made of cotton candy

“Drink,” The Ghoul said, sliding the glass across the kitchen table. The liquid inside it sloshed, heavy and uncoordinated, and Fox was sure it was mocking them.

Their head was filled to the point of bursting with freshly poured concrete- soft enough to collapse under its own weight, but with corners sharp enough to scrape the inside of their skull. Their face felt like it was being dragged down by weights, anchors pinned under their eyes and pulling them down onto the table. Fox couldn’t move even if they wanted to; even turning their eyes hurt as they creaked in their head, sandpaper dragging against sandpaper.

“Drink,” The Ghoul repeated with a stern edge in his voice. Harsh enough, but still soft. Scolding, but understanding, like he was more parent than Ghoul. Fox knew they had a face like a streak in the mud and that it could not have been pretty to look at, but they couldn’t help but feel that tinge of disgust at being babied like that. No, it wasn’t disgust, was it? It was embarrassment. Cold, hard, in-your-face embarrassment. Of course, Fox’s brain was still working well enough to be self aware and to slap them with that helpful gem. They would roll their eyes if they could. Of course, their brain knew that too and Fox knew it was punishing them.

“Water,” The Ghoul said.

Fox said nothing.

“Wa-ter,” The Ghoul said again. And Fox could only manage to stare at the glass in front of them dumbly.

Fox swore they heard him sigh that sigh of resignation, of mild disappointment, but they couldn’t bring themself to try to move. Or care. A moment later, a straw had been dropped into the water and sat bobbing against the glass.

Aether meant well, Fox knew. And they also knew they were in no position to deny any help, targeted sighs and condescending tone included. Aether absolutely did not deserve their scorn right now, internal or otherwise. Maybe it was just Fox’s monkey-brain instinct to act inconvenienced by this show of undeniable, unconditional non-shittiness because what had they ever done to deserve that​? Oh, all this thinking themself into knots was making their head hurt even more. Good, they thought, before they realised they’d even thought it.

With a weary, heavy sigh, Fox slumped forward as gracefully as they could manage- which was not very- and hooked the straw into their mouth. It only took four serious attempts before they got it too! As they tried to shake their head straight, keeping track of their dry-as-dirt tongue lolling through their mouth, they realised Aether was staring down at them. The Ghoul was leaning back against the kitchen cabinets, sipping from a mug of something. Coffee, probably. But knowing him, it could also have been any number of unassuming liquids. Gasoline. Ink. Drain cleaner. Fox couldn’t quite get their head around how the Ghoul was such a connoisseur of edible human food when his favourite snack was a handful of plant fertiliser, straight from bag to mouth sometimes. Well, they didn’t quite know for sure that it was his favourite, but he did eat it an awful lot. And maybe Fox did have a bias, it had been their first impression of him after all. Fox was so shocked walking in on the hulking Ghoul sat cross legged, happy as a little bird, spooning clay soil into his mouth like it was ice cream. It was endearing, actually, that he actually tried to straighten himself out and brush the dirt-crumbs off his shirt.

“I need that,” Fox had said, dumbfounded.

“Oh, shit, were you saving this? You should label it next time.”

The way all the other Ghouls had talked about Aether, he had seemed like something of a patriarch to them all. The goose to their gaggle. But for Fox, he was quite possibly the oddest of the bunch, and that included Sunny. He was certainly less… feral than some of the others in the pack, but that was what was so strange about him. Fox thought he had an otherwordliness that was just on the edge of understanding, like he toed the line between human and demon so easily. So easily that, before you noticed, it was too late. He seemed dangerous in that way.

He wasn’t not patriarchal, however. Not un-fatherly. He had been the first thing Fox saw when they’d awoken this morning. Or, this afternoon, rather. They’d come to in a dim room, one they hadn’t seen before, that remained a smudge to their smeared eyes for far too long as they roused themself. They had been tangled up almost dead centre in a pile of Ghoul limbs and torsos, arms and tails flung across them like a thicket. The word ‘help’ hadn’t even crossed Fox’s lips before Aether was carefully diffusing the nest, his palm warm and strong on the back of their neck to support them. His hand could have easily engulfed their entire head, and quite probably crushed it with ease. Fox thought he must have been very well practised with such a light touch.

