Chapter Text
Nicholas D. Wolfwood gazed, still and unconcerned, into the forest—a thing he told the children never to do. It had always felt like a source of safety, hemming in the orphanage on the north and east sides. But that afternoon it felt strange, and once he had begun to look, really look, Wolfwood couldn’t seem to pull himself away.
A glimmer, like full sunlight in a place that should be cast in shadow, held him there. Heeding it, Wolfwood stepped carefully between the trees, a steadying hand on one trunk. The sounds of the orphanage dropped out of focus behind him, and he pushed past the first layer of underbrush. Compelled, he kept forward.
That’s it. Come on, then.
The wind carried words, almost indistinguishable from the rustle of trees. Though the last of the truly cool spring days had passed by, Wolfwood felt a chill arc down his back. Stories he had never really believed came creeping into his mind, tales of mysticism and otherworldly things that lived in the unspoiled wilds.
A pair of wings beat just beside him, far too large and expertly controlled. Wolfwood pulled in a deep breath; he knew he shouldn’t, knew it ended all deniability, but looked over anyway. A pale figure hovered alongside him, half-hidden within the foliage, keeping unhurried pace.
Come along, human, said the wind, and it pushed at Wolfwood’s back.
Wolfwood knew the legends, of course—samodivi, winged spirits of the forest who would compel humans to play while they danced.
“You’re shit outta luck,” he said, the volume of his own voice startling him. “I don’t know any instruments.”
“You misunderstand,” the samodiva replied, his tone soft but sharp, a blade concealed in a silken cloth. “I want you to dance . You can do that, can’t you?”
Wolfwood furrowed his brow. “About as good as the next guy, I guess. But I thought—”
“What you thought doesn’t matter,” the samodiva said. “I will play. And you, human, will dance with my brother.”
“Do I get to keep him, if I can outlast you?”
The icy eyes narrowed. “If you can last long enough to satisfy him, you get to keep your skin. Don’t ask for any more.”
Wolfwood’s heart beat quicker. “What if I asked for you, instead?”
He got the satisfaction of seeing a stutter in the beat of the samodiva’s wings. “You couldn’t handle the likes of me, even if you might charm my brother.”
“Oh, I’ve charmed this brother of yours, have I?”
Something hot and dangerous flickered in the samodiva’s otherwise cold eyes, and Wolfwood recalled some of the more frightening tales he’d heard. He didn’t fancy being stashed beneath a stone for the foreseeable future, if only for how badly off that would leave the orphanage.
“Dance with him well, human, but don’t touch him.”
“Whatever you say.” Wolfwood raised his hands. The samodiva inclined his head, motioning Wolfwood deeper into the forest. “You’ll let me go back to the orphanage, if you’re satisfied?”
“We’ll see,” the samodiva said.
“It takes a lot to look after that many kids, you know.”
“Why is it your concern? You’re not their caregiver.”
“Sure but—!” Wolfwood’s voice rose, and the samodiva’s wings ruffled slightly. “What, am I supposed to let Miss Melanie take it all on herself?”
“You help her?”
“With the hard labor. And with the little ones, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I was one of those little ones, once upon a time. And she cared for me.”
“Bound by a debt?”
“I want to return the favor,” Wolfwood snapped. “Don’t you guys live in big groups, families? You should get it.”
To his surprise, the samodiva looked away. The gentle beat of his wings rustled the silence, and again Wolfwood wondered at how he stayed so effortlessly aloft.
“Besides,” Wolfwood added, “you’ve been watching me long enough to know how I spend my days. Charmed your brother, haven’t I?”
The world brightened as the trees thinned, shade giving way to midday sunlight. The samodiva ducked ahead, a brisk flick of wings that carried him into a clearing. Wolfwood stopped, still partially beneath the canopy and struck dumb.
A second samodiva stood waiting in the clearing, dressed in a vibrant dress of red, layered with a black and gold skirt. His wings rose as his brother approached, and they clasped hands.
“Nai…” He breathed, smiling; the sun seemed more radiant playing off his upturned face. They kissed, lightly. “Welcome back.”
