Archive of Our Own

Bolaire fussed with the cuffs of the trousers, making certain he wasn’t going to catch his toes or trip, fondness creeping up on him at the notion of Hal letting him borrow his clothes.

He sat on the bed in his room – yes, he considered it that, because Hal had said it, even though it had been rather off-hand – and took a deep breath.  Bolaire wondered if it was ever going to feel normal about all the little things this new body did.  Sure, he’d done things in the bodies he’d taken, like sighing and breathing and such, but it felt distinctly different when he was doing it himself, when it worked in a body he wasn’t wearing but inhabiting. 

Well, it hadn’t even been a full day.  And mortals did this sort of thing all the time.  Surely it would become second nature at some point?  No one around him seemed to notice all those little autonomic functions that living bodies did. 

Bolaire didn’t quite understand it.

Not yet, anyway.

Maybe he never would.

However, this was his reality now.  And, as he very well knew, reality was a heavy thing that crushed souls under its weight. 

Bolaire was feeling more than a little crushed at the moment. He hoped reality would fuck itself right off and let him feel a little more normal. 

But it just felt heavier and heavier the more he thought about it, about reality and what it was doing to him.  His shoulders slumped as if he could feel the actual heft. It made him think about…

Bolaire shook his head.  He didn’t want to consider what he’d originally been made for.   He wasn’t really that any longer; hadn’t been ever since his first, truly independent, thought. 

His mind suddenly went back to Castep, his first body.  He’d learned so many things by wearing Castep.  And, in return, Bolaire had fought in the Falconer’s Rebellion, fulfilling the soldier’s duty out of a feeling of gratitude.

Then he’d moved on without any hesitation whatsoever.

And he hadn’t really thought about any of his hosts since, only to keep them alive for as long as he could on as little as he could out of a sense of his own discomfort.

He hadn’t even really considered it…until now.

Was this fate, that you’d been made human?  That you were just what you’d used and abused for so many years?  Was this punishment?  To be made into something frail and weak and able to be taken over by something that would subsume you to its will and make you do things you didn’t want to do?

You’ve gone from being the predator to being the prey.

The insidious whisper within his mind circled around itself; it sounded disturbingly like Thjazi Fang’s voice.   Bolaire shook his head, trying to dislodge it, finally calling back on the discipline he’d gained in smothering the thoughts of his bodies.

He sighed as the weird whisper quietened.  He needed to keep himself focused, moving forward.  Not backward.

Mentally kicking himself, Bolaire finished with the trouser cuffs, then glanced down at what he was now wearing.

The clothes were too big.  He’d been hoping that the blouse Hal had pulled from Shadia’s wardrobe would have worked; it had been a deep red, and he’d recalled her wearing it a couple of times.  However, it hadn’t, so he’d had to go with one of Hal’s.

He had to admit, he quite liked it, although white certainly wasn’t his color; it made his pale skin looked washed out.  It was the comfort and the fabric against his skin and the fact that he’d seen Hal wear it on occasion.

There was also a scent to it that reminded Bolaire of Hal.  He quite liked it.

You lied to Hal.

When had the truth become so worthless to you?  You, who had been created for the Truth of the Panto?

Bolaire felt his eyebrow twitch at this mental comment by what sounded like his dead nemesis.

That was an odd sensation, the eyebrow twitching.

He ignored it for other observations.

He’d never really thought about wearing Hal’s clothes before.  Now he’d done it twice.  It was giving him feelings he couldn’t identify but it was warm and tingly and secretly exciting in a way he just reveled in.

Instead of putting his foot back down from where he’d propped it up on the bed to fold up the trouser cuff, Bolaire tucked his forehead against his knee and sighed.  This new body was certainly flexible.  He could feel the slight weight of his head against the bone, and he sighed again, just relaxing a little before going back downstairs.

Even like this, he still felt somewhat overwhelmed.  Yes, he was getting a little more used to being mortal, the flutterings and twitchings and tinglings and all the other small sensations that accompanied his human form.  It was irritating, just what people had to deal with, and how much he’d either completely missed or ignored about the hosts he’d taken over the years. 

Perspective was good.

Perspective also sucked.

You’d been a parasite.

Sucking out the lives of others.

Keeping them alive just enough so that they would serve you.

Raising his head from his knee and blotting out the recurring thoughts once more, Bolaire scrubbed his hands across his face.  His now smooth face.   

Hal’s shaving lesson had been…informative.

He felt his face heat up.

Damned blushing.

If there was any greater sign of trust, it was to let someone hold a straight razor against their throat.  If there had been any doubt that he’d trusted Hal, that had been tossed out of the window.  Bolaire had sat still under Hal’s hands, letting him run that razor across his delicate skin, watching in the mirror as the shaving cream was scooped away, leaving his chin, cheeks, and jaws smooth as silk. 

It had helped that Hal had inquired if Bolaire wanted to provide the razor. 

Honestly, at that moment Bolaire had been uncertain if that magic was still available to him.  Still, this was Hal, and if he’d failed his dear one wouldn’t have judged.

It had worked, though. And the glittering glass had looked like it had belonged in his friend’s fingers as he’d moved confidently, doing away with the whiskers Bolaire had awakened with. 

Bolaire had never let anyone use his tools before…well, there was that time with Murray, when they were trying to bring Occtis back, but he wasn’t sure that counted since that had been Murray’s Mage Hand and not her actual one holding it.

This had been very, very different.  In a way Bolaire just was unable to explain.  It was confusing, almost as if Hal was holding an external part of his body and was being so very gentle with it. 

That put a new spin on it, didn’t it?

Hal’s hands had been warm, fingers rough from playing stringed instruments.  They’d felt…good, against Bolaire’s sensitive face.  Often, Hal would cup Bolaire’s cheeks when he was a mask, a sign that Hal had recognized Bolaire’s personhood. 

This was quite different.

The lightness of Hal’s touch tingled.  He was very careful of Bolaire, and that had that strange warmth show up in his chest once more, the one that Bolaire thought might be love but wasn’t quite certain yet.  The care Hal took of him was…he couldn’t describe it, he had no words for it yet.  It felt above and beyond anything Bolaire had ever experienced before.

He wanted more of it.

And yet…

The session had sent that warmth in his chest down further, into his stomach…and deeper.  It was…uncomfortable yet nice at the same time.  Hal touching him so confidently…Bolaire had a feeling he knew what it was; hosts before had reacted to things, but he’d ignored it because it was…it wasn’t him reacting.  It was yet another bodily function that had disgusted him, that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with. 

This was…different? 

It was Hal.

But did that honestly make any of this different?

It was his own body now.

But did that make this situation any different?

Why was Hal different?

Bolaire loved Hal.  He’d done for a while now.  But it was almost abstract, in that he hadn’t had a human body to react to that feeling before.  And he still wasn’t exactly sure if it was him reacting to Hal in a specific way, or if this was something he was misinterpreting. 

It was driving him insane.

