Let’s Not [Obliterate]

Theora woke up with tears burning in her eyes and pearls of sweat running down her skin. 

It was the middle of the night. The wide sky glittered above as she lay on her back, travelling coat beside her, wrapped in her blanket, linen pillow under her head.

She turned to look at the others. All deep asleep. Dema, snoring right next to her, Bell and Iso on the other side, cuddled together in a water bubble.

Quickly, Theora rose up, and gently sneaked away, her bare feet cold against the rock. She didn’t take anything with her, just rushed out as quietly as she could. Down the large boulder they’d decided to camp on, over thick roots cutting through the path. Passing by trees and shrubs, listening to the autumn night cacophony of insects and birds and faraway cries of monsters and animals alike, until she found a place shielding the others from sound, so she could let herself go, and cry.

The first thing that came out of her throat was a wail. It ran down smooth, louder than she expected. Then she sobbed, and wiped the sweat off her forehead — sweat she produced despite how cold she felt, despite the shivers running down her body. She dried her eyes and nose with the front of her hemp shirt, but the fluids kept on leaking out.

She really had messed up this time.

One after the other, she tried to pull out the glass shards stabbing through her mind, leaving oozing holes in their stead. And, as she went through, thought by thought, she realised what was going on; noticed the mistake she’d made. The truth these sharp edges had tried to make her notice.

And with that, after a long while, the panic attack wound down. She leaned back against the little cliff in exhaustion, legs stretched out, arms hanging to her sides. She stared into the darkness, vague blobs of trees in front of her, hints of a sky above, although the stars were smudged within her tear-blurred vision.

After another wipe through her eyes, she heard squelches coming down the path. Little tendrils reaching around the rock introduced the arrival. Bell leaned forward, making her head pop over the edge.

“Bad night?” she asked.

Theora swallowed, trying to get the snot out of her nose and mouth. Then, she just nodded.

Bell plopped herself down, glancing at the trees in the distance. She was still wet from her night-bubble-bed, drops pattering on the soil around her. The yellow markings on her otherwise azure skin glowed faintly.

“So, what’s wrong?” she asked.

Theora gulped again. “Dream,” she said, voice laden.

“Didn’t know you had dreams,” Bell mused. “Want to talk about it?”

Theora bit her lips as her eyes found their way back up to the sky. She blinked a few times to clear them, although with little success, and for a while, she just stared.

“Mistake,” she then mumbled. “When Isobel was born, I made a mistake.”

Bell didn’t say anything further, just calmly looked at Theora.

“I was so happy,” she continued, voice still low. “Happy that Dema got her wish, and that we had Isobel, and that Dema wanted to stay with me and…”

“And?”

“My judgement lapsed,” Theora murmured.

“Huh,” Bell went. “Let me guess. Something to do with your Main Quest, and how None’s life is tethered to Dema’s? You kill Dema, you kill both.”

“You knew?”

Bell shrugged. “It’s in Dema’s sheet. None and I weren’t aware before.” She gave a wry smile. “Quite a wicked situation, is it not? You, me, and her, all three of us are tasked with killing the Ancient Evil, but all three of us also have some interest in keeping None alive. But we can’t fulfil our quest without killing her. I mean, you and her already refused to complete the quest from the start, so I suppose having her in the equation didn’t change much, but…”

“No,” Theora interjected. “I did think Isobel would change things. I thought, her being innocent, I could never fulfil the Main Quest.”

“That makes no sense,” Bell said, frowning.

Theora almost felt like laughing a bitter laugh, but it stuck in her throat. “Would you have attacked Dema, had you known? Are you still planning to?”

Bell averted her gaze. “You don’t want to hear the answer to that,” she murmured dryly. “Anyway, I don’t get it. You never wanted to kill Dema. Not really. What difference does it make if None dies as well? What changed?”

Theora sniffed again, as a few more tears had rolled over her cheek. “My hometown,” she said. “That’s where my fate was sealed. It’s not just the Main Quest. It’s not just the System. And I—” she stopped herself. “That’s what I dreamt. That I’d fulfilled my fate, Dema dead at my feet, Isobel fallen apart like a puppet beside her.”

“A nightmare,” Bell said.

Theora shook her head. “The Future.”

Bell raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you have divination powers now?”

Theora swallowed. “No, I… It’s just… something I know.” She took a breath. “When Isobel was reborn, I thought I could fight it…” She scrunched up her eyes. So much talking. Her throat was getting sore. “But I can’t. It’s the only way things can ever end. Inevitable.”

With that last word, her voice broke.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bell said, surly. “So, Dema mentioned your hometown yesterday, and now you’re this much of a wreck, just from that? I’ll tell them to avoid the topic. Unless you wish to talk about it, that is. Also, I still don’t understand what kind of ‘mistake’ you made.”

Theora blinked.

