal to learn that we simply don’t know about, yet.”

He got up and left her to her own devices once more, and when she walked into the dining area, scrubbed clean and wearing fresh clothes, he was seated at a table bearing an array of food, re-dressed and reading a book, picking at things on his plate.

He smiled at her, tentatively, and Jules smiled in return, pained, but it grew warmer to see the way he rose from his chair to pull out one for her.

“Thank you,” she said, moving to sit down with him.

They began their meal in silence, but then Coryphaeus said, “Would you like to talk?”

“…about?” Jules wondered, cocking her head to the side. Small talk seemed a strange thing to engage in, but perhaps it would ease the awkward feeling of the situation.

“Perhaps about how you’re feeling? Your loss? You have gone through something terrible, and I–”

“No,” Jules whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t want to think about him right now. It’s too much. I don’t really want to be thinking about anything. I want to be numb for awhile.”

Coryphaeus nodded, rose from the table, and returned with a bottle of something silver blue and half-glowing. He opened the seal, poured some out, and set it in front of her. “This will get you numb. Fill your belly first, then have some.”

Jules, not one to ever be in the habit of listening, picked up the shot and tipped it entirely down her throat.

Eyes bulging, Coryphaeus took the glass from her and said, “Some, you fool! You’ll make yourself sick!”

“D’y’think I’ve never drunk before, y’irksome, mule-headded git?” Jules laughed ruefully. “I’m aiming for unconscious. I don’ want t’die yet. I know that much. But I need a little more help with living.”

Frustrated, Corypheus set the bottle aside and said, “Eat, please? More than the few bites you’ve had?”

“If you’ll drink,” Jules said, challenging. “For all your status as some monstrous rebel, Legatus, I have a feeling you live for rules, and love to follow them.”

“So what if I do?” His voice was indignant, higher than he’d spoken before, irritated. “We have rules for a reason.”

“To keep the beasts in line,” Jules said, her pale eyes flashing. “That’s all. Now drink with me. I’m fucking done with everything, and if you give half as much a shit about me as you say you do, you’ll take me at my word and stop trying to save me from myself, yeah?”

“Guardian preserve us,” Coryphaeus sighed, pouring himself a shot. He drank it, grimacing briefly, then coughed, and laughed when she thumped him on the back. “Enough. You don’t know how potent this is–”

“Stop,” Jules said, yanking the bottle from his hands. She put it directly to her lips, tipped her head back, and took four full swallows before he had enough thought to tip it down pull it away from her mouth. “See?” she laughed, blinking tears from her eyes. “It’s just aether whisky!”

He shook his head, disapproving, and opened his mouth to chastise her.

She pushed the bottle toward him. “Keep up, comrade. Come on, Legatus. Now you.”

Sighing, Coryphaeus looked at the bottle, looked at her, and shrugged. “Tomorrow, we will regret this.”

“Better to regret doing something than regret doing nothin,” Jules proclaimed.

Coryphaeus drank from the bottle, letting it sear a line of electric fire down his throat to his belly. He wheezed, shaking his head, and looked at her, expectant. “Better to live to regret, than not,” he quipped, once he finished swallowing.

“I’m fine. I’ll live,” Jules said, letting him keep the bottle as she got up and paced the room like an restless lioness. “I’ve got a tolerance ten times better than yours, I’m sure.”

“Is it the Krieg in you?” Coryphaeus wondered.

“More likely the Celd,” Julianna answered. “They’re a drunken lot,” she laughed. “But you — do you drink much?”

“Hardly any,” Coryphaeus sighed, shrugging. “But when I do, I’m not prone to excessive drunkenness, or–” He paused when Julianna chuckled, and turned to look at her. “What?”

“You’re talking with your eyes closed,” she said. “I think you’re probably headed toward excessively drunk right now. And… You’re not wrong. This is a fuck of a lot stronger than I’d imagined,” she murmured. “Gonna be an early night for you, I think.”

Blushing, Coryphaeus sighed, saying, “I’m not ready for bed just yet. You’re mocking me as though you’re not also about to simply fall over.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Jules said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You are!” the Legatus said, frowning and then laughing at the picture of Jules, angry, sulking even, with her wild red curls.

“You stop laughing at me right now,” Jules demanded.

Coryphaeus couldn’t help it; he wasn’t able to restrain the giggles at all. “Could you give your left foot a little stomp?” He teased. “It would complete the whole image for me–”

“Damn you!” Jules said, and did stomp her foot, right down against Coryphaeus’s instep.

