Chapter 5
Lute’s recovery was the slowest it had ever been after a battle, which frustrated her immensely. Usually, she was back on her feet and training hard within four days post-battle, tops. This, though, was pissing her the fuck off. Though the edges of the wound had long since clotted, the center of her stump continued to weep fresh golden blood, a scab refusing to form. Stupid fucking body, you have one job, just heal yourself. Lute herself wasn’t too well versed in medicine – the angel army had medics for a reason – but she had a nagging feeling that healing this slowly wasn’t normal.
Every time Emily changed her bandages, which was at least once a day, Lute made it a point to discreetly but closely monitor the angel’s face, hoping for any kind of clue. Was this a normal amount of time for healing, when it came to wounds like these? Shit, was there some kind of infection present? Much to Lute’s surprise, though, the angel maintained a perfect poker face, despite the fact that Emily’s hands often ended up covered in her blood.
Emily, too, was worried about the lack of clotting. She was also worried about the astounding amount of time that Lute spent feigning sleep. At first, when she had brought Lute to the cabin, the exorcist had definitely been… asleep? Unconscious? Whatever it was, it had been genuine. Emily had grown used to the steady, consistent, and predictable sounds of Lute’s breathing.
But ever since the day that Lute had woken up, Emily noticed that Lute would often close her eyes, lay on her side, back facing the room, and pretend to sleep. Emily knew the exorcist was putting on an act, but didn’t have the heart to confront Lute. Only the Almighty above knew what the wounded angel had been through. Given the constant nightmares that always ended in screams and the aforementioned disassociation, it must have been truly hellish. Emily knew she would have to ask eventually, but she didn’t see a point in the unnecessary acceleration of the inevitable.
“We should get you cleaned up,” Emily’s voice broke into Lute’s thoughts, and thank fuck for that. Lute had been stuck in the past, gravel digging into her kneecaps as she knelt, cradling Adam in her arms as his eyes grew glassy– “I mean, properly. Doesn’t a bath sound nice?”
A bath really did sound nice. Lute hadn’t taken one since… the day before the battle? Fuck, how long ago had that been? Shaking herself free of the past, Lute nodded enthusiastically in response.
“Some fresh air couldn’t hurt, either,” Emily added cheerfully, “What do you say? Up for a little walk?”
Being able to get outside honestly sounded even better than the prospect of feeling clean again. This will be an amazing distraction, the exorcist thought to herself. New sights and sounds to keep her mind thoroughly occupied. And in the present.
She was a bit worried about embarrassing herself in front of the angel, though. Lute had finally started to stand and walk, albeit on trembling legs and never for long, but she had yet to set foot outside of the hut. What if her knees gave out after the first few minutes of stumbling along? Fuck, that would suck.
Almost as if the reason for Lute’s hesitation had been written across the exorcist’s forehead, Emily smiled gently and reassured, “We’ll take it slow. We can sit and listen to the birds as often as we need to.” A heartbeat later, she tacked on encouragingly, “And we can always turn back and try again another time! There’s no rush. Just us here.”
“Okay,” Lute croaked, feeling glad and ashamed simultaneously. With a start, the exorcist realized Emily hadn’t said “you” a single time. The angel had used “we” four times. If Lute had made it back to Heaven after the battle and was recovering there, she’d probably be told something along the lines of “if you can’t even walk to the river, what use are you?”
Something light and warm stirred awake in Lute’s chest. Dormant for centuries, it stretched leisurely, sending a pleasant sort of shudder through Lute’s spine, and the exorcist’s eyes fluttered shut, taking in that feeling.
“Are you coming?” Emily called from the doorway.
“Yeah!” Lute swung her legs off of the bed and gingerly transferred the weight of her body onto her feet. The leather boots felt like a second skin at this point. When was the last time she had taken them off?
She stood, an uncertain, jerky motion, but Lute ground her teeth and willed herself to stay upright. “Nice work!” Emily coaxed as the exorcist finally made her way out of the hut and stepped onto grass and dirt.
