Chrysalis Ch10: Fae Hospitality (pt1) (Patreon)

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The ground stretches away in front of him, an endless expanse of whispering grasses and broken branches. A fragrance of damp leaves and decaying wood drifts through the air and tingles in his antennae…

…even as Lloyd can’t see any of it.   A thick, velvety darkness encompasses everything.
Everything except for him… his skin giving off a faint luminescence.

He’s never been to this place before, but he also knows it.  Like a dream he's forgotten.

Something prickles on his hand, and he lifts it.   Dispassionately he examines the soft glowing expanse, sinew and tendons flexing underneath.

The prickle, a tickle at first, blossoms into an itch.
Underneath Lloyd sees the tendons shift, throb and bulge, the skin stretching to accommodate them as they-

                                                                                           "Oi...hey, Lloyd?”

-Lloyd tilts his head to observe his hand more clearly.  Squinting to get a better look.
The itching… it’s intensifying.   No, not an itch any more.   It’s burning.

“Lloooooyd…?
                                                                                   Are you back with us, mate?”

A thin, jagged line splits open
Bleach white flesh bursting underneath.

                                                           “LLOYD!”

Lloyd jumps, gasping.
Ian's face comes into focus as Lloyd's eyes flutter open.

Lloyd’s antennae quiver, tasting the air around his head.  Cured leather.  Granite countertop.   It’s the Glade.  He’s not on the stage any more.  Someone’s moved him to one of the booths.

Groggily, Lloyd sits up as he blinks away the sleep. Ian catches his shoulder halfway up, helping him the rest of the way, then presses a cool glass of water into Lloyd’s hands.

"You arrite mate?  Case of the vapors?"  Ian asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

"...I...I don't know." Lloyd mumbles, tipping the glass back and gulping the entire drink down. He focuses on the clear, ice-cold taste.   Bracing.  Clarifying.

Having emptied the glass, Lloyd sets it back on the table and leans back against the comfortable seat.   Still bound underneath, his wings ache in protest.

"What happened? What did they say?"  Lloyd asks, ignoring them.

Ian leans forward and folds his hands on the table.
"Well..cheers, bruv. You got the gig. Take a breath, your okay."   He says, seriously and softly.  “You’re safe."

Ian leans back  "Someone's coming back with the paperwork in a minute. That Trys bloke.   Can't wait to see how many arms this one’s got.”

"I can't believe it..."  Lloyd says as he slumps to the table in relief.  "How did I do that?   I assume I sang or did… something, to convince him.”

Ian frowns.
“You don’t… remember?”

Lloyd shakes his head.
The two boys sit in awkward silence.

“But it was good, yeah?”  Lloyd asks, surprised at the hope in his voice.

“Yeah mate, you were bloody brilliant.  Didn’t sound like you at all.”   Ian replies, looking cagily to the side.  “Er.. that is, you were speakin some sort of language I couldn’t recognize.”

Lloyd looks around Ian’s shoulder, trying to make eye contact again.  Worry crawling into his stomach as everything settles.

“Ian, I'm so sorry.  I shouldn’t have let you come.”
Ian frowns, but Lloyd keeps going. “I know what you said, but - look, those were actual literal skulls back there. What if - "

Ian’s face scrunches up into a pained grin.
"It's been a real thrill, yeah?   No point fretting about it now, though. Nothing for it, right? You’re the one that was on the line, and you got yerself outtofit.”

Ian flicks the empty glass, listening to the sound of it’s hollow ring.  “Great load of help I was. Just stood there and listened to the whole thing."

Lloyd frowns.
“That’s not true, if you hadn’t - “

"Anyway,” Ian cuts in, hunching his shoulders. “Yer here now.   I'm gonna do my best to stick to you, but I don't know if they’ve even got the room. Think your new boss has a register I can run?”

Ian looks up wistfully.  
“Maybe there’s someone else hiring.
I could visit on lunch breaks or…”

Ian looks over, troubled by the worry seeding firmly in Lloyd’s face.
Reaching over he musses with Lloyd’s hair, breaking the tension.

“Don’t fret,  I’ll figure it out mate.”

Lloyd breaks free of Ian, going about fixing his hair.
"Well, not like I’m allowed to go anywhere anytime soon.
'Safe' huh. That's what I get for following her advice."

