Chrysalis Ch2: The Market (pt2) (Patreon)

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She stares back at him, pupils blooming and widening. Suddenly they narrow, anger blossoming out of the pink light.

"W... why is she in there? Let her...
let her out! She shouldn't be li-"

The woman grips the cage too quickly for Neith to stop her. The hiss is immediate, like water sizzling on a hot skillet.

The hiss of cold iron.

The woman lets out a startled cry as she releases, stepping back and giving the cage a wounded look, pressing her seared hand to her mouth.

"Hey, woah!"  Neith says, jumping up and helping the woman back. Incredibly, she actually sounds worried. "Come here, you dummy.   Don't you know what iron is?"

"... s...sorry. Of course."   The woman says, her voice trembling.
Then she turns back to the cage, lowering her hand and looking at him through the bars.
"Can't we just let her out? Why is she like that...?"

Neith looks skeptically at Lloyd through the bars, considering. "Normally the cargo is transported in the crate. It keeps things secure."

The blond woman kneels down near to the cage door once again, keeping a safer distance from the bars. Her eyes have misted over, like looking into a frosty window, warmth radiating from within.

Promising. Beckoning…

Lloyd sits absolutely still as she leans closer.

"... are... you okay?
Do you want out?"

Her voice is just as gentle as her gaze. Lloyd gives a slow, cautious nod, unable to look away.

"Hey, what?” Neith starts, an outraged note in her voice. “What are you suggesting?  That we just let her walk around - "

The woman holds up a hand, and Neith goes silent.

"... it's what she wants."   The woman says up to her. She turns back to the cage, looking softly past the bars to Lloyd within. "It's what she wants.  So... please."

"You are so naive sometimes."   Neith grumbles, then takes some black, chalky-looking gloves from a hook on the wall behind Lloyd. They smell a bit like charcoal. Taking a set of keys out of her coat, Neith unlocks the cage, then swings the door open.

The blond woman moves in, reaching a hand in to awkwardly help Lloyd out. They both avoid bumping into the bars, although Lloyd has to flatten his wings against his back as far as they’ll go.

He feels oddly...soothed. Hazy, almost. But he’s still keeping track of what they’re doing. The unsettling way they keep calling him ‘she’, of course, but also the gloves Neith had to use.

And the way she listens to the woman. That, most of all.

As they straighten up, the woman helps Lloyd to his knees so that they’re sitting face to face. She smiles warmly. "I've... we've... all missed you so much.   We have so much to catch up on.   Where have you been?  What's..."

"Um... Ma’am...."  Neith says.   The woman looks up at her, confused.   Neith taps her face, the gesture oddly apprehensive.

The woman looks confused, then suspicious. Before Lloyd can lean away, she grabs at his face and pulls down the collar of his hoodie.  Her eyes widen, the light diffusing.

"You GAGGED her??   What the hell is wrong with you?" She snaps.

"Mistress, wai-"  Neith starts, but too late. Without any further delay, the woman rips the tape off.

"GAH!" Lloyd yelps.  He nearly falls over again, his legs cramping...but the sharp sting and lingering tingle across his mouth give him a moment of clarity. That fuzzy, hazy pull dissipates, at least for a moment. He's out here, out of the cage, his hands still cuffed, but his legs free...Neith's hands ensconced in clumsy gloves...

Lloyd looks blankly at the two of them.

Then he spins around and bolts into the market. His sudden dash for freedom surprises him almost as much as it does the blonde woman, who topples backwards in shock.

He’s not quite sure where he’s going, skidding back and forth on the stones, nearly bumping into a pillar before spinning around, trying to decide which archway to dash through. Everywhere he turns is another obstacle - a cart, a huddle of curious figures, a shadowy alcove with just a hint of movement -

"God DAMMIT!"   Neith curses, scrambling to her feet and struggling with her gloves. "Where do you think you're going?"