Hal hadn’t noticed the reaction, for which Bolaire was grateful.  If he’d had an honest response to Hal’s closeness and touch, he’d have been mortified by what his body had done.  If it was something else, just one of those functions that didn’t have anything to do with his closeness to Hal, that would have been at least a little easier to deal with.

Could he be overthinking this?  Of course he could be.  Bolaire didn’t have the knowledge to say one way or the other.  Masks do not have sexual desire –

But was it that?

Bolaire didn’t have those feelings.  He never had.    

He was well-read, but those sorts of books weren’t in his repertoire.  He’d seen plays, but those were abstract and hadn’t moved him in that way. 

It felt as if his thoughts were circling a gravity well in his mind. 

Touch had always been fraught for him, but that was because it wasn’t him that anyone with the urge to hug or hold hands or any other was doing that with.  It was his host, the person he’d co-opted in order to exist.  He didn’t experience it as himself.  It was slightly icky to his sensibilities, so it was just simpler to ask not to be touched than let them do it and suffer in silence.

Touch wasn’t as bad as the whole bodily functions thing.  But still.

Now, Hal…he’d touched Bolaire, but he’d also went out of the way to focus on the mask that was Bolaire’s true self, to show that he wasn’t afraid of the so-called curse.  Hal had  also shown his children that Bolaire was just a person, only one that might look a little different.  Alogar, Shadia, and Hero had grown up respecting Bolaire’s bodily autonomy, and it was all down to Halandil Fang.

It was no wonder Bolaire loved him.

Even love was different now.  He’d never understood that mortals felt love as well as experienced it…if that was what this was.  He desperately wanted to speak to someone about it, but his pride would most likely never allow it.  Because that would mean he’d also bring up his physical reaction to Hal’s touch as he shaved Bolaire this morning.

Bolaire couldn’t be sure.  And he absolutely hated not knowing for certain.

He was going to be bloody obsessing over it.  He just knew it.

Argh.

Well, he couldn’t stay upstairs moping.  Getting to his feet, Bolaire decided it was time to go downstairs and face the instrument of his confusion.

Hal was waiting for him.

“I thought maybe you’d gone back to sleep,” his friend greeted as soon as Bolaire appeared.  He was seated in his usual chair, only it was still pulled closer to Bolaire’s as it had been earlier this morning.  “I’m pretty sure you didn’t sleep well last night.”

Bolaire took his own chair.  A fresh glass of water was waiting for him, but he didn’t take it.  Not yet, anyway.  “I’m sorry if my flapping around disturbed you.”  He’d been hoping that Hal hadn’t heard him.

Hal waved a hand negligently.  “I should have expected it, really.  I know you don’t usually sleep.”

“There was that,” Bolaire admitted, “however this was a case of me being afraid of falling asleep and waking up in a different time and place.”

Hal grimaced.  “Fuck.”

“Pretty much.”  Bolaire gave him a smile to say there was no hard feelings.  “It’s just one of those things that will take some time.”

“You could have come and gotten me.  Maybe I could have helped.”

Bolaire wasn’t sure what Hal could have done.  “And then I’d just stay awake because you’re there…sorry, darling, I know that sounds bad…”  The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt his friend’s feelings.

“No, no.  I get it.”  Hal gave him a smile.  “Also, you’re going to have to get used to it on your own.”

“Very true.”  He reached around behind him and grabbed the folded afghan, opening it and draping it over his lap. 

“Are you cold?” Hal asked in concern.

“A little.”  It wasn’t so strange, being cold.  He’d felt that way before, even in his true form, so he could identify that particular sensation.  “This is perfect, though.”  It was.  He liked the feeling of the slightly scratchy yarn in his hands and the bright colors of the wool that it had been knitted from. 

“Let me know if you need the fireplace lit.” 

“I will, don’t worry.”

Hal shook his head fondly.  “You’re my friend.  Of course I’m going to worry.”

That warm feeling was back.  Analyzing it, it seemed to occur whenever Hal said something about taking care of Bolaire, or whenever Bolaire thought of him just being there for him. 

He was pretty sure it was love.  He just…well, he needed more empirical evidence to make certain his conclusion was the correct one.

Suddenly, Hal twitched, his head cocking to the side.  Bolaire sat up, knowing instinctively that he was on the receiving end of a Message spell.

And there was only one person of their acquaintance who had that long distance spell in their repertoire.

“We’re waiting for you,” Hal spoke after a few seconds.  “I’ll have the coffee on.”  Then he shook his head.

“They’re on their way?” Bolaire asked.

Hal chuckled.  “Yes.  They should be here soon.”  He stood.  “I’m going to make some fresh coffee.  Can I get you anything while I’m in the kitchen?”

Bolaire considered the question.  “Perhaps some tea now?  And none of that floral stuff you gave me last night.  While it was nice then, this morning I’d like a little something stronger.”

“That I can do.”  With that, Hal was off toward the kitchen.

Within a short few seconds, Bolaire could hear Hal clattering around in there, getting the drinks prepared.  He slid down a little in his chair, closing his eyes like he had earlier that morning, and just listened to the noises his friend was making, and feeling that he could actually go to sleep to that sort of noise.

As long as he felt safe, he’d be fine.  Hal would never let him be taken away.

The voice was silent.  Perhaps it had given up.

After a bit, he could hear Hal padding out of the kitchen.  Bolaire opened his eyes to see the tea mug set down on his table, steam rising from it slowly.  “Thank you, darling,” he murmured.

Hal smiled down at him.  “You’re welcome.”  He went back to his chair once more.  “That time I could tell you weren’t asleep.”

“No, but there’s something soothing about the slight noises you make when you’re doing things around the house that make me think I actually could sleep as long as it wasn’t quiet.”

“We should experiment with that,” Hal decided.  “See if there’s a particular noise that’s best for you to fall asleep to.  After all, some people need a little sound at night to rest.”

Bolaire cocked his head.  “They do?”  He was surprised; for some reason, he’d thought that all mortals liked the darkness and the silence to sleep in.

“Yes, and light as well.  Up until she was ten, Hero needed a nightlight in her room.  And Alogar always slept better during rainstorms.”

Bolaire considered that.  Mortals still surprised him, and he hoped that never changed.  “I’d be willing to attempt that.”  If it helped, then he’d use that sort of distraction.

He really didn’t want to sleep, but it was now necessary.

That got him a wide smile.  “Then let’s run a little test right now.”

Bolaire raised his eyebrows.  He decided he liked eyebrows.  “Now?” He was confused by Hal’s insistence.  Azune and Murray were on their way, he doubted he’d get any sleep…

“Yep.  Be right back.”

Hal was out of his chair and heading upstairs, leaving a rather gobsmacked Bolaire in the living room.  Just what was Hal up to?  And did he honestly expect Bolaire to nap now?  When Murray and Azune were on their way with possible answers to what had happened to him.

Steps sounded on the stairs.  Hal appeared, holding his lyre, a grin on his face.  “How about some music?”

Bolaire couldn’t help but smile.  Hearing Hal play was one of the most genuine joys of his existence, and it didn’t happen as often as he’d like. “I’m not sure that’s the way to get me to sleep,” he commented as Hal took his seat once more, the instrument on his lap.  “I enjoy your playing far too much.”