"She said don’t cross the king, right?   Plenty of warning.  Practically spelled it out."   Ian snickers, bumping his shoulder against Lloyd’s.  "What was the rest?  Anything that we should be thinking about?"

"Hnnhh." Lloyd grunts noncommittally, folding his arms on the table and settling his chin on top of them.  "Not to trust the bookkeeper. Whoever that is. Don't wear white, not that I had much choice. And that I shouldn't hurt any of the merchants."

He makes a face.
"Nothing about 'don't let my stalker ex vaporize someone while saving you from' - oi!"

Lloyd's expression freezes in panic as he shoots upright.
"The jar! Where's the jar with the worm?"

"Don't you worry."   Ian says with a wicked smile.   "Your new boss said he had a mind to use it for fishing tackle."

Lloyd tries to push himself out of the booth, then collapses back down, his legs wobbling.
"W-wait, no, we can't let him!...I mean, I know it's stupid, it...might have tried to eat me, but it's just one little worm now, right? That's all that's left?"

Lloyd's antennae droop quizzically.
"It's got to be...scared. Lonely. I don't know…
…I feel bad for it."

Ian holds his grin for a moment, then snickers. "Take a breather, mate. I'm just taking the piss.   Your new best friend, the, uh… brownie, took all your stuff up to your new flat.”

"Don't do that." Lloyd breathes irritably. "That's not funny.”

Ian grins toothily in Lloyd’s face and Lloyd gives him a playful shove.  Despite his worry, it was good to have Ian here.  A bit of normalcy in an otherwise absurd circumstance.  Laughing, Lloyd looks up to Ian.

Someone is standing just beyond him.

Lloyd jumps, startled by the sudden stranger.  He could have sworn it was just the two of them.  When had-

“Good day there.”

The newcomer says in a cheerful, smooth voice. A flash of reddish-brown skin and glimmering yellow eyes, for the briefest instant they remind Lloyd of Lyra.  Something about the sharp-edged glare of his eyes - but that’s the only similarity. For one, no visible wings, although a pair of antennae do sprout from his hair. From the hips down, his body vanishes into a serpentine encasement of glittering coins, bejeweled bottles, and the innumerable glimmering contents contained within.

“I thought I heard the siren song of a fellow nymph.” The figure says, leaning against the side of the booth. Lloyd starts, the light gleaming from the bottles reflecting in his eyes.

"You're a…
…nymph?"

"Aren’t we both?"  Chuckles the stranger.   "The name is Trystan, although you can call me Trys.  In theory I’m the bartender, but Hedrick pushes the sealing of new team members off on me.   Says I'm already familiar with the equipment."

"And unless I’m mistaken,” Trystan begins, sliding into the booth seat across from the two of them, “we're graced by a human.  The genuine article.  We don't see your kind that often.  What can I call you?"   He asks, extending a hand.

Ian looks at it, confused, then decisively takes it in a firm handshake.
"Ian. The name's Ian."  He says, relaxing.

Trystan’s eyes sparkle.
"Charmed. Are you two friends?  Lovers?   Business acquaintances, or..."

He glances sidelong at Lloyd with a delicious smile.
"... should she be wearing a white jacket?"

Lloyd jerks away, antennae quivering frantically. He can taste sharp, spicy odors coming from Trystan's trail of bottles. The unmistakable scent of alcohol. Something else, too, something that reminds him of...dust? Old books?

Something like that.

"No. We're…”  Lloyd glances over, then looks away quickly.  "Ian's making sure I'm okay. My name's Lloyd."

"Lloyd?"   Trystan says, looking him up and down.   "That's... a bit of a different name for a lass.   Are you under a glamour I can't detect?"

"Something like that." Lloyd mutters, pushing at his hair.
"It's a long story. I'm not a-"

He gives his head a shake.
"...it's a long story.
Ian said you’d have paperwork?”

"Oh, yes!  I need to collect your contract."   Trystan says, reaching back. His hand hovers between several of the bottles in his collection, moving back and forth between a clear crystalline sphere and an angular green-glass container.

"Do you fancy any in particular?"   He asks, plucking each free in a single delicate motion.  There’s a flash of something red and shining beneath the glass carapace before the other bottles shift, covering it once again   “Either will do.”

