The Collection: Pumpkin Pieeeee
Title: The Collection
Main Story: Cryptomancy
Flavors: Pumpkin Pie #4: bump in the night
Word Count: 692
Rating: PG
Summary: in which an artifact is found
Notes: I'm going to really try and knuckle down and post a lot this week, so I apologize in advance if that's annoying. ^^;
The key was a simple thing. Copper, like most things in the Rookery, but dull and half green from want of use. It was an old key, and I don’t know where Bug found it, or if she even found it at all. Things in the four kingdoms had a way of finding you when they wanted to, as I’d learned. Still, despite the key’s appearance, the lock made no protest against it. It went in, turned, clicked, and as simple as that, the door was open.
I had always imagined the inside of Lady Bloodrose’s private chambers as warm and decadent, with every surface covered in thick red velvet. The reality was almost jarring. The room was a cluttered mess. Shelves lined every wall, each filled with trinkets, jars, and boxes, so that the walls themselves were invisible.
“Do you see it?” Bug’s voice was scarcely more than a breath, but it startled me in the silence of the room. I gasped.
Once I was over that momentary shock, I let my eyes rest on the various components of Lady Bloodrose’s collection. I did no, in fact, see it; but, then, I didn’t really know for what I was looking. “See what?” I asked, though I didn’t really think Bug had the answer, either.
“I don’t know.” She seemed to deflate, her silhouette visibly shrinking in the doorway. “Just, a thing. Something that reminds you of him.”
There was nothing. I barely knew Thorne, anyway, how was I supposed to know what reminded me of him. I found myself thinking that the whole thing would be a lot easier if Bug had eyes, and I mentally chided myself for that. Bug’s entire life would probably have been easier if she’d had eyes, but she never complained. It wasn’t my place to do it for her.
“Wait,” she finally said, timidly, and I turned to look at her.
The way she walked across the room was purposeful, even for her. She clearly knew where she was headed, and just as she did it, something snapped inside my own head and everything shifted into focus. Of course, there was something just over there that positively reeked of him. I caught up with her, and at precisely the same moment, we reached for it.
Our hands closed around the stem of the rose at the same moment, and a pain shot through my hand. I gasped and pulled away, but Bug did not. She lifted the flower, and a single drop of blood trickled down her finger where it had been punctured by a wicked thorn. I looked down at my own hand, and saw that I, too, had been wounded. In fact, when I looked more closely, I realized that the blood on Bug’s hand wasn’t hers. It was mine.
“This is it,” she said, holding the rose up for me to examine. The small amount of light from the corridor filtered through its petals like glass. “It smells like his memories.”
It did, there was no other way to describe the scent that radiated from the flower. It was freshly baked bread and horse shit and rosewater and dirt and wheat and love. “What do we do with it?” I asked.
Bug chewed her lip. “I think we just give it to him. I don’t really know.”
I took a deep breath, then reached out to the take the rose from Bug’s hand. She handed it over to me, and I took it gingerly, avoiding the razor-sharp thorns that dotted its stem. I folded it into the hem of my tunic.
The silence that hung between us like a spell was shattered by a loud banging several floors below. Bug’s lips parted in a surprised “O,” and I reached out and grabbed her by the hand. Together, we fled down the spiral stairs, leaving Lady Bloodrose’s door ajar. Bug half pulled, half threw me into the cupboard across from the top aviary, and threw herself against me, pulling the door shut behind us. Another series of bumps and creaks sounded outside the door. We held our breath until it had passed.
Main Story: Cryptomancy
Flavors: Pumpkin Pie #4: bump in the night
Word Count: 692
Rating: PG
Summary: in which an artifact is found
Notes: I'm going to really try and knuckle down and post a lot this week, so I apologize in advance if that's annoying. ^^;
The key was a simple thing. Copper, like most things in the Rookery, but dull and half green from want of use. It was an old key, and I don’t know where Bug found it, or if she even found it at all. Things in the four kingdoms had a way of finding you when they wanted to, as I’d learned. Still, despite the key’s appearance, the lock made no protest against it. It went in, turned, clicked, and as simple as that, the door was open.
I had always imagined the inside of Lady Bloodrose’s private chambers as warm and decadent, with every surface covered in thick red velvet. The reality was almost jarring. The room was a cluttered mess. Shelves lined every wall, each filled with trinkets, jars, and boxes, so that the walls themselves were invisible.
“Do you see it?” Bug’s voice was scarcely more than a breath, but it startled me in the silence of the room. I gasped.
Once I was over that momentary shock, I let my eyes rest on the various components of Lady Bloodrose’s collection. I did no, in fact, see it; but, then, I didn’t really know for what I was looking. “See what?” I asked, though I didn’t really think Bug had the answer, either.
“I don’t know.” She seemed to deflate, her silhouette visibly shrinking in the doorway. “Just, a thing. Something that reminds you of him.”
There was nothing. I barely knew Thorne, anyway, how was I supposed to know what reminded me of him. I found myself thinking that the whole thing would be a lot easier if Bug had eyes, and I mentally chided myself for that. Bug’s entire life would probably have been easier if she’d had eyes, but she never complained. It wasn’t my place to do it for her.
“Wait,” she finally said, timidly, and I turned to look at her.
The way she walked across the room was purposeful, even for her. She clearly knew where she was headed, and just as she did it, something snapped inside my own head and everything shifted into focus. Of course, there was something just over there that positively reeked of him. I caught up with her, and at precisely the same moment, we reached for it.
Our hands closed around the stem of the rose at the same moment, and a pain shot through my hand. I gasped and pulled away, but Bug did not. She lifted the flower, and a single drop of blood trickled down her finger where it had been punctured by a wicked thorn. I looked down at my own hand, and saw that I, too, had been wounded. In fact, when I looked more closely, I realized that the blood on Bug’s hand wasn’t hers. It was mine.
“This is it,” she said, holding the rose up for me to examine. The small amount of light from the corridor filtered through its petals like glass. “It smells like his memories.”
It did, there was no other way to describe the scent that radiated from the flower. It was freshly baked bread and horse shit and rosewater and dirt and wheat and love. “What do we do with it?” I asked.
Bug chewed her lip. “I think we just give it to him. I don’t really know.”
I took a deep breath, then reached out to the take the rose from Bug’s hand. She handed it over to me, and I took it gingerly, avoiding the razor-sharp thorns that dotted its stem. I folded it into the hem of my tunic.
The silence that hung between us like a spell was shattered by a loud banging several floors below. Bug’s lips parted in a surprised “O,” and I reached out and grabbed her by the hand. Together, we fled down the spiral stairs, leaving Lady Bloodrose’s door ajar. Bug half pulled, half threw me into the cupboard across from the top aviary, and threw herself against me, pulling the door shut behind us. Another series of bumps and creaks sounded outside the door. We held our breath until it had passed.