“I used to play for Shadia and Alogar when they were children,” Hal told him, running his hands along the body of the instrument.  “They both had a hard time after their mother left, so I’d do my best to soothe them.  Playing for them did that.  Let’s see if I can find the right thing that will do the same for you.”

Bolaire still wasn’t sure it was going to work, but he was willing to give Hal the benefit of the doubt.  “All right, but you can’t be playing for me every night until I get used to the idea that I’m not going to wake up in a different age.”

“Let’s just try this first.  If it does work, we can figure out logistics later.  And you cannot tell me that you’re not still a little tired from not sleeping last night.”

No, he couldn’t tell Hal that.  The problem was, Bolaire wasn’t readily able to describe how he felt, if his body had had enough rest or if it needed more.  He’d understood that his hosts would need rest in order to operate within optimal parameters and not get sluggish, which was why he’d come up with his page turner, so he could let the body rest and Bolaire wouldn’t be bored.

So, while he did grasp when his hosts were tired, he just didn’t have enough practice to know it in his own body.  This was all so new to him, he was going to have to work out how to interpret things. 

“Lay back,” Hal urged, settling himself in to play.  He laid his fingers on the strings, taking a deep breath, and began to strum the lyre.

Bolaire did as his friend bid, pulling the afghan up to his chest as he rested his head against the back to the chair.  He closed his eyes, letting the music flow over him.

It was a quiet song, gentle and slow, and Bolaire thought it might have been a lullaby.  It was a good choice, he supposed, if one wanted to put someone to sleep.

He imagined Alogar and Shadia as children, lying in their beds, as their father played this for them as they missed Thaisha.  Because there was no doubt in Bolaire’s mind that this was something that Hal had used to help them sleep when they missed their mother too much.  There was a very tiny part of him that held that against Thaisha, leaving her children and her lover behind, but Bolaire could understand why she’d done it.  Hadn’t he been the same way, searching for his true self after that very first play he’d witnessed during the Falconer’s Rebellion had awakened something within him?  The only reason he held just that little bit against Thaisha was because she’d left her family behind, and how could someone do that with those three precious people? 

Bolaire, himself, would never dream of leaving them.  He loved them too much to do that.

The image of those two wonderful children faded, replaced by his daydream from before: being there with Hal into their old age, watching as Alogar, Shadia, and Hero found their own families…so much to look forward to, now, even if he didn’t quite know how to accept this new life a random artifact had graced him with.

He felt himself drifting as Hal moved into a different song, this one just as peaceful as the first.    His body was relaxing, and this time there wasn’t any of the panic he’d felt last night.  Hal had been correct, trying this now…

Bolaire followed his dream into sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that Hal was there to watch over him…

***********

Hal watched as Bolaire went boneless in his chair, body relaxing as the tiredness he’d seen in his friend took over and tugged him into sleep. 

He kept playing for a little while longer, just to make sure Bolaire was truly sleeping.  He was glad he’d suggested it; yes, he knew Azune and Murray would be there soonish, but Bolaire had needed the rest.  Hal had the feeling that Bolaire couldn’t really tell what his new body was trying to say, but Hal had seen the lack of sleep from last night starting to rear its head in his friend.  He needed to do something to help, and he was happy this solution was working.

Bolaire looked so peaceful, huddled under his mother’s afghan, sprawled slightly, head back and body limp.  His eyelashes were a splash of color against his skin, and there was a small smile on his lips.  He looked a little strange in Hal’s own shirt, but that was fine.  Seeing Bolaire wearing his clothes brought up such a feeling of fondness that he couldn’t help his own soft smile.

He was truly beautiful, all pale skin and red hair, freckles and the faint sign of dimples on his cheeks, looking soft and relaxed as he drifted off into sleep wrapped in Hal’s mother’s favorite afghan. 

But then, the mask had been beautiful, too.  Hal had even thought so back when he’d believed that it was a cursed object magically attached to his friend’s face.  Now that he knew the truth, it had occurred to him that Bolaire was just what he would have envisioned as a god-killing creation: plain, yet with an otherworldly aura that was easily seen if a person was looking for it, gorgeous in its simplicity.

Still, Hal had to admit Bolaire was more beautiful as a human.

He kept playing.  It was a lullaby that he’d played for his children.  It was just as appropriate now as it had been back then, when he’d been a single father with two children who’d depended on him.  He’d been terrified of messing things up, but he’d done his best.

He was back to being scared, but it was because Bolaire now was the one who was depending on him.  The sheer amount of trust that Bolaire had shown him by letting Hal get a straight razor even close to his skin had rattled Hal a little, even though he’d been expecting to do just that. 

Perhaps it was also the fact that Bolaire had trusted Hal with one of his ‘props’, the razor that he’d manifested when Hal had suggested it.  The glass had actually been warm in his fingers as he used it to shave Bolaire; he’d wondered if they’d always been like that or if the faint heat was new. 

He’d wanted to ask Bolaire, but considered the fact that it might have seemed a little intrusive.

He’d also wondered if Bolaire could create  other objects besides blades.

That was something to consider.

For later.

Once he was absolutely certain Bolaire was fast asleep, he stopped playing and stood.  Setting his lyre down in his chair, he moved toward Bolaire, careful not to be too quiet.  If what Bolaire had said was true – and he had absolutely no reason to doubt – silence was the sure way to bring him awake. 

He couldn’t help but smile helplessly down at his sleeping friend.  A part of him wanted to lean down and kiss him on the forehead, but Bolaire had just gotten to sleep and Hal didn’t want to wake him up.

Instead, he walked outside, to wait for Azune and Murray.  Murray had a way of boisterously entering places, and the last thing Hal wanted was for her make Bolaire startle awake.  Quiet noises were fine; shouting arrival was not.

He stood on the stoop, smelling the jasmine that still curled its way up the trellis by the door.  It made him think of Thaisha, wondering where she was now and if she’d had any luck finding Alogar.  He was desperately worried about their son, and he would have prayed for luck…if there had been anyone left to pray to.

All sorts of birds were singing; he caught the call of the magpies in their nest near the house’s second floor window.  A crow sounded off from somewhere overhead and several songbirds tittered in harmony with each other.  Hal loved living in the Rookery; it had been his home for as long as he could remember, even before his family had owned the house that was currently his residence.  He was surrounded by people who understood him and they all watched out for each other, friendly sorts who enjoyed a good conversation.

This was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life.  And he was beginning to believe that Bolaire felt the same way.

The sounds of wheels on the cobblestones of the road came to his ears.  Hal turned in that direction, watching as a public carriage approached.  Smiling, he stepped out to the front gate and waited, fairly certain this was his friends arriving.

Murray was the first out of the carriage, practically bouncing out and onto the cobbles, various parts of her jiggling as she landed and making Hal snort in amusement.  Azune was next, stepping down in a more dignified manner, returning Hal’s smile.  Still, his tri-color eyes were concerned.