Lloyd looks over them, momentarily setting aside his confusion.  The light catches the spherical bottle, flashing gold.

Lloyd flinches away.
"The green one." He says forcefully. "Er. Yeah. The green one. Sorry, collect my contract?"  He smiles nervously at Trystan.  "This is only my second time in the Market. A lot of this is, uh… new… to me."

Trystan's eyes glimmer, and he takes Lloyd’s hand in a soothing gesture while tapping Lloyd lightly on the nose with the other.  "Oh, you cute little dewdrop. It’s a good thing you have your friend Ian here.”  

The action is so quick and seamless, Lloyd doesn’t even have time to react before Trystan is already moved on to tucking away the sphere.  “The green one it is, then."

Ian leans forward, looking suspiciously at the container.
"Not gonna do anything dodgy with that, are you?"

"Dodgy?” Trystan blinks in alarm, then gives a little laugh.  It sounds like marbles rattling together.   “OH. Oh, no, nothing of that sort. I’ll be storing the memory of the negotiation and Hedrick's acceptance of terms.  Lloyd, love, just need you to think of the talk you had with Hedrick. Once you have it, I’ll collect the memory into this bottle and tuck it away, in case either of you ever need to revisit it."

He squeezes his eyes closed in an apologetic smile.

"It will be a dash disorienting. Once I’ve collected the memory, you won’t be able to recollect the details personally.   But if you ever wish to view it, say the word and I’d be happy to play it for you.”

“Do you follow?"

Lloyd nods slowly. It...makes sense, in a strange sort of way.
Invasive, but that didn't stand out in the Market.
"Do you collect Hedrick's memory, too? Or just mine?"

Trystan smiles at the side wall, rueful. "I'm sure you can guess."

Lloyd pulls at one of his antennae, feeling himself twitch it in his hand. This is putting far too much trust in strangers for his liking.  But even so…
"I...okay. I guess there isn't much choice, is there?"

Lloyd returns the smile, feeling a little queasy, and focuses. Calling back the scowl on Hedrick's face. The desperation he felt as he scrambled up on stage. How strangely dizzy he was as the song began.

"I'm thinking of it."

Trystan’s fingers crawl spiderlike up the bottle, resting over the cork. He nods.
"Alright, love.   Just relax... this will feel a little - "

----

"- actually like humans?"  Ian says.

Lloyd blinks, realizing that he’s being held upright in his seat, Ian’s arm around his shoulder. It feels like the world’s skipped a few beats without him. Ian’s keeping him steady, but he’s deep in conversation with Trystan. Neither one of them has noticed he’s awake.

Each of them has been poured a glass of… something. Trystan leans forward, his thumbs on the rim of his cup, tapping out a little rhythm.

"Humans are…” he starts, looking up in thought, “Well, they have a different sense about them.   In their understanding of stakes, priorities, that sort of thing. They seem to have more of a sense of… what would you call it…”

“...morals.”  He says, leaning back and tapping the table.

“Not that we totally lack that.” He continues, leaning forward again.  “It's just... different.  It’s the differences between us that I find interesting."  He leans back, closing his eyes as he sips his drink.

Lloyd’s antennae twitch forward with irritation.
"I would like," He mutters sullenly. "to stop passing out today, please."

"Oh, she's returned to us!"   Trystan says with a smile.    "Sorry, I forgot to mention that you would need a moment to balance the time you lost.”

“You might be a little woozy for a bit.  Drink this, it’ll help you feel better."  He says, pushing the third mug toward Lloyd.   The liquid sloshing inside is a pearlescent blue, like liquid moonlight.

Ian takes a healthy gulp of his own glass, nudging Lloyd in the side with a huge grin.
"... these fae spirits, mate. They're... well, go on. You'll see."

"Ian, please, please, please be careful what you eat here."   Lloyd groans, giving them both a dubious look.  Despite his better judgement he takes his mug in hand.  Regards it.

The other two seem to be fine.
He takes a cautious sip.

His antennae flare, a shiver running down his shoulders.
It tastes slightly cool and warm at the same time. It’s impossible - the flavor is the exact sense of being curled up in a warm blanket, spending the morning reading a good book as rain drizzles outside the window, filling the London sky with mist.