He was still staring at them when Fox’s train of thought pulled them back into the room. They couldn’t smell what was in his cup, and they definitely did not want to try. Carefully, they arched back from the table to try and sit up. The room swam around them. Even with their eyes closed, the burnt edges of the inky blackness swayed. Stop it now, Fox thought. This is not the worst hangover you’ve ever had. Remember that time you woke up in a parked truck miles away from the bar with no pants and no shoes and you had to rip up the car seat to cover your ass with while you walked home? What about all those times you ended up spending the night in a public bathroom? Or what about immediately throwing up on the girl trying to kick you out of her apartment? There. That should help and put things in perspective.

When they opened their eyes again- miraculously- it had not helped at all. Come to think of it, that last one was only so bad because of what they’d done while drunk and they had more than a few gaps from last night.

“Did any of us… uh…” Fox trailed off, not quite brave enough to meet Aether’s intense eyes. Of course they wouldn’t have minded having slept with any of the Ghouls- they did have a regular thing going with both Mountain and Aurora- but when it was common practice for them to make an absolute tit of themself while sauced up, they thought it was best to be ready with the embarrassment loaded in the chamber.

“No,” Aether said, sipping from his cup. Fox couldn’t have hid their relief even if they tried. “But you did get familiar with Mountain,” he then said.

Fox winced immediately. Absolutely nothing in The Ghoul’s face gave away… anything. “How… familiar?”

“You were a little handsy with him.” And then he shrugged. He shrugged as if it was really nothing, and Fox supposed that should have been comforting but somehow it wasn’t.

“Me too,” came a voice from within the sofa. Cirrus’ head poked out behind the sofa back, her dark hair flat against her head and almost into her eyes, a smirk painted on her lips. If Fox’s cheeks weren’t pink before, they knew now they definitely were. If not bright red.

“And me,” Aether continued.

Fox whipped back around to him so quickly they had to brace themself on the kitchen table to stop their head from spinning right off their body, and the contents of their stomach falling out along with it.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry…” they said, but there was no change in Aether’s face. He was as warm as always, with his tufts of purple and white and grey and his bright, deep-set eyes. Fox frowned though, wondering if he was only staying so stoic because he was embarrassed. No, that wasn’t really his style, he didn’t really get embarrassed. Uncomfortable, maybe? And he was just too polite to show it? “Was it bad?”

Fox would be the very last person on Earth to deny how much of a whore they were. They also would never deny their lasting attraction to many, if not all, of the Ghouls. Aether included. But the thought of them going around groping them, making them uncomfortable, made Fox’s blood buzz and boil and swim up around into their head in shame.

“You called me hot lips. And then you puked in the sink,” Aether said casually.

Fox groaned and brought their face down onto the table, gently (but not too gently) and began banging their forehead against the flat of the wood. “I’m sorry.”

The rhythmic thumping was interrupted by Aether’s gentle hand, cushioning Fox’s head. “Don’t be,” he said.

And Fox believed him. Despite themself, they believed him. He had a way like that, they had noticed. His eyes became so soft and pooled so deep it felt like they could fall right in, and they wouldn’t be sad to. In fact, it would be just wonderful. Everything about that gentle, loving look was wonderful- it felt like a hug wrapped right around their brain.

“At least you got the sink,” Cirrus started, pushing herself upright. “Swiss is sloppier than you. One time he was sick on the stairs!” She laughed, and so did Aether. Fox wanted to enjoy the sound, but their stomach churned.

“Please stop talking about being sick…” they mumbled, face pressed sadly into the table. They knew they should keep drinking that water, but they felt ill just looking at it. They felt Aether’s hand on their shoulder- and they knew it was his because of how much it engulfed them, and how warm it was.

“How’s your head?” he asked. The tinge of concern was obvious, but the joke-bait was even more obvious. He was only trying to cheer them up, distract them.

Fox only managed a weak groan. “I’m too hungover to say it. I’ll just take the painkillers.”

As soon as they felt the pills slipping down their throat, they prayed they’d stay down. But, they weren’t too convinced by the water right now. Small sips. Deep breaths. If they could just hold out for twenty more minutes, the blessed drugs would kick in and then they’d be able to think straight without turning inside out.

They couldn’t imagine that they got a lot of sleep last night. Or this morning. They didn’t know when exactly they’d made it into the den, let alone bed. Maybe if they could’ve just slept through the hangover this time, they would’ve been able to avoid having their head knocked around a batting cage. They were actively trying to avoid opening their eyes right now- they knew when they finally did the light would stream in and it would blind them. Maybe if they were just careful and only peeled their eyes open just a little bit…

Pink.

