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“It's settled then. Shane with Roman and Lia with Casey, Oz and I will bunk together.” Francis nodded like it was settled and his excitable friend grinned and threw an arm over his shoulder.
“Sleepover!” Ozwald exclaimed.
Casey scowled. “Woah, woah, woah. Who the hell do you think you are? I'm sharing with Roman.” It wasn't really about him, (she’d honestly rather sleep alone) but if her only two options were her best friend and Lia she would rather him over her.
Francis bowed his head. “I didn't mean to offend you,” —his humility was forced, Casey itched to remind him of his place— “My Lady. You're the only two girls so It made sense to me- but I don’t dare order you around.”
Roman squeezed her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey, no need to be so hostile. I know you hate my snoring, sides’ we all might as well get comfortable with each other, no?”
She bristled and glanced over at Lia, who had remained very silent during the whole exchange. She caught Casey's eye and shrugged, resigned, as she awaited The Daughter's decision. Good.
“You just want to get closer to that patchy loser.” She whispered, and Roman laughed softly.
“Caught me.” He grinned.
“Fine.” She let her shoulders slump, and silently mourned the loss of Roman’s presence as soon as he slipped away so he could stand next to Shane.
“It's an honor.” Lia remarked, stepping up to her.
“I know.” Was Casey's only response.
—
Lia snored. Casey made sure to complain about it every day for the next few consecutive nights, but she was honestly just doing it to be a brat. She could sleep through a lot of things, courtesy of Roman’s bear-like growling that rumbled out of his throat every night.
Other than that Casey actually didn't mind sharing her tent with the girl. She definitely smelled better than Roman, and when Casey couldn't sleep she would watch Lia twitch and shuffle in her sleeping bag, always moving even while unconscious, ready to bite, and Casey would silently judge her until she eventually fell back asleep.
The night Archer Sylvin died (-her heart pounded against her ribcage erratically, she wasn't scared, she was never scared, but watching Lia go rabid against that boy got her blood flowing, lit something up in her stomach. She was incredible—vicious and unpredictable. The snap of bone as she cracked open his throat, the resounding gurgle, and the thud of his body dropping like a sack of potatoes, she was a flurry of green and gold and red, absolutely beautiful-) Lia trembled and shifted restlessly, her shoulders noticeably stiff as Casey silently watched her.
The other girl whimpered, and Casey's breath caught. Just a few hours ago Lia was like a rabie-infested dog, irascible and aggressive. Now Casey looked at her and thought of a sad puppy. She wasn't sure which version she preferred.
Casey moved decisively, crawling over to Lia’s sleeping bag and pulling back the cover. She thought Lia was asleep, but then fear-shot golden eyes flicked over to meet hers and she froze.
“Sorry.” Lia said softly, turning further on her side. “I'm sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
Casey licked her lips. She was used to Lia's submissive behavior, everyone behaved that way around her, how could they not? But she found it so oddly satisfying coming from Lia specifically. Lia was assertive and prideful everywhere else, but with Casey she didn't need to be told to back down or relax. She just did.
“You’re good.” Casey murmured and settled down beside her, flinging her leg over the other girl's waist and resting her arm over Lia's chest.
Lia froze solid at the contact, inhaling a sharp breath that stopped short. Then, slowly, she exhaled, the tension in her shoulders loosening as Casey’s thumb traced lazy circles over her bruised knuckles. The Daughter didn't have any sense of shame—she had no reason to when she was so above everyone else—and she buried her face in Lia's hair, breathing her scent in freely as they both began to drift off.
Lia did first, and as soon as she went limp into unconsciousness Casey brushed her lips against the shell of her ear, and began to hum a hymn she was well familiar with softly to herself, the same one that played every sunday back home at The Church.
—
The fire licked at the dry wood and tinted everything a slightly orange glow, it was warm, but Casey couldn't feel it.
“Now I see why we call you The Living Flame.” Lia had laughed once, in the early days of trial when they had only just met.
But the color of her hair was where the similarities between herself and the campfire ended. She always ran cold, and now she knew why. Can't produce heat if you're not alive.
Everyone else was asleep. Oz and Francis were probably cuddling (gross), and Shane was sleeping all alone with the whole tent to himself. She knew he hated it, and it still hurt to remember. Casey didn't even know if she really had the capacity to feel hurt at all or if it was only a subconscious imitation of what she imagined it might be like. There was one thing she knew for sure though, and that was that she missed him. (Whether “he” was Roman or Xavier, she didn't want to know)
She thought Lia was asleep too, but then she felt her body heat and the brush of her arm against Casey's own as she sat down beside her. Casey exhaled.
“Aren't you tired?”
