Chapter Text
When Loren awoke, having finally gotten a few consecutive hours of sleep, she found herself nearly buried in Cirrus’s chest. She slowly looked up at the larger woman’s face to find her still deep asleep in the late morning light, mouth agape and no doubt slightly slobbering on her pillow. Loren desperately wanted to leave but she didn't want to wake her roommate through what would inevitably be a very ungraceful set of movements, especially after having already interrupted her slumber pretty significantly the night before.
She opted instead for a Loren-classic, silently misty stepping away in the hopes that all her problems would disappear as quietly as the vapor left behind. Once out of Cirrus’s room she quickly made her way to the bathroom, listening intently for any sounds of life.
If Cirrus had awakened, she had the kindness not to make it known. Loren let themself release the breath they’d been holding and chided themself for being so childish.
Crying your way into her bed because you had a bad dream? Pathetic. Pissed, Loren looked at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, expecting to find a fitting facial expression. Instead they found themself looking defeated, tired, and on the verge of crying.
That was the problem with glamors and being made out of magic. Despite the whole point of a glamor being to hide your true self, ideally emphasizing the primary fey skill of deception, magic had the knack for being brutally honest. So while she could hide that she was an orange chitinous creature, all fanged and bug-eyed, she couldn’t even deceive herself enough to not look like she’d been beaten by some invisible enemy.
She grabbed a small hand towel and dampened it with cool water, pressing it to her eyes in the hope of dispelling some of the puffiness and reddening. If she were to go to the field office looking like this they would surely send her home. Her work helping to repair the destroyed infrastructure of the Court of Dawn was the only thing that kept her thoughts from slipping to the places they race when she’s asleep. So she had to go to work.
The other benefit to going to work was that she could avoid Cirrus a little while longer. As one of the “Heroes” of the fae wilds, Cirrus, alongside Loren, had been invited to help the surviving community leaders rebuild the Court of Dawn after the destruction brought on by Loren’s “sister” Lorelai and her armies. Cirrus, however, stopped aiding the infrastructure group after only a couple meetings, quickly citing something about her ‘skills being more useful elsewhere,’ before borderline storming off.
Loren hadn’t brought the incident up since, so she wasn’t sure what had conspired to cause such an outburst from her normally stoic friend. Regardless, from what she could tell Cirrus spent most of her time in the outer edges of what was once the city, working with the Ents and farmers in the area. Either way, Loren wouldn’t cross her path again until this evening when she hoped she would find last night’s events less embarrassing.
---
Loren did not need to eat. It was a benefit of being made out of magic, as long as the weave of the fae wilds surrounded them, their body could use it to maintain themselves and their energy. Eating, was not necessarily unnecessary though. It provided an extra amount of energy that made maintaining the glamour one wanted much easier, and Loren could use all the help they could get.
The easiest way to get dinner would be to simply eat whatever Cirrus had made for the evening. She made dinner nearly every night, and told Loren that she was more than welcome to have half of it. She had done more than that even, she had suggested that they have a meal together every day, she offered to cook it, and said they could use the time to catch up on each others days or even just learn about each other outside of the months long life-or-death situation they had been in before. Loren never showed up for meals though, finding ways to stay out of the house longer into the night than necessary. Even though Cirrus had assured her time and time again she could eat the food at any time, and that eating it together was absolutely not a requirement, she still never ate it.
She would have to be truly desperate to eat the meal Cirrus made. The idea of it felt like admitting defeat in some game she knew she was the only one playing. The idea felt like settling down, allowing herself to stand still and just be Loren, and ‘just Loren’ was a scary thing to be, so she never ate Cirrus’s food.
Instead they would sometimes get food from different vendors around the city, Lil’ Timmy’s crepe shop-turned-stand (renovations in progress) was a favorite spot of theirs. But even ‘keep your nose out of my business and I’ll keep my nose out of yours’ Lil’ Timmy had begun to question why they only ever ate outside their house. Even going so far as to insinuate that their roommate was poisoning the food and they were playing some long cat-and-mouse game that Loren did not like the implications of.
Other times they would do what Loren was doing tonight, hunting one of the less endangered remaining fauna of the Court. Her choice for the evening was a squirrel-like creature whose camouflage was impeccable at sunset and dawn, but in the slightly darker evenings like tonight, its vivid, magical coat stood out like a spotlight in the darkened fields.
She loved to focus on a hunt. While for the many months prior she’d been using and honing all her ranger talents for battle, this moment here, where it was just her and a foolishly un-camouflaged squirrel, she felt truly at home in her skills.
Her steps were silent among the sounds of a sleeping field, her movements like liquid between strands of freshly sprouted grain.
The squirrel plucked a small kernel from the straw as Loren notched an arrow.
The arrow’s fletching swept softly across their fingers as it was pulled back to gently graze Loren’s cheek.
As the squirrel took the grain into its mouth Loren sighed, the arrow released.
The squirrel fell, the shaft piercing through its eyes, its hands still tightly gripping the grain as its fur dulled to a dark purple. Loren almost envied the fact that it no longer had to think.