That was the first thing Fox saw as looked down into their chest. Fox didn’t own anything pink. Or with cats on it. This was not their shirt. It was baggy, baggy enough to be pooling in their lap and hanging off their shoulder. It was a wonder it was even staying on them. Their pants were no better, a pair of loose grey sweats, and they were shocked that they hadn’t slipped down on the way from the bedroom to here. Or maybe they had and they were too hungover to notice. 

“Whose clothes are these?” they asked, pulling the fabric of the shirt away from their chest. When it fell back, it hardly touched them, but it sure was comfortable.

“I think… it’s Rain’s pants. Lulu’s shirt,” Aether said. He looked to Cirrus, who nodded. Fox hummed in soft, non-committal response, rubbing the thick shirt hem between their fingers. This did beg the question of what happened to their clothes. They shuddered at the thought of the outfit being ruined beyond repair, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d ripped, or shredded, or soiled their clothes.

“I wasn’t sick on myself, was I?” Awful. Horrible. Bite the bullet.

“Oh, no,” Aether sat opposite Fox, resting his furry arms on the table. “We just helped you undress.”

Whatever colour had left Fox’s face returned with full force. We​​? Who the hell was we​? Aether, surely, but who else? Cirrus? Fox’s blush deepened. Of course, of course, it had to be the two Ghouls they had the fattest crushes on. Not that they’d made a secret of it, but no moves had been made yet. And to think they probably saw them naked for the first time and they had been too hammered to do anything about it! Or even remember. 

“Uh-huh…” they mumbled. “And whose bed was I in?”

“Mine,” Aether said. Great. First time in Aether’s bed too.

“What about everyone else?” This had also been the first time they’d woken up in an actual pile of the Ghouls. They’d spent many evenings with the lot of them, but had never been so lucky as to experience the living, breathing pillow-fort.

“We had a few drinks after Mountain brought you in,” Cirrus chimed. “Once you got a hold of Dew, you would not let him go. So, everyone huddled around you.”

Fox smiled- finally. They could not for the life of them remember that, but it did sound plausible. And considering how tightly Dew had been wound around their body and how much precision it had taken from Aether to untangle him, they could definitely believe it. It was also a relief to know they must not have done anything to upset anyone- they didn’t ruin anyone’s evening and, in fact, everyone probably had a good time!

But then, they paused.

“Wait- he brought me in?”

Aether nodded. “Yeah, he found you outside rolling around in the grass.”

“Oh God,” Fox gasped and their hands flew up into their hair, grasping at their scalp. “Oh my God. I remember… dancing out there.” They dragged their hands down their face, trying, trying so hard to remember any snippets. It came back to them in flashes- disjointed as if remembering a dream. And boy, did it make their head hurt. They were outside in the gardens, they knew that. When they got there, or even how, eluded them. Why was an even bigger mystery. Maybe they struck out at the party, or were sick of the people and the noise and wanted to be back where they felt the most at home. They definitely remembered twirling around Terzo’s garden, dancing with his statues as if they were people. Did they kiss one of them? And then…. then…. Mountain. Yes, they remembered Mountain. Oh, and they most certainly cried when he appeared, probably brought on by the fact that he’d given them a small bundle of flowers. Had he been drunk too? “I think,” they said slowly, “I lost my shoes.” Were they still out there? How could they have conveniently lost a pair of boots? That they had been wearing?

“You weren’t with Cee, were you?” Cirrus said, her voice lilting, almost a giggle. But there was an edge to it, as if she wasn’t being just sarcastic.

“No!” Fox whistled, wrinkling their nose. Okay, that sounded a bit too defensive. They cleared their throat. “No,” they repeated. “Why would you say that?”

“You were just in a mood last night.”

Oh shit, Fox thought.

“Oh shit,” Fox said. “What did he say? I didn’t hit him did I?” They wouldn’t be surprised really. Considering how drunk they’d been, it probably wouldn’t have taken much to rile them up. But, they still couldn’t help that sick, churning worry. If they had hit him, he would be raining down hellfire any moment now. God, what had they done? If they were lucky, they maybe only shoved him. But it was possible they’d punched him. Maybe broken his nose. Fox didn’t understand how they could feel both sick with worry and joyed to near-laughter at the thought. No, actually, they could. Knowing that they had hit Copia right in his stupid face and broken his stupid nose made them just a little bit happy. Consequences be damned. It was too late now anyway, they might as well enjoy it. In any case, he probably deserved it. Come to think of it, he-

“Not that kind of mood.”