With the smallest stirrings of his wings, Nai continued to hover. His own skirts, Wolfwood could now see, were white, and lighter—casual garb rather than the elaborate, traditional dress. Woven silver edges made it no less beautiful for its simplicity. Nai leaned in close. “I missed you.”
“It’s been since this morning,” the other murmured, and again kissed him—slower, this time.
“I miss you when I close my eyes to blink ,” Nai said, and then beckoned to Wolfwood. “I brought you something.”
“Oh!” The samodiva released his brother’s hand, approaching Wolfwood with bright curiosity. The left sleeve of his dress, Wolfwood noticed, hung empty–tied off. “The man from the orphanage!”
“Would you like to dance with him, my Vash?”
“I’d love that!” Vash exclaimed, turning adoring eyes on his brother. “Thank you, Nai.”
“I don’t suppose I get a say,” Wolfwood said, although his tone lacked any real bite. Vash met his gaze, brilliant blues shining.
“Would you like to dance with me? Nai plays wonderfully.”
“I suppose it’s not the worst thing that could happen to a mortal lured into the forest,” Wolfwood said, and offered his hand.
Vash didn’t take it, instead producing a kerchief from within his sash. He twirled it as he backed away, beckoning. “I’ll lead.” Entranced, intrigued , Wolfwood let himself be drawn forward. “What’s your name?”
“Wolfwood. Nicholas D. Wolfwood.”
“Wolfwood. I’m Vash. That’s Nai, of course.”
Wolfwood smirked, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”
Vash blinked. “Sunshine?”
“Watch your tongue, human,” Nai called, from where he’d settled on the mossy trunk of a fallen tree. He’d produced an accordion by some trick of magic, and played a couple of testing chords. “Brother?”
“Whenever you’re ready, Nai,” Vash replied, without taking his eyes from Wolfwood. He still spun the kerchief, and Wolfwood began to wonder if some true enchantment was at work in its movement. Vash’s wings, like the rays of sun he so called to Wolfwood’s mind, gleamed with reflected light behind him.
The melody started up in a burst of lively notes, and Vash’s feet skipped lightly across the earth. Without thinking, Wolfwood mirrored him, their bodies twisting to fall in more side-by-side. Wolfwood had been dancing horos since he was young, and sometimes danced with the children, but it had been many years since he’d attempted it seriously. He strove to keep up, knew he was missing the occasional step; if Vash noticed, it did nothing to dim his delight.
And Nai did play masterfully . Wolfwood glanced up at him, the accordion moving with effortless inhale and exhale against his chest, his long fingers flying across keys and buttons. Nai himself seemed to have eyes only for his brother, though he spared a look at Wolfwood when he sensed his gaze. Wolfwood felt no spike of fear, no dance-for-your-life peril, pinned by his gaze, although it might’ve been warranted.
I can’t outlast either of you. If this is going to be what gets me, so be it.
Looking back at Vash, tracking the whirling kerchief in his hand, Wolfwood put his everything into the springing steps, the rhythmic kicks and footwork. He kept close by Vash’s side, missed the anchoring grip he might have on a sash—but Nai’s warning echoed in his mind, and he didn’t reach out. Vash’s spirit was contagious, and Wolfwood gratefully drew it in.
The melody shifted, one song woven expertly into the next, each bringing a surge of new energy into their steps. Vash never faltered; the dust that coated Wolfwood’s shoes and slacks dared not settle on the samodiva’s skirts. Wolfwood leaned into the music to keep his body moving, relied on Nai’s expertise and the accordion’s exuberance to buoy him. Long labor at the orphanage could be tiring, but the prolonged dance brought a different, dizzying sort of fatigue. Awash in dazzling music, in the radiant forest clearing, rest simply didn’t exist.
Vash’s smile, the twirling kerchief, Vash himself lent Wolfwood endurance.
In a tumult of chords and scarlet sunset, Wolfwood found himself on the dusty ground, breathless and trembling. The last notes left Nai’s accordion as soft sighs, fading into the living sounds of the forest, and Wolfwood closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.
A soft stirring of breeze against his face made him look up, and he found Vash crouched in front of him. The samodiva, untouched by sweat or grime, wings held aloft, smiled at him.
