Work Text:
Ghost
Quirrel snorts when the crumbling passageway they were making their way through drops down and dumps them into a closet. Looking up at Ghost, he smiles and says, “It’s another closet. By my count, that makes twenty-two. Do you want to place bets on what’s going to be on the other side?”
Shaking their head, Ghost lays on their stomach and props their head on their hands as they look down at him. Not every closet had led into a new store; some stores had multiple closets connecting to this passageway. They’d run into a variety of businesses with different wares, including small art objects with various themes, a few different apothecaries, several shops for clothing of various descriptions (including cloaks, capes, robes, and hats), furniture, and bedding.
Sadly, they were too far away from the Pleasure House to take advantage of the furniture store, but they had raided the options for bedding, blankets, and pillows. Ghost was surprised at Quirrel’s creativity for how to get the pillows down to a size such that Ghost could manage to store them, but he does love his pillows. Well, he loves anything soft and squishy that he can lay in, on, or wrap around himself. Watching him surround himself with the silk they gave him still makes them feel warm and happy, because he sounds so happy.
He watches them for a few more moments, then asks, “You seem lost in thought; what are you thinking about?”
They huff softly. Caught. They point at him.
“I… me?”
Ghost nods.
“Ah… well!”
They chuckle silently when this seems to fluster him. Dropping his gaze, he looks around the small closet as if it will have suddenly sprouted magical mushrooms while they talked. It seems only fair – they feel similarly when they catch him gazing at them and looking all soppy and affectionate.
The only warning they give him is a quiet snort, then they roll off the edge of the ceiling and drop beside him. He startles back with a yelp, and they snicker.
“So kind,” he grumps, but steps up beside them to rest his hand on the side of their head, gently pulling them against his hip. He caresses the base of their horn with his thumb when they wrap their arm around his leg.
With a last gentle squeeze he says, “Shall we?” and gestures at the door.
Ghost nods, and he steps forward to open the door.
They find themselves in a room of… mirrors?
Ghost turns around slowly as they walk into the room, watching thousands of reflections of themself spin slowly, followed by thousands of shocked-looking Quirrels.
There is a divan with several cushions on one side of the room, and a small dais on the other.
Quirrel quietly closes the door they just came through, which fully completes the mirror enclosure.
Ghost looks up; the ceiling is also mirrored.
What the fuck is this place?
“Uhmm…” Quirrel says intelligently. Not that they should judge, it sums up their thoughts quite nicely.
Ghost walks over to the divan and hops up onto it. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and they poke the cushions a few times before flopping over.
“Uh…”
They roll onto their side and prop their head on their hand to look at him. He seems a bit distracted.
He stares at them for a few moments before suddenly turning away. Being as there are mirrors everywhere, this in no way allows him to disguise the fact that he is getting turned on by seeing them lounging.
Ghost is confused.
Which doesn’t surprise them, as they are confused approximately 100% of the time that he is so reliably aroused by anything, particularly by them. They can’t find any logic to what titillates him, which would probably make him laugh as he tells them it’s the root of their confusion.
There are a number of things that are almost 100% guaranteed to turn him on; many of the things that he finds arousing are also things that other bugs consistently find arousing, at least as far as they have managed to pick up from reading or listening to other bugs. So, while they don’t find those things arousing for themself, his reaction isn’t necessarily surprising.
Sometimes, he just seems to be in a mood where merely existing appears to be arousing; trying to anticipate what he will find alluring on those days is impossible. That hadn’t been his mood today, at least so far.
A room full of mirrors with a divan… wasn’t on their mental list of things that might possibly float his boat. It’s weird.
He rapidly figures out the folly of having turned away, and sighs as he crosses his arms across his belly, meeting their gaze – one of their gazes anyhow – in the mirror.
They tilt their head, hoping he will explain.
Quirrel groans softly, glancing up. He goes absolutely still when he sees the mirrors on the ceiling. After a moment, they hear him swallow, and he whimpers slightly.
“Ghost…” he says, his voice sounding mildly strangled.
They sit up and hop down, walking over to stand beside him. He doesn’t look down, but seems to be tracking their movement using the mirror on the ceiling, so they look up. He whimpers again when they meet his gaze.
