On the eve hours of the waning half moon, cusping the time to reboard the Great Achilles, the Beastial Sanctuary is overcome with a sudden, inexplicable cold snap. Trees are covered with the icy cold bite of hail and snow. Woodland creatures retreat to their burrows and warm caves alike to take shelter from the harshness. Everyone was expecting the summer to arrive with breezy air along with roadside trips to sea level for a weeklong vacation.
Instead, anyone that isn’t built for extreme colds are forced to take cover in their homes, piling on every single snowstorm technique they could recall. In the cabin at Tablet Lake, the trio are faring in various levels of stability.
For Vortex, this sudden snap is incredibly unpleasant. Approaching the waxing half moon has left her with enough fur to provide a decent layer of protection. Coming from the islands, though, her exposure to frosty tundra weather is minimal, if nonexistent. She has opted to bundle up with three to four levels of blankets available in her room. She shivers as she nestles deeper into the duvets. A hot cocoa is nursed in her hands poking out from the confines.
With Axle, their metal is able to absorb the temperatures with no complaints. They were brought inside to rest aside the werewolf’s doorway. Right now, they are sleeping, their murky black slit for an eye shut in a peaceful manner. The two raised their concerns about needing to brave the storm for the mission- Axle piped up beforehand to set their minds at ease by informing them of being attuned to the moonstone’s peak attainment. ‘When the moon has risen far enough to beam down on the gate, I will let you know. Save your strength in the meantime,’ they said prior to shutting their eyelid. When it comes to Nebula…
Currently, the cosmic siren is desperately trying to run the water as steaming hot as it can get. With the plumbing being far from the outskirts of the nearby village, though, the pipes strain to maintain the heat for long. She has stuffed the cracks of the door with dirty shower towels. Submerging her form helps to keep her scales from crackling into dry pieces. Breathing in hot water is a challenge; think of trying to use a humidifier as an oxygen tank. She re-emerges with a gasp. She is in between a coral and a current- either suck up the uncomfortable air to stay warm, or brave the outside cold to breathe easier.
Soon, the water cools once more, and the young siren whines. Might as well throw in the bath towel. She drains the water by pulling the plug and quickly reaches for the cloth to dry herself off of any excess liquid. Nebula exits the bathroom, chattering her sharp teeth from the frigid air. The cabin is considerably warmer than the outside, which has ten centimeters of snow built up. She takes a look out of the small crack in the windows. The lake is fully frozen over. No go on that. She checks the closet to see if there are any extra blankets she can wrap herself in. Unfortunately, all that is left are thin sheets designed for summer weather. Vortex took all of them. What should she do?
Heading over to Vortex’s front door, she raps her knuckles gently on the wood. “Can I come in?” she asks. A gentle ‘boof’ gives her permission, pushing it open. Vortex shivers from the sudden wave of air filling the space. All Nebula can see from the werewolf is her protruding snout as the spectrum of colorful covers cocoon her as if she were a caterpillar in their chrysalis. She sees Vortex’s clawed hands holding tightly to an unfamiliar light brown drink. “What do you have there?”
“Hot chocolate,” Vortex answers. “And before you freak out: I can handle chocolate just fine at this stage. The worst it gives me is stomach troubles.” The werewolf sips at the concoction, sighing out in satisfaction. “It keeps my body warm.” She offers the mug to her amphibious friend. “Want a sip?” “Yes, thank you,” Nebula accepts, taking the piping hot mug off of her hands. She observes the decorations on the ceramic- it appears to be a ‘merry go round’ horse carousel decoration. Bright colorful bridles and white equines. A shiver goes down her fin spine. After the Headless Horseman? Never again. She takes a swig of the drink, letting the flavors melt into her mouth. Something certainly sweet, but smooth. The consistency feels reminiscent of the hot underwater volcano cream the sailors would collect. She is still not over how on Terrania, volcanic activity is dangerous and can lead to death. One planet’s sweet treat is another’s bitter end…
“How are you holding up?” the werewolf asks.
“Terrible,” Nebula replies. “The bath water wasn’t hot for long enough. Felt like I was baking myself in there rather than keeping warm- and breathing in it was even worse.”
“Sounds rough,” Vortex says. “Wish there was more I could do for you.”
“... actually,” she starts, passing the drink back into the werewolf’s furred palms. “I came here to ask for your help. In… staying warm.” Vortex tilts her head, lending an ear. “What do you need?” Nebula goes quiet. She turns her face away, covering her mouth with a curled fist. “I’m sorry. But when I first met you and you got me to Priestess after the Horseman battle… even in my near death, I couldn’t stop thinking about how warm your fur was.” She uses her frilly ears to cover her eyes. “And when I look at you, I can’t help but want to reach out and give your head a little touch.”
Vortex gazes into the swirling hot chocolate, finding no reflection but in her inner mind. She experiences what early humans did when they first met their canine allies? The overwhelming urge to pet and befriend them? Companionship will bring about curiosity. The snowstorm rages on, howling harder than her own lungs are capable of.
