Chrysalis Ch11: Rose by any Name (pt1) (Patreon)

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Madeline ushers Ian and L up a gleaming brass ladder, ending on a catwalk overlooking the backstage of the Glade. Canned lighting, ropes and pulleys dangle under their feet as she leads the group to a second ladder leading to an overhead trapdoor, this one shorter and tarnished.

She hasn’t spoken a word the entire time. Neither has L. He avoids looking at either her or Ian, focusing instead on where he puts his feet as he makes his way across the catwalk.

It isn’t easy going. The second ladder is particularly steep, and pulling himself up one rung after another is awkward going at best. By the time he’s halfway up his arms are already burning, trembling with the effort.   Was he always this frail?

Madeline unlatches the overhead entry and pushes it open. The heavy dark oak door opens with a dull thud, sending up a scent of citrus. L’s antennae flick at the brightness of the smell, and he finally raises his head.

The little brownie’s standing at the top of the ladder offering him a helping hand up.  L stares at her uncertainly. Her sour expression deepens, and he hesitantly reaches up.

"Th...thanks."

L winces as Madeline pulls him up.  Her grip is surprisingly sound, and she hoists him up effortlessly. Stumbling, he takes a moment to regain himself before taking in their new space.  In the cozy near-darkness of the attic, his antenna have gone into overdrive, wrapping him in a blanket of old wood and fragrant fruit.

The ethereally welcoming feeling of the Glade has solidified here. Become something smaller and cozier, more inhabited.  More nest than room, the Loft is lit by knots in the floorboards and what little of the skylight isn’t overgrown with ivy.   Darkened lanterns and bundles of netting hang from the rafters.  Clothes have accumulated largely in drifts on the floor, with a few signature dresses displayed on the netting. Shoes practically explode out from under a soft down bed, and an ancient mirror and makeup station lurk against the opposing wall.  Home to various cobwebs and spiders, the vanity is absolutely beset by makeup and trinkets that spill over the table and onto the floor.

In the far corner, a worn wooden ladder leads to the roof.
But by far the most notable part of the room are the walls.

Every spare centimeter is papered with faded mid-century Hollywood posters. Marylin Monroe and Audrey Hepburn, Noir, Romance, the whole gamut.  Despite their age they’re in near pristine condition, each one delicately placed.  One or two are even signed.  They’re by far the most cared for aspect of the room.

L drifts to the mirror, picking up a tube of ruby red lipstick.  His gaze runs over the scattered belongings, clothes and makeup and shoes. It’s all so cluttered, and oddly specific, such a contrast to the neat organization of the rest of the building.  He lifts his foot, letting one of the building’s ubiquitous crabs scuttle past and disappear into a hole in the wall.

A sudden, awful thought crosses his mind.

"Wait…
Is this Selkie’s - "

CHUNK.

Madeline has pulled down a heavy leather briefcase from a worn net. It slips out of her hands, slamming to the ground, before she can heft it up again. Madeline clutches it to herself, not making eye contact with anyone else, but the look on her face answers L’s question. He scoots out of her way as she pushes past Ian, nearly knocking him over as he clears the last step of the ladder.   She begins climbing back down the ladder, pausing to glower at both of them, before slamming the door shut behind her.

L flinches. Now in shadows, he walks over to click on the nearest lantern before settling on the edge of the bed.    His foot knocks against something.   Frowning, L pulls aside some blankets that have been cast aside, to reveal a soft orange glow that illuminates his face.

It’s the alp-luachra, still tucked safely away in its jar, apparently resting. It uncurls as its eye opens wider, staring at L suspiciously.

"So."

L's voice levels.

"Before we get settled,
Are we going to talk about what just happened?"

Something thumps to the mattress. Ian’s tossed the backpack off his shoulder, blocking the light from the jar.  "What's there to talk about?"

L's head snaps around, his antennae whirling.
"What's - what do you think?  You were going to bargain your name away!   This, all of this, it’s not some… it’s not a game Ian."

Ian walks past him, picking up one of the dresses off the ground. He examines it in the dim half-light, tentatively matching it to a set of heels and putting them aside.

"Yeah alright it ain’t a game.   Guess these are all yours now, yeah?" Ian says. His voice struggles to keep from tightening. "You got any particular feeling about that?  I mean, aside from the fact that they all belong to some dead girl.”

L jerks away, as if he's been slapped.
"...right. Okay. It's like that, then."

He stoops down and picks up the jar, walking over to the ladder leading up to the roof. L sets the alp-luachra down on a rung at his eye level, then sits down beside it, huddling up with his arms wrapped around himself.

"Guess I'm talking to you. Wonderful. You got anything you feel like airing out?"

The alp-luachra curls up, expanding around its neck to create a frill, puffing up to try and look intimidating.

It’s not working.