“You’re good!”
“You’re not terrible yourself,” Wolfwood replied; he heard the indignant little noise that Nai made. “So, I passed?”
“You should go,” Nai said, far closer than Wolfwood had expected.
“What, while I’ve got the chance?” Wolfwood grumbled; he heaved himself to his feet, swaying and then steadying.
Vash stood, too. “Thank you, Wolfwood,” he said, his tone earnest. Nai drifted around behind him, one hand coming to rest on Vash’s left shoulder. “Maybe we’ll see you again?”
Wolfwood scoffed, but a biting retort didn’t come readily to his tongue.
“I wouldn’t advise getting caught in the woods after dark,” Nai said, and then steered his brother towards the tree line. Vash, twisting back, waved; Wolfwood held his gaze, but didn’t respond. He watched until they had vanished, then let out a long breath.
Far worse endings might await a human lured into the woods.
With a sigh, putting aside questions and ruminations, he began the trek back to the orphanage. The samodivi’s clearing wasn’t far, he realized, and he made it back before the daylight had dissipated—safe. Turning back, he stared back into the trees with relief and some small disappointment.
“Just as well,” he muttered, brushing the thick gathering of dirt from his pants. The warmth that lingered in the air spoke of summer’s nearness. He could feel the aches already forming in overtaxed leg and back muscles—reality come to douse whatever sense of magic and myth remained. “More trouble than they’re worth… and no guarantee I could just walk away a second time, anyhow… yeah, for the best to be done with it.”
Somehow, when Miss Melanie came to him frantic and bewildered over a missing dining room table several days later, it didn’t seem the worst possible turn of events.
~
Things would go missing .
“The children can’t have mislaid every candlestick in the house…” Miss Melanie groused, sorting through one drawer after another. Wolfwood tried not to scowl, his gaze fixed out the kitchen window. Then, when Miss Melanie’s attention was elsewhere, he’d dive into the woods in search of lost candlesticks.
Nai usually met him well out from the samodivi’s clearing; he wasn’t certain he would’ve been able to reach their clearing without his pale guide.
“What would you even want with candlesticks?”
“You know it’s not the candlesticks that are of consequence.”
“Wanted to see you,” Vash said, when they arrived in the clearing. Nai had already moved away, settling with his accordion. Vash paced around Wolfwood, his festival garb swishing about his ankles, the elaborate folds of fabric almost concealing the missing limb on his left side. His wing on that side, Wolfwood had noticed, also bore signs of trauma.
“What, to dance again?”
“Mmhm.” Vash circled him, a facsimile of the dance to come.
Wolfwood frowned. “And you’ll give our stuff back, if you’re satisfied?”
“We’ll see,” Nai said.
“We can’t afford to replace those,” Wolfwood said, craning his neck to look past Vash; Nai raised just his eyes from his accordion. “Kids are expensive enough, you know.”
Nai didn’t reply, and Wolfwood followed Vash’s lead when the kerchief appeared in his hand. A few beats later Nai began to play, and Wolfwood let himself enjoy the dance. It wasn’t difficult, with Vash to focus on.
Nai’s song didn’t push him to exhaustion, nor had it since that first time. Still Wolfwood flopped down, making a show of catching his breath, and Vash crouched patiently beside him.
“Here,” Nai called; Wolfwood scrambled to catch the parcel, about the size of his palm and carefully tied with ribbon, tossed into his lap. “Don’t untie it until you’ve made it home, or you’ll be carrying them at full size.”
“Your dance is improving,” Vash said cheerfully.
“Well, I’m less convinced I’m dancing for my life, these days,” Wolfwood said, and rattled the bag. “The orphanage’s goods, maybe, but I’m pretty sure I’ll get to leave alive.”
“You’ve got your goods, so leave while you are still alive,” Nai said flatly, and Wolfwood got obligingly—if not overly hurried—to his feet.
“Just don’t start harassing Miss Melonie, alright? I’ll see you again.”
“See you soon!” Vash called, at the same time that Nai said, “Perhaps not. Don’t count on it.”
