Chrysalis Ch18: Debutante (pt1) (Patreon)

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          "Alright." L sits at her vanity, staring into the illuminated mirror. She's supposed to look… confident? Glamorous? Excited? Honestly, she can’t begin to know. Her only certainty is that, right now, she looks absolutely nauseous.
          "..Not alright," L groans, slumping into the wood with her arms folded in front of her. Neith II slithers through the detritus of her makeup kit. Curious, upsettingly moist squelches follow in her wake. L gives the little creature a moody scratch on her back as her own antennae quirk.
          The past week had flown by far, far too quickly. Hedrick's put her on half-shifts, all so she can better prepare for her big debut. Whatever enthusiasm L herself lacked he filled twofold; which was probably why he was lambasting her performance in every nook and cranny of the Market he could find.
          Hedrick didn’t particularly hide his motives. The store rooms are clogged with extra stock, the lights have been redone and, good Lord…
          "He's even hired a band," L informs Neith II. The alp-luachra doesn't offer an opinion, instead wriggling into the alcove made by the song-bracelet’s curvature. L abruptly snatches it from reach.
          "Absolutely not," she mutters, eying the delicate piece of jewellery. Her thumb fiddles with the concealed switch. "The last thing I need is someone walking into a worm’s musical number. Any idea what I had to go through for this? How rightfully tossed I’d be if you broke it?"
          L doesn't want to find out. She draws in a breath, the smooth, dark surface of the pearl inset drinking from the lights of her mirror. There is no alternative, no backup, and not from a lack of planning.
          This is the only shot she has. It has to work.
          L's reverie is interrupted by a rap at the door. She’s gotten good at discerning her coworkers by their knock alone. Hedrick’s, for instance, is sharp and grossly prolonged, a constant alarming drone to attrition his employees until they work. Ian’s has an easy rhythm, bouncing and friendly. Madeline’s is sharp, forced, with only the barest amount of time to make the wood ring.
          This knock didn’t match. It was soft, three little synchronous taps, and silence.
          … Perhaps Trystan? He’s never knocked on L’s door before, or even come to check on her after her ‘misadventure’ in his closet. He never seems to be around until someone mentions him, like fate bent a thousand coincidences in his direction.
          … Unimportant. L gives the trapdoor a sidelong look, instinctively tucking the bracelet into a pile of mascara tubes. Its purely anxious habit, and she’ll have to fish it out in a few minutes to perform anyway.
          But ‘Safety First,’ right?
          L gets to her feet. "Hello?" she calls, fluttering over to the trapdoor, wondering if she's just hearing more crabs in the pipework. She pulls at the privacy barrier before it can tug her wings off-balance again. The bouts of practice are paying off.
          "Bloody hell, is it time already?" L lifts the door up partway, looking down at the ladder. “Look, ten more minutes and I can-”
          Madeline looks up at her. For a moment, silence envelops them both.
          … L promptly closes the trapdoor over her.
          But the brownie's little hand snakes out, gripping the wooden edge and heaving it open. Her arms shake from the weight.  "Ugh, 'old o-on..."
          Her voice is raspy. Probably from neglect.
          Throwing the wood up with her elbows, Madeline scurries into the space, careful to shepherd a crab aside as the door slams behind her.
          L watches the crab scuttle. “At least you don’t hate me because you have some grudge against arthropods.”
          Madeline ignores her, merely taking in the space. A gallery of emotions display across her face like a slideshow. Her eyebrows rise, her eyes turn wide. Her frown ticks into a smirk. Then, with a loud huff, the emotion passes through.
          "... Ye know, at least ye kept all ‘er bludgeons,” she grins menacingly. “Wouldn’t feel right if this room stooped bein’ a deathtrap."
          "Already thinking of wapping me with a broom?" L snaps, scrabbling into a retreat. Her wings flare out, filling the space.  "I get that I look like an insect, but I can’t just be shooed like some common housefly-"
          L stops, blinking in confusion as she looks at her taut body, already wrapped around the vanity chair in cowering flight. Madeline hasn’t hit her yet. Or shouted, or threatened or insulted.
          Just the brownie’s usual trespassing. A bit more justified, now.
          Madeline waves at her from the door. “Think I’m shooing ye just fine alreedy.”
          "... Well… we have to keep all the brooms. There's two of us here, now. Means double the cleaning, innit?”
          “Mmm,” Madeline quickly bobs her head, gazing at the labyrinth of dirty laundry and crumpled rubbish scattered across the floor. Ian and L lack a brownie’s touch, to say the least. L makes a pleading face.
          “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry and I definitely shouldn't have touched Selkie's sealskin. I assume that’s what it was?” The nymph shrivels as Madeline’s expression sours. “O-okay, got it, it’s personal. Y-you don’t have to tell me."
          Madline is prickling. “I divn’t come up ‘ere to mention her.”
          “Of course, of course, I…” L turns away, settling back into her desk. Her wings flutter with apprehension. She fidgets with a tube of foundation, trying to ignore Madeline’s stare.
          Madeline turns to the side as well, gripping her own arm defensively. “Jes’... it’s yer first night an’ I - ah, fook.”
          Madeline paces daintily through the room, effortlessly gliding over the rubble of fabric until she reaches the vanity. Her finger traces one of the posters, her other hand curled over her chest. L watches like a frightened animal.
          "Cah-mon, Mads, ye can do this,” the brownie sighs. “Fook it. I was wonderin’ if ye need help. Yous newbies don’ seem very… used to all this.”
          L glowers at Madeline’s bare face. "What, and you know how makeup works? " L snaps, twitching back.