Fox blinked. Their face fell completely flat. “What.”

Cirrus took in a long breath, her mouth coming together into a cunning purse. 

“You said something about wanting your lips on his lips.”

No. Fuck no. This was it. This was it. The worst thing they’d ever done. This was worse than the time they ran naked through the park. Worse than the time they drove a car into a bus shelter. Even worse than the time they stole all that money, got caught, and ended up with a bruised rib and a black eye. Okay, maybe it wasn’t as bad as that. But it did make them sick. “No…” they mumbled.

“Yeah, you said you wanted him to screw you silly,” said Aether.

Fox’s hand clapped over their mouth. “Oh, God.”

“You said you wished you could eat dinner off his ass,” added Cirrus thoughtfully.

Fox was sure their head was about to go up in flames, their face was that hot. This wasn’t happening, this was not happening! They must have thought he was someone else. Or they’d been poisoned. Or they were dead! Yes, that was it. They’d died last night and now they were trapped in their own personal hell. 

“Stop it…” they whined.

“You went on a pretty long tirade about it, actually,” Aether thought it important to add.

“I’m going to be sick…”

“It’s not that bad-” Aether started, but Fox was stumbling to their feet, chair legs scraping against the floor.

“No- I’m really going to be sick!”

Before they could even tell what way was up, let alone how to make sense of the thoughts swimming around their head, they were in the bathroom, head hung in shame down the toilet. They’d been here before, of course. Many times. And, of course, they were never prepared for just how awful it was. Their stomach was doing somersaults, bile burning in their throat, floor cold beneath their knees. But, what was different this time was Cirrus kneeling beside them, hair scooped up in her gentle hands. She was rubbing circles on Fox’s back with her full palm, each rotation complete with a soft ‘it’s okay’.

“I’m so- I’m sorry-” Fox hiccuped. The whole world was coming down on them, pushing down on the back of their neck, cracking down on their bones, and pushing them all out along with their soul. Their soul that felt as black and vast and empty as the ocean. They didn’t want Cirrus to be seeing them like this- they didn’t want anyone seeing them like this, but especially not her.

“Stop it,” she said, her hand finding her way to Fox’s cheek. It must have been cold and clammy to her touch, but her eyes were soft anyway. “You take care of us, now we’ll take care of you.”

So, Aether wasn’t the only one who could reach into their heart like that. But when Cirrus did it, it felt softer. More like silk. Aether was more like the heavy rain, thick and refreshing and everywhere. Cirrus was the spring-time- warm, sun-kissed touches, soothing like a gentle breeze. “Now,” Cirrus said, “Let’s get you a shower, and some more clothes, and you can sleep the rest of this off.”

Had they not been feeling like death warmed up, Fox may have been more flustered at the prospect of Cirrus helping them shower. She was a perfect gentleman about it though. It was still hard to hide the colour rising through them when she helped them out of their shirt. She stood just outside the door while Fox showered, just to make sure they were okay, and she even sang to them. Something felt particularly right being under a stream of water while Cirrus’s voice caressed them.

When the hot water had worked through enough of their muscles and steamed out most of their sickness, Cirrus held a dark t-shirt through the crack in the door. By the size and smell of it, Fox could tell it was Mountain’s. That made them think they’d soon be cosy in his room. Something familiar- with that delicious earthy smell and all his candles. But the room they ended up in was more like a bird’s nest. A nest draped with lace curtains, woven into a coil and dotted with trees and glowing bulbs. Cirrus’ room.

Instead of a night-stand, she had a glass tray laid with gold that sat upon a pillow. Cirrus placed a glass of water onto it when Fox laid down in the pit of curled white sheets, and with a soft kiss to their forehead, sleep was almost set upon them. The only disruption, if they could even call it that, was a doze-drunk Dew stumbling with both legs forward into the room- most likely shoved in by Cirrus. Through their bleary eyes, Fox could see that Dew’s top half was almost completely blurred by a mass of unkempt hair. His skinny little legs poked out beneath, covered in downy white speckles of hair. He flopped down into the nest as if he could simply no longer keep himself upright. Fox’s arms found their way around the Ghoul and he slotted so nicely against their body- their tired brain was sure they were two halves of a soul for the brief moment they let sleep take them both.

