Chapter 51.1 - An Exposed Wound

Lynnria’s reaction to having a teat suddenly appear on her arm was—to put it mildly—bordering on the hysterical.  Which is to say, there was a lot of unintelligible screeching, hurled accusations, and high emotions.  I had never been party to one, so I did not know what it would look like even if she had, but I suspected the girl was suffering from full-blown psychotic break.

Which was a bit much.  She had barely even flinched on sprouting claws and fangs, after all.  But then, I had to suppose those things did at least nominally belong there.

My companions were not handling it particularly well, either.  But for different reasons.

Arx, as the informal queen of self-inflicted fuck-ups, found the entire situation hilarious and had collapsed into a giggling fit off in a corner.  Which was… understandable.  If you completely ignored the actual person on the receiving end of it, there was some definite humor to the situation but, as it stood, it just came off as crass.

She should have at least made some effort to apologize, but no.  She had decided to go the entirely opposite direction.  Whenever she managed to gather enough breath between raging guffaws to speak, she would hurl some ill-timed pun or other witticism at the girl.

Simple observations, like:

‘Looks like you’re developing quite the wrist-full.  I don’t know if you need a corset or an arm-guard!’

The conciliatory:

‘You could always start a new trend.  Just think of all the high-society ladies with their wrist-nipple piercings.’

Or the nonsensical:

‘Well, at least now you have a convenient place to hang your wand.’

How she expected the girl to accomplish that was beyond me.  Maybe with a strap or something…?  Regardless, she was being less than helpful.

Meanwhile, Jax was… trying to restore order.  Not because she wanted to help Lynnria or anything, but because she could tell all the yelling was upsetting me.  And when I got upset, she got upset.  And when she got upset…

Well, Jax was Jax.  Lynnria was just lucky I liked her.  From the flexing of claws and gnashing of teeth, I had a fair mind that my First would have preferred to silence her permanently.  As it was, she had opted for a strategy of shouting the girl down.  It was going about as well as one might expect.

Then, there was Mia, who, despite being the target of most of the histrionics, was taking things with a remarkable aplomb.

“Will you please stop shouting and listen to me?  There is no way—”

“—did it on purpose!  I know you did!”

“And why would I do that?  How would I—?“

“You hate me!  Everyone hates me!”

“No, I think you’re an idiot.  There’s a difference.”

“Okay, I’m an idiot.  I’m the stupidest girl alive.  And now you’ve made me into a freak so everyone can see.  Even more of a freak!”

“Call yerself a freak one more time, and I’ll lamp ye!” Jax snarled.  “See if I don’t!”

“Go on!  Do it!  I know you want to!”

“Don’t tempt me, whelp!”

“Yeah, you hussy!  Haven’t you ever heard of pockets?”

The shouting paused for a beat.  As one, three pairs of eyes turned to stare at the resident twit.

Arx glanced from face to face searchingly.  “Get it…?  Because she’s tempting you?”

There was a long stretch of silence while we collectively—and fruitlessly—attempted to work our way through Arx’s latest addition to the conversation.

Some claim that laughter is the best medicine.  But confusion will do in a pinch.

Right about then, the door to the back room opened just wide enough for the tailor’s narrow head to poke through.  “I am trying to work back here!  Do you expect braying like lagonki to hasten a work of genius?!  Insolent churls…”

The door slammed closed again, leaving us alone with the now-uncomfortable silence.

Jax let out a disgruntled hiss.  “We ain’t gotta have them clothes, do we, Master?”

I clicked my tongue.  What was it about mornings that made me regret life?

Sure do wish I had a cup of coffee right about now.  Maybe a book?  And a nice quiet corner to read it in?  That’d be nice.

But I had none of those things.  Just a bunch of women with crippling emotional problems.

In any event, the tailor was quite correct… even if he was a douche.  All this shouting was getting us nowhere.

Stepping forward, I gently enfolded Lynnria in my arms.  She needed reassurance and comfort more than anything.

She fought me at first, mistrustful of my intentions.  “No!  Don’t!  Don’t make me feel!”

“I won’t,” I promised as I rocked her back and forth.  “We’re on your side, Lynnria.”

For a little while, she held still in my embrace, but as no sign of artificial comfort or happiness came, she slowly began to curl into my chest.  Then, the tears came.

I tutted and began to stroke her back tenderly.  “Here now.  There’s no need for that.”

“Everyone hates me,” she mumbled.

“I don’t hate you,” I argued.  “No one here hates you.”

“Your mates treat me like garbage!”

“Do not,” Jax retorted immediately.  “We’s offered a chug and tickle plenty of times.”

Arx nodded emphatically.  “You might be a little scruffy behind the ears yet, but you’ve got pretty nice legs.”

“When y’ain’t got them baggy ‘loons on, anyhow.”

I glared at them for a moment.  They were being perfectly serious, but telling someone you are down to bone is not the compliment they thought it was.

“Even your Faen thinks I’m trash,” Lynnria sobbed.  “She even said so!  Just look what she’s done to me.”

“I never called you trash.  I called you an idiot.  Which you are,” Mia clarified.  Unhelpfully.  “Your mistake is in imagining yourself unique in this.”

I groaned.  “For fuck’s sake, Mia…”

“What?  Why do you imagine it incumbent upon me to apologize or comfort her?  It is only her own mistake that caused this.”

Lynnria snarled into my chest, then shoved her wrist into my face.  “So I did this to myself?  Is that it?”

“Yes—suck that titty!”  Mia sighed.  “As I’ve been trying to explain, with your limitation to Capacity, I barely had the room to specify what the charm should do.  Never mind how it would manifest.  And since you did not bother to direct it, the magic had little recourse but to take inspiration… elsewhere.”

“Don’t talk out yer fanny flaps,” Jax grumbled.  “You’d nay find a lass more twisted on whipping her chebs out.”

Lynnria stiffened and, for a long few seconds, she stared at the discolored bump.  In an unconscious gesture, her other hand slowly came up to rest on her sternum.

“You know… don’t you,” she whispered.