Perhaps, just this once, she shall indulge Nebula’s curiosity.
“Very well,” Vortex says. She unfurls the blanket mound to make space for the siren to wiggle in. “But hurry. I need to preserve my body heat.”
Nebula flips her ears away to see if what Vortex has accepted was so. Swiftly swimming into the spot, she settles inside, feeling the comforting warmth of the cloth wrapping around her. Her body’s natural repulsion to the ground makes her float a couple of centimeters off of the bed. Her tail curls around the werewolf’s legs.“You also took all of the blankets,” she complains from inside the cozy cove.
“Right,” Vortex says, her face warming up in embarrassment. She was banking on the bath idea to work out for Nebula. Oh well.
Nebula tentatively wraps her arms around the werewolf’s waist. With no waist satchel in the way, she can feel the silky fur and muscle underneath. Vortex flinches at the siren’s touch, scooting away briefly.
“Is- is this not okay?” Nebula quietly lets out.
“No, no, you’re fine,” Vortex reassures. “It’s… I’ve got my own problems to figure out."
Nebula frowns and doesn't try to hug again, tucking her arms across her chest to preserve her own warmth. While she cannot see the werewolf’s eyes from her vantage point, Vortex’s face does drop. A silence hangs between them as the only sound occupying the space is the sleety winds raging outdoors.
Vortex takes this quiet to reflect, swishing her halfway done hot chocolate in the mug. The mission is to get Nebula back home to her family. She has a place where she belongs. People already treat her with the utmost respect when she passes through the markets with Garriz if his stories are to be believed. She’s never truly alone, nor has reason to be lonely. So, why is it that she can smell isolation on the siren? Is this Vortex’s own doing? Has she tried so hard to maintain a respectable distance from the girl that it has created a freezing gap, colder than any low pressure snap could throw at them? As the siren from outer space shares the blankets, looking elsewhere, Vortex has to reckon with being responsible for this loneliness. She already has to deal with it as the outcast lone wolf mildly tolerated by even further outliers of monsters she calls friendly.
Why is she running away from her? Why can’t she let Nebula in?
She knows why.
She doesn’t want to be hurt again.
The promise of looking out for her, yet betraying that trust the moment she needs help in her darkest hour. Yet, this is what she chooses. To be a coward and leave Nebula to confront the dangers of this world with nothing more than a mere statue given instructions to keep her safe.
Vortex can’t betray the siren like she has been in the past. She has to break this cycle of arms-length aid, and let her in. It could hurt, but life brings pain as much as it can bring and offer beauty.
Maneuvering carefully, Vortex takes a free hand to curl around Nebula’s back. She feels the strange slickness of her spine frills and her fingers jolt in surprise from the unexpected texture. She resettles by cupping the right side of Nebula’s back shoulder blade. Gently, she pushes Nebula’s head into her thick, lion mane-esque chest, resting the top of her chin on the girl’s tenchilles. “You’re a good siren, and a good ally,” she musters up. She takes another gulp of hot chocolate to calm her mind down.
“I’m sorry. For not being the best partner. From here on out, I swear I’ll try to do my best to make this journey less lonely.”
Nebula looks up at Vortex and doesn't say much at first. She averts her gaze again, smiling earnestly. "Thank you…" She rests a little against Vortex's chest, arms still tucked into her chest to give Vortex the requisite space.
The hours pass in peace. The werewolf ends up sleeping upright, her soft breath puffing out as wisps of frosty air. Then the film of calm is broken when Axle’s blade rattles against the doorway. The moonstone belt sitting on the nightstand sets alight. The two gems floating hum loudly, signaling the time is nigh. Axle cuts through Vortex’s unconscious dream state with, ‘you need to wake up’. She awakes with a shock, her sweat trailing down her face.
‘Vortex,’ Axle starts. ‘We need to move.’ She yawns, stretching her limbs out. The movement wakes the siren, shifting her figure to straighten her tail spine. “Mnngh,” she mumbles out. “Is it time?”
“Yeah,” Vortex confirms. She dons her waist satchel and belt, taking extra care into guarding her face from being seen. She cracks the door open to take a hold of Axle. Her helmet is summoned, enshrouding her face in its magic properties. The recent addition of the titanium chestplate covers her torso. ‘Do not forget my holster,’ Axle reminds the she-wolf. She hums in acknowledgement, walking forward to face the front door of the cabin. Axle’s worn leather holster is hung on the coat hanger. She slings it over her shoulder with her right hand and sheathes them with her left. “Ready to go?” she asks Nebula, craning her head to look back at the siren. “Yeah. Let’s get to the village and catch the conductor off guard.”
Vortex turns the knob, opening the door to the frozen wasteland. The two step onto the porch, then audibly gasp at the sight that lay before them.
"What the…?" Nebby whispers in quiet shock.