"Do you think I can't help you here?" Ian’s voice cracks from across the room. "... because I'm human, yeah?  Izzat it?" He tightens his fists. "Any time yer really in trouble it's always gotta be you, innit?  That's how it's gonna be."

L stands and turns to Ian, his antennae waving angrily.
“Ian I’m not…. I’m not unwilling to rely on you.   I’m just worried about you- yes, because you’re human.  Me?  I have to be here. I’ve had to live with this kind of stuff my whole life.   But you…?  You haven’t!   You don’t have to!  You could be anywhere else right now, but you chose to stick it out with me.”

“...and here you are… drinking the first thing they handed you.  Come to after passin out the fifth bloody time today and find you’re sellin’ yer name to some bleedin’ nymph we just met!”

Ian’s face flushes and his chest puffs out.  “Oh I see.  I don’t know all the secret little rules, so I can just sod off then.”

“Sod o- You KNOW that’s not what I’m trying to say!”

Ian’s voice rises, his shoulder’s tensing. “No, you’re sayin’ I’m just supposed to let you disappear into the guts of this place all by yourself and feel right cheery about it.”

L’s expression tightens, his heart pounding.
"Alright you arse.  Didn't like sitting around the store thinking I was dead? Okay, fine, I get it.   But at least you didn’t ASK me to walk home alone that night, yeah? At least you weren’t the REASON I was there.”

L’s voice rattles around the confines of the attic, muffled by the netting.“Say you lose your name, or your eyes, or your life while we’re down here.   How am I supposed to feel?  Knowin’ you wouldn’t of ever been here if we never met.  Knowin in some way it was my fault.”

Ian is quiet for a while, brow furrowed, muscles tense.   Then he rubs his face, and when he looks up his eyes are misted over.

"But I LIKED the name L-"

The silence where his name should have been stabs L like a knife, and he fights not to look away in shame.

"L..."   Ian swallows, fighting the hoarseness in his voice.  "You've... everythings… changed so much. Yer name, that was like somethin' I could still hold onto, yeah? And you jes'... gave it up.”

Ian jabs his thumb at his own chest.
“For who? For ME?  I wanted to do it. I wanted to. Do you get that? Not for you or yer mum and da or anyone else. For myself!”

“And you took that. You didn't even give me the chance."
He wipes his eyes with the back of his arm, coughing.

"Sorry, mate. How it is."

L can’t take it anymore, and he looks away from Ian, his own eyes stinging. The orange glow of the alp luachra illuminating him.

“Ian… if you sold your name…
What would your mum think?”

Ian flinches and looks guiltily to the side. L moves away from the ladder, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, near to Ian.

“I’m… sorry that I didn’t listen to you.   I panicked… you're right, didn’t give you a chance to speak your piece.”

L reaches up to lightly touch the side of Ian’s arm.   Ian doesn’t flinch away.  L continues.

"But… you can't...you can't trade away bits of yourself like that. They'll take you up on it. You get that, right? If the stories are anything to go by, you start doing that, and before long you won't have any you left.”

L withdraws his hand, smiling up at Ian, the two boys making eye contact.  “I like that you're human. I like that your name's Ian. Everything's changed, but you haven't.  I wanted you to keep it.   Not for you. For me.”

“Maybe that’s selfish in a way…”

L snorts, looking down at himself.

"Me though?  I'm already a mess. Trys was right. What was I supposed to do? Keep explaining why my name's L-" His face trembles as he struggles to get the word out, his tongue twisting like it's actively fighting him. After a few moments, L lets out a choked huff and puts his head in his hands. "...wouldn't w-work out, would it?"

Ian draws in a long, tight, breath, then lets it out as he runs his hand through his hair.

"... well… no changing what’s been done." He says, giving a sidelong smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.  "I already told ya. I'm here for the mess, yeah?"

Leaning down, Ian picks up the strappy wedge heels he’d set aside with the dress.
"So how about these? Do they fit? I guess we should figure out if we're organizing these or tossin’ them in the bin. Catch."

L looks up in time to see the shoes bounce into his lap.

"Ow. Hey!”  L cries, ruffled.  Ian gives him a playful smirk, and L is relieved to see a bit of the warmth return to him.  Picking up the shoe, he holds it out squinting at it suspiciously.  "I don't know.  Which is worse, binning Selkie’s stuff or-”

Another shock of guilt crawls through him. L sighs and lowers the shoes. "Wearing them feels a little… I don't know. I'm literally going through someone else's clothes."

"... yeah. More'n a pinch macabre, innit." Ian replies, shaking out a dress and frowning at how wrinkled it is, before sliding it onto a hanger. "But what else for it? Pretty sure Mads is gonna hate us either way, and I thought Hedrick was expecting as much."

L nods and holds the shoe next to his foot, tries to judge if it’s worth putting it on.
"Er. Looks pretty… close?"