They watch him for a few more moments, then take pity. They are absolutely not interested at the moment, so they shake their head and drop their gaze. Reaching up, they grab one of his hands and step closer, kissing his palm. Looking back up at the ceiling they once again meet his gaze, and press another kiss into his palm as he moans softly. Huffing quietly, they press their tongue against the base of his thumb before kissing his hand again.
Stepping away, they squeeze his hand gently between both of theirs. When he looks down they sign, “I go see what out front. You go feel happy, come out after. Ok?”
He shakes his head and starts to say something, but apparently makes the mistake of glancing at the divan, and groans.
Glancing back, they sure hope it isn’t the divan that’s arousing. Although it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve heard of, they suppose. Shaking their head, they pat his thigh and then abandon him to his fate with the divan.
The front of the store appears to be a jewelry shop. It still doesn’t explain the mirrored room, at least not to the extent of having that many mirrors. That room would have made far more sense in the shops that sold capes and cloaks, but those had just had a few curtained off areas with one of those trifold mirrors in each. One of the shops actually had small rooms instead of curtains, but the rooms were still outfitted with the standing tri-fold mirrors and not… that.
Poking through the drawers behind the counters, Ghost hopes Quirrel is willing to explain. They aren’t completely sure they will want the explanation, but if he’s going to randomly be so completely and utterly floored by furniture, they figure they need to know about it. Maybe it’s the mirrors? They know some bugs like watching other bugs get it on. Maybe it also applies to watching oneself have sex?
They shake their head. Sex and arousal are confusing as fuck. Having had sex a few times now hasn’t opened up any vast depths of understanding, nor have they suddenly been graced with unassisted arousal. They hadn’t actually expected that to happen, but had occasionally heard some pushy bug or another claim they could do that kind of thing. Quirrel’s only comment on the subject had been that sex was different than masturbation, and that they may or may not find the experience more pleasurable, but that he would be surprised if it changed their overall drive, even if the novelty of it all temporarily boosted it.
That conversation had happened a week or so before they had actually gotten around to having sex, but a day or two after they had tried to initiate when they had been so desperate to avoid thinking about the whole mess that was the other Vessel and that fight.
In retrospect, they are glad he stopped them that time and made them think it through.
The drawers are full of a variety of chains for necklaces, and things one would hang on a necklace. The contents look like they are duplicates of several of the items on display, which makes sense. They pull out one of the chains and drape it across their hand. The metal links are fine, and flattened somehow. It doesn’t fold over the way they would have expected, instead curving into an arc, and then stopping.
Fascinated, they push on it gently. Their experience with jewelry and other luxury items is limited. They don’t need things like food or water, and have gone without for years from time to time. It’s boring to not eat or drink, but it certainly makes running away and hiding far easier. When they need to hole up, they can literally hole up. But it also means that they haven’t gone shopping for much of anything beyond paper, ink, and journals.
Holding the chain up, they watch the light reflect off of it as it swings. It’s pretty, and they drape it across the back of their hand again. They like pretty things, similarly to how Quirrel enjoys comfortable things. Ghost is certain they would like comfortable things as well, if falling asleep on them didn’t tend to result in them attacking and ‘killing’ the pillows or blankets.
This on the other hand… Ghost pulls the chain across the back of their hand, feeling the metal slither across. This is pretty and it feels nice. It isn’t something that they would be sleeping in, just something they would wear. Like Quirrel wears his mask.
They fiddle with the clasp until they figure it out, then put it on. They sigh when it dangles down to their crotch. Being small is fucking annoying sometimes.
Leaving it on, they lean over and start digging through the drawer of chains, trying to see if there is a pattern to the storage and – more importantly – a much shorter chain.
By the time they find one that only dangles down to the middle of their chest, they have bedecked themself in six other chains. Huffing, they step back. The flattened shape of the chains mean they don’t jingle the way they expected, although they can’t see how they look with all of the chains on.
Likely ridiculous, but they need a mirror to confirm that. Quirrel has usually been quite flustered if they interrupt his current pursuit, so they should probably be polite and find a different mirror.
Ghost discovers an additional problem when they start trying to walk around and find another mirror – the slope of their shoulders means that the various necklaces keep slipping down, refusing to stay put. They’ve currently draped them over the top of their cloak, but Ghost is certain that shifting the chains under it instead wouldn’t help anything. Sighing, they stand there and fiddle with one of the necklaces, running the flat chain over the back of their hand, then through their fingers. Deciding that they want to see how silly they look more than they want to not feel foolish, they lift their arms up and walk around the room until they find a mirror.
