Saturday September 20th 2014

Elizabeth watched him, knowing that look from the inside. She kept her instructions simple and to the point as they moved around the cottage. They’d be doing a lot of weeding and trimming, which meant he’d be doing the weeding while Elizabeth took care of the trimming.

He lost himself in the work, the dirt and pain stitching itself to his flesh until they became one. He liked to think he hated weeding, but when it came down to it, there wasn’t anything better for stripping the mind clean.

Elizabeth called a halt for lunch. “I need to stop by the library to turn in some books. Meet you out front?”

Cesare’s muscles tightened as he bent back, pain firing as he slowly straightened with a sigh. “I'll get your tray for you.”

He hadn't been sitting for more than a few minutes before Elizabeth showed. “You haven't started?” she said, looking at his untouched tray. The one for the ravens was already half gone, the birds still squabbling over the treats he’d already tossed to them.

“Nope, this is our lunch time.” It was stupid, but the weekends were the only time anyone sat with him to eat. The week was a wasteland of alone, he wasn't worth eating with or talking to, an outsider to even the other cast offs.

Elizabeth smiled. “I’d have understood if you were hungry.”

“I've been hungry before.” He shrugged, his tone deliberately light. “And I knew you’d show.”

Falling into silence, they ate slowly, occasionally tossing out a piece of food to the ravens. “Thanks for getting my tray. How did you know what I wanted?” Elizabeth asked.

“I paid attention.” He winced at the rawness of that truth. “And that doesn't sound at all like a stalker, does it?”

Elizabeth laughed quietly. “I think it's sweet … and handy for times like this.” And that was women in a nutshell. Everything was suspect if they didn't like you, but if they did, then every fault was shaded with rose-tinted glasses.

“I know you eat alone at lunch.” He didn't want to talk about how alone he was or the users that posed as his friends. “I'm your teacher and if I sat with you, people would get the wrong idea. It's no secret … how you feel ... they might think I was encouraging you if we spent time together outside work. Just the suspicion of wrongdoing could ruin us. It would certainly put an end to our weekends together.”

He stared out across campus. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

“Cesare.” He met Elizabeth's worry creased eyes. “I might not always answer, but I’ll never lie to you. Not about anything.” Her fingers brushed his, trying to convince him with touch where words could only fail.

“If you could sit with me, would you?” Elizabeth looked away at the question.

Cesare held silent, watching her. When Elizabeth spoke, it was with soft surety. The softness you hear in a woman’s voice when she tells you she loves her kids. A softness that grows stronger the harder it’s pushed. “If I could sit with you, I would. Do you think I don’t wish I could be there for you? Do you think I don't see how much being my friend costs you? Seeing you come to class bruised and bloody, cut open by their disgust? Don't ever think I don't care.” Her voice broke on the last part. Elizabeth raised her head, eyes shining with unshed tears. Reaching out, he took her hand.

He was her friend, the first in who knew how many years. And if he spent his lunches alone, then who did she spend her time with? How long had she been alone, outcast and despised? How much loneliness could a person take before loneliness became the bones that held them together?

“I know you do.” They looked away, fingers threaded together in a grip neither would acknowledge.

After lunch, they walked back to work, an entourage of ravens flying above them. “How did it go with the akatharton?” Elizabeth asked.

Cesare gave her a sidelong look. “I think you scared the piss out of her.” A smile tugged at Elizabeth’s lips. “She and her harem wouldn’t enter without me.”

Elizabeth smiled grimly. “Smart of them. If I wasn’t Imperatrix Terra, I’d squash the bitch for what she's done.”

Moving over that bit of bloodthirsty loveliness, Cesare continued, “Once she got past oohing and ahhing over your work, she wanted to know my plan. I worked out a deal to use them as sparring partners in return for helping her out.” He shrugged, tone turning bitter. “Better than bleeding for nothing. Last night was the first time it was me standing at the end. It was only one on one, and they have about as much experience fighting as kittens, but it's something.” He tried to make light of it even as pride flared through his soul, all golds and reds filling him to the brim.

Elizabeth’s smile warmed a dead part of his heart. “Why didn't you tell me?” Her smile widened, eyes dancing with something deep and true. “I’m proud of you, Cesare. I know how hard you work. I always knew you could do it.”