That’s enough to make up his mind. Lloyd bolts down the closest walkway, his wings flapping for balance as he darts down the narrow, low-ceilinged passage. It’s cramped and crowded with market stalls and blankets, arranged at haphazard intervals to make customers meander through a maze-like trail. Lloyd doesn’t have time for that. He half-falls, half-scrabbles over a low bench displaying carefully-arranged piles of dried plants. A huddled vendor behind the makeshift stall unfolds in a clatter of stick-thin limbs, yelling after him in a piping voice, but Lloyd’s already past him and vanishing into the crowd.

It’s a decision he regrets almost instantly, but there’s no time to rethink it. He’s surrounded by anonymous, shrouded forms, some too large or too small or too strange to even pass as human. Lloyd weaves through them, turning and stumbling in quick, stuttering steps to get past without running into anyone.

Some pay him no mind, but most are fascinated. Hands clutch at him as he runs by, oddly hissing or chirping voices call out, multicolored eyes blink at him from half-seen faces. He nearly trips over someone’s outstretched foot before righting himself, ducking past a pillar before whoever it was can do anything else to slow him down.

Behind him, he can hear Neith shouting and pushing her way through his wake. It’s enough to spur him on. Lloyd ducks through an alcove in the wall and scrambles under a cart blocking the exit, the tops of his wings brushing against the rough wooden surface. He looks around as he pops out again. He can’t see either of the women anywhere...but he’s found himself in another corridor, just as crowded and busy as the last one. Lloyd turns in a quick circle, trying to orient himself, but it’s useless. The market spins and whirls, strangely heady scents tugging at him, glowing flames flashing at the corners of his eyes, strange faces and curious forms blurring together in a chaotic kaleidoscope. It’s dizzying. Overwhelming.

And then, at the end of the hallway, he catches a glimpse of light. Not the weird, ethereal lights on the pillars. Golden electrical light. A staircase leading up. Lloyd catches his breath, staggering toward the familiar sight.

His moment of relief doesn’t last long. The crowd surges. Something’s breaks free. Something black and amorphous, an ocean of leeches loosely contained within a billowing cloak, slithering and shifting to flow around anything in its way.

Four golden eyes.

All fixed.

On him.

Lloyd's face goes pale.
He turns and runs, his wings humming fearfully behind him. The creature's moving fast - too fast.  The thought of the creature tasting him makes his heart claw its way towards his throat.

He’s not going to make it.

In panic he veers to the right, losing sight of the white electrical light for a cluttered row of vendors. He can’t outrun it.  Maybe he can lose it in the crowd. Is he going fast enough? He risks one quick look over his shoulder-

The next thing Lloyd knows he's crashing headlong into a stack of balsa and wicker crates.  Tiny rabbit-like creatures spill out and scatter every which way like startled insects.

“What are you doing?”

It’s a woman’s voice, tight and low.    Unlike the other vendors, she’s dressed in a bright red burlesque outfit, her exposed skin adorned with mottled grey patterns.  With a fistful of flyers in one hand, she tosses them aside to help him up.

“Are you alright?”  She asks, her expression a wash of irritation and concern.
“What’s wrong.  Why are you wearing wh-”

He doesn’t have time to listen.   He tries to pull away and she grabs hold of his arm.  He's got to keep moving.  He's got to get free, he's...

…the leech creature towers behind the woman, waiting to fall on them like a landslide.  Lloyd screams and the woman looks up in confusion and horror as she realizes too late what’s happening.

The living marsh crashes down on them both. Indiscriminately it swallows and carries them with its momentum.   Lloyd struggles and thrashes, trying to escape, but it’s pointless.  With his hands cuffed behind him he’s completely incapable of breaking free.

A hand, the woman’s hand, grabs him roughly around the arm and pulls, trying to get them both free.   Is she… swimming?  It’s hard to tell.  Regardless it feels impossible.   The crushing presence of slithering tendrils tighten around his body.  He can’t breathe.  He can’t see.   All he can hear is the submerged, gloating croak of the creature.

Until,
something hums.   

Distant at first, muffled by the wall of leech flesh encasing him. In time it grows louder and clearer, and then there’s a warmth, and a glow.