Standing in front of it with their arms in the air, they snicker. They definitely look absurd this way. They drop their arms to their sides, and their cloak falls back into place.
While a bit less absurd, wearing seven necklaces of lengths varying from short enough to fall to the middle of their chest to the one that is dangling just below their knees is definitely not dignified. They giggle as they run their hands along one of the chains again.
Hearing a door open, Ghost turns to see Quirrel emerge from the room of mirrors. They snort as he glances away; this has to be the first time they’ve ever seen him act embarrassed by anything regarding sex. They know they regularly catch him off guard, and often fluster him, but he hasn’t ever seemed genuinely embarrassed before
Either their snort or the chains catch his attention because he immediately looks back and then just stares at them. Well, they can give him something to giggle about. Having him acting awkward about sex is upsetting, and is not something they ever expected to see. They don’t want to ever see it again, either.
Sticking their hands back up in the air, they walk over to him as he continues to stare at them, speechless.
When they stop in front of him, he finally manages to utter, “Uhmm…”
That again? Maybe they are magic mirrors, and steal brains?
Ghost glares up at him, putting their hands on their hips.
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, choosing to look around the store first. Looking back down at Ghost, he asks, “I take it we found a jewelry store?”
Ghost nods.
He continues to stand there, hand on the door handle, staring at them.
Ghost sighs.
“You sit down, please? You upset, I not understand why. I want to understand, please tell?” they sign.
Quirrel sighs.
Turning, he pulls the door to the apparently brain-stealing mirror room closed.
They move slightly to the side while he closes the door so he can lean against the wall instead of the door when he sits. They don’t know the range of the mirrors’ effect.
He continues to stand there facing the door once he’s closed it, eventually resting his head against the door. He finally sighs again, turning back around and then sitting in front of them. They step into his lap and wrap their arms around his neck, nestling their face into the side of his head and rubbing against his kerchief.
He huffs quietly as he wraps his arms around them, pulling them in for a tight hug. They work one of their hands up under his kerchief, massaging the back of his head as he finally relaxes. They kiss him through the kerchief, then the side of his face as they pull back. They can’t kiss his cheek while his mask is on, so they rest their hands there and press their forehead against his mask.
Quirrel chuckles softly as he cups their head in his hands, his fingers brushing the back of their head.
“Abandoning me to my own devices didn’t upset you at all, did it,” he murmurs.
Ghost huffs and shakes their head. They aren’t sure why he thinks it would, but are aware enough to know it frequently bothers bugs. However, expecting him to adjust his libido to match theirs is just as unrealistic as trying to go the other way. He might not explode, but he’d likely feel like he was going to. For them to say no and then try and make him feel guilty for handling things himself would be manipulative.
He gently pushes their chin up and ducks in to kiss them, humming softly as he brushes his fingers along the back of their head. When he finishes, he presses his forehead against theirs again as he says, “I love you.”
They trace their thumbs along his cheekpads and press against him, then kiss the middle of his mask as they pull back to sign, “I love you, too.”
Quirrel trails his fingers down the side of their face as he sits back, smiling as he looks at the necklaces again. He meets their gaze as he tangles his fingers into the longest of the chains, saying, “You look preposterous in all of these, you realize.”
Ghost snorts and pulls their arms out from under their cloak to wrap them around all the necklaces, shaking their head firmly.
He laughs. “You’ll trip! You have to hold your hands up to keep them from falling down!!”
Giddy that he’s laughing, they bounce back and attempt to flap away, only to discover that having all of the chains on top of their cloak prevents it from transforming into the wings – or at any rate prevents it from lifting up and flapping. They crash to the ground on their back and stare at the ceiling, slightly dazed.
They hear Quirrel snicker, and his face appears above theirs, grinning brightly. “See?”
They flip him off, and he sits back with a laugh. He reaches forward and wiggles his hand under their head, and they huff as he helps them sit back up.