“How is he?” Azune inquired.

Hal sighed.  “Better, I think.  He’s a little more settled in his skin, it seems to me, but he’s still a bit uncomfortable.  Judging by the rant he gave this morning about bodily functions, I’d say it’s still going to take time.”

The rant had been hilarious, but Hal had reconsidered it and realized it was Bolaire being truly upset about it all.

Azune relaxed a little, propping his war hammer up onto his shoulder.  “He’s a different person –”

“And yet the same,” Murray butted in.

“—and yet the same,” Azune allowed. 

“He’s struggling with that part,” Hal told them.  He didn’t come right out and say that Bolaire didn’t feel the same, but he didn’t think it needed to be stated out loud.  His two friends were wise enough to have figured that out.

“Not a surprise.”

“And why are we outside?” Murray asked.  “Not exactly the most private place to talk.”

“Bolaire didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Also not a surprise,” Azune said.  They were all aware of what occurred when Bolaire, as a mask, had been removed from a body.

“I finally got him to take a nap.”

“And you didn’t want us stomping into the house and waking him up,” Murray grinned.  “That’s sweet.”

She was teasing.  Hal, though, could hear the worry under the words.  “He’s sleeping in the living room.  So, we’ll go and talk in the kitchen.  Coffee should be done by now.”

“I could use it,” Murray commented.  “Been spending too many hours at the Penteveral.”

Hal could understand.  He knew that Murray was walking a thin line, trying to keep the people in charge at the Penteveral pleased with her work as well as working behind the scenes to figure out just what was going on.  “I’m sure Bolaire’s little puzzle didn’t help.”

Murray sighed.  “To be honest, it’s been a nice distraction.  Let’s head in.  I promise to tiptoe.”

Hal laughed.  Like Murray was capable of tiptoeing anywhere.  “We don’t have to be perfectly quiet.  Bolaire found he could sleep with a little noise.  It…made him realize he was going to wake up afterward.”

Azune nodded in understanding, while Murray seemed intrigued by the whole thing.  Hal gave her a side-eye, and she went all innocent.  He had no choice but to waggle a finger at her in warning…not that Hal thought she’d actually wake Bolaire up on purpose. 

“What?” she held her hands up in question.

Azune cuffed her lightly on the shoulder.  Murray glanced up at him, winking.

Hal let them in.  They made the normal amount of noise as they made their way toward the kitchen…except for Murray, who let out a little whine as she caught sight of Bolaire in his chair, sleeping peacefully.

Apparently, she thought him as cute as Hal did.

No, that wasn’t possible.

No one found Bolaire as cute as Hal did.

He wondered if that was going to be a problem.

Nope, no problem at all.

Hal ushered them both into the kitchen, where he got mugs down for the coffee.  His was out by his own chair, and he didn’t want to risk waking Bolaire in order to fetch it so he just took down a clean one for himself.

“I figure we’ll save what you discovered about the artifact for when Bolaire wakes up,” Hal said, after the coffee was poured and doctored to everyone’s liking.  “I, myself, am interested in knowing why you were delayed yesterday.”

Azune stared down into his coffee.  “Lady Amariya Cormoray showed up at the Archanade.”

“Yeah,” Murray added.  “Rumor travels faster in that place than rotten fruit through your bowels.  She’d heard about the incident and came running.”

Just what they needed…what Bolaire needed. 

They should have expected it, though.  As interested as Amariya Cormoray was in the Lloy Wing and its artifacts, it only made sense that she’d have some sort of intelligence source within the Archanade.  “What was she told?”

“Not much,” Azune answered.  “Just that he was being quarantined for now until the investigation is complete.”

Hal was relieved.  This was the last thing Bolaire needed…more stress, when he was trying his best to adapt to his new status. 

“Archivists Rosadella and Spiro have really stepped forward,” Murray said admiringly.  “They handled everything that happened to Bolaire like champs, and now they’re taking over the running of the Lloy Wing until Bolaire can come back.  They’re really worried about him.”

“Especially Rosadella,” Azune put in.  “I’ve tried to tell her she wasn’t responsible for what happened, but she’s taking it hard.”

“It wasn’t her fault.”

All three turned toward the kitchen entrance.  Bolaire stood there, looking disheveled and sleepy, clutching the afghan around his shoulders. 

“We didn’t mean to wake you,” Azune said before Hal could say anything.

Bolaire waved a hand.  Hal was a little surprised with himself for not noticing before that he wasn’t wearing gloves anymore.  “It’s fine.  I simply forgot to ask Hal to get me up when you both arrived.  I think I was tuned in to listen for you.”  He grimaced.  “I also think I have an autonomic response to that Cormoray bitch’s name.”

He then rubbed his eyes.  “What on Araman is this gooey stuff in my eyes?  Why does the body make all these secretions?”

“You got eye boogers!” Murray exclaimed in delight.

Hal sighed.

“Eye boogers?” Bolaire whined.  “That is disgusting!”

“That is not what it’s called,” Hal reassured him.  “It’s called ‘sleep’ or ‘sleepers’.”

“It’s a mucus that forms overnight,” Azune was glaring at Murray, who suffered it gladly. 

“Well, this certainly didn’t form overnight,” Bolaire groused.  “This just showed up during a short nap.”  He shook his hand as if that would get the sleep off his fingers.  “Can someone get me a napkin or a handkerchief or something?”

Hal handed over a napkin.  Bolaire accepted it, wiping his fingers fastidiously.  “Just one more thing I’ll have to deal with.”

Murray was sniggering.  Azune smacked her on the shoulder once again. 

Hal decided it was time to change the subject.  “Let me warm up your tea for you.”

Bolaire glared at Murray, then turned to Hal, his expression softening.  “Thank you, Hal.”

“Let’s go and have a seat,” Azune added.  “We have a lot to talk about.”

“I take it then that you have more news than just my current nemesis making an appearance,” Bolaire snarked as the group went to the living room.  “Which implies one of my archivists must be some sort of spy for the Cormoray.”

He sounded completely disgusted.  Hal couldn’t blame him.  He’d hired all of the current crop of archivists himself, after all.  It had to be galling to know one of them could be a possible traitor to the Archanade.

Snagging his own cold coffee from the table next to the chair he’d been occupying and replacing it with his hot one, Hal then picked up the tea mug on Bolaire’s table; yes, the tea had indeed gotten cold.  He gave his friend a smile as Bolaire took his seat once more, pulling the afghan into his lap.

Bolaire returned it.

It didn’t take long to get fresh tea; Hal had had the kettle on the hob next to the coffee pot just in case Bolaire had wanted more.  He steeped the leaves in their little metal ball that Thaisha had made certain Hal had, and then carried the mug back out, placing it back in its place.

Bolaire murmured his thanks, picked up the mug, and blew on the liquid to cool it a little before drinking.

Murray and Azune had taken seats on the sofa.  Murray was grinning.  “Did you actually sing Bolaire to sleep?” She was practically ecstatic at the thought, her eyes glittering in delight.

