Deanna’s house is a beautiful one and though it definitely is a bit of a cramped situation with 3 guests whose height it was definitely not designed for, Fearne is still infinitely delighted to be able to see just where this wonderful ex of Chetney’s lives. The woman certainly has a knack for leaving many of her unfinished knitting projects lying around (something that has Deanna flustered and cleaning the house in a rush) but it just adds a touch of personality to the already warm browns and greens painted across the wood. And if Fearne has nicked a yarn or two well, that’s just for her to know.
“I’m sorry I don’t have enough rooms for y’all, but it it’s alright with you guys we can just crash in the living room together!” Deanna proposes and it’s met with a chorus of agreement. Fearne finds the idea absolutely wonderful. It reminds her of when they had that sleepover back in her tree.
She brushes a hand against one of the flowers perpetually stuck to her hair. How she wishes she could feel Orym snuggled against her fur again. Distance hadn’t been a thing she thought could hurt until now.
F.R.I.D.A. goes off to help gather whatever pillows and blankets they could find in the house, chatting all the while with Letters about things only aeormatons could understand. Fearne assists Chetney in pushing the couches and side tables aside while Imogen goes with Deanna to scrap together a dinner for four people. Imogen hadn’t meant to, but she’d looked so lost, and Deanna is all too kind to offer her something to do. Fearne still recalls Laudna saying something about how Imogen could do everything but cook.
Ashton has mentioned once that they could cook, all those moons ago when things were simpler and their biggest problem was how to keep five horses alive while traveling through a swamp. He’d probably do better pushing furniture than she is right now too.
“Chetney,” Fearne says when they’re done and she’s playing with some random knick-knacks she swiped off a bookshelf that Chetney definitely had seen but didn’t say, “do you miss the others?”
It takes him a moment to respond because he’s staring out at the kitchen doorway where they can see Deanna frying something on a pan. Cute. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind catching a drink with Ashton right now because, boy, do I fucking need it.” He sniffs and scratches at his arm, “what were the goddamn chances, you know.”
“I think it’s cute.” Fearne tilts her head, “you should go for it now that the world might have blown to shits.”
He smirks but the usual bravado is a little dimmed, “you sure you wouldn’t mind, baby?”
“Oh, you know me,” Fearne waves a hand, “If you won’t, I might.”
Chetney snorts but then goes quiet again. He scratches at his arm a little harder and Fearne swats his hand away because she remembers Laudna doing that to Imogen – something about skin care. Something like that. He grunts but stops.
“We definitely can’t go anywhere without Orym’s brains, that’s for sure,” he continues, “and it’s actually really fucking weird without Laudna’s weird ass rat being all gross and shit.” He sniffs, “and you kids all look so mopey. If Imogen keeps making those sad eyes I might just go and blow up the moon myself. Can’t stand that shit.”
“I think Ludinus already beat you to that.”
“Yeah, well, I’d do it twice over. It’s all in the symbolism, baby.”
“How’d you do it anyway? Can wolves fly?”
“I don’t know, but we can figure it out.”
“Hmm. Well, if you come up with something, you should tell me.” Fearne watches as Imogen appears next to Deanna to slowly put in the vegetables she’d cut up. “I think I’ve had enough with the moon, too, lately.”
Chetney pats her knee and Fearne responds by slapping his ass when he gets up. He squeaks and glares at her with a red face. She only grins.
It’s a promise.
Dinner that night is some stir-fried vegetables and rice with this thick, brown sauce that tastes heavenly on her tongue. When Chetney asks what it is, they’re all surprised when it’s Imogen who looks sheepish.
“It’s just something Daddy used to add when he cooked for us.” She laughs, but it’s tainted with something bittersweet. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t make this. I just told Deanna what I remembered of his recipe and she whipped up somethin’ pretty close.”
Deanna pats her hand, “If you want, sweetie, I can teach you how before you all leave. Just something to carry for when your group is on the road.”
Imogen smiles, “thank you.”
Chetney is quick to pass out after they’re all done eating and Fearne realizes he probably hasn’t slept since he turned. Being a werewolf sounds exhausting sometimes. She might just put a pin on that bite idea for a while. Still sounds enticing, though. Oh, well.