Pushing to their feet, they choose to wrap their arms around the necklaces again and go back over to the mirror. Yes, they look silly as fuck, but… but. They hadn’t ever wandered into a store like this and poked around to see what they might look like if they wore something different. They might be stuck with the cloak, but…
Sighing, they start fiddling with one of the chains again, running it across their hand as they watch it in the mirror. They huff quietly, and trace the chain to find the clasp, starting to open it. They jump when Quirrel closes his hand over theirs; they hadn’t even noticed him move. He’s sitting beside them, and smiles when they meet his gaze. He gently tugs their hands away from the clasp.
“Have you ever had the chance to put anything like this on? Wear jewelry, or decorative attire?” he asks softly.
They retrieve one of their hands and wobble it, then turn to look in the mirror again. The few times that they may have had the opportunity – that they recall – they felt far too self-conscious about it. It would have meant letting someone know their cloak wasn’t something they could take off, and at some point they decided that if they couldn’t remove their cloak, it meant there wasn’t any point in trying to wear something different.
Ghost touches the necklaces again, feeling the smoothness of the links, looking at the colors against their cloak. They think they recognize the gold ones as… well, as gold. But there are two silvers, one that’s bright with a slight trace of blue, and one that has a softer appearance – yet is still just as bright – and with a slight trace of pink instead of blue. The gold and the slightly blue silver both look nice against their cloak. The slightly pink silver also looks nice, but the other two look better.
Quirrel asks, “Do you know what the metals are?”
They shake their head.
“Would you like me to tell you?”
Ghost turns to look at him and nods.
“I’m sorry I teased,” he says softly.
They snort and shake their head. “You not worry, I not upset. I know I look silly, it ok I look silly. I…” They turn back to the mirror, touch the necklaces again. “I not see before, not try before. I see now, I feel… I not know I feel. Unsure.”
They watch themself in the mirror as Quirrel leans over and softly kisses their horn. It feels different, watching. Seeing him kiss them, not just feeling it. They aren’t sure how that makes them feel either. It’s both surreal and more real. He hums softly, kissing them again before sidling over to sit closer, moving so they are standing where he can loosely fold his leg in front of them but still be off to one side, his other leg – the one he usually keeps more upright – behind them.
Lifting the gold one, he says, “I expect you know this one. It’s gold, or at least mostly gold. It gets complicated, but gold is soft enough that for a longer chain like this, one that’s also thicker, pure gold is often not the best choice.” He laughs softly. “It wasn’t something the aristocrats liked to hear, of course.”
They can feel his knee brushing their cloak near the small of their back, and watch him as he sits casually folded around them. Can see, for the first time, what they look like as a couple. How other bugs might see them; as lovers, maybe more.
He lifts the slightly pink silver one next. “This is platinum, which is rarer than gold but has the unfortunate characteristic of looking an awful lot like silver, and not being obvious that it’s more valuable, so the nobles didn’t tend to bedeck themselves with it. It’s also a fairly soft metal.”
Maybe more? They hadn’t thought about it before Ogrim had brought it up, and the idea had shot straight through their likely non-existent heart, short-circuiting their void-displaced brain. Perhaps it had been self-defense, their subconscious refusing to look at something they had always believed they could never have. Because now, now… oh, how they want the more. It doesn’t make sense in this ruin of a kingdom. There’s no legal benefit, and the gods have abandoned it. There are only a dozen or so bugs here who would possibly ever know.
Pausing, he leans in and brushes a kiss against the base of their horn again, turning to look at them in the mirror as he leans his head against theirs. Their chest seizes up as he smiles at them, wrapping his arm around them. He looks happy, he’s holding them and he’s happy. He’s with them, and he’s happy to be with them.
And they want; want to call him their spouse, to call him their husband. To be called his spouse in return.
Gasping, they turn and grab him in a tight hug, shuddering.
Maybe mirrors have a magic to them after all.
“Ghost? Are you ok?”
They nod firmly; he sounds worried. They didn’t mean to worry him, they are just… overwhelmed. Love is far more overwhelming than they had realized.
“Alright,” he whispers, pressing them against him and tucking his chin over their shoulder, hugging them tight.
Quirrel finishes up his explanation of the various metals and short tidbits of information about their properties, and helps them remove all but the shortest of the necklaces – which happens to be silver. Ghost promptly puts the ones they removed around Quirrel’s neck as he laughs. They certainly fit his body better, although the longest one might get caught somewhere inconvenient if he’s wearing it and gets aroused again.
