Theo
It was an honor to bleed for her.
Twelve days had passed since we returned from our trip. Vivian’s cabin was half-completed. I stared at the wooden spikes freshly buried in the ground, soon to host fresh charms.
As requested, the bedroom sat partially outside of her field.
Just enough for a bed. Of course, I needed to place a protective border of stakes around that portion.
The rest of the house probably didn’t need the same safety measures, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
Might as well surround all four sides just in case.
That method had worked for Ida her entire life. I trusted it.
Vivian had insisted on “moving in” the moment I started on the roof.
I explained what was laid down wasn’t sealed; it would drip water.
Not to mention, only about half the floorboards were placed.
The front half—the soon to be kitchen—was only dirt and exposed log. Tripping hazards. But she didn’t care.
She’d been circling the construction project like a hungry scavenger around a rotting corpse for days. I couldn’t keep her away any longer, based on the simple fact that I didn’t want to. She was so excited. And so, the time had come to bleed again.
I watched crimson stream from my palm into one of the twine-suspended jars, then applied pressure to stifle the flow and moved onto the next. Working quickly to finish before Vivian woke from her nap.
I knew she was assuming we only needed the six charms I’d already made…
But six didn’t feel like nearly enough for an entire cabin.
She would be upset with me when she realized I’d reopened my palm.
Too bad. I wasn’t fucking around with her safety.
Frankly, I was becoming a little obsessive about it…
because I was becoming obsessed with her.
Those feelings were starting to make me think differently about this whole ordeal.
We were halfway through summer, and it would be time to return to Virylan sooner than later.
Had I done enough to leave her protected in my absence?
My concerns tormented me. If they find out she’s here, they won’t stop until they have her.
I tried reminding myself it would be okay.
She was about as far away from civilization as she could be.
E.A.R.T.H. wouldn’t bother coming this far south without a good reason. Right?
But it wasn’t just her safety I was concerned with. What would leaving her at the end of summer even be like? I hadn’t been here long, but it felt strange to imagine doing anything other than this. Life with her.
We’d settled into a routine together. Every third day we visited Ida with supplies. Those trips gave us a chance to catch up, eat some of Ida’s delicious cooking, and rest. Otherwise, we focused on establishing Vivian’s “homestead”.
Wake up at the crack of dawn. Fuss over Nurghle. I build while she gardens or crafts objects for the house. Then lunch, during which she addresses the small scrapes, cuts, and bruises from my morning activities.
Vivian often tended to me like I was a child. Asking what hurt. If I’m bleeding. If I’m hungry or thirsty. It took time for me to identify those feelings and answer her. It was strange, thinking about how my body felt. But saying “no” repeatedly only pissed her off, so I complied sometimes.
After lunch, it was back to work for the day until the stars set. Then, dinner and taking turns bathing in the small waterfall running over the edge of her alcove.
Dinner was followed by another healing session for any injuries collected midafternoon.
Finally, we ended our evening by comparing our worlds.
Discussing the creatures, technology, societal complexities, anything really.
On nice nights, we stretched out in the native Trebianna grass Vivian called “clover” and watched the galaxies swirl in the sky.
She liked finding shapes in the shifting patterns, remarking a couple of times that she’d never “seen the stars from New York”.
Too much artificial light. That was hard for me to imagine—so much electricity the sky becomes hidden…
A yawn across the field warned me that Vivian was rousing from her nap. I glanced at the charms. There was no easy way to hide where all the blood came from—nothing in Cyciciah bled—so I wrapped my wounded hand and prepared to face the lecture about taking better care of myself.
“Sorry, Theo. I didn’t mean to pass out on you,” she yawned again as I approached, sitting up to face me. “Stuffing the mattress really took it out of me this morning.”
“I’m glad you got the rest,” I replied honestly. “Any good dreams?”
She rubbed her lovely pale eyes. “I was at work, and all my teeth fell out. And I was super upset about that. So, I tried to glue them back in, but I only had glitter glue, so all the customers laughed at me because my gums were sparkly and purple. Then I got fired.”
It was a fifty-fifty shot she’d say bizarre shit like that when I asked about her dreams. She seemed to like talking about them. They were usually nonsense and easy to laugh off, unlike mine. When I slept, I relived every brutal kill made.
“Open wide, Little Goddess.” I crouched down and used a thumb to push on her bottom lip so she opened her mouth. “All teeth accounted for. No purple. You’re good to go.”
“What a relief!” she laughed, falling back onto the freshly stuffed mattress with a soft thump. “What’d I miss?”
“I put up the charms for your cabin. It’s safe to sleep in there. That is, assuming you still wanted to move in while it’s half-done.”
She squealed, kicking her feet. “I’m so excited! I can move all my little things over today if you don’t mind just helping me with the mattress.”
“Of course.” I nodded. “If you had to choose between a roof that doesn’t leak and all the floorboards being in place, which would you prefer?”
“Probably the roof. I can help with the muck this afternoon.”
Muck wasn’t an inaccurate word for what we’d be using to seal things up, but it made me snort. “Deal. What do you want for lunch?”
“Uh-uh. You aren’t getting out of your midday doctor’s appointment. What new battle wounds do you have? Let me see.” She rose to her knees and began inspecting my face and neck.
“Just the hand,” I stated flatly, releasing my fist to show her the scrunched up crimson rag I’d been using to apply pressure.
“Holy fuck, what’d you do?!” Her eyes were wide as she gingerly peeled away the cotton. The removal reopened the wound.
Her palm pressed into mine, red seeping between her fingers. I hated the sight of her caked in blood. But the tingling between our skin told me that was the extent of the mess as she stitched the gash closed.
“Leave the scar,” I requested urgently when my skin began to feel a little too healed. I was attached to my only scar with positive memories.
Her expression fell. Was she disappointed? Suddenly, she threw my healed hand back at me. Okay, not disappointed. Mad. “I told you no more charms!”
“And I agreed, we didn’t need any more for hiking. This isn’t hiking.”
“How many did you make?” Her eyes pierced into me like daggers.
I squared my shoulders at the female half my size who looked ready to smack me. “Twenty.”
“Twenty?!”
“Five for each side,” I said matter-of-factly.
“If I knew you were going to slice your palm open over this I wouldn’t have asked you to build the cabin there!”
“I know.” I stroked a finger across her soft cheek affectionately and smiled at my tortured nurse.
So pretty when she was angry. I loved the way her nose crinkled as she scowled, her lips pouting, her icy eyes squinted tight.
Every part of her alive and feisty and expressive.
“I was thinking we could have some obscenely large salads for lunch today. Extra cheese and oil.”
I liked that there was overlap in our worlds even when it wasn’t a perfect match.
It clearly made her happy to say coffee, when she was really drinking logomé.
Or cheese when it was pamaig. A little piece of Earth on Trebianna.
I intended to find more comforts for her on our next trip to town, when we’d move Ida into her new home.
This field was a hybrid of our worlds, and I wanted to embrace the way our lives blended together.