"It does… doesn’t it.”  Ian nods, giving L a sidelong glance. He can’t seem to keep his eyes still - looking toward L one moment, then darting his gaze away.  “Hey. All the rest of it aside. This something you ever… thought about before?”

"Thought about - "

L's face goes red. He drops the shoe like it's made of iron, antennae curling in embarrassment. "Really? You're going back to this joke? Now?"

"Why do ya think I joked about it all the time in the first place?" Ian asks, throwing out his arms in exasperation. "Like, arright, the time of the month jokes were probably not the most tasteful, but there was always somethin’ a little about ya. I dunno, not tryin’ to make you uncomfortable. Just, y'know..."

Ian turns away again, aggressively folding a pair of leggings.

"... if the shoe fits, right? Thought a little teasing might give you a chance to… try it out in your head. Give it a thought or two.”

L stares hard at the back of Ian’s head. Without looking down, he kicks off his own shoe, picks up the one he dropped, and wrangles it in place. There’s too many straps, but after a moment of silent struggling he slides it on.

"It…”  L shivers, looking down to make sure he hasn't missed anything. The shoe’s an exact fit. “It… it does."

He hunches down, staring at it. "I guess I… I didn’t think like… being a boy didn't bother me.” L goes quiet a moment, reflecting, “but…”

“...b-but The jokes about bein’ a girl didn't either, yeah? And now there's all this - "
L waves a hand in front of himself, a little hysterical giggle bubbling up from him.
" - and people keep saying… I mean…”

“...I don't know.”
L grows more exasperated.  “I don't know. You’re supposed to know, right?"

Ian shrugs.  "I can't say. I ain't never been a moth before, so I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that sort of thing. But..."

He glances back at L, looking down at the way he fits into the shoe.
"... but it ain’t always as clear-cut as you hear, innit? It’s like… you hear people having strong feelings about who they’re attracted to. One way or the other. Girls or boys.  Confused me for the longest time.”

Ian smiles, a light chuckle.
“Cuz for me, I didn’t see the difference.   Each one had their own things nice about em. Couldn’t settle one over the other.  Took me ages to realize I wasn’t an or…
I was an either…

…follow me?”

L blinks - and then his antennae shoot straight up.
“...oh? Oh! Y…yeah. Yeah. I follow you.”

His head ducks as he hides a sudden, shy smile behind his hair.
“Definitely know what you mean about that.”

Ian nods, then takes the red, frumpled dress down off the hanger and turns to face L head on. He clears his throat, although it doesn’t quite stop his voice from catching. "So, then…I mean... do you feel like trying it on? The er... other side of things?"

Ian looks down at the dress, then tucks it behind his back sheepishly.

L stands up, reaching forward.  "It...it might be simpler. For now, right?  Hedrick was…  p-pretty clear, on his expectations.”

Ian looks at the dress, then throws it aside before turning and placing his hand on L's shoulder.  L tenses, antennae lifting and falling, as if they were caught in the updraft.

"L, listen to me. I give fewer shits than Hedrick’s got arms about what he thinks.
What do YOU want?"

He hesitates for a moment.
"How do you want me ta think of you."

L looks up.
"I...I want..."

He shivers. Wondering how much meaning the answer would have for Ian. What it would change.

Or...if?

Maybe if was the better word.
Maybe it wouldn't.
Maybe -

"...I want things to be...to be simple. Yeah? But that's obviously never going to happen."

L smiles, a hint of shyness in her eyes as she draws back.

"So I guess I want you to step out so I can change."

Ian’s expression flickers in confusion.
"... oh? ...OH!" His eyes widen as it clicks, and he nods quickly, a smile on his face. "R-r-right! Why don't I...?"

He hurries to the ladder leading to the roof, setting aside the Alp Luachra and clambering up.  Pushing open the trapdoor, a draft blows through the room. Pink and purple hues of light dance on the wall.

"I... I'll be up here! Come up whenever yer ready, y-yeah?" Ian sputters.

L smirks.. Seeing Ian flustered like this is...

New?

"Oh, wait, can you grab the - '' She starts, just as the door slams shut. L's left staring at the ladder, her eyes locked with the alp-luachra’s orange counterpart.  It’s pressed against the edge of the jar, staring at her hungrily.

Her eyes narrow.
"I don't think so."

The worm's eye widens in panic - moments before a heavy woolen blanket settles down over it. L sniffs in satisfaction, listening to the muffled thumping from underneath it.

"Serves you right."

Her antennae swivel, and she turns back to the dress, lying half-crumpled on the floorboards.


continue reading ->

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Thanks for reading along!   
Be sure to check in Friday February 18th to read  the second part of
Ch11: Rose by any Name

In which Ian is a wholesome boi.  The worm friend tries to bite.  L picks a name.