Wolfwood wanted to look back over his shoulder, to see if one or both of the twins was watching him go, but he resisted. Instead he gazed down at the enchanted bundle that he hoped contained a dozen-odd candlesticks. The samodivi had, as of yet, been true to their word as far as returning their hostage goods.
A day’s worth of work, lost—but he had gotten to dance.
As long as they don’t take it into their feather-brained heads to snag a kid, I guess…
With a sigh, putting aside questions and ruminations, he hastened the trek back to the orphanage. The samodivi’s clearing wasn’t far, he had realized, and he made it back before the daylight had dissipated. He took the parcel into the kitchen, setting it in the center of the table; the moment he undid the ribbon, the candlesticks clattered into being across the rough wooden surface.
With some trepidation, he began formulating what he would tell Miss Melonie if she asked where he’d found them. He fancied himself a decent enough liar, but with the samodivi making a habit of this he’d have to become a better one. As it turned out, Miss Melonie didn’t inquire, and when an assortment of gardening tools went missing she seemed markedly less concerned.
~
“Hey, Spiky. Y’got a lil…” Wolfwood waved for Vash to turn around, revealing the bit of foliage snarled amidst his feathers. Wolfwood came up short, eyes tracing the lines of Vash’s bare back, the lithe muscle molded around scapulae and spine. Before he could speak again, Vash plopped down in front of him, legs folding beneath him.
“Oh! Would you?”
Nai watched, his gaze sharp, but didn’t move from his perch. Wolfwood tried not to overthink, simply reached out—but plucking it out too quickly would likely hurt, so he let himself put one hand gently on the wing’s ridge, smoothing nearby feathers out of the way, and then worked the bit of debris free. He hadn’t realized he still thought of the twins as somewhat myth , like animate illustrations from a storybook, but the solid, faintly warm feel of the limb almost surprised him. He watched Vash’s back move with living breath. Fantastic, but not merely a figment of fantasy.
Nervousness lost now amid intrigue, he examined Vash’s wings. They seemed almost too delicate for true flight, though he’d seen the twins soar with grace to match any swift. They also connected lower on the back then Wolfwood had realized, well below graceful shoulder blades. Wolfwood ran his hand along the top of Vash’s wing, following the grain of the feathers, then returned to its base and took it gently in his hand.
“I’d take them off, for you,” Vash said softly.
Nai scoffed from his tree branch. “I wouldn’t,” he said, but Wolfwood noticed that he failed to speak against Vash’s offer.
“I’d trust you to keep them safe,” Vash said, his wing relaxed and pliant; Wolfwood rubbed circles on the balljoint with the pad of his thumb. “And to give them back.”
“I wouldn’t ask that, of either of you,” Wolfwood murmured, and glanced up to meet Nai’s pale eyes. “I wouldn’t want that.”
Nai gazed at him for a moment, unruffled but for a breeze that stirred his own pristine feathers. It was the truth, but Wolfwood did ache with the desire to touch those pale, graceful wings. He wondered if another human ever had.
At last, Nai shrugged; Wolfwood let out an unwittingly held breath. “I suppose I believe you. For whatever that’s worth.”
“Feels nice…” Vash murmured, leaning into Wolfwood’s touch. His attention drawn back, Wolfwood brought up his other hand to massage the top of Vash’s left wing. His feathers seemed to rattle, an indication of pleasure, and then settled. It took only one pass for Wolfwood to notice the slight crookedness to Vash’s other wing, but he made no comment.
“Does this mean I can hold your hand,” Wolfwood ventured, “next time we dance?”
“You’d like to?”
“Very much.”
“That sounds nice.”
Wolfwood smiled, spared a glance for Nai up on his tree branch. But the other samodiva had turned away, gazing off into the forest. Wolfwood tried to catch his eye for a moment, then shrugged and returned his attention to his massage. Vash scooted closer, hips nestling neatly between Wolfwood’s shins, and leaned forward; his wings splayed out, relaxed, the posture encouraging Wolfwood to include his back and shoulders in his ministrations.
