Chrysalis Ch15: Performance Anxiety (pt1) (Patreon)

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          The diffuse lighting of the day filters through the skylight enough to illuminate the room in a hazy glow. L’s hair and antennae tangle around each other as she rests on her bed, her wings draped over like a thin blanket.
          She’s used to sleeping until midday, what with the night work at the convenience store. Even so, it had been a late and eventful night, and her rest had been peppered with unsorted anxious thoughts. So it’s sort of… pleasant… to just lie there in a half-awake daze. She can think without really thinking. Drift through the space between consciousness and unconsciousness. Enjoying the in-between-ness of it.
          She can see Ian’s slumbering form through the half-parted privacy curtain of clothes, out cold and his own blanket halfway off of him. It’s relatively warm in the Glade, but uncovered as he is, there's a tenseness in his body that comes from chill. He’s holding the beat-up cell phone, still plugged into the wall to hold the charge, tight in one hand. L’s lips curl in a sleepy, comforted smile. Just in case he needs to wake…despite her frustrations with him, there’s something reassuring about that. Something…
          Someone knocks at the trapdoor - not hard, but loud enough to startle her out of her reverie. L sits up abruptly, one antennae folded at an awkward angle, the other one twisting and flailing in annoyance at the sudden sound.She slithers out of bed, her wings wrapping like a cloak around her, and scrabbles at the hatch. It takes her a second of straining to lift it open, holding it so that there's only a tiny crack of space between the trapdoor and the ladder.
          "Hello?" She whispers tightly through it, glancing over her shoulder at Ian. He’s stirred slightly, but the knock hadn’t been loud enough to wake him. His breathing deepens and his shoulders shift as he rolls in her direction, a little more of the blanket sliding away. L clears her throat and hastily looks away, turning her head back to the trapdoor. "What time is it - o-oh!"
          She’s met by Madeline’s borderline-hostile glower, her eyes gleaming out of the trapdoor’s shadow. Her bunny ears are low, and the red gem at the center of her forehead glitters in the dim light.
          She does not inform L of the time.
          "Is...everything okay?" L asks, hesitantly. This  isn't her ideal way of waking up, but she can’t help it. She’s fully awake now, the last shreds of her drowsy haze falling away under the brownie’s mute stare. "...do you need something...?"
          Madeline lets out a little irritated huff, her nose flaring and her ears twitching, then shoulders up the hatch enough to reach an arm through. She grabs hold of L's arm and tugs, nodding down towards the main floor.
          L's antennae practically collapse. She makes a face. "Just...just a minute. I need to get dressed."
          She sighs and pulls back into the room. It can't possibly be time for another shift yet. Between cleaning up, calling home, and the awkward half-silent meal they'd all had, it feels like she's only had time for a couple hours of sleep. Whatever's come up probably isn't routine, then. That doesn't do her anxiety any favors. She hurries back to her corner of the room to pull on the most comfortable-looking dress she can find, still struggling a bit with the garment.
          Her wings flicker as she glances at the lidless jar holding Neith II, tucked away on its side in the jumble on her desk. The worm's asleep at the back, half-concealed by the surroundings.
          "You better behave." She mumbles, tugging on her shoes and taking a few quiet steps toward the trapdoor. Ian turns over again, but doesn’t sit up, for which she’s grateful. No sense in keeping Ian from his sleep, too. They still have to talk. It'll be easier if at least one of them is rested.
          L scurries down the ladder and takes the last rung by fluttering, hopping off and letting her wings carry her the rest of the way. By the time she’s touched down, Madeline is no longer at the hatch. Instead she's halfway down the catwalk, rag in hand, polishing as she walks.
          She fogs the hand rail with her breath, then gives it a final swipe, checking her reflection. A crab scuttles along, little legs clicking against the metal, and she holds out her hand to let it run up her arm. Madeline turns away from L, watching the little crustacean tap its way along her skin. The lines around her eyes soften, and a slow, gentle smile splits her face. Moving carefully to keep from dropping it, Madeline reaches up and tucks the crab safely in her hair. As soon as it’s settled, she turns, the smile curdling as she looks back at L. Without a word, she starts down the ladder to the main floor.
          L looks hesitantly at the gleaming metal of the handrail, then trails after Madeline, awkwardly increasing her pace to keep up. "Is everything okay?" She ventures, leaning over the edge to peer down the ladder.  Madeline waves nonchalantly behind her. If it's something bad, it doesn't seem to be bothering her. With an apprehensive shrug, L starts after her, trying not to smudge the rungs.
          Madeline hops off well before L reaches the bottom, flourishing a hand to her in an overly grand, mocking presentation. Someone grunts, and L steps down just in time to see Hedrick amble around a stack of barrels, both sets of arms crossed over his chest. He coughs, making a low, crackly sound like wet branches snapping. "Thank you, Madeline. We're good here."
          The moment she's dismissed, she's gone, disappearing into the woodwork and copper pipes without a backward glance. Hedrick turns his attention to L with an inquiring scowl, clearing his throat again. "Do you feel rested? I know we work late, but you should try to keep to a schedule. We need you healthy."
          "I'm awake." L replies evasively, hiding a yawn. "It's...I think I'm still getting used to time here. It's not too early, is it? Is it - " Her antennae quiver hopefully, but the air only tastes of copper and damp moss. There's no scent of breakfast.