It tastes of contentment.

Leaning into it he takes a second, long, deliberate drag of the drink. His antennae dip down to skim at the surface, the cozy feeling sliding down to nestle at the very center of his mind.

For the first time in days, he feels…


calm.


"That's...phwoo." Lloyd sets the glass down, watching the liquid shimmer. He gives Trystan a heartfelt smile.  "Thanks, mate."

"It's entirely my pleasure."   Trystan says with clear delight,  pressing his fingers together. "If you ever need a pick-me-up, I'd be more than happy to offer you something on the house.  Or…” He adds with a wink. “We can always make some sort of side arrangement, if you find yourself in need and have a fond memory to part with.”

Lloyd willfully ignores the implications, letting himself dissolve in the cozy feeling of the drink.  Trystan smiles, taking a long drink of his own.

"Speaking of arrangements, your friend here is such a delight!  
We've been discussing a bit of your… predicament… while you were recovering.  And I think I may have something of a solution for you both.  Ian love, would you like to explain?"

Suddenly, the cozy feeling doesn't seem cozy enough.  
Lloyd gives Ian a quick, nervous look.  "Arrangement?  Offer?  Ian what -"

Ian looks to the side, a hint of guilt on his face.  "He… says he can give me a job at the bar.  Work the Glade with you. That way we can stick together and watch out for each other, you with your work, and me with mine.  It's really ideal, mate.   It's... it's exactly what we both want, yeah?"

He looks away, his voice growing evasive.
“Exactly what we both need.”

Lloyd lowers the glass.  His brow furrowed.
“Just like that?   Is that really his choice to make?  Won’t Hedrick object?
I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Ian fumbles with his drink.  "There's just... y'know, Ian.  It’s...it’s kind of a boring name, innit? We can think up something better together, yeah?”

"...why?" Lloyd asks, a sharp tinge of anxiety creeping into the question.  "What's wrong with your name?"

"Nothing."   Ian says, sipping his drink, still unable to make eye contact.   "It's fine. Just thinking of changing it, is all."

"He's selling it."   Trystan says directly, leaning forward excitedly.    Ian inhales and breaks into a coughing fit, setting his drink to the side.

"Hedrick won't pay a penny into his salary, so I'll need to cover it.   The name will seal his contract with me and we can get everything settled."

"Se - what?"

Lloyd smacks Ian's shoulder, looking incredulously at him.

"Wha - no! NO!
You can't do that!"

Lloyd's antennae flare up, stretching out angrily.

"You put yourself in danger for me - you probably lost your last job looking out for me - you're trying to get work here so you can keep looking out for me, and now you want to sell your NAME so you can do that? How is that fair? Huh? How is that fair to you?"

Ian puts his hands up in mock defense.

"Ow! Look, Lloyd, it's for the best, arright? I told you, I don’t want to just - just stand around like I’m useless. It’s about time I did more than that, innit? Anyway, it’s my job offer, just let me - ow!"

Lloyd smacks his shoulder again, then whirls on Trystan, glaring furiously. His eyes have started to shimmer, and the crystalline notes in his voice become sharper.

"There's got to be something else. What else do you want?"

"... well..." Trystan says, his eyes twinkling. He cracks open a wax seal on one of his bottles, withdrawing a slip of parchment and a crowquill pen. The text on the paper is in some language Lloyd can't make out.  "Since there’s apparently some debate...it doesn't matter to me whose name it is. You both have a name to sell, and they should be worth about the same to the right buyer. Lloyd is a strange name for a girl, you have to admit. Wouldn’t you like a better one?"

He pushes both across the table, halfway between the two of them.
"I'll let you two decide... but a job for a name is my offer, and that's as good as I can do."

Ian pushes Lloyd aside and puts a firm hand on the parchment.
"Lloyd's a boy..."   Ian says, his voice wavering.   "Right? And he's gonna stop being stubborn and lemme do this."

Ian reaches for the pen, but Lloyd’s faster, snatching it aside and holding it well out of reach.  "No, he won't." He snaps. "You've...you've given up enough. Okay? I can..."
Lloyd trails off, then lowers his voice.

"What… what if…
... what if I had another name to trade?"

