For a Song Pt. 11

She screamed Claire's name into her as everything shuddered and shattered and broke. Her legs flexed and tensed, trying to find some salvation in destruction. Claire just laughed. It was easy. It was always so easy. Hair triggers and a bit of her power given, and it all came crumbling down. Annette melted and went slack. She wanted to keep going. She wanted more. Claire deserved more. She would get more.

Annette fought it. She fought the growing sharp and let it guide her tongue. It gave the same shape to her partner. She felt it shiver in her stomach. She felt it grow just the same. Such a beautiful sun and a shattering light. It burned so sweetly. It burned so beautifully. The light sang so sweetly. Claire shook and that was the best part. Her legs quaked and shook the earth. It shook the world, rattling the stars and waving the petals in the stiff breeze along the field.

Her release hit her chin and Annette laughed, ugly and raw and pure. Heavenly, it was all so heavenly and beautiful and perfect. Her fingers played the note longer and it all works beautifully. It hums like a broken crystal glass. It rang out like a falling church bell, the parapet knocked over from siege and war.

Claire let out a long, long, long sigh as it ended in a numb warmth.

"Can you blame me," she hummed, "For wanting this every day?"

"No," said Annette, "Because I want it too. One of the perks of being your wife, really."

"Amaru?"

"He was incredible. He was perfect. Between the two of you, I don't know how I walked the morning after."

"You lived. You'll live. You'll be fine. Good luck changing the sheets though."

"Yeah, yeah. Got out of that this time. Next time you drop by, I'm making you get the top of the shelves. I'm not tall enough."

"That was Amaru's job. I'm not tall enough either."

They laughed. It was sad, but they laughed. It was true, and that make the sorrow all the sweeter. Blackberry sweet, really, mulled in heady wine and cinnamon. The night spilled down and covered them again. It was warm as Annette clambered back to face the burning light. Said light kissed her cheek and all the pains and aches and throbs of the waking world fed back into the afterglow. Every limb tinged and spark. The core smoked out and done and over with. The light kissed the base of her horn and that brought something like sense back to her. The horn was important. The horn was precious. She was gentle with it. She knew. It could poke out an eye if Claire wasn't careful. That was half the fun.

"Are you going to be ready for it," Annette asked, nuzzling into Claire's neck.

"Probably. Maybe. Got a couple of names down, but not the whole gang. It should be enough," Claire sighed, "How dare you make me work so much?"

"Oh please. It's good for you. Can't have you laying in fields all day. You need to get up and get your exercise."

Claire grumbled but another little nibble on her neck set it a bit higher. Annette had her back scratched and that was nice.

"You have to wake up now," Claire murmured.

"Shame," said Annette, "But I'll see you soon."

"You will. Don't worry. I love you.

"I love you too, Cottontail."

---

The meandering path I took led me up the cliffs. The winds are dying down and I think the sun is maybe sort of kind of a little bit coming out. I'm surprised I've come to the cliffs right now. I was kind of saving this for a later moment. But now is good. Now is the best I am going to get, probably.

The graveyard is silent, save for the wind and the calming sea. The gravestones offer no greeting. That's nice. I don't want to be greeted by the dead just yet. I can visit, sure, and let them offer me niceties and pleasantries and amenities. I'm looking for one towards the back. One of the recent ones. From what I can see, there have been no others after. Good. I like that. It's probably a good thing. I didn't see anyone come in to replace the stones, so I think the town can't take it.

I come to the stone I know and sit down before it. The ground is cold and hard, and I wish I had the foresight to bring a blanket. I shiver and it doesn't help.

"Hey Dad," I say to the stone.

It doesn't respond. I would be somewhat worried if it did. It only says 'Amaru Blackmountain-Verlaine' in blocky letters that almost run off the canvas. I always did think that our full name could be a mouthful. I'm just glad we didn't have to go and add Biedermeier to it as well. Too many syllables, not nearly enough flow. He usually just went with his first name and that was that.

"I'm back. Had to go away for a while. Just had to get out, see things, meet people, not have summers that can snow. I think you know what I'm talking about."

I should have brought a bottle or something as well. Drunk and sad and somber and cold all collide together rather well, in my opinion.

"I saw Kaydod again. He got married to a succubus. So good for him. Also got a town to sheriff and a chain to swing. And a very, very nice hat. You would approve. He's got his little pocket of the world all carved out nice and easy."

I sigh. I look down at my boots like they might have an answer or two. They just have an odd scuff mark I don't remember getting. A bit of mud clogging the tread as well, but I can guess where that came from.

"It's been getting harder to keep moving. I want to, but I really want to just stay still for a while. I met someone, Eliza, and she has a castle. I think I'll go check that out. Met a guy too. Gawain. He doesn't have a castle. He does have a very good way of babbling my name though. That's nice. You would approve of them, I think. Not really sure what they're wanting out of this, but I think it's going to work out for the best."

Not sure if I thought that before I said it, but I think I believe it. I think that I think that. I don't know. I'm tired. It was a long walk up the hill and there's a bit more coming in off the water. I feel heavy. I can roll down the hill and get back to my front door. My feet do a little dance and kick a handful of gravel down. It rests by another stone, and it seems glad for the company.

"We got one more thing coming. Mutti and Maman have something planned. I have something brewing. It's just waiting for the storm to break. Always the worst part. There's another lady with us now. She wants to kill me. Probably. Definitely wants to kill Eliza and that's fair. She killed a guy she liked. The guy was an ass, but all guys are."

I take a deep breath. The air smells like salt and sea. The wind carries a soft scent of fresh gravel and fog. Maybe something floral. Clover, maybe. I smile. Of course, it would be clover. It doesn't grow her, but that doesn't matter.

I shiver again. I don't think I'm going to stay again once everything settles. Mutti might like the cold, but I need something a bit warmer. I can stand winters, but not when winter never ends. I feel my cheeks and they are warm. Apple cheeked and that means it's time to head in. Mutti will have hot cocoa and Dad might have a pie on or something. Maman would make stew and we'd sit around the fire while they all told stories that probably didn't happen. I don't believe that she fought a trio of skeletons to save dad's life before crippling a necromancer.

I look up and smile. The gravestone still has the same letters on it. But it also has a weathered, frayed jacket as well. It was probably black at one point, but it's faded to a dull gray. I like it. I take it and it fits perfectly. Definitely wasn't my size before, but I think I grew into it.