Completed Lady of spades

[Gormyr Snowsong]

7th of Winter, Cemetery, at night


They had stopped putting people to the ground. Mother left and they rotted too quickly. Dead were put to the fire instead. Still, so much digging to be done. Flowers there, gutter here, even spade and hoe lacked the motivation sometimes. He could feel them rejecting every movement as they recoiled back into his palms. Even during a winter night, there was no cold left in the world. Sweat dripped down his back and he was grateful for it. The momentary cooling promised to be followed by another layer of protection. Wouldn’t think much of the stink from another man’s position, but to him it was no stink at all. It was safety. As he struck the ground again, he quickly realized what gave him such struggle. He was digging too deep and striking the roots of a nearby plant. Pity. He wondered if plants would ever return like his other visitors did.

With the thought, his eyes finally caught that his breath had already been visible for some time. He prided himself on being calm, but she must’ve noticed something. The next wave of cold grazed his left shoulder. Somehow, she had learned he found comfort in that action. Putting down the tools, he let them clang on the cobbles before placing a hand over the leftover cold on his shoulder. He knew. She knew. Yet no one spoke for the longest time.

“Do you remember how we met?” for a being that carried cold wherever she stepped, her voice was warm. This was good. Almost enough to forget. “Body breaks” and the storyteller in him cracked his knuckles for added effect “Forgetting hard”. As if a mute had made it for the deaf, this language had no melody. All the better, he guessed, Melody got noticed. Melody didn’t last long.

“Why do we play this game every night?” there was anger there “I have checked around us. Checked again. Checked another time!” something fell outside his sight. Anger indeed. He knew she was careful, but he still muddled under his breath “Safety” as his tools shook on the ground without being touched, he grabbed them out of her grasp. As he looked at her, she reminded him of his father. They would fight like this while the old man still had fight in him. Not a lot of words.

She wasn’t her usual self today. Her normal etherealness had instead been replaced by a more solid figure. She was trying to be seen – good. Her ice was yet to melt. The envy he felt must’ve been too obvious, and he bit his lip as she grew slightly paler. He would have to work on that. “Today would be my sister’s birthday”, she said in the proper tongue. He felt obliged to respond “How old is she today?” and wondered whether his sister too hung a couple of inches off the ground, fading from the world. “Seven, she would be seven”.
“Why aren’t you with her tonight?” he asked, somewhat surprised. “Didn’t want her to be cold” could their words even catch in the throat in this state “to be scared”. It was strange how she didn’t visit her family, when they were so close. “I went by the house today” he pushed further, not letting her lose herself in sadness “They’ve rebuilt. Looks better now” when she pulled closer, he felt a need to be completely honest “The soot marks are almost invisible. People no longer cast stones at them” it seemed like it pained her to hear that, but it didn’t sour the mood. He let her hang there for a few more moments, appreciating the cold, before pulling away.

“Have you tried talking to them?” when he shook his head, he didn’t give her a chance to press on “Even on East Street…” he never finished his sentence, and instead just looked down on his dregs. “They don’t need my help. What we left them was enough” she didn’t seem convinced, but stopped asking. On cue with her pause, he grabbed the sack from the floor and started pushing the excess leaves into it. This was in better condition than his shirt. They were similar in color. Would anyone even notice? Ah, sleeves! He looked to his shoulder and decided against it. He would need sleeves. “Have you heard anything, Annie?” he sucked a bit of breath in at his misstep, but she remained composed.

“Lady” if there were teeth to grit, she would’ve. “Why?” and this time curiosity even reflected in his eyes, as they grew bluer as the question stood between them. “Because no one did in life” he nodded and she proceeded to tell him about a Vantha boy from the Skyglow. She was unsure if he even needed two hands to count his years. Beaten till the end. Another disappointment. She must’ve mistaken it for sadness because he could now hear the leaves scraping across the floor towards him. He took the help, and they both pretended not to hear the dripping sound.

[Gormyr Snowsong]

It would be some time before leaves were heaped and gathered. She was helping him, but perhaps also distracting him. This action had taken long, too long. Once that was finished, the real work could begin. As he passed, he remembered that there were things she knocked over somewhere he couldn’t see. Waving off the thought, he wasn’t in the mood to question her about it. There would always be tomorrow. There would always be more work.

“Have you given it thought?” he was apparently idle for too long, since that was the question, he wanted to avoid. “I have… last time felt horrible, and the one before” he eyed her with caution. “What do you get out of it?” she passed through a small headstone, cocked her head at the question and then floated backwards through it once again. She circled it and waved her hands through it. “I get to remember how all of this feels” she did edge her nose upwards a bit at that last bit. “Would be better if it was somewhere nice, but this mess will have to do” as she spread her arms out to encompass the monotone scenery, he sniffed at the comment. He probably would’ve been offended if he liked his job more. He was cleaning this place after all.

“We could go for a walk together” it was strange to propose mundane things in situation that was anything but, to sane people. There was nothing normal about the lives two of them were bound to. She nodded and added “and dinner too” she sounded pleading at that. He winced, but accepted the bargain. He wasn’t sure they could hold each other long enough to finish both in a single joining. He liked Annie. Pain was acceptable.
“Ready?!” she let herself get louder with excitement. He put his tools down carefully and waved her to stop mid motion. “You must remember to drag my leg as you walk this time” then he realized he’d straightened out too much and softened his voice while slumping his shoulders “and make sure to maintain posture as we agreed” as her excitement sunk, he put down his hand and grabbed onto the stone next to him.

