Chapter 9 Colorful Masks and Underlying Manipulations
NINE
COLORFUL MASKS AND UNDERLYING MANIPULATIONS
Darolus
My pet has not gotten any easier in the days that followed.
Switching unpredictably between fighting me and being tame, I never know which side of her I will get until I am already in the thick of it.
As much as it pains me—and her—I must still bind her every time I leave the open space my nest is in, as she has not desisted from searching for a way out.
I keep the main tunnel obstructed by rocks she cannot lift or push aside, but that has not stopped her from searching for small holes and places she can fit through that I cannot.
Luckily my size, strength, and long tail have only been helpful in this regard.
For what I can’t follow her into, my tailtip can.
There has been no nook or cranny I have not been able to retrieve her from and block off afterward.
Then there are times I return when she is the opposite: lounging and exploring the space quietly, often staring out at the water or her reflection in it.
During these peaceful moments she takes off her boots and chains and sets them aside, spending her time on the hide that’s still on the floor, the one I have come to think of as her hide.
She sleeps there at night when I retie her to the rock.
When she pulls out the little colorful tubes and small shiny sticks from the pack around her waist, I know she is not going to try and run. Each time she does this, I pause what I am doing to watch.
Over the days, and with the fresh water I have supplied from a stream above, she has cleaned and reapplied the coloring to her face multiple times, sometimes fiddling with it for hours, perfecting the lines.
It is fascinating. Each small stroke is done with the greatest precision, her body perfectly frozen as she peers into her hand mirror and pulls her skin taut around her eyes, purses her lips.
She knows I watch her when she does this and she does not like it.
Today, as she lays out her tubes and sticks, taking her time selecting which she will use, I pick up another rock behind my nest and throw it into the pool.
In my spare moments, I have been trying to create a nicer space for her, clearing the bigger and mid-sized stones from the central area of my nest and displacing them to areas she will never go without her footwear.
As for the smaller rocks that have scattered, those I throw into the water to be rid of them.
They are a nuisance to my scales as much as they are to her delicate feet.
I have seen her throw a couple of the smaller rocks in herself.
We are alike in this simple activity, and for that I am grateful.
Ignoring me, she pulls out her little mirror and uncaps the first stick, spreading the color slowly across her pouty lips. Her mouth takes on an entirely new shade, from a soft pink to a brilliant, blood red. It is the same color she had on the day I found her.
I busy myself with clearing a larger boulder out from the back wall and using it to fill in another small gap she might try squeezing through, only watching from the corner of my eye as she puts her shiny stick away and smacks her lips.
Next she adds a touch of cream to her face.
Resting the mirror on the rock she’s bound to at night, she leans forward until her left eye is in front of it, then thickens her eyelashes with a black tube before switching her attention to the other eye.
When she is done, she closes her mirror and places everything back inside the pouch she mostly keeps belted to her waist.
For how strange she is, tiny, with legs instead of a tail, and with little to no body armor outside of her clothing and footwear, her ever-changing face is enthralling to behold.
Beautiful.
Why she does this ritual every day, I do not know. But it is one of the only things she lets me see of her odd ways. Mostly, she requests privacy for her daily functions.
After she puts her footwear back on, she glances at me. When she notices me watching her again, she quickly looks away and gets to her feet.
I straighten, bracing for her to make a run for it—she only does so when her footwear is on—but then she merely bends down and picks up a small rock.
Pinching it between her fingers, she tosses it into the water, briefly contemplating the ripples it makes.
Then she picks up another and repeats the motion.
After her fourth rock, I realize what she is doing.
She is helping me. Helping in an effort to lower my guard and make another escape attempt.
I find a large boulder and, rounding my arms around it, heft it up.
Moving toward the entrance to the tunnel, I drop it amongst the others there, reminding her that I am aware of her ulterior motives.
Because why else would she help me make the place safer for her if she does not plan on staying long?
When I look back to see her expression, I am surprised to find her eyes are not on me.
Instead, she has turned away. Entirely oblivious to what I am doing, she picks up a rock at the edge of her hide and tosses it into the pool, immediately searching around for another.
One by one she clears out everything around the place she sleeps, even shuffling the smallest pebbles into the pool with her boots.
Coiling my tail in and under me, I settle in to observe her unobtrusively.
With a brief glance my way, she sighs, then continues until the entire area is clean except for the inevitable dust on the stone tile.
She glances at me again before picking up the side of her hide and lifting it. I tilt my head, curious.
Taking the hide to the water, she shakes it out. Dust and dirt go flying.
I frown. I did not realize I had her resting on something so dirty. I had partially shaken it when she arrived… but that was days ago. Chagrined, I hiss.
She stops and looks at me again, pausing to see if I will do something.
Schooling the shame from my face, I settle deeper into my tail.
Her jaw ticks as she goes back to shaking out the hide.
The air is thick, tense, more so than it has been since her last escape attempt. Grazing my claws over my tail, my gaze trails after her as she carries the hide back to the same spot on the floor and spreads it out once more.