Fearne watches as Letters fiddles with their coin for a second, staring out the window where the lights are still dim, and the temples’ gates remain closed. If she listens closely enough, she can almost hear the faint hum of their energy core. Thinking. Thinking. Fearne doesn’t like thinking all too much. Then he might have thought themselves to sleep because eventually Letters pockets the coin and shuts down.
Letters would insist he doesn’t feel cold if they were still awake but that doesn’t stop Fearne from wrapping them in a blanket.
Fearne gives them both a kiss on the forehead. It just feels important that she does.
F.R.I.D.A and Deanna are in a different room fixing their torn jacket and Fearne decides she’ll just bother them later. She turns to look for Imogen who’d left the house some time ago.
She finds her some ways away from the house and sitting on the street curb where the dim lights dye her purple hair a darker hue. Imogen has her gaze fixed towards the ceiling as if she’s searching for something as a scarred hand fiddles with the red string of the friendship bracelet she’d made. At this angle, Fearne can only barely see the left side profile of her face but her mouth is moving like she’s muttering words and she’s just too far away to hear it.
A minute passes before Imogen flinches and clutches her head, shutting her eyes closed as she grits her teeth. Frustrated, she grabs a stray pebble and throws it across the street where it hits a wall. The sound seems to echo throughout the empty space.
Oh, Fearne realizes, she’s trying Sending again. Something in her heart breaks at that. She slowly makes her way to where Imogen is sitting.
“Fuck’s sake,” Fearne hears her mutter. Imogen glares at the red streaks on her fingers. “The one fuckin’ thing and I can’t– why can’t you ever be a good thing?”
“Hey, Imogen.” Well, no one ever really said she had tact.
Imogen turns her head sharply, startled. Though the lights are still dim, Fearne can see just enough to make out the way her eyes are shining with tears. She chooses not to say anything when Imogen looks down to wipe them away. Orym wouldn’t.
“Oh, hi Fearnie.” She pats the space next to her and Fearne gathers up her skirt to sit. “What are you doin’ still up?”
“You were gone.” Fearne bites her lip, “were you trying to Send to Laudna again?”
Imogen huffs a bitter laugh. “What else am I supposed to fuckin’ do?” She clenches her fist again, staring at it like if she tried hard enough, a portal could materialize and take them to where their friends are. “Gods, Fearne. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”
“I’m sure they’re fine–“
“But we don’t know that!” Imogen wraps her arms around her legs and hides behind them. “We don’t know anything. I think we never did.”
Well, Fearne is at a loss for what to do. She thinks of how Orym would know exactly what to say to soothe Imogen’s fears the way he always has for them – crafting flowers out of thin air to make them smile. Even Ashton would have something better to say in that very punk way of theirs. Fearne thinks it’s a very negative and too existential way of thinking but Ashton’s advices are always sensible. Not unlike a needed slap to the face.
She thinks of Laudna and how she’s always what Imogen needs when she starts to drift away from them. She definitely would have done a better job telling Imogen it’s not worth giving in to Ruidus in ways Fearne’s screams and pleas had just went through deaf ears when Imogen had woken up and looked like she’d rather stay there. Laudna and Paté making silly puppet shows to make their girl laugh, to remind her that life is still beautiful despite all the scars.
They should be the ones sitting in her spot right now and Fearne’s only ever felt fear when she’d momentarily lost Orym, but she’s terrified at the realization it might be up to her to keep their half together until the Bells Hells can be seven again.
Fearne doesn’t know what to say but she wraps her arms around Imogen and pulls her close. Imogen immediately crumbles at the contact and holds back just as hard, burying her face in Fearne’s collar as tears threatens to soak her dress.
“We’ll get them back, Imogen. We’ll find a way.” Fearne says, “we always do, don’t we? Or, at least, we’ll die trying.”
“I just can’t lose her again, Fearne.” Imogen sobs and she’s such a pretty, broken thing in her embrace, “I don’t– I don’t think I could ever do this without her. It hurts so much.”
“Oh, Imogen.” Fearne just holds her tighter, “that’s just how love is, isn’t it?”