“I challenged Anastasia to a fight.” Elizabeth’s smile died under fear’s rotting hands. “No Ebon Flame or anything like that, just hand to hand. She was good. I got in a few shots, but nothing phased her.”

Eyes flashing with anger, Elizabeth visibly controlled herself. “That was foolish, Cesare. I'm proud of you for getting stronger but challenging a prodigy like her ... that's stupid.” People had called him stupid his whole life. They’d yelled, whispered, and carved it across his flesh in blood. He hated it, and for a second, he hated her for saying it. “I’d be surprised if you could hurt her. Our innate power protects us from simple punches or kicks. As an apex of the midnight races, her powers are beyond anything you can face. Immune to most weapons of the human world, the more powerful Umbrae Lunae can tap that strength even in the Mendacium.”

That gave him enough to think on for the rest of the workday. As the sun dipped along the horizon, they put the last of the tools into the wheelbarrow for the walk back to the cottage. It wasn’t so bad this time. His back still hurt, but now he knew he could get a glass of tea and soak off the worst of the pain. Even if he’d been hurting, he’d have toughed it out … not just for the money, but for the chance to spend time with Elizabeth.

He caught his second wind when he sighted the boxes outside the cottage door. “Looks like your stuff arrived. You going to set up tonight or tomorrow?” Elizabeth asked.

Cesare gave her his winning smile. Blinking, she eyed him with naked suspicion. Maybe he needed to work on that winning smile. “Well, let’s get these in and we can talk about that.”

“Why do I think I'm not going to like this,” Elizabeth muttered.

After he'd stacked the boxes out of the way, Elizabeth led him over to the space she'd cleared for him. Cesare had expected a small corner, somewhere hidden and forgotten. Instead, she’d given him the better part of a wall.

She’d taken her prized stone table and set it against the wall for him. He ran his hand across the dark, almost black stone, rough edges worn smooth by centuries of use, its birthing lost in an ancient and forgotten quarry. Three-toed claws held it steady, muscles lined with striations as stone flowed up from the floor. Ropy tendons detailed knee joints, spurs jutting out from carved kneecaps. The lip of the table was shaped into a wide hip bone, bare in its simple beauty. Its age gilded it in something more precious than gold, an artifact of an ancient time when stone was honored as the bones of the earth. He was as unworthy of it as the hundreds that had come before him, each a caretaker for something that would outlive them.

It was one of her few treasures. You couldn’t look on the table and not see the love she’d devoted to it. The table demanded respect … stripped of chisel marks or visible joints, it seemed grown from the earth's heart, shaped by the hand of a goddess into something beyond flesh. It was perfect for his use, easy to clean and sterilize while being almost impervious to harm.

The cottage was her place. Every time she entered, her eyes danced over the room in a ritual of reassurance. It was a personal space only ever grudgingly shared with others, a refuge she’d carved out for herself in a land of hate. Here, she was the mistress. Here, she was the person who called the shots. Even in her classroom, she couldn't do that.

She'd cut a part of that away. Given him a piece of her sanctuary, not just a temporary but a permanent home. Maybe she couldn't be there for him all the time, but this ... it was something special.

“I … I don't know what to say. If I was a better person, I’d say this is too much.” He pushed down the feeling that threatened to strangle his words. “But I'm not, and this means too much to me to give back.”

“You mean a lot to me. Maybe I can't show that during the week, but ... well, this is our time, right?” He nodded, a warm feeling filling the cold places of his heart. It didn’t matter that they’d never be more than friends and even that was paid for in blood. She was worth it.

“I wanted to talk to you about putting up shelves. I’d also like to add a fume hood.” Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose alarmingly at his words. Cesare hastened to reassure her, “It’s just a precaution. I had one bought that should be easy to install. I can get it done tomorrow if you give the okay.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Okay, but that means I’ll be working alone.” Maybe he only heard what he wanted, but he hoped that was sadness threading her words.

“I was hoping you’d help me.” He looked away, not wanting to see her reaction. “I know what to do, but it'll still take the day. Work always goes easier with another pair of hands.”

“I’d love to,” Elizabeth said quietly

“Chess and tea?” Cesare’s offer was instantly agreed to.

Her words were thrown over her shoulder as she walked to the tea kettle. “I brought up a few chairs for us to sit on. My ass would fall off if I had to sit on that stool all night again.”

