Chrysalis Ch11: Rose by any Name (pt2) (Patreon)

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The trapdoor swings open with a grunt as L pushes up into the open air.

"I...Ian?"

She calls out tentatively.   No response, but she is met by a surprisingly pleasant draft which toys with the loose ends of her hair.

Pulling herself topside, jar in hand, her antennae quiver as she drinks in the tangy, moist air. It’s different up here;  clearer than the maze of corridors below.   Completely free of the hatch, she looks about to see where Ian has got off to.

Several large filtration tanks hum quietly, and little puffs of steam escape from a kaleidoscope of pipes.  Graffiti adorns the brickwork, but is slowly losing ground to the moss.   Netting is nestled in one corner, spun with shells, a shimmering nest currently occupied by tiny crabs that scuttle back and forth along the fibers.

A half wall circles the edge except for one part that’s been deliberately disassembled, bricks neatly stacked to the side.  And there’s Ian, seated with his legs over the edge, looking out over the city.

L lingers, watching Ian’s back for a few moments, before looking down at herself.
The dress is still wrinkled, but fits almost as well as the shoes had except for one part that doesn’t want to sit right. L tugs nervously at the garment, adjusting it.  The cut of the dress exposes her wings, and they flutter furtively in the open space.

Stealing her courage, L wedges the jar in the hammock and carefully walks to the ledge. Balancing in the unfamiliar shoes, she stops a pace away from Ian.

"H...hey."  She stammers.

Ian doesn’t respond, instead leaning forward to take in the market.  The overgrown architecture crowds the space within the subterranean walls, arcades stretching out like rivulets ringed with eerie lights. Clustered beneath the arches, small figures scurry about, striking deals, gesticulating at one another, some scooping up bundles and others dashing into the shadows.

"Pretty wild that all this is under London, innit?”  Ian starts out, contemplative.   “... just under the surface.”

Growing quiet, he shifts back.

“...L…  If yer a boy who has to play at bein a girl to stay safe, I’m here, yeah?   If yer a girl who’s just gettin to stretch her wings for the first time, I’m here… yeah?”

“It ain’t about me, or that six armed arse, or even that king what owns the place.  You?  Who you are?”

“That’s all you mate.
You get me?”

“I…” L starts, breathing in.   She notes how her lungs expand, fill, stretch.  So often bound, indulging in the relief of breathing freely like this.

“...yeah.  Yeah I hear you.”

She stretches her wings, shivering with release, before they settle comfortably behind her.  Taking a seat next to him, she releases her legs over the edge to dangle in the open air, first one, then the other. They swing a little in the breeze. Holding them out together in front of her, she admires how they look.

"It’s nice up here." L says, smiling down at the glowing streets below.   Lacing her fingers, she leans a little to the side, and nods to her dress.

"What… what do you think?
I’m not sure I put it on right."

Shyly, Ian darts a look, then a second, before a warm, boyish smile spreads across his face.

“You look good.”  He says to the open air.  
L can feel some heat in her cheeks.
“Here… there’s just this one bit… if I may”

L looks upwith a brief moment of confusion, then looks down at his hand.  It’s hovering over a stray strap.  She nods, allowing him, and he takes it and tugs. With that one quick motion the strap breaks free from the zipper it’s caught on.  L can feel the shift, and adjusting, sense the dress slide into place… any initial awkwardness fading away.

L ducks her head, smiling bashfully.
“... still a bit new to all this.”

“Takes a little practice."  He says gently, settling back.

"Think I'll be getting plenty of that" she adds ruefully.
Ian chuckles, drawing in a deep breath of the clear air.

"Told ya you were pretty like a girl."

L kicks her legs slowly, turning the...joke? Compliment?
The whatever-it-was over in her mind.

Compliment now for sure.

"Did you?  When have you ever called me a girl?" She says, looking up at him, baffled.   He looks over at her, his own face a wall of confusion.

After a moment she turns, taps her chin, looking up toward the ceiling. It's too dark to see how high it goes. "I don't remember you ever saying anything like that.  Nope.  Doesn’t sound like you at all."

"You’re takin the piss? NOW?!" Ian barks with laughter, his smile splitting into a devilish grin. “Thought that was MY job?”

L punches him lightly in the arm.
"Someone has to. Goin all heartfelt on me like that."

There’s a thonk from the jar behind them.   L and Ian look and see that the Alp Luachra has knocked the jar over, glowering at the two of them.

"... certainly not going to get any from him.  He’s been glowering and ogling the whole time. If he ever had any sense of humor it was in a different worm."

Ian groans at the joke, leaning back on one hand to right the jar before poking at it, letting it rock a little.The worm inflates again, glowering at Ian as it puffs up. It flicks its gaze between the two of them, then stares mournfully at L, rolling over on its back.

"We really keepin this lil blood sucker?" Ian asks, a hint of incredulity in his voice.  "I think the king mighta had it right to fry him up."

"We are absolutely not eating them." L says firmly. The worm blinks confused, then hopefully at her as she crosses her arms, staring forbiddingly at it. "... or returning them.  It's rude to return gifts."

Ian shakes his head and laughs.  "Alright alright, but what are we gonna do with it? Like, do you even know what it eats? Other than you?"

"Probably... anything?" L says doubtfully, watching the worm flip back over to stare pleadingly at her. Idly, she wonders if she could get some sort of terrarium for it.  "They're supposed to be parasites. I doubt this one's picky and it's just one little worm after all.  Maybe we can bring it scraps from downstairs?”

"I get the feeling we'll be lucky to have those scraps for ourselves." Ian shrugs, tapping  at the top of the container.

“We should name it.”   L says, leaning forward and looking at the little creature.

“NAME it?” Ian says, incredulous.  “Isn’t it… an Alp Luachra? Whatsit?
Just call it that.

Or Alpy.  How’s Alpy.”

“We aren’t calling it Alpy.” L says, rolling her eyes.   Then she leans forward, squinting at the worm.  “Maybe a John?  Or a Janet?”

“How’s bitey.”  Ian offers, poking at the jar again.  Stretching up to its full height, the worm lunges for Ian’s finger before bouncing off the jar.   It circles and stares daggers up at him through the glass.

L snickers. "That’s the same bloody look Neith gave me while she was pulling herself out of the pool. You better watch it, or - "

L trails off as a thought crosses her mind.
Then a slow, evil smile spreads across her face.

“...you know how some people name their pets after their boss?”

Ian cringes a little.  “Bit mean spirited, but yeah.   I heard of that.
Thinkin about our old Cromart manager or somethin?”

“I’m not gonna go round kicking the little thing.”   L offers, shortly.   “I’ll take good care of them it’s just…”
“They remind me of her.   Both being blood suckers.  How could I not, the resemblance is so…

“...uncanny.”


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Thanks for reading along!   
Be sure to check in Friday March 4th to read
Ch12: The Glade

In which Hedrick slaps L on the ass, Trystan asks L how the whoring is going,
L makes puns with a coupla Mafia Sharks