“How do you do it? Not just falling into pieces without him?”
“But I am.” Fearne thinks back to when they had first waken up in the middle all of that snow, three missing and no familiar brown hair in sight. She thinks of that deep-seated fear, that instinctive realization that something has gone horribly wrong. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid in my life, Imogen.”
She doesn’t know how long they sit there as Imogen just cries, whether it’s only for Laudna or it’s also for the world and the parents she wishes could have been there no one can really guess. Ashton had a point: they should have just punched their parents. That might have helped solve some of their problems.
Eventually, the crying tapers off to hiccups and shaky breaths. Fearne doesn’t let go until it’s Imogen who pulls away. She looks so defeated that it breaks her heart. It reminds her of those days on the airship after Bassuras, and she’s so young, isn’t she? Too young to bear this weight on her shoulders.
Fearne pulls a handkerchief out of one of her pockets. Someone’s initials are knitted on a corner and she can’t really recall whose. She gently dabs it over Imogen’s eyes.
“We’ll get them, okay?” Imogen sniffs and Fearne rubs a thumb against her cheek, “we’ll get back our boys and your girl. What was it that Ashton says all the time? That no one gets left behind?”
“I know it’s just– “
“I get it.” Fearne finishes cleaning away the tears and smiles, “I’d burn the whole world too if I ever lose Orym. I think I’d do the same for all of you.”
Imogen finally musters a small grin, “even Chetney?”
“Oh yes. He’d probably find it really arousing.”
“Eugh, gross. I don’t know what Deanna sees in him. Or you.”
Fearne shrugs, “got to recognize that Alpha.”
“Gods, Fearne, no.”
Were the circumstances anything else, the utter disgust on Imogen’s face would have made her laugh but Fearne’s only glad it disturbs her enough to momentarily forget about being sad. She stands up and offers a hand to help the other woman. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll come around one day.”
Imogen wrinkles her nose, “absolutely never.”
“Do you want to go inside now?”
“Yeah, I…” Imogen starts to scratch at the scars her gloves can’t hide. Fearne covers her hands with her own just like Laudna would have. “I’m just scared to dream again.”
“You have our bracelet if you do.” Fearne squeezes her fingers, “and I can just wake you up. Turns out I’m very good at slapping people.”
Imogen laughs, “my cheek still hurts, you know.”
They quietly make their way inside the house again, finding F.R.I.D.A. asleep on the couch where Deanna is curled against their chest. The kitchen’s light spilling into the living room where Chetney has hogged a third of the blankets to himself and snoring loudly. They both change to their small clothes and Fearne helps Imogen settle and it’s only because Imogen stop her that Fearne doesn’t sandwich her into a blanket roll. It seems like a very comfortable way of sleeping in her opinion.
Fearne plays with purple tresses as Imogen tries to find sleep. She doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know Imogen finds it hard to when Laudna’s not next to her. She’d been having trouble too knowing the space Orym should be in is so empty.
“Thank you,” Imogen whispers, “for doing all this, Fearne. You didn’t have to.”
“Nonsense. Us witches need to look out for each other.”
“It’s not just Laudna, you know,” Imogen shifts and curls herself towards Fearne’s side. “I can’t lose any of you, either. I’d do the same.”
“Even Chetney?” Fearne teases.
“Well, he did make me that cool horse that doesn’t really work.”
From across the room, Chetney makes a noise like he’s grumbling in his sleep before he turns around until he’s on his stomach and his voice is muffled by his pillow. Imogen reaches an invisible hand to pull him back so he doesn’t accidentally suffocate in his sleep. Though, it would be funny if he did.
“You should get some sleep now, Imogen.”
“You too, Fearne.”
Fearne continues to run her fingers through Imogen’s hair until their sorcerer finally dozes into a hopefully peaceful sleep. It’s probably not. Peace won’t come until all of this is over. Until they get the others back where they should all be. She’d always been a little selfish like that.
Still, Fearne plucks one of her flowers and weaves it into Imogen’s hair, and kisses her forehead.
It’ll be alright. They’ll get them back or this whole world can burn for all she cares.
“Sweet dreams, Imogen.”