***

“Back from the dead already?” Dew’s charming sarcasm was punctuated by a rolling series of ‘whoops’ from the other Ghouls littered about the den. Fox could actually manage to roll their eyes without feeling like they were going to fall out of their head. So they did.

“Not so loud guys, jeez,” they said with a rather put on huff. When they had awoken, Dew had been notably missing from the nest, but considering Fox had not stirred one bit even when he’d wriggled out of their arms, they could forgive him. They were in a less foul mood now, after all. Having your stomach stop doing somersaults and unpacking your head of all the cotton wool would generally do that.

“How’s your head?” Rain asked, guiding a cup of coffee into Fox’s hands.

Fox scoffed. “He already tried that one,” they said, nodding towards Aether who was still sat at the kitchen table. Even after they had screwed a palm into their eye and blinked away the sleep and static, Rain was still standing inches away, staring at them with those big black eyes. Fox sighed, head hanging in mock defeat. “No complaints.”

Rain excitedly clapped their shoulder, harder than he probably anticipated because it made Fox stumble on one foot. “You’re better already!”

Cumulus was already beside them when they managed to turn, beaming up at them with her cherry-on-top smile. “Come here-” she said, arms wrapping tightly around Fox’s skinny frame. The hug pulled a hum out of them, and they rested their head atop the Ghoulette’s. Her hair made a luxurious pillow, and she smelled like honey and fresh bread.

“Oh, that’s nice…” Fox rumbled. Hugging Cumulus was like hugging a cloud in voluptuous lady form. But then they paused and- with great personal effort- leant away with an uneasy frown. “I didn’t get grabby with you too, did I?”

Cumulus parted her lips to speak, and Fox felt a rush of warm conflict. On one hand, they were more than slightly mortified by the possibility of having unleashed their slobbering lust monster onto all the unsuspecting Ghouls. But on the other, Cumulus was quite a lady and it wouldn’t really be the worst thing to have scored with her. Regrettably, they were not about to find out.

“We all know who you want to get grabby with!” Dew chimed in, followed by a series of traitorous hoots.

“Shut it,” Fox growled, hoping their eyes were glowing as red as they felt their face was. Dew was sitting alongside Swiss and the pair were chittering childishly. Fox’s teeth came together hard and they were trying not to imagine all the things within arm’s reach they could launch at their heads.

“Oh, let them have their fun,” came Mountain’s voice from the armchair across the den. He was slumped down into the cushions, his torso concertina-ed down into the smallest possible space while his shirt bunched up across his broad chest and stomach. His long legs stretched out in front of him, boneless and rubbery. He began to laugh that deep, rumbling laugh. Sleepy and easy but oh-so sure of himself. “You would not shut up about his ass, you-”

It took all of half a second for Fox to march over to Mountain, their face surely twisted into some ugly, non-threatening scowl (no matter how threatening they wanted it to be). They stuck out a finger, near trembling with anger. But, slowly, they took in a long, a very long, deep breath and curled their finger back into their palm. Calm. They were calm. “I’ll let that one slide because apparently I was…. untoward with you last night. But anyone else-” Fox scanned the rest of the den to make sure they were all listening- “says one more word, and their guts are going on the floor. Got it?”

No one said anything. Fox could only hope it was because no one wanted to incur their wrath, but they knew it could have equally been because they were embarrassing themself just a little bit. Or maybe they’d embarrassed themself so much that everyone was starting to take pity on them. They could pretend it was the first one. For a little while. Eventually, Swiss shrugged nonchalantly. Aether nodded. That was… acceptable.

Mountain, however, had a smirk the size of his over-inflated ego. ‘Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything, just stare. Keep staring, and be scary’ Fox was thinking as their nose wrinkled.

“Are you wearing any pants?” Mountain said.

Fox coloured. They looked down. They weren’t.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” they managed sarcastically, pulling down on the hem of their- no, Cumulus’- oversized shirt. Slutting it up while they were drunk was one thing, but misplacing their pants in their sleep was… No, they wouldn’t accept this as a low.

In fact, they weren’t prepared to even believe everything they were hearing. They’d fought and they’d stolen and they’d hurt people and they’d embarrassed themself to no end while drunk. But the Ghouls had to be exaggerating, it had to be a joke. Because, Copia? Copia? Really? They had to believe they had some standards. Flimsy as they may be, but standards nonetheless. 

In truth, they didn’t want to think about it any more. In fact, they were better off not knowing. The less they knew about last night, the better! They could only pray that whatever had happened wouldn’t come back to bite them on the ass. Unfortunately for them, that prayer had never once worked in their whole life.

