#flurryobeaus

“      that   is   not   the   point,   beauregard,      ”            caleb   protests,   running   his   hand   through   his   hair,   fighting   the   urge   to   pull   it   out.            “      the   point   is   that   we   are   meant   to   be   keeping   a   low   profile,   not   only   fattening   our   purses.      and   the   point   is   that   you   did   not   ask   my   opinion   on   this!      ”            never   does,   does   she?      never   fucking   listens.   

“      but   .   .   .      i   am   reckless,   too.      and   selfish,   and   foolish,   and      —      ”            he   could   keep   going,   but   he   thinks   even   beauregard   would   not   stand   for   that.            “      my   point      —      that   i   am   making   very   badly,   i   think,   is   that   you   will   save   me   when   i   fuck   up,   and   .   .   .      i   will   save   you,   whether   you   think   you   need   it   or   not.      ”   

in   the   time   they   have   known   each   other,   since   the   cobalt   soul   steals   him   and   beauregard   lionett   finds   a   way   with   him   no   one   expects,   they   have   been   close.      close   enough,   he   thinks,   to   shit   on   each   other’s   mistakes.   

HERE   WITH   THE   COBALT   SOUL,   HE   GROWS   ACCUSTOMED   TO   HOURS   AND   DAYS   ALONE.         the   only   one   he   really   sees   and   speaks   with   is   beauregard,   so   he   is   unsurprised   to   hear   her   voice   entering   his   cell      (   still   shocked   every   time   he   is   reminded   that   this   room,   this   fairly   comfortable   though   sparse   room,   is   what   the   soul   considers   to   be   a   ‘cell’   )      while   he   scribbles   and   reads   in   the   books   he’s   been   allowed.            “      i   was   told   to   take   some   time   to   enjoy   myself,      ”            he   replies,   raising   his   eyebrows   and   cocking   his   head.            “      i   am   enjoying   myself.      ”            he   is   not   very   good   at   sitting   still      —      at   not   working.      seems   to   be   a   quality   he   and   the   young   monk   share.   

“      i   am   afraid   that   my   .   .   .      sadness   is   not   so   easily   explained,   beauregard.      ”            a   small   smile,   poking   a   bit   of   fun   at   his   own   mind      —      his   own   feelings   and   emotions      —      and   a   bit   amused   at   the   futility   of   his   own   wishes.      it   is   hopeless      —      he   is   hopeless   and   useless   in   all   of   this      —      and   yet   it   persists.      and   yet   .   .   .      he   finds   himself   wishing,   just   a   bit,   that   someone   would   notice.      that   someone   would   ask.   

‘ROUND   THE   FIRE,   ONCE   THE   DAY   HAS   DONE,   HE   COUNTS   OUT   THEIR   COIN.         in   the   meticulous   way   he   knows   she   hates      —      knows   he   cannot   quite   control,   no   matter   how   long   he   lives   in   relative   comfort   in   rexxentrum      —      he   divvies   up   the   earnings   into   both   their   purses.      though   they   share   most   things,   caleb   has   more   need   of   coin   for   his   components,   for   his   high   quality   parchment   and   ink.            “      have   you   enough   left   in   that   flask   for   a   drink?      ”            takes   a   break   in   the   counting   just   long   enough   to   ask.            “      and   by   that   i   mean:      have   you   enough   to   share,   not   just   to   guzzle   for   yourself?      ”   

ANOTHER  START       //    au  verse

HE   BATS   AWAY   AT   BEAU’S   DELIRIOUS   HAND,   BUT   HE   DOES   NOT   LEAVE   HER   SIDE.         he   kneels   at   her   side,   only   rising   once   his   hand   blackens   and   readies,   his   eyes   ahead   on   their   enemies   alone,   putting   another   step   it   might   take   in   the   line   of   his   fire.            “      shush,   asshole,      ”            he   says.            “      your   final   words   will   find   you   old   and   wrinkled   in   bed.      ”            not   here.      she   will   not   die   here      —      not   on   caleb’s   watch.