Better to Light a Candle: Evette's Joy

Better to Light a Candle:  Evette's Joy

There's something comforting about seeing your own home.  Something relaxing.  It's a relief.  The fights that go on in here, at least, happen between people who don't actually want to injure each other.  And now, maybe I can even hope for more than that.

When I slip through the backdoor I'm greeted by something of a surprise.  Mom's just laying back on the couch, staring out the window into the backyard.  Her face lights up as I walk in, "Hey there, how's my little Shiny?"
"Mom, I'm old enough-"
I feel the tip of her tail on my waist a second before I'm thrown completely off balance and fall face-forward into a scaly hug.  "Nonsense, you're always gonna be my little boy."
It's hard to respond to that.  Not because I can't think of a response, but because my face is currently buried in coils.  Oh well, at least my face isn't buried in her chest again.  I hate it when she does that.  I know it's just how Echidnas are, but still, at my age it's just creepy and uncomfortable.

A pair of arms drape down over my shoulders as I start to get rocked from side to side.  "Though I suppose you are getting pretty big now."  I figure from which direction seems to have settled as "down" that I'm being held at an angle, but mostly on my back.  It's confirmed when she shifts around me and I get a good look at the ceiling.  "Such big shoulders," she slowly notes, "and muscular arms, too."  I'm lifted an inch further as she takes a long breath and sighs.  "You're growing up so quickly.  You remind me of my father when I was very young."

It's one of those things where you don't really know what to say.  I don't have anything to add to this.  Nothing about my growth is terribly startling information to me.  Is there a right answer, or is there even a question?  Regardless, there's still a feeling of awkwardness in the silence that follows.  I catch the scent of cooked chicken coming from the kitchen.  I hope dad finishes up sooner rather than later.

"I know that it's worrying, having all of these changes happen."
Oh no.  Please, don't let this be what I think it is.
"But you know, they're not bad.  A lot of them are for the better.  New things, experiences which-"
"Mom, dad gave me the talk when I was nine."
"I know, I know."  There's a reassuring squeeze around my midsection.  "It's just, sometimes I think you let things bother you when there isn't any reason that they should."
"Like?"  I don't know why I just asked that.  I don't want the answer.  Please don't tell me.
"Well, I know you probably hear a lot from your friends and from television and things.  You hear about things being wrong, or sick, or 'unnatural' when they don't fit in with ancient human customs."

I'm about to object to a great number of things that she's stating outright or just implying.  First and foremost that my sense of morality is dictated to me by television, but close second is that I'm tied to old human customs in any sense other than being a member of the species for whom they were intended.  I'm interrupted by the sudden feeling of vertigo followed immediately by mom's face three inches away from my own, and a finger pressed to my lips.
"Now I know, I know.  You're not the sort of person who gets their beliefs from the TV, or who relies on their friends to make up their minds for them.  And I'm not saying that you're some follower of cruel, archaic human tradition.  I'm not."  She shakes her head for emphasis, before looking at me with her usual warm smile.  "I just," she trails off.

"I just want you to do something for me, all right?"  She smiles further, exuding as much pure, maternal sweetness as is physically possible.
I nod.  It's mom; of course I nod.
"I want you to keep an open mind."  I get pulled in even closer, and slightly tighter.  "You're going to make some girl very happy someday."  I feel her hand on my head, throwing my hair into slightly more disorder.  "But you'll have a lot of choices to make first."  Cool lips press against my forehead.  "But the only one I want you to consider is whether or not they'll make you happy."

"Kids, hun, dinner's ready!"
That timing was too good, dad.  I know what you did there.
In another instant of confusing movement I'm back on my feet, trying to keep the ground under them.  Mom laughs softly, "Ah, sorry, was that too fast?"
I shake my head.  "No, I'm fine."  Can't have myself getting pushed around by my own mother, now can I?  That'd just be embarrassing.

---

"You seem pretty tired today."  It's true, she's been barely able to hold her head over everyone else.  What's more, I can barely make out the ethereal arms hanging down over her physical pair.
Evette takes a slow, tired breath just for the sake of answering me.  "I've been needing more rest than usual.  That's all."
"You haven't been going hungry, have you?"  I've wondered for a while if she's been intentionally holding back, taking less energy than she actually needs just to try and spare me some discomfort.  It's well within her ability to do so.  Wights, from all that I've heard, are extremely skillful in their ability to manipulate energy.  It's why they're viewed as one of the two most powerful forms of undead alongside Liches.

"Rest assured, dear brother, I have not."  She idly drags a stray hair back into her - what was that hairstyle called again?  It's some sort of bun-ponytail thing that got popular a couple weeks ago.  Well, whatever.  "As a matter of fact, I've a new idea for how to do this painlessly."
I smile.  "Don't try it today."  I try to ignore her sense of confusion as I turn my attention to my lantern.  A little bit of focus is all it takes, and the flame diminishes to barely a spark floating a half-inch off of its floor.    "Just give me a couple minutes before you start."

She nods pensively.  As much as she tries to fake a weird sort of apathy, her face is pretty easy to read.  The fact seems to bother her - I remember her talking about something a while back that was a symbol of proper Wight society.  Spre-something.  Sprezzatura?  Yeah, I think that was it.  They think it makes them look cool and refined.  I still think it just makes them annoying.

"Dear brother?"
I look back up.
"While I'm loathe to say it, and I am fairly certain it will be ignored regardless, I think that you should consider accepting the proposal that the Church of the Fallen has made."  The discomfort on her face is immediately matched by my own.  "I know how you feel about them, but if you are troubled by this Westermarck issue then they may be able to help."
"I'm not troubled by it, I'm troubled that anyone else is troubled by it."  I mentally double check what I just said to make sure that the double negative adds up.
"Then you are honestly unwilling to consider any of your sisters as a potential wife?"