They continue to poke around the store, looking at the assorted styles and ways to adorn a bug’s body. There are plenty of pins and brooches for those bugs who choose to wear clothing or cloaks, and Quirrel helps them choose a few to try on. He starts laughing when they decide to see how many they can put on, and shakes his head as he sits down to help.
Ghost definitely clinks now, and the monarch wings refuse to even try to transform. Laughing, they stand in front of the mirror and turn around. They almost glance back to the other room, but Quirrel still seems to feel mildly guilty. They don’t like that fact – they want to poke their nail into whoever said no to him, but then told him no for himself as well.
Maybe there’s another room that has more… normal mirrors for seeing behind yourself? There’s a door on the other end of the counter that neither of them have opened. Which… Ghost turns back and faces the door where the mirror room exists, finally realizing that it’s not exactly an obvious door. In fact, if they didn’t know it was a door, they probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
Interesting…
They shake their head and then take off for the other door. Quirrel looks up and smiles at them as they pass him where he is browsing some of the various rings and bracelets; they wave back.
Opening the door, they find a short hall with a couple of alcoves that ends in another door. Unlike the stores for capes, cloaks, and whatnot, these alcoves don’t have privacy curtains, but they do have a couple of chairs and small versions of the tri-fold mirrors. Which makes sense, they suppose. One generally wouldn’t bedeck themself with fifty or so brooches and want to see what that looked like. They snicker again as they poke into the other alcoves.
The alcove at the very end of the hall has one of the taller floor-style tri-fold mirrors – so, maybe someone would want to do that. Happy, they step into the alcove and position the mirror so they can see all the way around themself.
Looking at their back is something else they haven’t done often. Not that it’s generally exciting, except for when it contains thirty or so of the fifty or so brooches and pins they have all over themself. They bounce, and watch as everything shifts around and clinks. They bounce again, and hear a soft chuckle as Quirrel walks down the hallway. They look up at him as he smiles down at them and steps into the alcove. He’s still wearing the five necklaces that had fit him, although he has added some pendants to a couple of them. His hands are full of rings and bracelets, his body language full of mischief.
He sits down beside them and dumps what he is carrying beside him. Shifting to be next to them again, he snickers and leans in to kiss them, and they huff. Turning to kiss him back, they ignore the magic the mirror is trying to tell them to focus on the magic in front of them.
Quirrel hums as he caresses the side of their face, fingers curling around their horn as his thumb rubs along their cheek. They run their hands along his cheeks, start to brush them along his mandibles before stopping and cupping them under his chin instead.
He briefly deepens the kiss before sitting back with another hum, trailing his fingers along the side of their jaw as he smiles at them. Huffing softly, they capture his fingers as his hand drops, pulling it back to kiss his knuckles and then press it against their chest.
He ducks back in to kiss their cheek, and gives them another smile as he sits up. Turning to his pile, he starts shuffling things around before looking at them in the mirror.
“Are you ready to look truly ridiculous?” he says with a grin.
They laugh as they nod.
“I don’t think they had rings small enough to fit your fingers—” Ghost glances up briefly as they shake their head, and he chuckles “—but some of these might actually work as bracelets or anklets, depending on how your body shifts.”
Ghost cocks their head as he holds one of the larger rings out, then shrugs and holds a hand forward. He grins and they slip their hand through it, and he laughs as it is blatantly too large.
They snort and look at him as they sign, “I small! You silly, you forget.”
Shaking his head he says, “It’s not easy to forget, love, but more a matter of I don’t think about it much any longer.”
He sets the ring aside and goes back to pushing through his little stash, and they fiddle with the edge of their cloak, slightly embarrassed.
“Not many bugs can actually wear rings,” he rambles on. “Even I have some difficulties with it, despite having fingers. To wear a ring, most bugs need it to have little prongs to hold it in place, and the ring needs to have a latch rather than just slipping on and off.”
Turning to face them, he holds one of the rings up to show them what he means. “I don’t think you would find it particularly comfortable, though.”
Ghost shakes their head, but takes the ring to look at it as he goes back to the pile.
“Other rings would be glued in place, and the bug would need to have a solvent that would work for that particular glue to get it back off. Some rings actually had a rubber backing and would either slip on or had a clasp and would clamp into place.” He turns to face them again, showing them a different ring that he opens. “This should be far less uncomfortable,” he says with a smile, and they hold their arm out again, holding the other ring beside them.