Hal picked up his lyre from where he’d set it in his chair, resting it on the floor propped up against the end table leg.  He wasn’t about to deign Murray with a response, mostly because it was fairly obvious that that was exactly what he’d done.

However, Bolaire decided to say something.  He relaxed back in his chair.  “As it is, sound seems to make my falling asleep easier, since it’s different from how it usually happens.  Hal kindly volunteered to make some noise for me.”

Hal’s mouth dropped open at the very obvious teasing.  “Are you calling my music ‘noise?”

“Would I do that?”  He then batted his eyes at Hal outrageously.

It had the entire room cracking up.

Hal had to wipe his eyes.  It was good to see Bolaire joking around like this.  And the eye-batting…that had him snorting so hard he made an undistinguished squawk. 

Murray was leaning into Azune, grinning like a maniac, while Azune was shaking his head and smiling at Bolaire fondly.  He’d become good friends with Bolaire over the time they’d been working together; it was good to know that Bolaire was branching out in his friendships a little.

“I take it you have news,” Bolaire prompted, “beyond the unexpected visitor.”

“Yeah, we do.”  Murray settled herself on the sofa, getting comfortable.  “Well, I’ve managed to discover that the spell that hit you was indeed a Wish spell.”

Bolaire frowned.  “But I didn’t wish for this.”  He waved a hand down his now-human body.

“It was modified in some way.  Now, of course I can’t say what the statue originally looked like – I spoke to Rosadella, and she seemed to think it was some sort of abstractly carved individual – but I can theorize it was some sort of religious artifact.”

“That old?” Hal asked.  Religion meant Shapers. 

“Older than the Shapers I reckon.”

Bolaire leaned forward.  “How is that possible?”

Murray shrugged.  “All I can say is what I managed to figure out with judicious use of various spells.  It’s definitely that old.  Now, I can’t say if it was enchanted before or after the Shapers, but the materials it was made from are ancient.”

That…seemed impossible to Hal, but he trusted Murray and her magic.  How did something that old survive when it shattered so easily when dropped?  “Do we know anything about where it was found?”

“I can tell you what the paperwork said,” Bolaire replied.  “That statue was amid a small hoard of objects located in a ruin in Helvar.  It was mostly small objects such as knives, bits of pottery, just the general detritus of any sort of settlement, although a fair bit of  it was magical.  There were also three smaller boxes; two of them checked out.  And then there was the sculpture.”

“Archivist Spiro was happy to share the packing list with me,” Azune said.  “There really wasn’t anything of importance in the collection.”

“There was the skull,” Murray pointed out.

“You mean the skull that was purported to belong to Hrothbart of Bain’s Bridge?” Bolaire scoffed. 

Hal had heard that name, in one of the ballads that he’d read about in a history book.  “He was some sort of really insane magic-user, wasn’t he?”

Bolaire smiled at him.  “That’s correct.  You can imagine our relief when we realized it wasn’t Hrothbart’s at all.”

“It was used to summon something nasty, though.”  Murray seemed quite excited to get her hands on this skull. 

“You are insane,” Bolaire declared.

“But you like me anyway.”

“Are you sure about that?”

While Hal usually enjoyed their back and forth, he really wanted to know more about the artifact. 

And he could tell that Bolaire was trying to put it off a little longer by engaging with Murray.

He supposed he really couldn’t blame his friend.  But they needed information, and Murray had it. 

“Anyway,” Murray went back on topic, “from what I could tell, it was a weird sort of Wish spell.  Once it was used, it would power down.  Then, when it was going to be used again, it would have to be recharged, as it were.”

“That would explain why Rosadella’s bracers failed,” Bolaire added.  “It used their magic to reactivate.”

“Exactly.  They did eventually recharge, so there’s no harm there.”

Bolaire looked relieved.

“Why would anyone create that sort of thing?” Hal asked.  Why would a Wish spell be put into a statue like that?

“I have a theory,” Azune put in, “that this artifact was a part of some sort of ceremony.  They would get a single wish as a reward for something.  I don’t have any proof, but it makes sense in a way,”

“And again, I reiterate,” Bolaire snarked, “I didn’t wish for anything.  Let alone being made human against my will.”

“What was the last thing you thought when you touched the statue?” Murray wanted to know.

“I don’t remember thinking anything,” Bolaire denied.  “The only thing I wanted to do was make certain that Rosadella wasn’t caught in any sort of backlash when the artifact hit the floor.”

Murray and Azune glanced at each other, both obviously confused.  “Then the only thing we can think of,” Azune said slowly, “is that it picked up on some sort of unspoken or unthought wish that you didn’t know you had.”

Bolaire threw up his hands; Hal had watched him get more and more frustrated.  “So, you’re saying you’re back to the original premise of it being an unconscious wish on my part.”

Murray opened her mouth to no doubt say something cutting, but Hal beat her to it.  “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but they’ve done the best they could with a broken artifact.”  He could understand why Bolaire was feeling that way, but he didn’t need to be taking it out on their friends.  “It’s going to be fine, even if we never find out exactly how this happened.”

Bolaire deflated.  “I understand that in my head, but my heart is still…this wasn’t my choice.  I’m changed, and I’m trying to deal with all of this, but it’s hard and I don’t feel like myself and I have to learn so much…”

Before Hal could even open his mouth, Azune was speaking.  “You have been through something no one else here can sympathize with.  But, as difficult as it is, you have to start thinking of this as a good thing.  It’s giving you a new chance, one where you don’t have to outlive everyone, or have to go out and stalk someone for a new body, or worry about one of our enemies finding out your true nature and taking you by force.”  He was up and moving toward Bolaire, going down to one knee in front of the chair.  “And you have people who want to help.  You have Hal, who would do anything for you.  We will support you no matter what.”

Hal watched as Azune reached out, pausing a moment before Bolaire gave a slight nod, and ran his finger down Bolaire’s cheek.  There was a flash of jealousy, which took him by surprise; Azune was good people, and was, in fact, the first person to try to work out a way to help Bolaire in case he was ever injured while in his mask form.  He was as close to being a nephew to him as he could get without being Thjazi’s blood son.

He didn’t get why he felt jealous at Azune’s touching Bolaire.  Before that moment, Hal would have sworn he was the least jealous person in Dol-Makjar.  He’d had relationships with all sorts of people and had never once felt that way when that partner moved on to someone else.

But this…

Azune was just trying to soothe Bolaire, using just the right words to do it.  Hal had done the same.  Azune was a friend, family, and he cared.  It gave him a purpose now that he and Murray had discovered as much as they could.

And he told Bolaire flat out that Hal himself would do anything for him.

Which was correct.

And then Azune’s hand stopped.  He reached up, flicking a strand of Bolaire’s hair out of the way.  “Did the Wish spell give you pierced ears?”

Murray began cackling.  “That’s amazing!  Did you get anything else you’re not sharing?”

The freckles weren’t mentioned.  Hal was not shocked by that.

Bolaire blushed to the roots of his hair.  He scowled at Azune.  “Thank you for pointing that out.  Murray won’t shut up about it now.”

“Damn right!”

