Chrysalis Ch12: The Glade (pt1) (Patreon)

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The sound of coin and clientele grows in the space below, and even without a change in the light L can sense the evening getting on.

Ian’s just departed, the faint vibrations of his footsteps fading down the catwalk, but L lingers at the vanity.  She should join him in a minute, but she doesn’t feel quite ready yet.  Tonight’s her first shift at the Glade, and she wants to make a good impression. She studies her face she’s still getting used to, turning it left and right.   She follows the contours of her nose, her cheeks, the way her hair falls across her eyes.  Her lips feel too thin, the dark lines beneath her eyes too visible. Her gaze drops down to the table, lingering on Selkie’s scattered makeup.

“...no. Terrible idea.” She mutters, her wings flickering in agitation.  She goes to stand but then hesitates.  What if it’s expected?  Shouldn’t she at least try?  In the past people would often mistake the red around her eyes as eyeliner.  In fact, her only real experience with makeup was a few failed attempts at concealing it.

She sits back down.

Looking over the collection, there’s an overwhelming sea of little containers. Brushes, powders, pencils and color.  L’s hand hovers over the mess, settling on a waxy stick of red eyeliner.

“How hard could it be?” She whispers, holding the pencil gingerly.  She leans forward.  “I’ll just… draw a quick line.”  Her hand moves, eyes water, as the sharpened liner touches the skin above her eye.

Someone hammers at the trapdoor.
L jumps, startled, turning aside the pencil in time to avoid jabbing herself in the eye.

"’Ey! What’s taking so long?” Hedrick barks out, “the VIPs are gonna be here any minute!"

"C-coming! Sorry!" L stammers, tossing the pencil aside.  Her wings flick out to maintain balance as she hurries across the crowded attic.  Between Selkie’s dresses, Ian’s backpack and L’s books there wasn’t much floor space left for walking.   Ducking around the makeshift room divider, she’s brought to an unexpected halt as the lace of her dress catches on a splinter.
"Why does anyone wear stuff like this." L grumbles as she frees herself.

Reaching the trapdoor, she kneels down and pulls up, greeted by a sudden rush of cool air, the sound of the crowd below becoming clear. Folding her wings she turns and slips down the ladder, careful her four inch heels don’t catch on the rungs. Whatever else happens, she’s not gonna be late on her first day.

Hedrick stands a few paces from the entry hatch, pointedly holding up a leather-bound book. He’s aggressively taking notes in it, and clutching an outsized pocketwatch in his free hand.  The goblin snorts and gives the timepiece an impatient tap.

"I'll give you this much. You take just as long as Selkie did to get ready." He grumbles.

L's wings disappear behind her.
"I can imagine, if she was changing into..."

She trails off, color brightening her cheeks as she’s freshly reminded her clothes were once someone else’s.  But now they were hers, along with the role they filled.  Hedrick breaks his gaze from the pocket watch and looks her up and down, openly appraising her appearance, unabashedly gawking at her.

Finally, he nods in begrudging acceptance.
"How's it feel? You feel comfortable?"

L looks back, her antennae quirking in confusion.
“Comfortable?  What… what do you mean?”

“I mean how’s the fit? Do you feel good?  Does it feel right?  Nothing pinching, nothing biting?”   He stops, eyeing her stilettos.

“I…” L shifts uncomfortably, not quite sure what to make of the goblin. “...does it… matter?”

“O’ for fecks sake - “ Hedrick snaps, checks off one last thing in his book and slams it shut.   “Of course it matters. Look, maybe the king twisted my arms into taking you on, but yer mine now, yeah? A Goblin takes care of his hoard. Can’t be havin you twisting your ankle or cracking a rib or…”  he throws up a hand in irritation “...corseting your organs into oblivion.”

“So” He concludes, tucking his book under his arm and jabbing L in the side with another, “are ya comfortable?”

“Y-yes. I get it. Thanks.” L stammers, rubbing at her shoulder. “I’m comfortable.”

Hedrick snorts and nods. “Good. Hold still.”

Confused, L stands as she’s told.   With a surprising amount of care, Hedrick licks his thumb and rubs at her cheek.   Reflexively she flinches but it doesn’t seem to bother him.  He tastes his thumb and looks up, considering.

“You had a smudge there”  He says simply,  “Somethin red.   Doesn’t taste like blood.   Some kind of makeup…?”

"Oh r-right a-about that-” L starts, words tumbling out of her.  Her heart picks up as she goes into what she’s rehearsed. “I talked it out with Ian and thought it might be easier just to go with things. The girl things, I mean.  Simpler that way.  Better for everyone.”

She trails off, feeling the cool, misty air of the Glade. She knew it would be easier like this… but…

“J-just forget about my b-being a boy."

Why did she feel like…
…she was losing someone?

" It… it just makes sense, yeah? Not like I can go back to my old name anyway."

Hedrick scowls. "Yeah, Trystan told me about that. Bloody bastard, going over my head stealing your name and hiring that human. You know I’m gonna have to buy that from him at some point yeah?  Not to mention that HUMAN, as if I didn’t have enough to keep track of."

Hedrick shakes his head.  "I’d say it’d cost him, but he's already covered the difference. And YOU.”   He says, jabbing L in the side again.  “Not just anyone is stupid enough to sell their name.  Didn’t that human say you were sharp?  What were you thinkin?!”