          "Well it ain’t gettin’ on West End, but I know quite a bit more ‘an yous." Madeline replies, taking a seat near the nymph and plucking a few bottles into her palm. She seems to be debating with herself, but L only rears back, still wary of the brownie’s usual harsh tone. They’d only just started speaking, even.
          “Right, cuz I’ve got a ‘bloody problem,’ I remember. No worries, you can keep your distance. I’m fine, but thanks anyway." L huffs into the foundation. It can’t be that hard. She’ll learn.
          … Eventually.
          "No offence to yer ‘distance’, but it’s yer job. Ye need help." L almost snaps back again, but Madeline has already tilted her head up with an index finger, the other hand filled with accessories. "So… jes close yer eyes, it’ll make this easier."
          Madeline goes to work quickly, smothering L in a series of strange sensations. A stick presses against her skin. Powder dabs along her cheeks. Eyelashes are tugged by a number of brushes.
          Should she… trust Madeline to do this? There is a mirror right before her; any plot to make her a clown would be foiled in a flash. L tries to speak, but her breath quickly fills with the sharp tang of a dozen ingredients. They almost make her choke.
          Madeline fills the silence instead. "An’, cuz it’s yer job, we can stay as we are. Professionals." There’s a certain quirk in the brownie’s tone. L suspects these words aren’t being directed to her. “This don’t mean we’s friends.”
          "... I think the silent treatment sent that message loud and clear," L mutters. Her antennae can taste a whole rainbow of flavours she doesn't have any words for. She wants to imagine it’s a property of fae cosmetics, but… it’s not like she’d paid much attention to makeup before.
          “Great,” Madeline replies. With a hand, she guides L's head to the side. Something wet presses near the corner of her right eye. “See? Easy.”
          "... None of this was my idea, alright?" L tucks her wings tighter around herself. "I-I'm not trying to replace her-"
          "I said I divn’t wanna talk ‘bout ‘at!” Madeline snaps, her voice tightening.
          "Sorry. Sorry. It's just… I wanted to say it. Feel like I need to." L's hand gropes blindly around the desk, settling on the bracelet. It has to work. It has to.
          An uncomfortable silence lingers between them as Madeline takes a sharp breath. "... How’re ye feelin? ’Bout tonight? About bein ‘ere with all us? Can't imagine it’s been all..."
          L bobs her head. “All…?”
          The brownie tilts the nymph’s head the other way. “... Ye know."
          L still grips the bracelet tightly, carefully. "I… I dunno. Nervous? I just don't want to bugger it up." She gives a hoarse laugh. "Think I can manage that?"
          "Oh, ye can totally fook ‘is up, aye." Madeline says directly. L steals a quick glance, and can see the hint of humour in the brownie’s eyes.
          “Well, at least I have your confidence.” L manages a smile. A stick of velvet touches the edge of her lip, tracing along the contours.
          "Hedrick's rushin’ like he got merrows on ‘is arse. Bein' too impatient with ye. Really wants ‘is golden ticket back." Madeline huffs. “‘Ere, press yer lips together like this, I’ll smoov it out.”
          L opens her eyes just long enough to catch the gesture. She does as she's told, her wings lowering visibly. Her nerves aren’t exactly calming.
          “Perfect, grand. An’ no scowerin’ like ‘at. Hedrick’s a right sort. Sure, he can be a real wanker, but he don’ toss out what’s ‘is. In the Market, ‘at means a lot.” Madeline starts powdering L’s cheeks.
          “Employee’s rights don’t seem much of a priority here, no.” L's antennae flicker away from the powder at an alarming speed, and she fights the urge to cough.
          "Even if ye bungle ‘is up, he'll get it sorted. Always does. Might jus’... ‘old yer toes over a fire fer a few days as payment."
          As soon as Madeline withdraws her hand, L manages a sardonic smile. "Well, that's relieving news."
          "Izzit?" Without pausing to listen, Madeline turns L back towards the mirror. "Anyhoo, 'ow's this fettin’ ye? Something I can fix?"
          L turns, and her breath catches. Whatever Madeline's done has turned her eyes into sparkling gems, her cheeks to a sculpted smoothness. She doesn't look… glamorous, or excited, or confident. Nothing she expected. It’s light, graceful, ethereal.
          It makes her look like she belongs here. Among the fae.
          "...I…” L blinks. “Thanks. Th-thank you. It's good. It’s really good. Thanks, Mads.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Bullocks, sorry. Madeline. ‘Thank you, Madeline.’ N-not friends. Not Mads."
          "An’ don’t ye forget it.” Madeline winks as she stands up, leaving L to ponder whether that tone should frighten her or not. The brownie flits over to the hatch, pulling it open. A wave of sound - the hustle of the crowd outside - floods over the room, spotlights brightening the ladder below.
          Madeline’s face turns downcast as she watches the crowd. "One more thing, L. Before yer up.”
          “Mmm?” L’s only half-glances at Madeline, still entranced by her own makeup.
          “Don’t worry ‘bout replacin’ Selkie. Ye fookin’ can’t. An’ ye never will. Even if ye fookin’ tried." There's another momentary silence, so painful it feels as though all the oxygen has been taken from the room. “Yer nothin’ like her. So jes be yerself, aye?”
          L turns around, trying to study the brownie’s face. She doesn’t seem hostile. Maybe Madeline is reassuring the both of them.
          L might have only known Selkie for a few frantic seconds, but Cadogan’s photograph sticks in her memory. She really didn’t look anything like her.
          And it seems everyone prefers it that way.
          She sighs, and smiles. “Thanks, Madeline.”
          And, like that, Madeline’s vicious smirk returns. “Of course. Now I won’t get mad when ye fook this up. It’ll jes’ be funny.” She cackles as she snakes down the ladder, the hatch slamming shut behind her.
          L watches the door with another, deeper sigh. After a pause, she clasps the bracelet around her wrist. It closes with a metallic click.
          It's time.