Piercing white light cuts through the all-encompassing slithering and blasts them away, blistering and shrivelling into ash in a wave of white-gold heat. Despite the impact it’s having on the leeches, to Lloyd it feels like summer sun on a clear day. Behind his back, the cuffs split and fall apart, the metal dissolving into nothingness.

Lloyd takes a few gasping breaths, looking around.   Where was the woman in red?   He had to make sure she was-

He catches sight of the red dress, or what’s left of it, everything else reduced to ash.  The woman, along with the leeches, were gone.  Following the trajectory of the blast he looks to the source of the blinding light.   His eyes take effort to adjust, but the vision comes into focus.   

Limbs… long limbs, stretching up toward the ceiling, and then coming down to a core… not just any core.   A golden tree, placed in the centre of the market.

One of the branches extend towards him, and the tendril gently brushes his face.  The light seems to fill his entire world, glowing and growing, leaving him limp with fascination.

The tree limb wraps around his chest, gently lifting him off the ground and up into the air, bringing him close.    Close to her.   It’s not just a tree… it’s a woman.

She’s painted with concern, but after seeing he’s alright, she smiles and the glow intensifies.   He can’t break his gaze.  The light just grows and grows and grows. Intensifying like a flaring lightbulb.  He wants to stare into it forever.

Then, slowly at first, it dies back. And almost as quickly as it had appeared, the tree splits into tiny motes of light that drift up and away through the air, evaporating.   All that remains is the blonde woman from before.  She holds Lloyd in her arms, giving him an exhausted smile.

...and then her legs give out, and she collapses against him.

Breathing hard and shivering, the woman reaches up and touches his cheek.
"Are you… alrig..ht?"  The woman asks.  Lloyd’s neck twinges. It takes him a moment to cough out an answer.

"N...no."

His wings shiver as he looks around.   A few of the worm-creature’s tendrils have collected near its cloak against the wall, flopping confusedly against each other. The broken crates and merchant that were there a moment before are all gone, only a charred pile of dust to remember them by.

"What did…
I... I mean..."

He's breathing even faster now, barely able to get the words out - much less put them together coherently.

"Where are…
why...why do I -
w-what - what..."

Lloyd swallows, and finally the only question Lloyd has only ever wanted to know the answer to, drops into place.

"What

am I?"

Sweat beads on her forehead. Her hand slides up across his face, cupping his cheek. Lloyd’s skin tingles at the touch. The smile that spreads across her face is so warm and bright that it brings tears to his eyes.

"...you’re mine..."   She whispers, tears twinkling and rolling down her cheeks, until the last of the color flees her complexion

...and she goes limp, passing out in his arms.

A moment later a strong and notably gloveless hand shoves Lloyd brusquely to the ground.  Neith snatches the woman into her arms and gives her an urgent shake.

"Hey..!
HEY!   
Stay with me here. You can't go dormant now Astraea.
Not here. Not NOW!”

“Astraea?  Astraea!"

The woman - Astraea - stirs a little and shudders, but her eyes remain closed, and her breathing grows more labored.

"SHIT!" Neith snarls, then looks up and around, taking in the wreckage of the market.
"FUCK!"

She takes the woman around her legs and lifts her on her back, piggyback style.  Then she rounds on Lloyd, whose wings are tucked tight against his battered, rumpled jacket.  A thin cracked-glass pattern of red lines snaps across Neith’s left eye.

"I'd kill you if it were up to me."  She sneers, her voice dripping bitterness.   
"Stay here if you want to. Or come with me.  Whoever you want to take your chances with."

Then without a second glance, she straightens up and starts walking toward the stairs up.

"Where are you - " He starts… wincing as bruises and scrapes he didn’t know he had started to make their presence known.  She isn’t waiting, or responding though, and if he waits a moment more he’s going to lose her in the crowd.

He looks around, figures skulking through the shadows, drawn by the display of light. The different shapes. The many, many eyes.

She's not giving him an option. Not really.
He hesitates, then picks up the sharpest, closest piece of wood he can find, before hurrying after Neith and Astraea.

His wings remain tuck tight against his back as he moves.
Safe from unexpected hands.

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