Hal grinned.  He hadn’t checked to see if Bolaire had picked any of the earrings he’d offered from Shadia’s jewelry box. 

Looking closer, he could see the onyx teardrop that sat in the ear nearest to him.  “They look wonderful,” he said.  They did, the glossy blackness of the stones almost glowed against the pale lobes and dark red hair. 

“I certainly didn’t wish for that,” Bolaire added.  He twitched away from Azune’s hand, but Hal could see that it was out of embarrassment and not because he was becoming overwhelmed. 

Azune immediately backed off. 

Hal was grateful for that.

He had to admit, Azune’s observation seemed to break the tension in the room.  It also smothered Hal’s brief bout of jealousy, realizing the emotion was illogical and that he didn’t have anything to worry about.  Azune just cared, and Bolaire needed that.

The more people who cared, the better Bolaire might feel about himself.

“We get that you don’t think you wished for this,” Murray said solemnly.  “But, Bolaire…you yourself have said you wanted to find a way to be yourself and not have to steal bodies to exist.  You might not have said it out loud or thought it in the moment, but it’s been on your mind for a while now.  We might never know how the actual statue worked, but it did give you the one thing that set you free from all that murder and chaos.”

“I did want to free of all that,” Bolaire agreed.  “But never did I consider I would be turned human against my will.”

He didn’t sound quite so upset at that.  So, Hal added, “Have you thought that maybe it wasn’t against your will?  That, deep down, this is something you’ve always wanted?”  It had been something that had been at the back of his mind, and now seemed the right time to get it out into the open.

Bolaire opened his mouth to say something, but closed it abruptly.  He looked as if he was considering that.

Hal wanted to think that was true.  That, somewhere in whatever passed for a heart and soul in a sentient mask, that Bolaire had wanted to be mortal.  Bolaire had even said that he was looking forward to growing old with Hal, and that had to mean something, right?

“I guess I never thought about becoming mortal,” he finally said, the words dragged out of him.  “I thought…I’d still be myself, but I could remain awake and aware without needing a body to wear.”

“But Bolaire,” Azune said.  He’d leaned back on his heels, kneeling comfortably despite the armor he had on, just out of arms’ reach of the chair.  “You are yourself.  Just in a different form.”

“He’s right,” Murray replied.  “You’re still the irascible, stuck up, bitchy person we’ve come to trust.”

Bolaire rolled his eyes.  “I still don’t know why I like you.”

Murray snorted, but didn’t say anything.

Hal was smiling, but it was a small thing.  This was a little better than last night, when Bolaire had admitted not feeling like himself anymore.  He could see that his friend still felt the same way, but perhaps he was on his way to accepting that this was just another version of Bolaire Lathalia. 

And it had taken others to help Bolaire to start to straighten that out.

He recalled their conversation this morning, about Bolaire trusting Hal to help him.  He’d been touched by his friend’s faith in him, even though Hal himself had felt completely over his head in this situation.  It had never occurred to him that he would have help in this, despite his and Shadia talking about it over making breakfast. 

And he’d discounted Azune and Murray. 

He should never have done that.

While their emotions toward Bolaire weren’t as deep as Hal’s own, they did care.  And they’d been the ones to first see this new Bolaire, freshly human and unconscious in the Archanade where he’d been working.  Azune had gotten Bolaire home, while Murray had stayed behind and attempted to find answers. 

Hal had help, and he hadn’t even realized it.  He felt a little silly about that.

“I’m afraid there’s something else we need to talk about.”  Azune got back off the floor and went back to the sofa.

“Lady Amariya Cormoray.”  Bolaire sounded offended.

Hal couldn’t blame him.

The Cormoray woman had been onto him to get the entirety of the Lloy Wing moved to the Selodyne Wing.  It was obvious because moving things would be a great cover for theft and, with the interest that she’d shown at least in the Pariah Blades, everyone in their group had automatically assumed at least one of those would ‘go missing’.  Bolaire had been doing his best to delay things; he’d also been siphoning off money from the ‘blank check’ he’d received from Amariya Cormoray to cover the expenses of the relocation in order to move the group’s own plan forward.

Hal had been terrified that Bolaire would be discovered, but so far Cormoray had seemed ignorant of the whole thing.

“Yep,” Murray agreed.  “Like we said before, she was the reason Azune and I couldn’t come by last night.  She’d gotten word of your ‘accident’, Bolaire, and came running.”

“We didn’t give her any information,” Azune said.  “I used my Arcane Marshal status to keep it all from her, stating – in a polite way – that it was none of her business.”

“You shoulda heard him.  ‘It’s Curator Bolaire’s personal business’ and ‘the Guard have rules about giving out private information’ and ‘the investigation is ongoing’.  It was a beautiful piece of work.”

Azune nodded toward Murray, but Hal caught a glimpse of a small blush on the one cheekbone not covered by his birthmark.

“Well done,” Bolaire applauded.  “But,” he sighed, “it looks like I’m going to have to go to the Archanade for a little bit.  I’m certain the moment she gets word that I’m there, she’ll be scampering in.” 

“Can’t it wait?” Hal didn’t want to plead, but he wasn’t above that sort of thing.  “Bolaire, you’re still not quite settled, and I really don’t want you having to face her alone.”  The Sundered Houses were ruthless in their goals, and the very last thing Hal wanted was for his dear friend to step into one of their traps by going back too early.

He left unsaid Bolaire’s panic at stepping back into the world.  He was willing to keep his confidences; it wasn’t Hal’s secret to share.

“He won’t be alone,” Azune said.  “I can go with you, Bolaire.  We can say it’s standard procedure for someone having gone through a magical incident to have an escort for a while, in order to make certain nothing else occurred.  It wouldn’t even be a lie.”

Hal watched Bolaire as he considered his next step.  He was absently nibbling on his lower lip, yet another new gesture he’d somehow gained, his face clearly showing how bothered he was by the very idea of going into work. 

He could truly understand why Bolaire wanted to do this.  Amariya Cormoray was a subtle opponent, and Hal could see her easily taking Bolaire’s absence as an advantage and making yet another move on the Lloy Wing.  While there were some excellent archivists there, Bolaire was the Head Curator, and it was unlikely anyone would stand in the woman’s way if she chose to start the ball rolling on the relocation. 

Damnit, he wished Thaisha was in the city.  Hal could have sicced her on Cormoray and, with Thaisha being a Lloy, there would be a chance they could put to halt to all this. Or at least stalling further.

Finally, Bolaire spoke.  “I don’t see any way out of going.  I could even put myself up as a cautionary tale of messing with dangerous artifacts; that might make her back off a little.”

Hal wouldn’t count on that happening.

He could see that Bolaire didn’t, either.

“I’d like to go as soon as possible,” Bolaire sighed.  “Get it over with.  Maybe put things in motion there so I can stay away for several more days.  There are also rules on the books at the Archanade about those exposed to unknown magic staying in some sort of quarantine.  We can use that to head that Cormoray bitch off at the pass, as it were.”

“Not sure it’ll work quite like that,” Murray pointed out.  “She’s a real piece of work.”