Afterward, she sits on it and faces me, and for a short time we watch each other. Neither one of us speaks as our eyes roam, sizing one another up.
Eventually, she opens her hands and shows me her empty palms. “I promise I won’t try again,” she says.
“We will see,” I say slowly.
“I’m too tired to do anything, trust me, and my body hurts like a bitch after… everything.” Rolling her shoulders, she yawns. I determine it to be genuine. “You’ve got me sealed in here tight anyways. What am I going to do? I’m stuck even if I get past you.”
“It does not mean you will not try if you think you can,” I argue.
She laughs though it is short and soft. “I guess you’re right.
Still… it doesn’t change the truth.” She sighs and it sounds sadder and more remorseful than I expected it to.
I scrutinize her face, except her expression is unreadable, blank behind her colors.
“I’m not getting out of here, and unless I figure out a way to kill you, which I’m not sure is even possible anymore, I’m here whether I like it or not. So, Darolus, want to be my friend?”
Her pale green eyes meet mine, unclouded by lies. Narrowing my own, I try to figure out whether she is trying to trick me. No matter how it seems, she must be. I can find no reason for her question unless it is meant to do as I suspect and put my guard down.
Unfortunately for her, that will never happen. I have been on guard all my life. I was not called a monster without surviving many attempts on my life first—and those were not always because of my vast size.
But two can play these games of hers.
Perhaps I can convince her to trust me.
“Friend?” I ask. “I do not want friends.”
“Well, you might as well try wanting one because I really need you to be my friend right now.”
Taken aback, I frown. “Why?”
She grabs her face and pushes her hands up it and through her hair with a dramatic flourish.
“Because I’m starving! And I don’t think I can eat any more of these bugs you keep giving me.
” She points to a pile of small black beetles I scavenged for her from deeper in the waterways beneath the city.
“I know I haven’t been easy the past few days, but I will die if I don’t get something more substantial to eat and that isn’t so gross! ”
“Meat,” I suggest, thinking it over.
“Yes! Meat, if you have any. I can…” she looks around, her eyes wide, “…start a garbage fire with something to cook it. Meat or starchy grains of some sort would be great. Seriously, feed me well and it will do wonders for our relationship. I think we could be great friends, big boy.”
Big boy. This is the second time she has called me that.
I…
I do not mind being called big… but boy?
Rising, I straighten and peer down at my body. I am big but I am not a boy. I am a full-sized male naga.
Though for the first time, her smile reaches her eyes, and it seems like she is telling me the truth.
It makes sense. I have not had the time to hunt since her arrival, too busy figuring out what to do about her and watching her.
I have not eaten in days myself, only sustaining on the bugs that I have also provided her with.
Suddenly my stomach reminds me that I have not ventured into the plains between here and the forest for the succulent meat of pigs since the arrival of the recent skycrafts.
“Please,” she begs, her voice smaller than before as she gives me imploring eyes.
I uncoil my tail and crack my back and neck, then turn to remove the boulders blocking me from access above. “I will hunt us some meat.”
“You will?”
“Yes. It is time I eat as well. I do not need to be your friend for you to request the sustenance your body needs, Sabrina. It is not like I am allowing you to sustain yourself. I will supply you with what you need, but I do not know what that is. You must tell me.” I roll away the last two boulders and twist to face her. “You are the first human I have known.”
“You are my second alien—naga. Though I only saw the first one.”
I tilt my head at the tunnel. “If you are hungry, it is best I go now with the night soon ahead of us. It will be some time until I am back. How long does your body have?”
She lifts her hands then drops them. “If you’re asking until I die, I dunno, maybe a couple of days? I should have enough water.” She peers at the basin of fresh water I refilled this morning. “I’d rather you come back before that though.”
“I will try.”
I head into the tunnel, winding the entirety of my tail within before shifting the biggest boulder back into place.
“Darolus,” she shouts, appearing behind the rock.
Her worried expression, aimed at me, is disconcerting.
I have never had someone look at me in such a way before.
But there have been many firsts with her.
“If you see anyone else in my crew, please don’t hurt them.
They’re not here to take you. In fact, my captain insisted on us not getting involved. They’re good people.”
Her crew?
This is the first time she has mentioned a crew.
Searching the worry in her eyes, I realize it is not for me, but for them, and find I must suppress the confounding urge to hiss in disappointment. “If they are still around, I will avoid them.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, turning away abruptly and disappearing behind the boulder.
Staring at the empty place where she was, I position a few more boulders, then make my way to the surface, blocking the tunnel from the outside as well.
In the golden light of dusk, I turn toward where I last saw Sabrina’s skycraft rather than the plains. I climb through the rubble and out through several makeshift tunnels I have made over the years, until finally I spot the strange ship in the distance. They are still there. Her crew.
Hissing, wanting the skycraft and the other humans far away from my territory, I spin with a growl and head in the direction that is fastest out of the city. The same direction that will take me to the borderlands of the place I hate most. The place where my enemies live.
The forest…
Where all the meat comes from.