Trystan raises an eyebrow.  “Not trying to sell me your middle name, are you, love? I’m afraid that’s only going to be worth anything if it’s the one you go by.”

Lloyd shakes his head, his antennae wobbling.
“No, there’s...it’s...it’s complicated, but it’s...sort of mine? Someone calls me it.”

“Lyra.”
“...It’s Lyra.”

Trystan’s antennae crawl forward.   Snaking over the table, he crowds Ian into the corner so he can be alone with Lloyd.

"Lyra?”   Trystan asks, his eyes glittering.
“More appropriate of a name for a lass than Lloyd.   
Are you sure you want to part with it?”

Lloyd leans back as he looks up at Trystan, but holds his ground.
“If you like it that much I’ll be happy to sell it to you.”

Trystan looks Lloyd up and down a second, then shifts even closer.
“Some one.   You said that some one called you that.  Just the one person?  No one else?”

“That’s right”  Lloyd says bitterly.

Trystan  narrows his eyes in curiosity, tilting his head.
“Is that person very important to you?”

Lloyd flinches, breaking eye contact.   He looks overhead, flashes of everything that had happened crossing his mind.

“... no.”  He says, his voice acrid.   “She isn’t.”

Trystan smiles sympathetically, withdrawing to give Lloyd space
Just the slightest hint of disappointment.

“Names only have power if they're used by those you care about, and the more people who use them the more power they have.  It doesn’t sound like you’re very attached to this old name of yours.  Is that true?”

Lloyd is silent.
Trystan tilts his head, then pushes Lloyd’s drink closer to him.

“You’re going to have to tell me about all these complicated stories someday, you know. Just between us nymphs.”

Lloyd blows out a shaky breath.
“... just between us nymphs.”  He says.

The three sit in the lull of the moment.  The sound of waterfalls in the distance.

Lloyd’s hand strikes out to snatch the contract out of Ian’s hands.
Ian recoils,  lifts the paper higher, holding it over his head.

"Ian. Give me the contract."

"No. You give me the pen."

"No."  Lloyd snaps, his heart sinking. The stubborn tone in Ian's voice… he's heard it before. Ian's convinced this is for his own good.

He narrows his eyes.
Snatches up the glass of blue liquid and tosses it in Ian's face.

It catches Ian completely by surprise, the blue liquid settling into his eyes.  He struggles to keep upright, then falls sideways onto the booth.   It takes him all his energy to prop himself up with one arm, aggressively wiping at his eyes.  He struggles to keep the feeling of contentment from overtaking him.

The paper slips from his grip - and Lloyd snatches it out of the air, slapping it on the table.

Before anyone can react, he's hastily scrawled across the bottom line.

LLOYD MORGAN

"L… L… OYD!"  Ian struggles to say, grimacing as he forces himself upright, then slips and falls back on his side.

Trystan's expression splits into a wide smile, and he reaches out and takes Lloyd's free hand, pulling him forward. His other hand hovers over it, the ends of his fingers twisting and elongating into razor-sharp claws, identical to Lyra’s.

"This'll only hurt a second, love."

The closest claw draws a thin line over his thumbprint. Lloyd winces, but holds his hand still, watching the line go from a pale crease to a streak of red.

“L…loyd, s…s…stop!” Ian slurs drunkenly, trying to pull himself back upright.
Lloyd gives him a lopsided smile.

"I never thought your name was boring."

Without hesitating, he jams his thumb down on the parchment. Blood spirals out, twisting through each letter in his name like crimson vines. One by one, the letters light up, flaring to life before fading into the parchment.

LLOYD MORGAN
LLOYD MORGA
LLOYD MORG
LLOYD MOR

“L-l…oyd!  N-no!” Ian stammers, his voice growing stronger.

LLOYD MO
LLOYD M

"T-take it b-back!  Y… ou … can’t!”

LLOYD
LLOY
LLO
LL
L

"L-"

Ian stops, his eyes going wide.
".... L."   He says, touching his throat and looking down.

“L…?”

"A pleasure doing business with you." Trystan says as he rolls the parchment and tucks it away. "I decided to leave your first letter to go by."

He smiles blithely across the table.

"I think it suits you better,
don't you?"


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In which Neith meets the parents!   Mrs Morgan contemplates murder.   Astraea fails her diplomacy check.