we have a complex relationship with our sisters and our cousins

[dark_light]

Amariah is starting a circle in her yard - minting and enchanting can pull heavier duty than witchcraft, and faster, too, but they won't scale unless she wants to hand out copies of her trump cards; novel spells will, since there are many witches across the globe.

And then Jane asks if she wants to be visited, by Juliet's Sherlock - Minus - and Amariah's reply is "Sure, I could take a break." Because she's been at this for a while now and was just about to wish a crick out of her back for the second time this afternoon.

She puts down her pitcher of oil and waits for him to appear.

Comments

[dark_light]

"It's true," Amariah agrees. "Well, at least compared to the people who have daemons. I'm not sure about compared to people with - interior souls."

[eversomuchfun]

"Then perhaps you could try talking to me."

[dark_light]

"All you said was hugs," says Amariah. "That could in fact be the only thing we can do, but we'd be more confident of that if you had a daemon and she said it."

[eversomuchfun]

"Hugs may not be the only thing that can help, but they are the only thing I am comfortable asking of you, particularly in the context of returning me to Juliet undamaged. I am not a mislabeled parcel."

[dark_light]

"I know you're not a mislabeled parcel," says Amariah softly. "There are other reasons not to want you damaged."

[eversomuchfun]

"Oh, yes," he says, sitting down in the grass. "You'll find that Sherlocks are unusually sensitive to the implication that we are only valuable by proxy, because under the covers most of us believe it as a literal truth. I lost most of that nonsense with my soul, but either a little of it has snuck back in or it returns under sufficient stress."

[dark_light]

"Sorry," says Amariah. "I didn't know that. It was a bad joke." She sits down too.

[eversomuchfun]

He hugs her again.

"Well, now you are informed."

[dark_light]

Hugs.

[eversomuchfun]

Definitely hugs.

[dark_light]

Time wears on.

Six days have gone by without a flicker from Jane.

The house is quiet, its occupants asleep.

[eversomuchfun]

Sherlock is asleep, too. He managed to fess up about needing to do it uninterrupted.

So when a small furry spotted creature appears curled up on his pillow, he is startled enough to wake up, and therefore so is she.



"Well," says Sherlock.

"Fuck," says his daemon.

He snorts.

[dark_light]

In the next room, Amariah sits up in her hammock.

[...Sherlock?]

[eversomuchfun]

By way of answer, he conferences his daemon into the call.

[You'll never guess what just happened,] she says brightly.

[dark_light]

[Your wish wore off. I woke up from a sudden lack of zombie-sensation in the vicinity. Damn. Um, hi, Sherlock's daemon.]

[What are you?] Path wants to know.

[eversomuchfun]

[A genet, apparently,] says Sherlock's daemon. [How marvellously obscure.]

"Merciful fuck, you're more sarcastic than I am," says Sherlock. "I'm not sure I believe it."

[dark_light]

[Have you got a name?] Path asks.

[eversomuchfun]

[Not inherently. Perhaps 'Subtrahend',] she snorts.

[dark_light]

[That's cute,] says Amariah.

[eversomuchfun]

[Isn't it just?] says Subtrahend.

[dark_light]

[Precious. Well, I'm through with recreational sleeping now, I wasn't even having any interesting dreams.]

[eversomuchfun]

[Alas,] says Sherlock.

[dark_light]

[Rather. Are you going back to sleep or can I have a look at Subtrahend?]

[eversomuchfun]

[No, by all means, come and visit.]

[dark_light]

Amariah slips out of her hammock and visits.