He yowled, pained, and skittered back from her, gasping. “Commander!” Coryphaeus shouted, pulling his foot up, looking shocked.

And that is when Jules burst into laughter, drunken and giddy, clapping her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide over her fingers as she looked at Coryphaeus. “You should see your face!” she giggled, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen someone’s eyes get so wide! Commander!” Her voice mocked his; she pretended to push hers deeper, then hopped about on one foot, clutching the other in a dramatic display.

Her play acting was so ridiculous, Coryphaeus couldn’t help but laugh, but then he stood up and went to her, saying, “Stop hopping around like that — you’re drunk, Commander–”

You’re drunk, Legatus,” Jules retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Jules,” he sighed, catching her as she fell into his arms, clumsy and still laughing.

“Don’t–” she whispered, shaking her head, and then she was looking up at him with those fierce, pale eyes.

He moved to let her go, his eyebrows raised, concern on his face, but as he pulled back, she pressed forward, and kissed him once more.

* * *

NEXT

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formation

In the act of becoming,
he shuns one costume for another.
It is not the graceful chaos
of caterpillar-cum-butterfly,

but instead,

a dark-magicked wrenching
of broken-winged bird into panther,
or perhaps a drowning man into an eel,
finally able to breathe and move,
inside his true and slippery skin.

In the act of rebirth,
he rejoices in his own blood.

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cendance

All these things I believed
all of these things
I knew to be true
until I woke up one day and realized

while some things
are things we choose,
some things
are things that choose us.

I have been turned
inside out.
I will be mutilated
beyond recognition to some.

I will be giving up some things,
and winning other,
more crucial battles
you don’t even know exist.

The bloody stage of my flesh
will be conquered,
and the wasted landscape of my head
will be green once more.

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DeathWatch II No. 15 – Go Clean Up. You’ll Feel Better

This is Issue #15 of DeathWatch, Book II: tentatively called Heart Of Ilona, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find DeathWatch, the first in the series, or start from the beginning of Book II!

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

Stunned, Coryphaeus pulled back after a few moments, and stared down at Jules in wonder. His dark eyes shone, and he looked almost lost, confused.

She schooled her face, but could not stop the flush in her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she pulled away and smoothed her robes, looking down at her feet then as she said, “I’d like to clean up. And… I’m hungry. Could I… Is there food? I could make us–”

“Go bathe,” Coryphaeus said, heat in his cheeks as he turned away, trying to keep her from seeing his face. “I’ll make food.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I’m hungry, too, Commander,” Coryphaeus said firmly. “Go clean up. You’ll feel better.”

Jules slunk away toward the washroom, feeling both irritable and apologetic, the giddy joy of that kiss turned to ashes so easily, not knowing how to act or what to say. When she let herself into the tiled room, she shut the door and turned on the water in the giant tub, letting the sound of its splashing cover up the fact that she was standing still, staring at herself in the mirror.

He’s gone.

She stared that way for a long time, finally peeling the robes from her skin, looking at bruises, scratches, twisting and turning so she could see the burn scars down her spine, in the mirror. How long had it been? She didn’t really know. Some days had blended into others. She was scarring, no longer bleeding. It had been some time, then.

She met her own eyes and frowned in the mirror for a long while, watching her own face. “The fuck are you doing, Yana?” she whispered to herself. “Guy shows you a little humanity and you throw yourself at him?” She looked down at the ring on her left hand and the pang of misery that came was so all-encompassing that she found herself on her knees in front of the toilet heaving silently, struggling to rid herself of a feeling she was too terrified to acknowledge.

Nathan would not care that she kissed Coryphaeus, Westlander or no. Nathan would not feel betrayed if she fucked an entire army. Nathan was a jealous man, but not of her body, or even her heart. He simply loved knowing he came first.

But now he’d never come first again.

He’d never anything, again.

But if by some miracle he was watching her from whatever afterlife would have him, Nathan would not want her broken by grief. He would not want her to wind down like some neglected doll, springs and gears turned to rust.

He would want her to be able to rise above her grief, and find joy again, as soon as she could.

He would rather she forget him than weep for him.

“You stupid, stupid man,” she said quietly, resting her cheek on the rim of the bowl. “You stupid fucking man; why’d you go and do a stupid fucking thing like die on me?”

* * *

When Coryphaeus knocked on the door half an hour later, Jules didn’t answer. He could still hear the water running; it was reasonable that she would want to take her time cleaning up. Since the Hunt, everything had been hard for her — when he kept bringing her back to his home, he did not insist she wash or change her clothes, and in fairness, she needed both of those things to be done.