Bolaire shrugged.  “I do have a couple of other things to do…” then, he smirked.  “Like seeing how much of a mess Murray left my workshop in.”

Murray squawked in anger.  “Like I don’t know how to take care of a fancy workshop like that?”

“You most likely left crystal dust all over the floor.”

“I got all that shit up, Bolaire!  You’re a –”

Hal interrupted before the name calling could begin…even though he found them hilarious.  Plus he was happy to see Bolaire acting more like himself.  “Are you sure?” he asked.  He didn’t even bother to hide the worry in his words.

A small part of Hal was wondering if he was hovering too much.  Bolaire had already said he wanted to go, but he couldn’t help but be bothered by the notion of his dear friend moving too fast and setting his recovery back.

Still, Bolaire had always been stronger than he looked.  Hal needed to back off a little and let him take his first steps into the world, and Hal needed to stop the worrying.  Bolaire didn’t need Hal to treat him like he was fragile.

Bolaire smiled at him.  “I’m sure, darling.  I know this change hasn’t been here all that long, but I think I can take care of myself.  And, Azune will be with me.  Who’s going to mess with an Arcane Marshal?” He shrugged.  “I know I come off as a fussy, bitchy asshole, but that’s part of my charm, and it’s time I pulled Bolaire Lathalia back around me.”

Murray snorted.  Bolaire seemed to ignore her.

Still, as much as the two squabbled, Hal knew they were truly fond of each other.  He was willing to bet that Murray had done the best job she knew how to make sure the artifact was inert and just what it was.  It wasn’t her fault that it had been shattered so badly she couldn’t make a firm determination.

And Hal knew that Bolaire didn’t hold that against her.  He just enjoyed teasing her…just as Murray enjoyed teasing him.

“I’ve spent almost a decade at the Archanade.  I would say it’s home for me, except there’s one place that deserves the name more.” 

Hal looked at him fondly, because he knew what Bolaire meant.

“I also want to start getting my life back.  I understand it’s only been a day, but I’m certain the people who work for me would like to see that I’m fine…well, as fine I can be.  If I’m not there bossing them around, they’d get lazy.”

Which wasn’t the case.  Hal knew that as much as anyone. Bolaire wouldn’t have them working for him if they had the tendency to laziness.

“Do you two need to be alone?” Murray inquired sweetly.

Hal gave her the finger without looking away from Bolaire.

Murray cackled.

“When do you want to go?” Azune inquired.

Bolaire closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “Now.”

Hal wanted to jump up and say something to dissuade this trip, to tell Bolaire they weren’t in that much of a hurry, but he honestly couldn’t.  He respected his friend’s autonomy too much to step all over it.

Bolaire’s eyes darted to Hal and seemed to see something in his face, and he nodded in gratitude. 

Then he stood.  “I’m going to change.  I can’t go looking like this.”  He carefully folded up the afghan, placing it on the back of the chair as he’d done before.

“Are you going to be okay wearing your old clothes?” Hal asked.  He could hear Bolaire in his mind, explaining about his new skin’s sensitivity and how his own outfit had rubbed at it uncomfortably.

“I won’t know until I try.”  With that, he headed up the stairs, steps full of purpose. 

Once he was gone, Azune murmured, “Hal, is he fine to go?”

Hal wanted to tell the young man about Bolaire’s fear of going outside, of facing other people and vanishing. 

But he couldn’t.  It wasn’t up to him.  And Bolaire had to have a reason for not saying anything.

“If he says he wants to go,” he answered, “I trust him to know what he can and cannot do.”

“All right.” 

That acceptance was all Hal needed.  He knew that Azune would take care of Bolaire if anything happened. 

Hal still couldn’t help but be worried, though.

And he couldn’t help but wish he could go as well, but that wasn’t possible, not with Amariya Cormoray sniffing around.

**********

Bolaire stared at the clothes he’d been wearing when he’d changed from mask to human.

The black leather and red silk were folded neatly on the dresser, his boots on the floor to the side.  For the longest time, he’d always worn a version of the same thing, and it had suited him. 

His wardrobe had been carefully crafted to hide the fact that he would change bodies, so no one would see any identifying marks that would give the game away.  Bolaire loved the flair of the doublet and hose, the tall boots and belts and the corset he wore underneath it all.  The last body he’d been wearing hadn’t quite been near decomposing, but there was suddenly something…he didn’t want to get this new body dirty.

Had that been why these clothes had been irritating to him after he’d changed to human?

No.

Bolaire had been fastidious about his body’s cleanliness.  It had been a necessity.  In fact, he’d cleaned himself just before putting these clothes on, so there hadn’t been anything that would have dirtied his outfit.

It was strange that he was only thinking about this now.  He’d gone all his existence with these same routines.  Why would this only concern him now?

All you’d wanted to do was have a life of your own…

That was his own mental voice. 

At least  it wasn’t Thjazi this time.

Shaking his head to clear it, Bolaire began to remove his current clothing, laying it neatly on the bed.  He ran a finger down the shirt, smiling slightly at it, then turned toward his own clothes.

He didn’t bother with the corset.  That would be asking too much of his new body.  Slowly, he pulled on the hose – which bothered the fine hairs on his legs, but it was handleable.  The doublet was a little tight, the sleeves close, with cuffs even closer to his wrists. 

The boots were last.  They were the easiest to wear, and he still quite liked the look of them.

He left the gloves.  Bolaire had grown fond of feeling the touch of things, and he didn’t want to fully cut himself off from that.

The clothes didn’t feel quite as constraining as Bolaire had thought they were.  Yes, various bits were a little irritating against new skin, but it was something he thought he could deal with for the time he’d be at that Archanade.

Being human was your punishment.

He ignored that voice; it wasn’t saying anything Bolaire didn’t already know.  He made his way downstairs.  Three pairs of eyes glanced toward him.  “It still suits you,” Murray remarked.

Bolaire ran his hands down his doublet.  He…might have to agree with her, but he also couldn’t see going back to the exact same wardrobe.  He would have to get new clothes made that weren’t quite so binding, but he’d worry about that later.

He didn’t want to bring on another panic by even considering it.  Knowing he was going out today was bad enough. 

Hal looked very concerned, but he didn’t say anything.  Bolaire was grateful for it, even though he recognized that anything his dear friend might say would only be out of caring. 

He wanted to hug him for being so thoughtful, and yet leaving any sort of decision to Bolaire himself.  It was why he loved Hal.

Azune also looked concerned, but Bolaire thought it might have more to do with what they could be facing than anything else.  Bolaire…should warn him about the panic attacks, he deserved to know what he might see as they head toward the Archanade. 

He wasn’t about to lie, to prove that damned voice correct.

Bolaire wished it would go away and leave him alone.  He had no idea why it had just started tormenting him, but it could fuck right off.

“I should probably admit,” he said slowly, “that the idea of going outside makes me feel…” He swallowed; was that some sort of something in his throat?  What was that? 

It felt like…fear?  Could fear cause this sort of reaction? 