He clamps it on, and it’s still slightly big but not by much. Unless they tuck their hand in, it won’t come off. Huffing, they look down at it. It’s wider than several of the others, intricately braided fine wires of gold that have been set onto a solid backing of… they think it’s platinum. It has several small emeralds worked between the braiding. It’s gorgeous.
They look back to the mirror, and huff. Set against what they’ve done with their cloak, it does indeed look absurd, but like the necklace they are still wearing, they think they might keep this one. It spans from their wrist to the middle of their forearm, but it’s light and doesn’t seem like it would get in the way. Stepping closer to the mirror, they hold their arm up and look.
Quirrel shakes his head and holds his hand out to them. “I think I have a better idea,” he says quietly. They turn to face him again. “I think you are perfectly content to figure out how ridiculous you can be, but I also think you’ve discovered you like pretty things,” he says with a smile.
They’d known they like pretty things, they just hadn’t put that thought together with the idea of liking jewelry. They glance back at the mirror, and see he is still holding his hand out to them. They turn back and take it with a sigh. He tugs them over to where he is sitting, leaning his forehead against theirs. Ghost drops the ring they are holding and puts their hands on his cheeks, gently rubbing their thumbs under his eyes.
Pulling his face to angle it better, they kiss him. He hums and rests his hand on the back of their cloak, chuckling as his fingers catch on all the brooches.
Sitting back he asks, “Do you want to take these off and see which ones you may actually want to keep?”
Ghost snorts, then nods and turns around to have him start removing the ones from the back as they get to work unpinning the ones they can reach.
They’ve both selected several items to keep. Ghost is still wearing the necklace, and the ring/bracelet Quirrel had put on them earlier. He’s down to one silver necklace with a sapphire pendant, although he chose a couple of others with different chain styles as well.
The pendant has a thin band of finely braided silver filigree around the edges of a deep blue sapphire. There are a couple of small purple sapphires embedded into the filigree, as well as a few tiny diamonds Quirrel called ‘seed’ diamonds. Ghost had run across it tucked in the back of a drawer, and when they saw it they thought it would match his shell nicely, as well as the blue silk they still wish they knew how to use to make a cape or robe. Unlike some of the other pendants they have handed him, he cooed softly and immediately pulled the necklace off to string this pendant, putting it back on and finding a mirror. He still touches it every once in a while, and it makes them feel warm.
Ghost is now standing in front of what they finally recognize is an assortment of engagement and marriage identifiers. They’ve seen a wide variety of them as they wandered, and while this array doesn’t have quite the extreme range, it is varied enough that they hadn’t picked up on what this corner of the store was until a few minutes ago. Quirrel joins them, looking at the collection.
As far as Ghost can tell, almost all of the options are for monogamous marriages. They know it’s quite common for polygamous unions to simply use the more common identifiers and just stack them up, but know that isn’t always true.
Quirrel huffs a quiet laugh and steps forward, picking up a small dual-banded bracelet. The two bands are held together by small, twisted loops, although they must be attached somehow because they don’t move.
He stands there and looks at it for long enough that they touch his leg, curious why it’s holding his attention.
Glancing down at them, he shakes his head and starts to put it back. “It’s not…”
Stopping, he sighs. “These are the marriage bands my parents wore,” he murmurs. Glancing at the shelves for a moment, he leans forward and picks up a tray that is displaying several small bead-like items.
He sits down slightly behind them, pressing a kiss against the base of their horn before tucking them into his arms and resting his head against theirs. If they had wider shoulders, his chin would be on them.
“They didn’t specifically wear these bands, these are new,” he says quietly. “But this is the style that was used within our community in general, as well as some others. The self-pin and four twisted loops hold the two bands together and divide the circlet into five general relationships. The two bands represent life and death.” He leans against them briefly, then turns to kiss their cheek before continuing. “The self-pin is the clasp, and represents the person wearing the bands. Depending on who you asked it could simply be the easiest place to mark the top of the circle, or a representation that the person is an important part of the whole family, and something is missing when you pull that person out of the circle.”
He huffs quietly. “Before I left, I was one of those that figured it was just a convenient starting point. But I think I’ve changed my mind. It’s a starting point, but also required to hold a family together.”