Cesare smirked. “That would be a damn shame.” Her wide ass seemed to move with an extra sway at his words. He couldn’t see her smile, but he felt it in her small laugh.

Cesare set up the plastic figures as she made tea. It was the kind of chess set he’d seen at a few shelters, well-worn from thousands of games and stripped of all pretension. The type played when you were happy to have anything at all.

She came to the table with the light of the setting sun framing her. A beeswax candle burned out an island of light in a room of gathering velvet shadows, birthing an intimacy he treasured. He took his cup as they shared a smile. He only hoped this time meant as much to her as it did him.

She was usually quiet, only talking in small bits. It was a learned quiet, forged through being mocked and ridiculed every time you opened your mouth, when everything you said was used to tear you down. Tonight, she talked. Nothing special, that’s what made it precious. It was the small stuff you talk about with friends. The simple truths shared between two souls seeking each other's hand.

“I got that one when I was at this beautiful little nursery in Newport. It was only a little thing on the bargain rack. That's where they put the plants that are dying.” She looked fondly at the green and purple vine cascading down the wall. “I always stop by to look, just to see if there's anything I like.” A flush worked its way up her face. Cesare grinned, imagining Elizabeth hurriedly gathering up the discarded plants with a glare for the employees. “I'm boring you, aren't I?” Elizabeth said as she set her bishop down.

Cesare smiled. “Nope, I like hearing you talk. It's nice. On the streets, no one talks to you like a person. It's a wasteland of the living, you're a ghost that no one sees, a truth no one wants to deal with.” He paused, eyes lost in bad days past. “Not a lot different here. Some people talk to me, but only when no one's around and then only if they need something.” He moved his rook, tipping it back and forth on the white square as he checked out if she could take it.

“You talk to me like I'm someone ... equal, you know? It sounds weird, but it's like you don't see me as a stupid homeless kid with issues. So when you talk about plants or how the week went, I like it. You don't want anything from me. You’re just talking like I'm a regular person.” Elizabeth kept her head down, eyes on the board.

“I like talking to you. And you’re not just some stupid homeless kid.” Making her move, she raised her head to smile at him. “Now, like I was saying ...”

Walking back to the dorm, the darkness was a welcome balm. He'd lived his life in darkness. Depression, homelessness, pain, hatred, it was all birthed from a dark womb. Being out at night never bothered him. People fear the dark because they fear what lurked in its ebony folds. Cesare knew the monsters that hid in the places light feared to walk. He’d lived with them, fed them off his own flesh, sated their diseased appetites with the meat of his soul and body. He’d survived every kind of evil man could dream. The dark held no new horrors for him.

Stalking through the Serpens Lacum, there was a bounce to his step that hadn’t been there when he’d left. The weeks ground him down. Between the homework he was only barely passing, and the constant taunts of the students … not to mention the training with Anastasia, well, each was a blade that carved a little deeper each day. By the end of the week, he felt as threadbare as his sweatshirt.

As he walked down the hall, a name floating from the Common Room stopped him in his tracks. “Alexandra …” It was muffled, but something in the voice raised Cesare's hackles. He put his back to the wall, sliding down the hall until he was just outside the Common Room.

It was used by the male students to unwind after school. Leather sofas were halfhazardly spread across the room in islands possessively controlled by cliques. Forlorn chairs stood where students had left them, testaments to uncaring hands. Dark tapestries warmed the walls, fields of the impaled screamed their agony to an army of howling monsters, cities burned in mountains of flame under a sky of shadowed wings and scaled abominations, horrors violated the eyes at every turn in the room. The four fireplaces heated the cold stone, making it the only place in the dorm that was warm year round.

“I got the information from Olivia. She says Alexandra heads out that way every day. The fanged bitch admitted to going out there to pray, even invited Olivia to come along if she wanted.”

“We should leave early. We’ll need to set up before she shows, don’t want her coming on us before we’re ready.”

“What happens if she attacks?”

“Sacrifices have to be made. You felt the Lash of Hades, you knew you’d be called to offer up your blood to Cerberus when the time came. Well, here it is. No matter what happens, we win. Tomorrow, after she’s done praying, we’ll catch the bitch behind the Vulpes.”