Emboldened, Wolfwood leaned down and kissed the back of Vash’s neck. Vash’s feathers ruffled, but he didn’t otherwise interact.
“I wouldn’t take your wings,” Wolfwood murmured, “but I’d like to take you whole.”
“Mm. I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”
“I keep coming back, don’t I?”
“Is that really by choice?”
“Enough, I think.”
“Hm. And what about my brother?”
Wolfwood blinked, some of the haze lifting. “What about him?”
“We go together, or not at all.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Nai said, his voice still distant from his branch but firm. “It’s cute talk, human, but know my brother and I are going nowhere .”
Wolfwood nodded reflexively, lifting his face from Vash’s soft skin but carrying on with his massage. The scent of fresh-cut flowers diluted in the warm summer air. “I know that. You two are part of the forest. And I’m only here because you bring me here.”
“You could be a part of the forest, too,” Vash said.
Wolfwood pulled fully away. He stood. “Oh no—nope, I dunno know what that means and I am not leaving the orphanage. Whatever you’d do—”
“We wouldn’t do anything,” Vash said, scrambling up as well. “Wolfwood, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“He didn’t,” Nai said, unexpectedly. “Believe me, I wish he’d be a little more aggressive about taking what he wants. But he wouldn’t keep you here.”
“And what about you, Birdbrain?” Wolfwood snapped.
Nai took a breath. Softly, irritated, he said, “Nor would I.”
Despite himself, Wolfwood relaxed. When Vash took his hand, he allowed it.
“You’re not afraid of us?” Vash asked, moving Wolfwood’s hand in some small invocation of dance. Wolfwood thought of how beautiful he looked reveling in the horos, how alive he came dancing to his brother’s music.
Wolfwood scoffed. “Of you two feather-brains? Nah. You’ve blown the whole ‘frightening spirits of the forest’ image with me.”
Vash kissed him, then, and Wolfwood allowed it. Vash tasted alive, like the sweeping bloom of flowers at the onset of spring. Vash’s fingers tangled with his, and Wolfwood’s free hand came up to slide along the back of his neck. Vash felt solid, real beneath his touch; he flicked away the impulse to mar that soft skin, to draw blood with his nails and so prove Vash’s mortality.
The samodiva’s missing arm banished any illusion of mythic invulnerability, and far stronger was Wolfwood’s desire to protect him from any further pain.
~
Wolfwood leaned out the orphanage window, trying to make out the fluttering white against the backdrop of trees. When he was certain none of the children were looking in his direction, he scrambled through the window, pausing only to curse the flowerbox that snatched at his feet, and then strolled to the treeline.
It was, indeed, Vash; the samodiva’s wings rested demurely against his back, so at a distance he might be taken for a human youth. Wolfwood hefted himself up and onto the tree branch; Vash scooted over as he settled in.
“Birdbrain let you come this close? Or did you actually go off without his permission?”
Vash gave him a curious, almost stung look. “It’s not that I need his permission.”
“Then what? Seems he’s got you on some kinda leash.”
“I won’t leave him on his own.”
Wolfwood arched his eyebrows, one foot swinging free. “Right. Why are the two of you alone?”
Vash rocked back on the branch, gaze skyward. “We weren’t, always. We had a sister, at least—Tesla. She’s married now, though, to a wonderful woman. And since then…”
“Just the two of you.”
“Right.”
“All the stories say samodivi live in big groups, families,” Wolfwood said. “Is that just… I mean, are your kind that rare nowadays? Or are you two just… different, like that?”
“We could find a group, probably,” Vash said. “I don’t think Nai would ever warm to them, though.”
“Oh.”
“He’s warmed to you,” Vash said, turning and smiling at Wolfwood.
Wolfwood scoffed. “I don’t know about that one. More puts up with me for your sake, I think. Isn’t that why he nabbed me in the first place? So you’d have somebody to dance with?”
“At first, sure,” Vash said.
“I don’t think I buy it, Spiky.”
Vash looked out again over the orphanage. “When Tesla left, Nai took it as a betrayal. She chose to live among humans , Wolfwood, took off her wings and folded them up, hid them away to marry a human woman and join their village. She fell in love, that was all. But for Nai, loving anyone more than us was unthinkable. When I lost my arm, he wouldn’t even go to her for help or haven because he couldn’t bring himself to trust.
