Writerverse: Mini Table of DOOM! (Creepy crawlies)
More The Church and Its Orbs. Enjoy!
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Alone, I sit on a bench under a tree in the garden behind Wren’s house. Shadows dapple the wooden and wrought iron bench, which has been deliberately designed to look older than it is. Wind tries to turn the pages of the history textbook perched on my lap -- while I was required to give all my books back when I was expelled, I stole one of Wren’s. She didn’t seem to be interested in using it.
The windy weather isn’t ideal for reading. Still, I’d rather not spend time inside Wren’s house, not after that awkward conversation we had. Loneliness permeates everything inside -- while Wren and I are close physically, the emotional distance between us just grows every day. It’s worse than before when I admired her from afar -- now that I’ve known at least her friendship, losing that cuts deeper than I thought possible.
A daddy long-legs crawls onto my book, skittering across the words. “Are you interested in our history, too?” I murmur. Something’s wrong when I’m lonely enough to talk to a spider.
“Gemma, are you talking to that -- that sp-spider?” Brandon’s shaky voice interrupts my thoughts.
Reluctant, I turn to look at him -- his eyes are wide, and he actually trembles. I lean over and hold the textbook so it hovers close to the ground. When I shake it, the spider scoots off my book and onto the ground, the grass obscuring it. Brandon sighs with obvious relief. I clamp my textbook shut and place it on the bench beside me.
“What are you doing out here?” I mutter.
“Can I -- talk to you?” he murmurs, his voice hesitant. He fidgets with his hands, flexing his fingers over and over. Worry flows off him, making me worried.
“Alright,” I say, sliding over so there’s room on the bench.
Brandon sits down beside me and folds his hands in his lap. “It’s -- about Wren.”
My stomach sinks. “What about her?”
“You know those awful ‘pure mate auctions?’” he sighs.
Hearing that, my stomach sinks lower. He can’t mean Wren’s been chosen -- right? While our school did decide to hold on, Wren wasn’t chosen -- as far as I know.
“What about the auctions?” I say.
“You know how our school decided to hold a pure mate auction?” he says, staring at the ground.
I nod, my stomach sinking yet lower.
“We’ve known for a while,” he says. “But Wren didn’t get chosen, even though she’s a purple orb from a good family -- probably her history of rebellious behavior. One of the girls had to drop out, though -- and Wren’s the alternate.”
“You can’t be serious,” I gasp. Nausea roils my ever-sinking stomach, and I clamp my mouth shut to keep the bile down.
He shakes his head -- his hands blur as he flexes his fingers. “I’m afraid I am serious.”
This doesn’t need to become a disaster -- that’s what I tell myself, anyway. “Can’t you bid on her, then?” I try to smile.
“I can’t,” he murmurs.
“Why in the name of darkest oblivion can’t you bid on your own girlfriend?” I say, glaring at him.
“The auction’s next week -- and I manipulated the system to have my Testing Ceremony two weeks from now,” he says.
I put a hand on my hip. “That was stupid -- can’t you just manipulate it again? You’re a god, after all,” I mutter.
Yet again, Brandon shakes his head. “It’ll look too suspicious -- I don’t want to get caught,” he says.
A growl emerges from deep in my throat, and I glare at Brandon hard enough I feel like I could set him aflame, though I don’t have that kind of power. “Is everyone I know an oblivion-damned coward?” I say. If Brandon’s craven and Kai’s enough of a drunk to get himself kidnapped, I wonder what the other gods are like. I hope they’re more competent than my friends -- and myself.
“I know I’m a coward,” Brandon says.
“No wonder you and Wren get along so well,” I mutter, unable to stop myself.
He flinches, but, then, he nods. “You might be right, but -- I’m not happy about this auction, either,” he says.
“There’d be something wrong with you if you were,” I mutter. “Do you -- know if it’s just students at our school who’re allowed to bid?”
Brandon nods again. “It is.”
“I was going to suggest Riley bid on her if it was open to everyone,” I say. The officer is much too old for a Second School girl, but he’s our ally and wouldn’t try anything funny with her. I’m sure he would be glad to help -- if he could.
That elicits the smallest of smiles from him. “That’d be something,” he murmurs.
The idea of Wren onstage in a fancy gown spouting insipid garbage to get someone to buy her makes my skin crawl, as if a hundred spiders scampered across my skin, only I would prefer the spiders. Sure, Wren’s date can’t expect sex, but the idea still discomfits me.