***

This isn’t an overreaction. Is it? Copia thought as he lit the last of the candles. The book to his right was slightly askew, and he hadn’t had any access to goat’s blood so he had to use cow’s- but it would still work wouldn’t it? No. No, this is sensible. This is a perfectly reasonable response. He didn’t exactly have another choice! He’d tried to talk to Sister- his own mother about it- and she hadn’t given him any other choice!

‘You know I can’t do that,’ was all he got back from her. And after he- he!- had been made to wait outside her office like a Sibling, like a school child. By the time he actually made it into the room, he lost count of how many times he had to make his simple request.

“Get rid of them,” he had said.

“Who?” Sister replied, as if she didn’t know. How could she not know?

“The gardener.” Copia would have much rather referred to them as a pest, or an imposter, or even the human ­stain that would never wash out no matter how hard he tried.

“Viera?” And his mother had scoffed. She scoffed​.

“You hired them, you can fire them. I should have some say in who can and cannot stay in this Ministry.”

“You can suggest, dear.”

Oh, he could have suggested alright. He could have suggested they be put to death by firing squad, or shot out of a cannon, or have their skin flayed and then turn that skin into a book that he would use to write down everything he hated about them. But did he? No. Of course not. He was far too kind. Far too lenient. All he wanted was to kick them out on their sorry ass. Not that he was thinking about… that. “To hell with the contract!”

“You know that’s not how it works.”

And why was it? He was head of this Ministry after all. Or, his face was. But that should have been good enough! Why did an employment contract, of someone who hadn’t even been part of the church, have to be so very sacred and so very unbreakable? So what if they tore up one piece of paper, deleted one insignificant file. “There has to be-”

Sister Imperator had slammed her fist down onto the table, soft enough not to topple anything over, but certainly hard enough to make Copia feel like a kid. She shouldn’t have been able to do that, not now. But she could. Did she even realise how brave he had been coming in here? He wouldn’t bother her unless it was important! No, no wait, he wasn’t brave. He had nothing to be brave about because he was not scared of her. He wasn’t… “Unless you drag their lifeless body down to the Pit yourself, I’m afraid you’ll have to learn to get along,” she said. “Oh yes. Don’t think we haven’t noticed your spats.”

Copia left the office in a whirlwind before he could say anything he regretted, before she could say anything he regretted. But he was still angrier than he had ever been. His head hurt, his face hurt, his whole body ached, and it was all their fault. He couldn’t have that wretched thing, the gardener, poisoning this place any longer. How, just how, had they made him get so close to them last night? How could he have had such a pathetically huge lapse in judgement- champagne be damned! Contract be damned.

Clearly, this was all in some bid to manipulate him. He hadn’t been in his right mind! There was absolutely no situation in which he would’ve gotten that close to Fox without some kind of trickery. The alcohol had certainly not helped, but just who was the bum between the two of them? Fox was the booze-hound, not he! And to think, he had almost… Copia couldn’t even think the words. He had touched them!

He knew he never wanted to set foot in that ballroom ever again. And if he could, he’d have that balcony torn down- ripped right out of the side of the wall. It was tainted now. If it were gone, he wouldn’t have to think about it. He wouldn’t be tempted to go back. Not that he had been, of course. As soon as he had been pulled away, torn back to the party and shoved in like a thorn, his first thought had certainly not been regret. It’s not as if he had gone back, and it’s not as if when he hadn’t found Fox there- or anywhere at the party- he had wished he’d never left. Because that would be insane. No, it was a good thing, a very good thing, that he’d left. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gone back to his room alone. And he liked the quiet, he needed to decompress. He couldn’t have had some other person there taking up his space and sharing his bed, could he? Even if Copia had been with someone, Fox had just about ruined it for him! They’d poisoned him, wormed into his head like a parasite, like a flea, and he didn’t want to think about them any more.

And now Copia found himself in his current predicament. Laid out on his office floor with the desk pushed up against the door. He hadn’t really stopped to think about how he was going to move it back to get out, but that didn’t matter! He just needed as much floor space as humanly possible. And the only reason he hadn’t set this up in the cathedral was there was no way in Hell he was going to let anyone see him. He had never been particularly talented, nor inclined, to curses and hexes. But, he was always a quick and dedicated study. And the absolute fever consuming him had to count for something! It couldn’t be so hard to perform a banishment. 

Could it?

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