Small cages on nearby desks and towering cages on the ground glint faintly when Colton’s pocket flashlight shines around the room. A chill sends a faint tremble down his spine.

“What…are they, though?” Colton shakes his head, correcting himself. “Who are they?”

Some of the beings around look human enough, Colton supposes, but he can’t help feeling as if there is more to this situation than what meets the eye. On one side, he hears almost animal like noises of chirps and hissing and growls. Somewhere above he hears soft singing almost sounding like birdsong, chirps and whistles. The other side has almost human like noises of trying to muffle cries and panicked breathing and barely whispered curses. Somewhere in the middle of the room, there’s whimpers of pain and fear and Colton can’t tell if it’s human or animal. Something further back tries to hoarsely mimic human speech.

Reaching to begin unlock the cage closest to him, Colton’s flashlight clatters to the ground when he feels something — and he’s not sure if it’s claws, fingers, talons, or something in between — successfully reach for him and snag the fabric of his sleeve before something sharp pierces his skin. The light beam from his flashlight now catches a pair of eyes eerily reflecting the light similar to the way that cats’ eyes do, and the revealed teeth resemble fangs in the dim lighting.

The noise that Colton gives in reply is somewhere between startled and curious. If anything, the grip tightens even more when he does. Colton thinks he hears a garbled sort of tick tock from the creature, before a curved fingernail or claw points at him.

Being a clock spirit often means having connections that others don’t – and not just with people, but time itself.

It means that straying too far from this particular clock tower both intrigues and exhausts Colton; it means that his home, his shelter, his tomb, is the very thing that he wants to run from so he can see more of the outside world that he has heard so much about. It means that the flow of time is almost tangible to him in ways other than adding wrinkles or strands of silver gray hair, looking like beautiful golden threads in between his fingers and delicately resting on his skin or sand clenched between trembling fists.

Briefly, he thinks about Udyati and how she mentions connections being like threads. Colton wonders if she meant like this or something else entirely.

It means that he can stare curiously at the sweets that he sees Floribeth (or others, for that matter; others like Udyati or Lou Ellen or even Danny) but he can’t even eat any. It means that although he feels as tangible as anyone else, although he felt Danny’s kiss and was able to return it with a passion of his own, he feels certain lingering touches and emotions all the more powerfully. It means that he feels Danny’s heart fluttering under his shirt, but is considered that he can’t feel his own; he doesn’t know if he can feel his own pulse.

“I’d like that.” Colton answers, softly, with an amber gaze turn to look wistfully looking out the window instead of meeting Floribeth’s own kind and concerned expression. “To hear your story, I mean. Even if it’s sad, it should still be heard. And I can tell you the story of clock spirits!”

@tickerhart

When Colton is chastised by Abigail to turn around, another voice (Colton can’t quite make it out since the voice is dropped to a whisper) reminds her that it’s about not seeing the bride before her wedding not about seeing the groom. Abigail agrees with the new voice but insists that she doesn’t want to prick Colton with the needle attached to the back of the flower that will be in Colton’s front pocket. Abigail also gently tells Colton to stop fidgeting.

It’s like asking Danny to not continue pursuing mechanic work. Or like asking their beloved Punzie to stop begging for snacks even after she’s just had dinner and tried to sneak off with a guest’s shoe. It can be asked, it can be told, but it doesn’t mean that it will be followed through and obeyed.

Colton gives an uncharacteristically nervous exhale.

The cake, decorated with fondant cogs and gears, waits in the refrigerator. Most of the food is in the refrigerator and away from the reach of one dog that is too helpful, hungry, and clever, for her own good, but last Colton saw her, she was receiving belly rubs from either Brandon or Cassie; it’s possible that Punzie might have gone to seek affection from another one of their friends if one of those was requested to help Danny.

Colton imagines beaches and ocean waves against bare toes, about the stories he has heard growing up, and he’s grateful that venue option was considered. Even if it had meant shooing away obnoxious and greedy seagulls.

At least this venue is one that both Danny and Colton had agreed on.

Each one of their friends has a role in the ceremony. The glimmering rings are safe where they should be. Their family members are in the audience, talking with one another, and Colton is glad to see some familiar homeland treats lining the tablecloth from afar. He can’t wait to let Danny try some of his personal favorites, to see his boyfriend-turned-finance-soon to be husband.

A familiar voice is by his side, and Colton feels the same tingle from the tips of his fingers down to his toes as when he and Danny had first discussed this event being a possibility.

Although Colton tends to seek out attention, thrives in it even, he wanted to be sure that Danny would be okay with it too. Colton tries to smooth out non-existent wrinkles from his suit jacket, glancing down to his freshly polished shoes, almost like the ground is more fascinating as he ties his own oxfords again and again wishes that he was barefoot instead.

At least Abigail has understood why Colton refused each and every color of a bow tie, why the only option he would consider for a tie was one that clipped on and he could remove at a moment’s notice. So far, the metallic colored one has been remaining loose, away from his throat, and not yet removed with the trembling fingers that followed whenever Colton felt something was too tight around his throat.

“I’ve been here, the whole time, Danny. And I’m not going anywhere…”

Colton covers his own eyes with one of his own hands, as if to please Abigail that he won’t be sneaking a peek of his soon to be husband and partly because he does want to be surprised anyway. Clumsily, Colton gives a kiss to the side of Danny’s nose, rather than his cheek or lips or even the tip of his nose that had been where Colton was trying to reach, but nothing stops the accompanying grin that Colton has.

@dvarapala

“Does that mean the unpure can’t jump? Or swim?”

With sand between his toes, salty sea air fresh and exciting, Colton notices how the sunset powerfully (and prettily, a part of his mind says) paints Udyati right now.

Colton thinks about the old tales that Danny has shared with him about gods and goddesses and Titans, about the bloody power battles, about tragedies that cause Colton to feel sorry for the doomed; he still remembers feeling it’s not nice that some are punished because of others, that he usually feels sadness for some that rarely are allowed it.

When he sees Udyati, he also thinks of Meena and Akash and their stories of their own respective culture. There’s tales of sun scorched lands and colors so vivid that he’s surprised that the only place he sometimes sees these colors in England is in the sky above. It’s easy to be fooled by Udyati’s kindness and assume her weak, but it’s a mistake that people might make with Colton too; it would seem that some have to re-learn that lesson numerous times that kindness has a strength of its own.