“He’s softened a bit, since then.” Vash’s eyes followed the distant shapes of children at play, and he didn’t speak until they had vanished amid the orphanage’s garden. “When Tesla visits, he doesn’t go off now and refuse to see her. We’ve even shared a meal with her and Elendira. But that’s family.” Vash turned shining eyes on Wolfwood. “You’re something new.”
“I really think you’re reading into things,” Wolfwood said.
“Are you saying I don’t know my own twin?”
“That’s not…” Wolfwood sighed. “Look, I’ll think about it. But I’m still just a human to him, even if there is some weird kind of fondness at this point. It’s just familiarity, that’s all.”
Vash hummed, but didn’t answer. When he shifted closer, Wolfwood leaned into his extended wing. How strange, he thought, to sit relaxed at the border between their two realms. Orange bled into the blue sky at the distant, hill-pocked horizon, the only indication of time’s passage.
“Vash.”
The call came softly, but no less instantly for its volume. Meters back into the trees, now more shadowed than before, Nai waited. Vash swiveled, tumbling from the branch in something reminiscent of play. He trotted to meet Nai as Wolfwood clambered down more slowly.
Vash murmured something soft and affectionate in an ancient tongue, hands on his twin’s chest, mouth close to Nai’s. Nai closed the minute gap in a kiss, and for a moment their silhouettes blurred together in the half-light. The sight stole Wolfwood’s breath, less an embrace of mortal lovers and more the reunification of a single divine being, framed on all sides by magnificent wings.
Then he drew near enough to catch Nai’s attention, and the two parted. Vash stepped back from between them; Wolfwood’s pulse stuttered. Though Nai’s eyes glinted as sharp as ever, he also hovered closer to the ground than Wolfwood had oft seen him, his feet occasionally stirring up dust.
“Hey.”
Nai regarded him, unimpressed but less critical than Wolfwood might have thought. Wolfwood reached out, meaning to touch one of Nai’s wings; he thought better of it at the last minute, let his arm drop.
Nai noticed, clearly, but offered no comment. “Time to part ways now, human. Darkness is falling.”
“Goodnight, Wolfwood,” Vash said, reaching over to thread their fingers together. Wolfwood pulled him in closer to kiss his knuckles.
“‘Night, Sunshine,” he said, and again looked at Nai. “G’night, Dove.”
Nai’s wings ruffled, and for a beat his feet touched down as flight failed him. He recovered quickly, looked away; Vash glowed, his fingers tightening between Wolfwood’s.
“Mind yourself,” was all Nai said before turning; his voice was clipped when he called, “Vash!”
With one more conspiratorial smile, Vash released Wolfwood’s hand and followed. Wolfwood sighed, lingering long after they’d both vanished from sight.
“We’re both warming up slowly, I guess…” Wolfwood murmured, and then strolled out from the forest’s deepening night to rejoin the orphanage.
~
Someone sang.
Vash’s senses were shrouded in pain and half-consciousness, but the soft, husky voice persisted. He felt his body rocked, held close and safe in loving arms.
His brother, hindered by tears, sang.
“Vash? Vash.”
Vash opened his eyes, the memory receding. He twisted to gaze up at his twin, head resting against Nai’s chest.
“Nai.”
“Are you alright?”
“Mmhm.” Vash didn’t tell him of the phantom ache in his left arm; it had grown less intense over the years, no longer constant, and there was no need for Nai to know it lingered at all. “Just wishing you’d sing for me again, that’s all.”
Nai frowned. “If you want me to play—”
“I don’t want you to let go.”
Nai fell silent, at that, both arms wrapped securely around Vash. When Vash’s left arm had been newly ragged and bloody, Vash himself incoherent with pain and loss, Nai had held him day and night. Though vocal song was not one of Nai’s great talents, he’d crooned lullabies and adoration, summoning up familiar melodies even when he lacked the ability to take up his instrument.
Though he had never since deigned to sing, Nai took up a soft, dutiful humming.