+++

          The backstage walls are layered in posters of L, all in the same art deco style plastered in her room. Hedrick had argued that the style would imbue passerby with a hint of her coming stardom. L got the feeling it was hogwash, because Hedrick himself was already acting like L had failed.
          Even backstage, the goblin’s pacing, bouncing around the pocket watch he refuses to look up from. He’s nibbling at a cigarette, bits of ash sprinkling along the wood floors and spread apart by his feet. The big band is already coursing through their charts, adding a musical touch to the crowding throngs outside.
          L can hear him as she descends. "Where the fahk is she?" Hedrick whispers through gritted teeth, louder than he probably wanted. He pokes his head through the edge of the curtain, just like L has every chance she’s gotten. It was a full house in the truest sense: no seat unseated, no spot uncovered. Every chunk of space was filled with one fae or another.
          … No pressure.
          A faint whisper of fluttering wings announces L's arrival. She's in her red performance dress, hovering a few inches above the ground and far away from the touch of her merciless heels.
For now.
          Her antennae twitch back and forth, anxiously responding to the alternating sounds of the crowd and the band. With every triumphant surge of percussion, they curl back in, folding like the tips of ferns. L lifts her arm in greeting, the pearl in her bracelet catching the light.
          "H-Hedrick! Good evenin’, sorry I-" she pulls up sharply, braking in mid-air for a double-take at the poster-strewn wall. "Umm… how many of those did you buy? It’s just us in here.”
          Hedrick’s chuckle cracks with nerves. "Ever heard of the Law of Attraction, me lass? The better you believe, the better you’ll sing. Consider it aspirational. " The goblin bows with a flourish, four arms going either way. He’s very precise in hiding the glue across his hands, still wet and mixing with the sweat pouring from his skin.
          But not precise enough. L watches the mixture drip from his shaking fingers. “Uh, right, of course. Uh, Law of Attraction seems a bit odd for a marketing-”
          "How ya keepin’, luv? Good? Perfect? Excellent." Hedrick hurries towards L, sizing her up. "Well, yer lookin’ good. Lookin’ real good. Lookin’ like you’ve got this.”
          “Thank you,” L tries to match his energy. “Madeline helped a bit with-”
          “She’s got this, she’s totally got this. She’s gonna do fahkin’ great.” Interrupting L, Hedrick abruptly breaks eye contact to return to his pacing.
          “Uh, yes,” she raises a meek fist. “Is this… Law of Attraction, too?” She wilts, fully aware that the goblin isn’t listening.
          “She’s gonna knock this outta the park, rattle the whole fahkin’ Market. She’s got this, she’s got this good.” Hedrick’s pace quickens. “An’ when she does, everything will calm down, it’ll be jus’ like it was. Exactly like it was. You’ll see.”
          The cigarette falls from his mouth.
          "You'll see."
          L touches down, wobbling as her wings furl back up. Her nose wrinkles as her antennae taste the thick cloud of cigarette smoke trailing around Hedrick, but she manages to hide it before his eyes return to her.
          "... Yeah." She smiles anxiously, giving a thumbs up. "Exactly like it was. I'll… I’ll take your word for it.”
          Hedrick gives her the briefest of smiles before he returns to his pacing.
          “So… how long’s the warmup act, then?" She smiles playfully. “Been a while since I practised.” The joke falls flat even as she speaks it.
          “Warmup act?! What the fahk are ya talkin’ about? Ya fahkin’ touched? Ain’t got no time fer-” Hedrick looks back into L’s very, very frightened smile. “...Oh. Yer jokin’.”
          L nods like her head is on hinges.
          “... Maybe stick with the songs, love.”