          " - er. Never mind." She says hastily, tucking her wings back. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"
          "Yeah. A few things, actually." Hedrick starts out, rapping two sets of fingers on two sets of biceps. "First off, good work last night. Trystan tells me yer human didn't do half bad either. Trys is responsible for paying a wage to the boy. You, though…well, property of the Glade and all, strictly speaking we don’t have to pay you…
          Despite his words, Hedrick’s fishing around in his pockets as he grumbles, a smug smile settling into place as he pulls out a handful of gleaming metal. “...but even so... girl needs her trinkets, eh? Can’t have my staff going about without pocket money. Hold out yer hand."
          "...thanks?" L ventures, her wings twitching. She reaches out slowly, eyeing Hedrick with a certain amount of trepidation. "I've been meaning to ask, actually. About, er. Food."
          Hedrick presses three gold coins into her palm, each ornately imprinted with the design of a stylized cat in profile, curled and resting within the trunk of a wizened tree. He waves a hand magnanimously.
          "Oh right. I ain’t feedin’ the boy, but if you ever need something you can help yerself to the pantry. Just ask Madeline where it's at and she'll show you in. We'll get you a key made eventually."
          L has no idea how much the coins are worth. Even so, she gives a hesitant smile, closing her hand around them. Asking Madeline for meals is an intimidating prospect, but at least she won't have to keep leaning on Ian for it. "Thanks, I already - “
          Hedrick holds up a warning finger.
          "Just don't go gorgin’ yerself, now. We need you watchin yer figure."
          L’s expression flickers, and her wings half-open, flashing eyespots. "Thanks. I-I'll keep that in mind."
          Hedrick raises an eyebrow. L’s cheeks brighten, and she forces her wings back down with a brief, internal effort. He waves a hand again, snorting through his nose.
          "Think yer passive and malleable enough anyway, so I'm not gonna worry too much. Still, though, girls gotta be told sometimes what's expected." He leans back, shoving two hands into his pockets and tapping a toe. "That said, it's time we start gauging yer ability and planning an official debut."
          L, in turn, just folds her arms in response. "Deb - " She twitches slightly. After the success the night had ended up being, she'd almost forgotten what she'd been taken on for in the first place. Really, she’d been hoping for a few more shifts as serving staff.
          "Oh. R-right, of course. How long can I have to..."
Practice?
          "...settle in?"
          "Ya mean warm up?" Hedrick asks, quizzical. He snorts, flashing a toothy grin. "How long you think you need, flutterbug? Been wonderin’ a bit about yer little talent in general, bein honest."
          L's smile becomes a little more fixed. That made two of them. "Oh?" She shifts uncomfortably. "What about it?"
          Hedrick starts to count off on his fingers. "How long you been singin for? Ever performed in front of a crowd? What's yer rapport? What's yer catalogue look like? Ain’t every nymph that speaks in the old way, by the by, so I’m curious about that, too."
          "My...my rappor - oh, my repertoire, haha, right, right..."
          L's antennae jangle nervously. She can feel Hedrick staring through her. How had she not realized he'd want to ask some of these things? Not that she would have had any time to think of answers.
          "The old way...well, that's...that's a long story...actually..." Something sparks in L's eyes, the seed of an idea taking hold. She stops jittering back and forth and straightens up, letting her wings flourish. "Actually, it all is. It's better if we don't get into it. Can't I be a little mysterious?"
          "Cheeky bugger, ey?" Hedrick says, rubbing a finger against his chin, squinting up at her. "Maybe not as passive as I thought. Bit more flavor. Bit tastier. They might like that if you can play it up."
          He chuckles. The gleam in his eye takes on a touch of hunger, something that reminds her a little too much of Cadogan. L shifts uncomfortably again, her wings folding back around her.
          "... well, yer not wrong. Mystery and allure, that’s hand in hand, but that’s for the crowds. You don't want to fill me in on the details? I can respect that. We all got our histories here. But that ends where running this place begins, understand? I need to know what yer capable of before I go advertising and making a big to-do. Don't want to go showin’ my ass. Woulda done a whole thing already if the king wasn’t twisting my arms."
          He clambers up onto the stage, then flips a switch, clicking on the microphone. L notes through her rapidly-growing panic that there’s a whole sound system mounted in what is, otherwise, not a particularly modern building. True, the speakers are encased in dark, polished wood and the microphone is covered in a pattern of vines done in brass, but…
          "What say you start by giving us another song, yeah?" Hedrick says, then jumps off the edge of the stage and pulls up a chair, which he plops down in and crosses his leg over a knee. He gives her a warm smile. "At yer leisure."

"A song." L swallows, nodding. "Sure. Of course. I can...I can do that again." She flutters hesitantly onto the stage, little rapid wingbeats that send her in a wobbly pattern, and settles down behind the microphone. She can do this. She's done this before. Hasn’t she? She must have, but every time she thinks about it, she just comes up against that blank space. L takes a deep breath and coughs, the sound echoing through the empty hall. Her trembling fingers wrap around the microphone, feeling the cold metalwork dig into her skin. It’s heavier than she expected.
          How...had she done it?

Like…

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 Ļ̸̈́i̷̖͊k̴͎̄e̷̖̽ ̷̢̚t̴͔̃ĥ̵̫i̷̙̓s

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Be sure to check in Friday June 17th to read
Ch15: Performance Anxiety (pt2)