Yes, Bolaire decided.  It could.

“Hal and I talked about it,” he went on after clearing his throat a little, “and I think he’s on the right track.  I’m so used to being noticed that I’m almost afraid of not being noticed, if that make sense…”

“You’re afraid of not only fading into a crowd, but fading away completely,” Azune observed.

“I think Azune put it better than I did,” Hal said dryly.

“And you’re supposed to be a well-renown bard,” Murray quipped.

Azune shrugged.  “I can sort of understand it,” he admitted.

Bolaire knew there was a story behind that, but it felt rude to inquire.

“If at any time you feel you want to return here,” Azune added, “all you have to do to is say so.  There’s no judgement.”

Taking a deep breath, Bolaire nodded.  He was grateful that Azune was going with him; he didn’t think he could go on his own.

Really, though, he wished Hal was the one accompanying him.  That was impossible, however; Amariya Cormoray has asked after Hal, if Bolaire had known him.  He wasn’t about to put his friend in danger by insisting it be Hal being there.

He met Hal’s eyes.  They were still worried, but there was something else there that Bolaire really didn’t want to think about.

Not right now.

Later.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll get us a coach.”  Azune was out the door before Bolaire could even agree to the idea.

“Bolaire.”

Hal had come to stand in front of him. 

“If she does show up –”

“I’m fairly certain she will.”  If she did have a person within the Archanade…which Bolaire wasn’t sure of but pretty highly suspected.

“Don’t let her get to you.”

“Hal.”  That warm feeling was back again.  “You don’t think I can irritate her first?” He said it playfully, trying to put him at ease.

It seemed to work, judging by the chuckle he received.  Hal put a hand on Bolaire’s neck, cupping his head.  “I have faith in you. Go kick ass.”

It was just like many a time when Hal would touch Bolaire’s true self, in a show that he didn’t care for any sort of curse.  It was a gesture of comfort, and Bolaire had always felt a little blessed by the simple touch.  It was a reminder that he was part of Hal’s family, that he was Hal’s, even if Hal hadn’t meant it that way.  He’d reveled in every single one of those caresses.

Bolaire barked a laugh at Hal’s comment about kicking ass.  Then, he turned his head a little and pressed a light kiss into Hal’s palm.

He couldn’t say why he did it.  He wasn’t the one to make the first move like that.  It had just seemed like the right thing to do.  He could feel his face heating up again – damned pale complexion! – as he backed away.

Hal looked flustered, his mouth dropped open a little.  His cheeks were a darker green than usual.

It was a good look on him.  Perhaps Bolaire should try to make that happen again sometime.

Murray was making this happy, wheezing noise. 

“You sound like a horse with consumption,” Bolaire commented tetchily.  He was secretly quite amused and would have to remember that sound as possible blackmail material for later.

Before Murray could retort, Azune was back in the house, and he was glancing between Murray and Bolaire with amusement in his multi-colored eyes.  “Did I miss something?”

“I think I’ll wear the cloak Spiro managed to steal from someone,” Bolaire declared, ignoring the question.  “Then I can get my own from my office.”  He went to fetch it from the hook by the door.

“The coach is waiting,” Azune said.

“Wait,” Hal called out.

Bolaire flipped the cloak around his shoulders as his friend moved toward him.  Hal laid his hand back where it was before, but this time there was a warm, tingling sensation that spread from where Hal’s palm cupped his face all through Bolaire’s body.

Bardic Inspiration had never felt that strong before.  Had it always been like that?

Then Hal stepped away.  “You distracted me before.”  The faint flush was still there, but it was fading a little. 

“That certainly wasn’t the intention.”

“Are you sure?”

Bolaire was pretty certain that hadn’t been what he’d set out to do.  He really didn’t even know why he’d kissed Hal.  It had been an impulse. 

He needed to think about that.

Azune cleared his throat.

Bolaire looked at him.  His expression was a little confused, but his eyes were sparkling.  “The coach is here,” he repeated.

Taking a deep breath, Bolaire pulled the hood up over his head.  “Then let’s get this shit over with.”

He felt his hands begin to shake the closer he got toward the door.  His heart began to speed up, as did his breathing.  He stopped just as he put his foot over the threshold, the smell of jasmine in his nostrils, the singing of birds familiar to his ears.  It was a usual cloudy day but, as Bolaire stood there, a beam of sunlight streamed through a hole in the grey, dazzling his eyes a little bit.

The coach was waiting just beyond the walkway, out on the road.  It was a closed conveyance, which made Bolaire pitifully glad.  He lifted a foot to move forward, but it was as if his body wasn’t under his control any longer.

This was…

Was this how the people he’d worn had felt?  Not being able to move, to do anything for themselves?

You were a predator.  Of course they were helpless to you.

“I’m right here.”  Azune’s calm voice said in his ear.  “You aren’t alone.”

Bolaire took a shuddering breath.  He wasn’t alone. 

There was so much of him that was furious at this.  He was panicking for no reason whatsoever.  It was a short walk to the coach, then he could get inside and go to the Archanade.  It wouldn’t take him long at all. 

Why was this such a big deal?

He was stronger than this!

“It’s all right, dear.”

It was Hal’s voice this time. 

He must have come to the door and had seen what was happening.  Bolaire’s face got hot again, but this was in shame.  He didn’t want anyone to see him like this!

This is punishment.  You are weak.

“You are the same person you were when you went into work yesterday morning,” Hal was saying.  “You might have a new body, but it’s your thoughts and memories and actions that are the same.  You are Bolaire Lathalia, Curator of the Lloy Wing of the Archanade, and you will give shit to anyone who disrespects you.  You can do this, just as you can do anything that needs to be done.”

Hal was right.  He just needed to get a hold of himself and do this.

“I’m all right,” he growled, shame turning back into anger.  With a will power that had gotten him through finding  himself and making a new life, he took his first step out into the world.

Then another.

And another.

And then after several more he was at the door of the coach, Azune opening it for him. 

Bolaire climbed inside, taking a seat and wrapping the cloak about himself.  Azune joined him, and the coach was off toward the Archanade. 

“You look seriously pissed off,” Azune observed.

Bolaire had to wonder what his expression was like. “I am. Hal was correct; I am still myself.  Just because I may look different doesn’t mean my own person has changed.”

Azune didn’t say anything to that, but Bolaire could see his approval.

He was leaving Bolaire to his thoughts, and for that Bolaire was grateful.  His hands were still shaking, and his heartbeat was still fast, but he was more angrier than panicked. 

Hal was correct.  He was Bolaire Lathalia, that had not changed.  He still didn’t quite feel like himself, but that was because he wasn’t.  He was different, and he couldn’t go back.

No, he wouldn’t go back.

Because, despite the changes, his identity was the same.  Hal had told him so, and Bolaire knew he was right.  He just had to get his mind wrapped around that fact. 

Perhaps going to the Archanade, seeing his archivists, and giving Amariya Cormoray what for would put more of a pin into Bolaire’s need to be himself. 

Then he could move on.

You truly think you can move on?

Fin