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Plume joins Viola on the bed in case healing is needed immediately, now refreshed from all of the magic she used to heal Morrow. She was rough there for a little bit, her body haggard and worn down, but with some sleep and a tea from Jaz that they said "Would heal anyone of anything," she seems right as rain. Her hair is loose down her shoulders, and a wide, billowy skirt she picked up in Feria hangs down over her bare feet.
Tulip climbs up to the top bunk and hangs her bare, dirty feet over the edge. She looks so small perched up there, hands gripping the edge of the mattress. The longer we're on this journey, the more haunted her eyes become, and I worry about what she will look like when all is said and done.
Will this journey break her? Ruin her youthful innocence and leave behind a rugged shell?
I don't think Viola would allow that to happen, but she may not have too much say over it.
Zeph stands against the wall closest to Viola, arms crossed over his broad chest. His auburn hair is slicked back, and the intricate tattoo that travels up his neck to his ears stands out sharply against his white shirt. He catches me looking at him, and the smile he gives me transforms his face into one of the small boy who once followed me everywhere.
Morrow and I are standing directly in front of Viola and Plume. He's been understandably quiet since we returned from the island, and his residual limb hangs loosely down his left side. I wish I could tell him this was going to be okay, that he'd adapt well, but how would I know?
Viola pulls the bag into her lap and opens it, peering inside. I'm struck by her sharp beauty, her face the blade of a finely crafted dagger, her hair feminine and falling over shoulders that are set with the dangerous resolve of the most ardent fighter.
"Here goes nothing," she murmurs. She pulls out a blade, rusted and weathered with time, and tosses it beside her on the bed. Next is a small journal with a flower burned into the front of it. "Looks like we got the final journal."
Zeph darts forward and takes it from her, shoving it in his pocket as she turns back into the bag. A few pieces of rotted cloth tumble out. "How is all of this still so well preserved?" Morrow asks with agrunt.
"My theory is the journals were given some sort of magical preservation," I say, looking at the man. His eyes are bloodshot, with bags under them. His braids are piled high in a sloppy bun on top of his head, and he winces with every movement. "It has to be a combination of the magics we haven't thought about."
"Decay and Flora," Viola says immediately. "If Shadow and Light can create an Illusion, why couldn't Decay and Flora work together to keep something in stasis?"
Plume squeals, "Oh, that is fascinating! We'll have to try. Autumn does not typically blend their magic with others," she says, looking at me.
"Not like we would've considered blending those anyways," I say with a shrug.
Viola tilts the pack upside down, and a small cloth bag falls out. "This is it," she says quietly. "It's practically yelling at me." She picks the bag up and shakes the contents into her hand.
"Earrings?" Tulip says, craning her neck to look down. "What do you feel?"
"It hasn't done anything," Viola says, holding the earrings up in her hands. Little flowers dangle down.
"You have to wear them," I tell her. "You used the Witch's Ladder, you wore the amulet, you put on the smithing gloves, and you are going to have to put on the earrings."
Viola sucks her teeth, eyeing them. "I think you're right," she says with a deep sigh. She transfers the earrings to one hand so she can scrub her hand across her face. Tilting her head to the side, she raises the earring in her hand, and that's when Inotice her ears are not pierced.
She forces the blunt end of the earring through the flesh of her ear with barely a wince. Blood trickles down one ear, and she trades hands to do the other. The moment the post goes through her ear, a fresh breeze, smelling of flowers and rain, wraps around us. Viola's body softly hits the bed, but when I look at her, she's not out cold. Instead, she's gazing up at me with bliss, her eyes half-lidded, her body loose.
"Viola, you doing okay?" Plume asks, peering down at her.
"Mhm," Viola says, curling up on her side. "Tired. Whole."
And she passes out.
Viola sleeps for a day, but it's not like it was in Pran when she was all but dead to us. No, this time, she is in a peaceful, restorative sleep. Zeph spends the entire time by her side. When I asked him why, he shrugged.
"Feels like where I should be."
I'm sitting on the end of the bed when Viola stretches and groans, sitting up slowly, her body tight from her deep sleep. "Fuck I feel good."
Laughing, I pull one leg up on the bed and turn to her. "You do? You feel okay?"
"I feel great. All of my magic is in harmony. It feels so different now. Instead of them feeling like their own magic, it's like they have knitted themselves together. I don't know what I will be capable of, butI think it's big Mace."
I tug her close to my side, wrapping my arm around her. "Good, because I have the feeling that bringing three Gods back from banishment is going to be big."
"I nearly forgot about that. Has Zeph made any headway on figuring out how while I was resting?" Her voice is still thick with sleep, but clearly, her mind is sharp.
"I think so," I say, hedging. I actually haven't asked him. "But he did spend the whole time beside the bed. He only just left to grab food since I was here."