For a minute I just stare at her.  She's not faking this, I don't think.  I know that she wouldn't play a prank, either.  Is she really having trouble understanding me?  "What, you mean you'd be fine marrying me?"
She raises an eyebrow and scans slowly over me.  I throw up a hand, "Okay, no, that's fine.  Don't answer that."  I guess that settles that, then.  The muscles in my gut are tightened around each other, and there's a pressure building behind my eyes warning me of a future headache.  Still, I'm somewhat impressed that that's everything.  Maybe I'm just getting used to this?  Now that's a depressing thought.

There's a brief burst of laughter.  Pleasant, honest laughter.  Not the stupid thing she does around the other Wights where she holds a hand to her mouth and goes "ohohoho."  Just laughter.  "So you're saying you don't find me attractive in the slightest?"  She places one arm under her chest and another at the seam where the split starts running down her leg.  I turn away before she does whatever it is that she was planning to do.  I don't need to see that.

"Oh, come n-," she stops abruptly.  I turn back to find that she'd reached out to my shoulder before coming to a halt.  Her spectral arm is right next to it, a few inches away from skin.  Her amused expression immediately turns pained as she starts to pull back.
"Go for it."  It's been long enough, and if I'm right then neither of us will need to be bothered by this again.

I close my eyes.  There's a trick to avoid making any noise when you're in pain.  It's almost meditative.  You just need to separate yourself entirely from what's happening.  Don't try to ignore it, but instead focus your attention on it as though it were completely separate from you.  It's something to be studied and considered, but not acted on.  I've gotten fairly good at this over the years.

There's a feeling of a finger brushing against my shoulder.

I wait for a few seconds longer.  "Well, go on.  I don't have all day."  There's no answer.  When I finally open an eye, Evette's simply staring at her hands.
"It was so easy," she whispers, "like it wanted out.  And the taste," she breathes.  She looks back at me, smiles from ear to ear, and tackles me onto the bed.  "And you," she laughs.

For a few seconds I'm simply holding onto my sister as she laughs into my shoulder.  When she pulls back she's practically glowing.  "Hey, once more, can I?"
The concept works, stress test it.  "Sure, let's see what happens."
Her smile flickers with hints of nervousness, but mostly exhilaration.  I watch this time, as the transparent hand press down, then into my arm.  It still feels like a finger being dragged along the arm, but this time I feel the slight pressure, and a buzzing sensation along the skin.  It's hard to even recognize the sensation for how muted it is.  It's almost like the vague, half-there sensation of altering my flame.  I suppose that's to be expected, though, if it's the same energy being used.  I wonder, if I can feel it, if I could direct it consciously.

Oh man, I could be a wizard.  A wizard who channels so much spirit energy into my surroundings that everytime I cast a spell I end up massively arousing every mamono in a three-mile radius.  Hmm.  This plan needs work.

I'm distracted by the feeling of her claw-like hand reaching further in, changing the sensation into that of a misshapen hand pressing against my skin.  When she pulls it upward, what I see is a claw rending through my flesh, but what I feel is a hand slowly feeling up my arm toward my shoulder.  Every muscle along the way suddenly feels relaxed, as though all the tension had been pulled away with the energy.  I glance back and see that her lips have relaxed and been left half-open, but now her eyes are closed and eyebrows are furrowed.  It's as though she's concentrated on this to the exclusion of all else.  When her hand reaches my shoulder and turns downward to my chest her mouth closes again, and she breathes out a soft "Mmm."

"A different flavor," I hazard.  She almost starts, pausing for a moment before moving her arm again and shaking her head.
"No," she tilts her head, "not exactly.  It's the same - it's exactly the same.  But it's also completely different."
The sensation of a hand pressing against my skin drags slowly down my chest, onto my stomach.  "Ah, finally, like this.  I can touch you like this," she whispers, as her hand slides further down toward my-
"Whoa, hey."  I feel a short wave of heat on my leg as my flame bursts back into life.

Her eyes pop open just as I feel it.  It's like her fingers hit a wall inside my waist.  She pulls back, and suddenly it's exactly as it was before.  A nauseating sensation of tearing crashes through my midsection.  I'm caught off guard and end up hissing through my teeth.
She gasps and presses both of her physical hands to my abdomen where she removed her spectral arm.  "Oh, dear brother, are you all right?  I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I must've-"
"It's all right.  Hey, it's all right."  Hells no, this was a good day and it's not ending on a sour note.  "I got distracted is all."  She doesn't seem comforted yet.  "Listen, it was great, and from now on it'll be perfect."  I smile.  It takes her a minute, but she does, too.

"Then, from now on, dear brother," she pauses.  After a moment she smiles, leans forward, and whispers into my ear "From now on, I will touch you as my kind touch our lovers."  Her voice is low and soft, and very lightly accented.  She draws back to look at me with those pupil-less eyes sparkling.
I can feel my expression shift.  It's like one of those shots of a glacier crashing into the ocean in slow motion.  A stray thought of "It was all going so well" drifts across my mind.
"Yeah, we're done here.  Get out of my room."

For a second she just stares at me.  In spite of the attempt to keep her expression unchanged, I can see the muscles all tighten at once.  Her lips draw inward as she very slowly tips her head in my direction.  "As you wish, dear brother."

She draws herself back up and moves to leave.  Before she does, though, she pauses at the entrance of my room and says "You know, if you were going to consider any of us, I would now ask that you consider staying with me."  She turns back to me, eyebrows raised, smiling like she knows something I don't.  "They say that the husbands of Wights know such pleasure that even their souls tremble from it."

"Beaux rêves, dear brother."  And with that she's gone.

I lay back in my bed.  I think I'm just gonna write today off as a bad dream.