“Do you think Wren might have some idea of how to get out this?” I ask, though I don’t hold much hope for that, if she didn’t even tell me she’d been chosen.
“Not unless she wants to disgrace herself,” Brandon sighs.
“And I know she doesn’t want to do that,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“She doesn’t,” he says, “or she would have refused already.”
If someone had asked the Wren of the past to do something like this, she would have refused and possibly drowned the asker in sarcasm. At least, that’s what I imagine the Wren of old would have done. The new Wren? She seems more likely to smile and agree to whatever humiliation people require of her.
“There has to be some way to get her out of this,” I hiss, my hands balling into fists. This new version of my friend may not even be my friend anymore, but I can’t abandon her.
“I’m at a loss,” Brandon says. When he glances at me, his eyes appear as dull as Wren’s did.
Thinking of the dull eyes on my two companions, something boils in my chest. My fists tighten, enough that my nails dig into my palms.
Out of nowhere, brightness overtakes me. “Wren’s allergic to almonds, right?” I say, remembering an incident from the very textbook I had been reading.
“What?” Brandon’s brow creases.
“We can feed her almonds before she goes onstage -- if she’s breaking out in a horrible rash, they can’t auction her off,” I say.
He frowns, clearly not liking my idea. “Won’t that be incredibly dangerous?”
I wave my hand in what I hope’s a reassuring gesture. “She’s not that allergic -- it’ll just make her temporarily uncomfortable and ugly,” I say.
“What if we get caught?” he asks. His hands start fidgeting.
“I’ll lie -- say I thought she was allergic to walnuts instead of almonds. Or else -- I can say it was because I’m secretly in love with and didn’t want anybody betting on her,” I say.
Brandon’s eyes almost fall out of his head. “What?” he gasps.
A huge grin stretches across my face. “It’d make a perfect lie -- after all, I need something to make me eligible for Harmony, right? Diana, Jocelyn and Riley even said a public confession would be best, remember? If I sabotage Wren’s auction and publicly say I’m in love with her in front of the whole auction crowd, it’ll show everyone I’m a sed in desperate need of reform.”
He doesn’t have to know how that might not actually be a lie.
“Wren would never agree to this,” Brandon says.
My grin doesn’t falter. “Who says she has to know?”
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Alone, I sit on a bench under a tree in the garden behind Wren’s house. Shadows dapple the wooden and wrought iron bench, which has been deliberately designed to look older than it is. Wind tries to turn the pages of the history textbook perched on my lap -- while I was required to give all my books back when I was expelled, I stole one of Wren’s. She didn’t seem to be interested in using it.
The windy weather isn’t ideal for reading. Still, I’d rather not spend time inside Wren’s house, not after that awkward conversation we had. Loneliness permeates everything inside -- while Wren and I are close physically, the emotional distance between us just grows every day. It’s worse than before when I admired her from afar -- now that I’ve known at least her friendship, losing that cuts deeper than I thought possible.
A daddy long-legs crawls onto my book, skittering across the words. “Are you interested in our history, too?” I murmur. Something’s wrong when I’m lonely enough to talk to a spider.
“Gemma, are you talking to that -- that sp-spider?” Brandon’s shaky voice interrupts my thoughts.
Reluctant, I turn to look at him -- his eyes are wide, and he actually trembles. I lean over and hold the textbook so it hovers close to the ground. When I shake it, the spider scoots off my book and onto the ground, the grass obscuring it. Brandon sighs with obvious relief. I clamp my textbook shut and place it on the bench beside me.
“What are you doing out here?” I mutter.
“Can I -- talk to you?” he murmurs, his voice hesitant. He fidgets with his hands, flexing his fingers over and over. Worry flows off him, making me worried.
“Alright,” I say, sliding over so there’s room on the bench.
Brandon sits down beside me and folds his hands in his lap. “It’s -- about Wren.”
My stomach sinks. “What about her?”
“You know those awful ‘pure mate auctions?’” he sighs.
Hearing that, my stomach sinks lower. He can’t mean Wren’s been chosen -- right? While our school did decide to hold on, Wren wasn’t chosen -- as far as I know.
“What about the auctions?” I say.
“You know how our school decided to hold a pure mate auction?” he says, staring at the ground.
I nod, my stomach sinking yet lower.
“We’ve known for a while,” he says. “But Wren didn’t get chosen, even though she’s a purple orb from a good family -- probably her history of rebellious behavior. One of the girls had to drop out, though -- and Wren’s the alternate.”