They skillfully removed the arrow, taking care not to damage the creature’s brain further, and made their way to a clearing near the field. They focused on making the cleaning of the squirrel and preparation of the fire a meditation. Unfortunately, these actions were second nature to them, so the thoughts became forced, and it was hardly relaxing at all. It was obviously a distraction. All of it was. The squirrel, the hunt, the work, all of it to avoid confronting the fact that she was scared.
She tore off a chunk of meat from the squirrel's thigh. Can’t be scared eating a squirrel. That’s stupid. She shoved the thought away, distracting herself with thoughts of roads and tunnels and intercourt travel policies until her meal was done.
---
“Last night meant nothing, okay?” Loren said en route to their room, pointedly not making eye contact. They’d forgotten to consider the fact that Cirrus also just lived in their house and therefore might be in the common room when they got home.
“I think you know that’s not true,” Cirrus replied with a look of disappointment. It was not the disappointment of someone who’s crush has just turned them down yet again. No, it was the look of disappointment a parent gives a child who just blatantly lied to their face and they're trying to make it a learning moment. Loren absolutely hated being on the receiving end of that stare.
That was the part of Cirrus that Loren hated most. Loren swore her eyes had the ability to see right through them, passed any lie, passed any defense, and see what really sat screaming and crying at their core. It made Loren want to crawl out of their skin. No one should be allowed to see the parts of themself they didn’t want, what else was the point of a glamour. Yet here Cirrus was, a book on her lap, looking as if she was barely trying to undress the deepest parts of Loren and have it stand bare between them. Loren was determined to grab that part of themself and deflect anyway.
“Sleeping in your bed in a moment of weakness does not constitute romantic interest Cirrus, I mean that.”
The look on Cirrus’s face could easily be translated into a simple statement: Really?
Unlike most constituents of the Court of Dawn who, like most fae, hide their true feelings and intentions behind several ever-shifting masks of deceit, Cirrus wore her true feelings on her face at all times. In comparison to the fae it was like one of the Court of Light’s blinking neon signs, and right now it was obvious that she could not believe Loren actually expected her to think that’s what they thought she meant.
“Loren. You are the kind of person who would rather poke out your own eye than admit that you need help with something. The fact that you did come to me for help last night means that you were in some kind of genuine distress.”
“Cirrus I do not want to talk about this.”
“I know,” she stated more matter-of-factly than Loren expected, “Talking is your least favorite thing second only to asking for help so I came prepared.” She stood up and grabbed a tiny potted plant from the relatively empty bookshelf in the corner and brought it to Loren.
“Keep this by your bedside. The ninth school of magic affected plants faster than it affected more complex creatures like you and I, so let this be your canary in the mine. If one night it begins to wither quickly, then you have a problem, otherwise it was just a nightmare.”
Loren took the plant begrudgingly, still not meeting her roommate’s gaze as Cirrus continued, “It won’t fix your nightmares or their severity, but it might help the panicked waking moments after.”
Loren finally glanced up at Cirrus, who’s own eyes were averted from making contact as usual, and saw a small amount of bashfulness amongst the sincerity as her cheeks seemed to slightly flush with color. Loren almost felt bad for her, but Cirrus knew what she was signing up for when she offered to be roommates with them.
“Thank you Cirrus, this is very thoughtful… Good night,” and with that she turned on her heel a little too quick to be casual and made a bee line for her room.
Once inside she stared at the tiny potted plant now sitting in her hands. She considered throwing it away or stuffing it in a closet where she would never see it. Much to her own surprise though she found herself setting it on her bedside table, in clear view of the window where it would certainly get plenty of sun (plants need that right?). As the plant seemed to now stare at her accusingly from its throne of accepted help on her night stand she contemplated smashing it where it stood. Instead though she channeled her anger into her quiver of arrows which she threw harshly and unceremoniously into her closet, and set her bow gently down. She borderline tore off the leather armor she wore and tossed it over the chair at the desk she never used.
She didn’t even need to wear her armor any more, the only battles she was getting into were with small woodland and field creatures that didn't even know they were fighting before the battle was won. It was a force of habit become comfort after her party’s long journey had ended. Everyone was polite enough not to comment on it, and for that Loren was grateful.
Let me have this one thing , she usually thought in regards to her armor. But really they let her have lots of things they didn’t comment on. The armor, the odd meals, the way she never took a day off despite the very fair and equitable time off policies of the fae wilds. She claimed the work was a passion project she just couldn’t let go of, and no one really had the authority to stop her anyway.
So she wore her armor, and ate odd meals, and overworked herself so she could come home, coldly shove off her roommate, and go to bed just like she was doing now, and that was fine.
---
Another nightmare came, scoured her core with rotting flames, and left her awake cold and drenched. But as her eyes adjusted to the soft red glow of a Court of Dawn night, she saw Cirrus’s viny plant inches away from her face, perfectly still and healthy. And though she’d never let Cirrus know, at least not yet, she did find it easier to slow her breathing so she could try to sleep once again.