His fingers run around the circlet, pulling out the pin and opening it before closing it again. “The top band represents the living family, although it is usually limited to parents and children. Some families would expand it and add a third circlet, representing grandchildren.” He holds it up, with the clasp at the top. “The top of the self-pin is slightly different than the bottom, so you know which of the two circlets represents life. Those outside the community often found the inclusion of those who have died morbid, but it wasn’t. Anyone who was a part of the family has affected it, and continues to affect it even after they are gone. Trying to hide that fact doesn’t change the truth of it. It’s why even if someone left a family group for other reasons, their marker was usually modified but not removed.”
Quirrel turns and kisses their horn, pressing his forehead against it after. He’s trembling slightly, so they turn to lean into him, hooking their arm over his shoulder and working their hand under his kerchief to caress the back of his head.
He takes a shaky breath before kissing them again, looking back at the circlet he is holding.
“There are two main divisions, partners and children,” he says. “There are five overall divisions, represented by the self-pin and the four links holding the two bands together. Partners are divided at the self-pin, one section to each side. The one to the left as you face it from the top represents what most bugs would traditionally recognize as ‘spouses,’ and the one on the right is usually described as ‘siblings.’”
He chuckles softly. “They are all your partners, your spouses. Bugs you choose to share your life with, love. Sometimes you share your life with bugs you are romantically involved with, sometimes you share your life just as intimately but not romantically. Sometimes your true, related siblings are part of that family. Sometimes, your partners bring in someone you aren’t so involved with, but they are still a part of the family. Sometimes the markers move back and forth between the two sides.” He laughs as he says, “Papa said that was to keep everyone guessing.”
Quirrel nuzzles their cheek. “The bottom three sections represent any children.” He chuckles again. “Or for those you regard as your responsibility, including pets. Not all families want or can have children.” He hums softly. “Any children in a family are the children of all partners. The divisions are mostly so that the genetics can be kept untangled within the community, which is particularly important if partners change.” He taps the bottom left division of the circlet and says, “The leftmost of the three is for children genetically related to any of the partners on the left-hand side of the self-pin. The middle section is for children genetically related to the person wearing the band. The rightmost division is for children that have no direct genetic relation to the person wearing the band.”
He falls silent, flipping it over in his hands a few times.
Turning it so they are looking at it edge-on he says, “This one has the death band made from a different material than the life band. Not all of them were that way; it was a fairly even mix, even within a family group. If someone died, their marker was moved from the life band over to the death band.”
Quirrel picks up the tray he had grabbed before sitting. “These are one style of markers, or beads. Currently blank, they would be marked somehow to make them unique for the bug they represent. Usually it was a part of their name, sometimes it was more creative. How they are attached to the band varied wildly; it looks like these have a little clasp so you can shift them around.”
He sighs. “This one is obviously meant to be a bracelet of some sort. There are as many ways to interpret the general symbology as there are bugs to think it up. Generally you wouldn’t find a ring trying to represent this style, as it would be too large. But pendants for necklaces were common, as were the bracelets.”
He looks at the bracelet for a while before setting it into the tray with the beads. He pulls them against him, turning them so he can tuck his chin over their shoulder. His breath catches, then he shakes his head slightly and sighs as he shudders.
Ghost wraps their arms around his neck and holds him tight. They wonder… no, they don’t. They know that if they turned around and chose one of the circlets or pendants and gave it to him, he would accept it with joy. They just don’t know if there should be more to it than that. They doubt they could get him distracted long enough for them to seriously peruse the options and choose something to give him later. The circlet he’s been using to tell them what things mean is obviously far too large for either of them, although Ghost could possibly wear it around their waist. They’d need suspenders to keep it in place.
Huffing at the mental image, they turn their head to kiss the side of Quirrel’s face and then step away to pick up the circlet. They poke at it, looking at the self-pin before pulling it out and spreading the bracelet apart. It isn’t hinged, and without the pin holding it together it’s definitely flimsy. Once the pin is in place, however, the whole thing becomes far sturdier. Holding it, they decide they like the symbology it represents.