“I don't get tired.” Casey said plainly and stared into the flames, wishing she could produce her own heat.
Instead, she had to rely on Roman and Lia.
Another thing she knew for sure is that she missed the way Roman smelled, embarrassingly. Something like grass and the old dust of the mines. She leaned against Lia and pressed her face against her neck, soaking up her warmth like a leech and wondering how she always seemed to smell like apples. Casey didn't even like apples but she had come to associate them with Lia so strongly that had begun to wish she could have one for months now.
“We both know that's not true.” Lia smiled, bumping Casey's head against her own.
Casey frowned. “Well I don't want to.”
“Please?”
Casey furrowed her brow. She shifted slightly and with her arms around Lia’s shoulders she tried to hoist herself up onto her lap, but Lia took it as an opportunity to wrap her arms around Casey and pick her up.
“Necromancers are so light.” Lia remarked in response to Casey's indignant squeak.
“I could easily turn you inside out with a single construct.” Casey groused and hooked her legs together so she was clinging to her friend like a possum.
“But you won't.”
Casey didn't say anything to that and let herself be carried the short distance to their tent, the orange glow of the campfire disappearing outside when Lia ducked to move under the flap. She now rested on her knees, futilely tugging at Casey’s arms.
“You can let go of me now?” She huffed, and Casey only tightened her grip.
“No thanks. You brought this on yourself.”
“Oh boy.” Lia grunted, slowly lowering herself onto her sleeping bag with her hand over the back of the other girl's head, always so considerate even when Casey was being annoying as hell.
But maybe that was just programming. It probably was, if Lia hadn't been raised to worship the very ground “The Daughter” walked upon she wouldn't be anywhere near as patient with her as she was. Then, where would they be? Casey thrived off of the attention, and she didn't know why it felt so good when it came from Lia especially—she might die without it. This was wrong. She was only tolerated for so long because everyone thought she was something special. A god among men, they revered her because they had to, it was what they’d been taught and it was what Casey expected.
She wasn't offended when they set up for camp days ago after they barely left the mines with their lives and Francis let his anger out, waved his hands around like he wanted to hit her. The hate in his eyes was something she reciprocated, but she didn't have the guts to let herself have it. She hid behind Roman instead and curled up beside Lia, like she was doing now.
Tensions had been strung out for weeks now, she was afraid the group she had come to love would tear itself apart if not because of her then because of something or someone else, it was inevitable.
And then something did happen, a stupid mistake that resulted in the death of the a boy who she'd die for (she should have). Everyone blamed Francis, but she couldn't bring herself to. He was trying to protect them, trying to protect his sister.
She missed Roman.
Lia gave up trying to pull Casey off away and fell asleep right there, on top of her unopened sleeping bag with her chin over Casey's head. The lantern flickered in the corner of the tent.
Fire hazard was Casey's first thought.
She blew it out and very carefully untangled herself from Lia, moving herself far enough so she could feel herself breathe and watch her sleep. There wasn't much room, but she could manage.
She felt predatory, but not in the way that made her feel powerful, not in the way that made her feel like she was something sharp and fanged, this was different. She starved for something she couldn’t even name. It made her feel sick. She couldn't stop. Casey didn't even know what it was she was waiting for, what she was watching for. Lia shifted in her sleep like always, turned on her side so her back was to Casey and breathed unevenly.
Hesitantly, Casey inched closer. She very slowly, very stiffly, curved herself against Lia’s back and hooked her leg over hers. She sighed and let the tension leave her as soon as Lia relaxed. Casey couldn't sleep, didn't have the intention to, but this was comfortable. She peeled her gloves off and breathed against Lia’s neck, letting her scent fog her mind and threading their fingers together, making a circling motion over the back of Lia’s palm with her thumb.
She pulled her fingers away and rested her hand over hers, though her thumb never let up its motions. The skin was soft beneath hers, warmer than she had any right to be. Casey began tracing letters. Slowly, deliberately.
L, I, and A.
S, U, N, then F, O, X. She nuzzled the soft skin of Lia's throat and let herself believe the beating of her pulse point was hers as well. Theirs.
M, I, N, E-- And she felt guilty after that one, but not enough to stop, even when her stomach twisted. She followed it up with H, O, W, L.
Casey screwed her eyes shut and didn't move for a while, then when she built up the courage she traced: I, - L, O, V, E, (she paused, thinking of Roman and of Xavier, and wondered if anything she had ever ‘felt’ was real at all) —Y, O, and U.
She didn't dare move for the rest of the night, not until she found herself falling asleep despite her dissent. She couldn't help it—Lia was warm and soft and Casey thought she'd always been weak for her—And, as her thoughts blurred, she almost felt real.