It looked like she tried to be gentle as she crept slowly into his body. This only made matters worse as the entire process prolonged the agony. Finally, with a jerk of his knees, they were one. Still shaky from the joining, he tried to tell her he was stable enough to walk, but the voice was painful and somehow, he knew he hurt them both. This was possible. The envoyers did it at times. The two of them just needed practice. Best he could do at the moment was a grunt of agreement and a strained nod. As she took them ‘tween the stones, he didn’t have the heart to tell her she was dragging the wrong leg. Their gaze would wander to the street in the distance, and he could feel the longing. They could remember her family and the new life kicking in their stomach. It wasn’t clear which one of them moved the hand, but it was now resting on the belly, soothing the spectral memory.

With a jolt of shared realization, the arm moved aside. He finally understood why she put her arms to her middle all the time. She could feel he knew. As she pressed their hand into the stone, she did it very harshly. Pain shot up their arm, but he was aware she couldn’t feel it. Hopefully she’d get some of her senses back over time. Almost as a diversion, she headed back for his things. “Dinner” their voice echoed.

As they tried sitting down, the body fell and she stayed floating. The pain flared in the side of his head. It wasn’t a long drop, but the pain was unmistakable. “Warn me next time” she was about to say something, but he added “This hurts, you kno” and he bit down on his words, but they were already out. Not letting the argument develop, he pulled out the knife and started cutting the kelp to throw into the pan. She seemed eager, but he was twice ready for disappointment. For one, it was weeds and for another, he wasn’t sure she’d feel it at all. Sometimes he felt regret he didn’t ask more questions while his teacher was still around.

With the kelp cut, some chunks of dried fish followed and finally the potatoes he mostly peeled. He swished them around the pan, before getting the steel over his knuckles. Dragging a bit of the leaves from the sack under the pan, he used the hoe and the spade as makeshift walls. It already looked ridiculous, but when he finally hit the flint and sparked the flames, the smell started spreading too. He was glad he wasn’t from Winterflame, else they’d be laughing at him now. What came next was a gathering of everything non-essential back into the bag. Leaving tools around for ghosts was never a good idea. He returned his thoughts to the pan and the stirring. He realized he had cut the kelp improperly and it would likely become chewy once cooked. He combated his defeatism with her apparent excitement. Perhaps she’d feel something after all.

[Gormyr Snowsong]

His right hand was slightly singed by fire and few hairs poorer. Potatoes weren’t so lucky. He once heard his father say that once it turns black, it’s a bit too late to worry about ‘em. Well, it was too late for the potatoes. “Give me a flake, to get it off the fire” and to her benefit, she really did. As the pan laid on the cobbles, he could imagine her foot tapping mid air and wondered what sound it’d make. When he turned around, she was uncomfortably close, and his shoulder passed through her slightly. It was the correct shoulder, so he didn’t mind much. Still, they might need to set some boundaries. You never knew with ghosts. Their despair could be anticipated, but it shouldn’t be trusted.

He spread his arms on the cobbles and used his head to signal her to go on. And she did. She was faster this time, and he was thankful for it. Their nails scratched the cobbles, but the discomfort was his alone. He could feel some form of excitement well inside her, but it was short lived. In a few harsh jerks, their connection broke once again. She seemed to be out of energy. He could provide it, but he was hesitant to do so. Holding this over her head seemed the better play here. And yet.

His palms cramped a bit as they dived into one of the cold fish ponds. How come he never tried eating the pond fish? It felt like it would anger the ghosts, but then again, he never saw them paying the fish any mind. As he was cleaning his hands, he could hear her speaking softly “I’m sorry. It’s the outbursts from earlier” she paused and in an even lower voice added “I could normally handle two joinings”. He knew that was the truth, but it was already history at this point. When he wiped his hands the cleanest they’d been in weeks, he unpacked his knife once again and put it in the embers for a bit. His mother showed him that. Heat the knife, save the life. The words echoed within him and only made him more set in his ways. He wasn’t a man who could deny her this, not yet.

It didn’t take Annie long to pick up on what was happening and she raised a hand as if to stop him halfheartedly, but she never said anything. Soon enough, his left hand had a shallow slash across the palm. The blood dripped into the corner of the food and mixed with the potatoes, fish, and kelp. When he believed enough blood was spilled, he used his other hand to mash it all together. What came next wasn’t exactly homogenized, but it was close enough. Teeth could do the rest. A poor estimate had him burn his tongue and caused her to laugh at him, but the lesson was immediately learned. Moving the food closer to her, he made sure that it cooled faster. He helped by blowing on it. When he was confident, he wouldn’t repeat his mistake, he took a big chunk of the bloody food mud in his mouth and ground it down to a single thing. It was hard to tell whether he chewed for moments or for ages. The mixture was hideous.

Finally, he felt ready to spew out a dirty, liquid smoke. He thought it would be white, but nothing was left clean in this life. It was just off enough that you couldn’t relate it to freshly fallen snow. Her eyes bulged and she inched towards him. He could feel the hunger. This was the moment to subdue her. She would’ve done anything for it. He couldn’t do it though. Not to her. There would eventually be a target for his cruelty, but he couldn’t make her one. The world already had enough suffering, it was just poorly distributed. The next to suffer would be the manufacturer, not the recipient.

With a wordless gesture, he ushered her into his mist and saw her soul grow stronger because of it. It felt somehow maternal. He wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to let her soak all of it, but he didn’t want to stop her either. When she was done, he nodded once again and felt her sliding into the link. This time it was almost smooth. His body already ached all over, but this didn’t seem to add to the agony. Not wasting a beat, she grabbed the fork and her movements seemed more refined somehow. He’d been used to their link being more sluggish in nature. Their mouth was filling up with food, but he couldn’t feel her enjoyment of it. The only two feelings were confusion and his own aversion. He was certain that she couldn’t feel things at this point, but she kept pushing down the food until nothing was left. Flattering, he supposed, but sadly pointless.

They held together a bit longer until finally, she drifted out.