          L tiptoes up to the goblin, holding her breath, and risks another peek out herself.
          She’s never seen the Glade like this. The sheer throng of people creates a swirling ocean of faces and figures. There’s chatting, laughing, drinking. Cadogan’s holed up with half his crew - whichever had faces healed enough to go out in public. An offhand comment by Grady sends the shark spiralling into another bellyful fit of laughter.
          Fireflies twinkle and sparkle in the air above, warming the space with an orange glow. Ian and Trystan are tucked behind the bar. It would be an understatement to call them focused; Drinks fly every which way, the clientele creating a flurry of activity.
          Ian looks to be in his element. There’s an ease to his motions and a genuine smile on his face. He laughs at his customer’s jokes, dances a few bars with the especially inebriated ones. Like he’s finally home amidst this chaos.
          L smiles softly. It’s good to see him relaxing, a welcome change to the afternoons he spends hovering over his phone. Their friendship’s been on the mend since last week’s fiasco, but as quickly as things died down here, something on that phone caught Ian in that same frantic anxiety. Even as hours pass, huddled in the corner by his bed, Ian refuses to discuss it with L. The nymph is glad this energy isn’t directed at her this time, but…
          It’s good to see him relax. That made one of them.
          "OI. OI!" Hedrick barks, snapping his fingers near her antennae, causing them to recoil. "No gettin’ distracted tonight! No freezin’ up, no panicking! I need ya focused and breathing, just like we practised, innit? Just in, and out. In, and out. C’mon, lass. In, and out." He demonstrates a few times.
          Clearly not just for L’s benefit.
          The nymph follows suit anyway, slowing her breath, extending her wings expand with her diaphragm. It does help…  but not nearly as much as seeing Ian work. His presence has been her rock this whole journey. And tonight, she might need it more than ever.
          "No freezing up," she murmurs. "Okay. Okay. I can do that."
          She holds her wrist, palm curving with the bracelet. She can almost feel it pulse, the song inside ready to float free. Or maybe that’s just her own heart overloading.
          Honestly, compared to the last few weeks, a heart attack seems quite mundane.
          … On the bright side, she won't have to deal with Lyra’s possible awakening until she’s out of this mess. At least her problems aren’t stacking. That’s a start, right?
          L sighs again, looking at Hedrick and nodding. "I've got this."
          "You've got this." Hedrick bobs his head, fuddling about for another cigarette. He holds it briefly in shaky fingers before lifting it near the nymph. “For luck?”
          The smoke is about to send her into a coughing fit as is. L waves it away, her smile flickering. "N-no thanks. I think I’ve got enough luck already." She gestures to the posters. “Law of Attraction, remember?”
          “Right. Just believe, and you’ll do-” Hedrick bolts up as he flicks an eye at his watch. “Blimey, we’re late! Alright, lass, remember-”
          “I know. Come on, Hedrick. Let’s do thi-is.” She'd meant to sound more confident, but the last word comes out as a squeak as she’s pushed through the curtain.


continue reading ->

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I have liked Madeline for a while now, although we haven't had a chance to really get too much into her as a character.   So it's nice to have her starting to open up a bit.

We've got a big musical surprise for when the second part of Chapter 18.2, Debutante post Friday September 23rd! We've collaborated with Plasterbrain of Jellopocalypse notoriety to get the recording of the actual song L sings!   So look forward to reading... and hearing... L's first official performance.

Until then, thanks for reading!
And thanks for stopping by!