“You can’t be serious,” I gasp. Nausea roils my ever-sinking stomach, and I clamp my mouth shut to keep the bile down.
He shakes his head -- his hands blur as he flexes his fingers. “I’m afraid I am serious.”
This doesn’t need to become a disaster -- that’s what I tell myself, anyway. “Can’t you bid on her, then?” I try to smile.
“I can’t,” he murmurs.
“Why in the name of darkest oblivion can’t you bid on your own girlfriend?” I say, glaring at him.
“The auction’s next week -- and I manipulated the system to have my Testing Ceremony two weeks from now,” he says.
I put a hand on my hip. “That was stupid -- can’t you just manipulate it again? You’re a god, after all,” I mutter.
Yet again, Brandon shakes his head. “It’ll look too suspicious -- I don’t want to get caught,” he says.
A growl emerges from deep in my throat, and I glare at Brandon hard enough I feel like I could set him aflame, though I don’t have that kind of power. “Is everyone I know an oblivion-damned coward?” I say. If Brandon’s craven and Kai’s enough of a drunk to get himself kidnapped, I wonder what the other gods are like. I hope they’re more competent than my friends -- and myself.
“I know I’m a coward,” Brandon says.
“No wonder you and Wren get along so well,” I mutter, unable to stop myself.
He flinches, but, then, he nods. “You might be right, but -- I’m not happy about this auction, either,” he says.
“There’d be something wrong with you if you were,” I mutter. “Do you -- know if it’s just students at our school who’re allowed to bid?”
Brandon nods again. “It is.”
“I was going to suggest Riley bid on her if it was open to everyone,” I say. The officer is much too old for a Second School girl, but he’s our ally and wouldn’t try anything funny with her. I’m sure he would be glad to help -- if he could.
That elicits the smallest of smiles from him. “That’d be something,” he murmurs.
The idea of Wren onstage in a fancy gown spouting insipid garbage to get someone to buy her makes my skin crawl, as if a hundred spiders scampered across my skin, only I would prefer the spiders. Sure, Wren’s date can’t expect sex, but the idea still discomfits me.
“Do you think Wren might have some idea of how to get out this?” I ask, though I don’t hold much hope for that, if she didn’t even tell me she’d been chosen.
“Not unless she wants to disgrace herself,” Brandon sighs.
“And I know she doesn’t want to do that,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“She doesn’t,” he says, “or she would have refused already.”
If someone had asked the Wren of the past to do something like this, she would have refused and possibly drowned the asker in sarcasm. At least, that’s what I imagine the Wren of old would have done. The new Wren? She seems more likely to smile and agree to whatever humiliation people require of her.
“There has to be some way to get her out of this,” I hiss, my hands balling into fists. This new version of my friend may not even be my friend anymore, but I can’t abandon her.
“I’m at a loss,” Brandon says. When he glances at me, his eyes appear as dull as Wren’s did.
Thinking of the dull eyes on my two companions, something boils in my chest. My fists tighten, enough that my nails dig into my palms.
Out of nowhere, brightness overtakes me. “Wren’s allergic to almonds, right?” I say, remembering an incident from the very textbook I had been reading.
“What?” Brandon’s brow creases.
“We can feed her almonds before she goes onstage -- if she’s breaking out in a horrible rash, they can’t auction her off,” I say.
He frowns, clearly not liking my idea. “Won’t that be incredibly dangerous?”
I wave my hand in what I hope’s a reassuring gesture. “She’s not that allergic -- it’ll just make her temporarily uncomfortable and ugly,” I say.
“What if we get caught?” he asks. His hands start fidgeting.
“I’ll lie -- say I thought she was allergic to walnuts instead of almonds. Or else -- I can say it was because I’m secretly in love with and didn’t want anybody betting on her,” I say.
Brandon’s eyes almost fall out of his head. “What?” he gasps.
A huge grin stretches across my face. “It’d make a perfect lie -- after all, I need something to make me eligible for Harmony, right? Diana, Jocelyn and Riley even said a public confession would be best, remember? If I sabotage Wren’s auction and publicly say I’m in love with her in front of the whole auction crowd, it’ll show everyone I’m a sed in desperate need of reform.”
He doesn’t have to know how that might not actually be a lie.
“Wren would never agree to this,” Brandon says.
My grin doesn’t falter. “Who says she has to know?”