“I… we… didn’t know what to do!  I was just-”
Hedrick presses his finger against her lips.

“Calm now…. what’s done is done lass.   Selling one’s name isn’t exactly legal, strictly speaking, but that’s not the sort of thing you care about down here.”

He snorts, then turns and beckons for L to follow as he stalks down the walkway.

"Anyway, L’s a better name for someone like you.   Glad to hear you comin to your senses about the boy business. To be frank, I was never gonna remember it... girl callin’ herself a boy, I mean really."

He sniffs dismissively.  L's head lowers, and her antennae settle back into her hair.  "I'm just...glad we worked something out." She murmurs softly, trailing after him.  They head down the catwalk to the stage below.   The curtains are mostly drawn, but the golden light and murmur of crowd still spills through.

L stops midway across the stage.   For the moment she still has the cover of the curtain to hide behind.

"Is there… somewhere I can warm up my voice?"  She asks, her stomach tying itself in a knot.  She’d tried a few times to sing on her own, but she was sure it wasn’t going to meet Hedrick’s expectations.   Her only hope is to trigger… whatever that was that happened the first time.

"Your voice?" Hedrick asks, coming to a bewildered stop. Then he laughs, clapping L on theback. "No, no, no. Absolutely not. We'll have your big debut after I've had a chance to assess you and market and... well, we're going to make a thing of it. You don't have to worry your pretty head about that sort of thing, just do as I tell ya."

L’s antennae jolt in annoyance at the patronizing tone, but Hedrick’s not paying attention. He pulls the curtain aside, watching the space come to life. Madeline’s busily collecting coats while Trystan’s talks avidly with Ian, gesturing to different tinctures he's set out. There’s an air of anticipation to the room as cloaked clientele begin to fill the space.

"No, today is just a trial run. Got some whales coming into town tonight and thought we'd see how you handle them. You said you had customer service experience, yeah?"

L's still frowning, but some of the anxiety drops out of her expression.

"Oh...oh! O-okay! Cheers, thanks." She steps a little closer to the banister, starting to smile. Maybe this really wouldn't be that different. "Yeah. Erm. Stocking shelves, checking inventory, running a till. Do you have one? I don't see..."

She trails off, looking askance at Hedrick.
"Sorry, whales?"

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The man seated at the booth must easily be seven feet tall, and nearly as wide. Dressed in a fine suit trimmed in gold, he laughs hard enough to shake the table. His teeth glitter, rows upon rows of them, his eyes solid black and cold.

He looks fairly human, once you get past the fact he has the head of a shark.

Across from him is an exacting, willowy gentleman, about half the size of his companion. His head is flat and extends out on either side, with spines going down the back. A manta ray. He's the one telling the joke, although his dour expression is more appropriate to a funeral.

Hedrick pulls the stage curtain aside a little more, just enough for L to get a better look.

"The big one is the head of one of the Merrow Syndicates. Comes here every other Tuesday for the exact same thing. Likes to talk business around a pretty face, with the assumption that nothing he says leaves the Glade. You understand? He was especially keen on Selkie, being what she was. "

L’s antennae and wings both fold back as she takes in the sight. Not...literal whales, then, but close enough. She nods as Hedrick continues.  "Cadogan is his name. He's here tonight with his top bookkeeper, Grady."

BOOKKEEPER.   
Like in Lyra’s note.  Could that have been a coincidence? "Do they both come here often?" She asks, anxiety seeping into her voice. "Or just… just Cadogan?"

Lyra's note was vague. Arguably unhelpful. But it hadn't really been inaccurate.

L forces a smile "J-just in case it comes up."

"Not that I see how it matters, but Grady comes by about half as much as his boss.”  Hedrick snorts. “Why, you keen on him or something?"

L blinks, watching Grady's head ripples at the edges. "N-no. Nope. Just...doing my homework." She forces her smile wider. "I'm supposed to make a good impression, right?"

"That's a good girl." Hedrick says, one of his hands swinging around to send her out with an indelicate smack on the ass. L squeaks in startled outrage, jolting upright - and stumbles out from behind the curtain, her wings flapping for balance.

Hedrick calls after her.  "Now go on and do your thing. Go keep him happy and ordering."

She makes a strangled, inarticulate noise, staring daggers at the curtain, before her head whips around to look at the table. They haven’t even noticed her. L's expression goes blank.

Easy.
It's just like telling someone where we keep the biscuits.

L hops down from the stage, her wings carving swooping patterns through the fog as she hurries over to the table. Cadogan is wiping away tears from his eyes, slapping at the table with his free hand. "An old school chum. Grady, you just - how do you come up with this shit?”

"H-hi." L squeaks nervously. She cranes her neck up to look at the pair.  "Welcome to the Glade. Can I get you anything?"

The table goes silent. Cadogan turns in his seat, craning his neck down to look at her. He’s so large that he makes the whole space seem like a playset, rather than a real booth and table. A toy tea party.

And he’s grinning like he’s just found a new doll.

"Why, hello there, sea star. I'll order up a tall glass of you for the evening, if you're offering."

continue reading ->

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Thanks for reading along!   
Be sure to check in Friday March 18th to read
Ch12: The Glade (pt2)