They glance up at the wide variety of selections in this corner. They doubt very many of them reflect this particular kind of relationship. Most of them seem to be for the two bug partnership type. Ghost looks at the bracelet again, leaning back against Quirrel. They hadn’t ever even thought about being in a relationship, much less a larger one. Quirrel obviously grew up in such a family, and listening to him talk about his partners they know he relishes the idea of a large family.
They aren’t sure why he hadn’t been married before he left, although they think it’s for the best. They can’t begin to imagine how much worse it would be for him to have come back only to learn he had walked away from partners, possibly children.
Ghost steps back forward and picks up one of the little marker beads, fiddling with the clasp to see how they open. If they give him one of these, it means that if they survive, they are accepting the possibility of having more partners – platonic or otherwise. That Quirrel would have other partners, although they are certain it’s far more complex than him showing up one day with someone else in tow.
Do they know how they feel about that?
Probably not, but they feel a warm happy glow at the idea of a larger family. They certainly don’t have an aversion to the idea of Quirrel being with someone else as well as them, even if they aren’t exactly excited about it.
Clamping the little bead into place, they figure that neutral is probably an acceptable place to start from. They can see their future opinion on the matter being highly dependent on whoever the future theoretical additional partner is.
Ghost looks at Quirrel, sees that his gaze is locked onto their hands where they have been investigating the bead and idly turning the bracelet around and around. They falter a little, unsure of what that focus means. His eyes snap to theirs when they stop turning the bracelet, his breathing slightly uneven. They shift so that they are facing him, and hesitate. They don’t have the right signs, but the thought of using the slate for this feels wrong.
Taking a deep breath they don’t need, they see Quirrel tense up but force himself to relax. They force themself to ignore it, and slip the circlet onto their arm for now so that they can sign.
“I love you.”
Quirrel smiles and touches their face, thumb brushing along their cheek. His fingers are trembling. “I love you, too.” he says softly.
“I want you. I not know how to tell you, I not know if there a way to say, a way to ask. I also not know right signs.”
Ghost hesitates as Quirrel goes absolutely still, relaxes slightly when they see a tear form. “I want to have a home with you. I want you to have a home with me.”
Quirrel seems to have stopped breathing, his gaze fixing on their face as they pull the circlet off of their arm. Knowing it isn’t the one they actually want to give him, they simply hold it up between them, lifting it up far enough that he can see it without glancing down.
Gasping as he shudders, he shakes his head slightly as he grabs the sides of their head and pulls them forward to press his forehead against theirs. Breath heaving, he starts to say something but gets stuck. Uncertain, they hook the circlet back over their arm and then put their hands on his cheeks. They’d been certain of his answer, but now they are starting to get nervous.
He shudders again as he inhales deeply, forcing the breath out slowly as he grips their head. His hands are trembling. He takes another deep breath and exhales slowly. Unsure, they start tracing their thumbs along the edges of his cheekpads. It’s not like they can take back what they said. They don’t want to either.
“There are traditional words and phrases,” he says, voice shaky. “I like yours better.” He laughs breathily, squeezes again. “Ghost… I…” He puffs another breathy laugh. “Although the problem with you choosing your own words means I have to figure out my own words. Ghost, yes, you are my home, my heart, my everything. I want nothing more than to be your home. Yes.”
Ghost huffs, stunned. They probably shouldn’t be, although their thoughts are all scattered.
Quirrel pulls them forward and wraps his arms around them with a laugh, squeezing tight as he rocks back and lifts them off their feet. He laughs again as he clasps his hand against the back of their head, holding them against his shoulder, and they wrap their arms around his neck and hug him back.
“Ghost! Oh gods, my love! You are an eternal source of surprise, but I have to wonder, do you surprise yourself as well?”
They snort. He knows that answer, knows that this was semi-impulsive.
Ghost wonders how much longer he’d have waited before he asked them. They are fairly certain he’s flinched away from asking at least twice in the last week or so.
But they nod, because they know it will make him laugh, and they love it when he laughs.
And Quirrel does laugh, tipping over sideways and laying them on the floor, his arm behind their shoulders as he rests on his elbow and looks down at them. Laughing with him, they reach up and pull his mask off, and he takes it from them to set it aside, humming as they start to work at the knot of his kerchief. As it falls to the side, his antennae swing around and start pattering along their horns as he leans back in to kiss them, humming as he smiles.
They don’t go any further in their explorations, setting up camp for the night in the store.
But not in the room with the mirrors.