So he gave her time, and did not disturb her.

Half an hour later, he knocked again. When there was still no response, he tried the door, heart in his throat.

What if she’d escaped again? What if she’d hurt herself? What if she was simply there in the tub, lifeless, gashes in her arms and legs, her blood filling the tub? He opened the door with his eyes closed at first, took a deep breath, and opened them.

There she was, curled up in a ball, naked on the floor, the water still running, tears dried on her face.

She looked like she’d fallen asleep.

“Commander,” he said, gently shaking her. Her skin felt chilled, clammy. “You really need to eat. To drink. To take care of your body. You are doing yourself no good this way.”

Rousing, Jules looked up at Coryphaeus and said sadly, “I’m having trouble giving a shit. You get that, right?” She even smiled pathetically, pleading with him. Don’t make me get up. Don’t make me keep going.

“I do,” he said softly. “A meal will not bring him back. Neither will sleep. Neither will time, nor laughter. None of these things will fill the empty in you. But none of them will hurt, either, and perhaps they will ease the other pains that are adding up beside your broken heart. I can wash you and put you in bed. I can feed you. I can do everything except sleep and swallow for you, Commander. At some point, you will simply have to move on with the business of living.”

Her pale eyes were hard as she stared up at Coryphaeus, saying, “And if I don’t want to?”

Stop it this instant, Yana. You’re being selfish, she told herself. You already know you have to. You already know you’re not some weak little sniveling girl who’s going to die from a broken heart.

But he’s gone.

And he’ll be gone forever.

No point in wailing, right?

Might as well breathe.

Might as well get up.

She heard her own voice say it in her head, but just couldn’t bring herself to listen.

He watched her a long time, brows knitted in concern and frustration. “Then you will die here, for no reason, on my washroom floor, and it will be a waste. I cannot stop you, and I don’t want to stop you, if you are so determined. But you have not thrown yourself from the cliff, nor have you provoked a fight with a guard, or turned yourself over to the Princess. I have to believe something in you is still fighting. You don’t seem like the type to give up.”

* * *

NEXT

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Stop Struggling

“I see,” she began, looking at the cards, “wow. That’s… That’s a lot of conflict.” Navy blue eyes glanced up, met a pair so cerulean, she had to glance away, for fear of being burned. “You gotta lotta, uh. Hm. Shit, dude, I feel bad charging you for this one.”

Blue-eyes snorted, shaking his head. “Come on, or I’ll take the tenner and get some other con a cheap lunch.”

Her hand slapped over the bill on the table; she gritted her teeth and snarled, “I said I feel bad. Not that I ain’t gonna fuckin do it.”

“On with it, then.”

She looked up at him again, frowning as she said, “So I gotta ask — do I know you?”

“Really?” he sighed. “That’s what you’re leading with? Some bloody past life fuckery?” Full of snark, he planted his hands on the table, and leaned in to stand up. “I’m done. You’re all alike; you rope a bloke in and then–”

She could see over his shoulder, and her gaze focused there for a moment, navy blue eyes so very wide, impossibly wide, strangely dark — two toned? No, just one pupil blown out. Daft bint was on something, he bet. It made her left eye seem so very dark, her right eye almost pale in comparison.

He knew he shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t get caught up. He forced himself to blink.

That’s when her eyes got huge, and she grabbed his tie, and hauled him back down, as if to crack his skull against the cement of the chess-top right there in the park.

“Oi! Whatchoo think y–” His shout was indignant, but it cut out when the bullets started flying. He tried to scramble up over the table, but something kept him pinned down. “Leggo!”

“Stop. Struggling!” she cried. “Fuck, do you want to get us both killed?”

“I’m not the one staying fucking still in the fucking middle of a fucking shooting!” he shouted back.

“You’ll be a lot more fucking still if you don’t shut up!”

And that’s when he felt the pressure against him increase. He craned his neck to try to see what else was holding him — but from his angle, all he could see was her hand on his tie. Even so, the pressure on his back kept his belly against the table, his hips against its edge.

Against his back — hands. Pairs of them shifting their weight, their touch, as if they couldn’t figure out where best to settle.

When the shooting stopped, the sound of sirens could be heard.

When she let go of his tie, he felt the hands leave his back — he stood, whirling to face the ones he’d thought held him down, but no one was there.

He turned back, but she and the ten were gone, leaving behind something else, instead.

A trail of blood splotches, leading away from the table.

“Shit.”

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