Each step seemed to get easier and easier, somehow, as the two walked side by side through the lush forest. Thick beams of sunlight broke through the dense leaves here and there, ferns, mushrooms, and wildflowers decorated the ground. The earthy scent of moss and the beautiful warbling of birds took over Lute’s senses. Fuck, this sure beat reliving that battle over and over again.
Before the exorcist knew it, they were at the river’s edge, the clear water allowing her to study each and every smooth stone at the bottom. With a pang of longing, Lute recalled the swimming holes and lakes the exorcists would frequent when conducting training exercises deep within the outskirts of Heaven. She kicked off her leather boots first, then made quick work of unraveling the gauze around her stump. Lute reached down across her torso to grasp the hem of her tunic.
Okay, hold on, she hadn’t taken her shirt off since the day of the battle. Disgusting, she chided herself silently, You’ve been laying around covered in dried sweat, blood, and Almighty knows what else. She began to tug the fabric upwards.
“Um, let me give you some privacy!” Emily’s voice went up four notes over the course of the statement.
Lute’s hand released the tunic immediately and she fought the urge to smack herself upside the head. What the fuck was she doing? Stripping down in front of Emily was not the same as getting undressed to bathe with her sisters-in-arms after a long day of training. In fact, she shouldn’t even be thinking of removing clothing in the presence of a fucking Head Seraphim.
“I’m so sorry,” Lute forced out through her shock, appalled at her own brazen actions. She’s a Head Seraphim! that voice in Lute’s mind screamed, an entirely unneeded observation, given that Lute had just recalled that exact fact.
“It’s okay! I’ll leave these here for you,” the angel carefully placed a newly-summoned fluffy toffee-colored towel and heap of folded white cloth onto a large, flat rock right by the water, then quickly pivoted on a heel and fled. “I’ll, just, I’m going to be… over there!” she called out, not bothering to look back at Lute over a shoulder, well aware that her face was probably a deep purple by now.
“You’re so stupid,” Lute scolded herself under her breath, but returned to the task at hand. She pulled off the tunic and then the leggings before starting on the laces of the stiff corset-like undershirt that all exorcists wore underneath. The thin but tough leather cords took a bit more time to undo than usual, but the final garment soon joined the leggings and tunic on the grass.
She made her way into the river, which wasn’t nearly as cold as Lute expected. The water felt so fucking good, the way it enveloped her in its embrace. The exorcist ran a wet hand across the back of her neck, and was surprised to feel her hair there, clinging to the nape. It must have grown a bit since she’d been here. She usually kept it cut above the collar in Heaven, in order to comply with uniform regulations.
Adam used to help her trim it, every month or so. He’s gone now. He’s not coming back. Focus on the here and the now, Lute. She wondered if there might be a pair of scissors back in the hut. Or maybe she should just let it grow out? Here, there weren’t any uniform regulations that she had to adhere to.
Lute scrubbed her palm across the rest of her body, hoping to get rid of most of the grime that way, since she didn’t have any soap. After scrubbing from neck to feet one more time, she let out an exhale as she sank beneath the surface. The blissful coolness on her face and scalp… if she didn’t need to breathe, she would gladly stay under for the rest of time.
But she did need to breathe, and now that she was clean, she knew she should go find Emily before the sun set. Lute surfaced slowly, lazily, droplets clinging to her lashes as her eyelids parted slightly, taking in the world as if for the first time. She ran her hand across her hair, moving the strands out of her face, and made her way back out onto the riverbank.
Lute reached for the towel and patted every part of herself dry. She shimmied back into the inflexible undergarment, pulling it over her chest before beginning the formidable challenge of re-lacing the wretched – though admittedly very practical – thing.
Numerous minutes and dozens of muttered expletives later, finally securely laced into the leather garment, Lute tugged on the long white dress that Emily had summoned alongside the towel. It was a simple and modest piece of clothing: long sleeves, ankle-length skirt, and a neckline that only exposed her collarbones.
After cramming her feet back into the boots, Lute paused to look back at the torn and bloodied (and fucking stinky) tunic and leggings, still on the ground. “I’ll come back some other time to wash them,” she said out loud to no one in particular, before swinging the towel over her shoulder and setting off to find her angel.