“When None was born,” Bell specified, her hair tentacles making a circling motion instead of hand gestures. “You said you’d made a mistake. That implies you should have done something differently. From the looks of it, she was reborn, and that made you really happy, so you got a bit of confidence from that, and thought you could oppose your fate. Am I gathering that right?” She looked over Theora, who just stared back wide-eyed, and continued when she didn’t hear any protest. “Figured. And now, you’ve been crushed by whatever nonsense happened in Hallmark, and you feel like a sorry mess, confidence gone, and now you’ve got nightmares. You didn’t make a mistake. You’re just being moody.”

Theora’s mouth stood half-open, stumped by the string of words she’d just heard. Though, somehow, they shifted the insides of her mind a bit, gave room for a tiny idea.

She was just being moody? Having a bad day?

Was that really it? All the anxiety, the nightmares, the terror and these thoughts, because Hallmark had made her lose confidence?

Who could Theora trust more? The version of her that was happy at Isobel’s birth, the version of her that had praised Dema’s scheme and felt capable of opposing her fate, or the one broken by decades of futile labour in a grey world of toil?

Theora took a very deep breath. Maybe Bell was right. Perhaps this would pass. And if it didn’t, maybe she could think about it then. Think about it after she’d gotten a few years of sleep.

Theora did her best to manage a nod.

“And there happens to be a cure for being moody,” Bell added, and gave a pointed smile.

“Cure?”

“Yes. Let’s go, I will wake up None or Dema to give you some attention. I imagine mine wouldn’t be very effective.”

Theora frowned, with a hint of irritation. “You are precious.”

Bell snorted. “Sure. But not as precious as them.” She held out a hand to help Theora up. “Let’s get back.”

Theora’s legs were wobbly, her first few steps a stagger. As they made their way up the hill, she tried not to stumble over the roots, her head too empty to really process what had just happened, or what was about to happen, or how Bell had managed to piece her back together just like that. Bell, whose tentacle fingers tightly wrapped themselves around Theora’s, making sure not to let her go. Making sure to get her up the hill, to counteract the stumbles and provide balance and support when needed.

When they arrived, they were greeted by a sleepy Dema rubbing her eyes, pushing herself up with a hand from her resting spot. “Sneaking off at night?” she mumbled, and smirked.

That sudden voice caused a small splash from the bubble, and Isobel came awake too, pushing her head out of the water. “Wha’s up!” she lulled, slightly confused.

“Nightmares,” Bell explained. “Theora requires cuddles.”

Dema’s smirk turned soft, and she flopped herself back on the rock. “Why, come here then,” she murmured sleep-drunk, and tapped the ground beside her, pulling her blanket half off to make space.

Meanwhile, Isobel slid out the bubble with a low “Whop!”, then clattered on impact, shaking herself to let the water off. 

Theora, still tired and exhausted, eyes bloated and vision blurry in the night, just stared for a few moments until Bell led her further and gently pushed her down next to Dema. “Sleep well!” she said, then walked to the bubble and entered with a few splashes.

Immediately, Theora found herself wrapped in Dema’s thin arms, being dragged closer.

Theora was being dragged over the ground.

She couldn’t believe it. Someone else was dragging her around? Someone else exerted force on her, to make her move? That heavy little self of hers? What an amazing feeling. Dema’s body foamed itself against Theora’s back, so warm and strong, and then Dema pulled the blanket over both. 

Theora blanked out. It did not compute. How was this happening? Dema’s arm pressed a little cheep out of Theora as it tightened around her belly, but that was all she could produce.

Isobel’s stoney legs entered Theora’s field of vision as she stepped right up, and then collapsed into a pill with clitter-clatter. A second later, Iso’s hand stretched out from the round carapace shape, grabbing one of Theora’s arms and wrapping it around herself. “Night!” Isobel’s sleepy voice muffled through the stone from inside her formation as Theora pulled her in.

Isobel’s body was so warm. Theora gently grazed over the grainy, bumpy carapace, feeling the heat of tea and blood from within.

That’s right. No mistake. Even if she’d known, Theora would not have done anything differently. She would still have gone to meet Dema, would still have accepted her as a companion, she’d still have helped with Isobel’s resurrection, she’d still have been happy about it.

It was just a few bad decades. A storm that, one day, would pass.

Soft snoring noises emerged around her as Dema and Isobel fell right back asleep. 

Theora lay there, completely still, sounds of the night buzzing in her head. Dema’s heartbeat gently pulsed through the few layers of clothing, steady and calming, accompanied by the slow cycles of her breathing. Breathing that gently nudged against the hair on Theora’s neck, making it stand up in shivers.

She was wide awake, stunned into paralysed stillness under close touch and company, head placed next to Dema’s on the same small pillow, the horn entangling with Theora’s curly hair.

Ah… this really made it very hard to calm down. Amazing. What a beautiful solution to her nightmares.

Because how would she have nightmares if it was impossible to fall asleep? She would just cherish this mood until dawn.