All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 16: Tea Party
Surprise! Two in one day. Sometimes you just get a little excited over your blorbos >:3
In this chapter:
Story Masterpost
On AO3
As always thanks to @static-stars and @appelsiinilight ! :)
Important note: Since is the first chapter in the series that's had large portions of dialogue in Pixish interspersed within large portions of English dialogue, I decided to differentiate the two languages by putting Pixish dialogue in italics. Thistle, of course, understands both, but I thought it was important to make it obvious at a glance which language was actually being spoken because not all characters in this chapter are bilingual.
***
Marcy, a human who spoke English and a little bit of Pixish.
Thistle, a pixie who spoke Pixish and English.
Severa, a naga who spoke only Pixish.
Jewel, a merminnow who spoke English and his native underwater language, which no one else at the table spoke.
Moon, a moth fairy who spoke English, Pixish, and a number of other unknown languages.
And Violet, a borrower who only spoke English.
For someone who'd never expected to meet anyone who wasn't a Pixie, and who'd only been vaguely aware of the existence of other languages until recently, it was a lot. Especially since they were all going to be at the same table.
Marcy helped Thistle set up. They got out the biggest table he had–it was from a doll tea party set. It was always a challenge to find furniture that was scaled exactly right since there was such a variety, and this particular set he treasured both because it happened to be exactly the right size for him, and because it came with a set of usable teacups and a teapot, all made out of fine ceramic. Thistle privately thought it was too nice for a child to use for play, and any parent giving this to a clumsy child would be a fool.
He got out the plates he had too–likewise from a set for dolls. These ones were a little too big, but Thistle figured that was all right since Moon and Severa were bigger than him anyway. Marcy got him a nice, thin towel that made an excellent tablecloth, which he shook out and put over the table before putting out all the place settings. Marcy dug out the castaways from other mismatched sets that Thistle didn’t use–for Violet, a chair from a set that had been too small, and for Moon, one from a set that had been too big. Thistle had Marcy set the table on stacks of notecards to elevate it until Moon’s chair was the correct height, then do the same for the rest of the chairs until they could all sit equally level at the table. Violet’s chair was cartoonish–she would have to climb a stack more notecard than chair to get up to the table, but the alternative was making Moon sit with his knees to his chest, which Thistle didn’t want to do. The chairs were all boosted to the appropriate height in the end, and Thistle preened, so excited about having such a variety of people to talk to.
The whole setup was placed directly next to Marcy’s table setting, so she could sit at the human-sized chair to participate…and be within grabbing distance of the participants.
Teddy helped him make some small cakes, which he set out with a little bowl of jam. Colin got out the mealworms and put them in an ornamental dish, and also arranged crackers, cheese, and fruit at Thistle’s instructions. Marcy started brewing the tea so it would be hot when everyone arrived.
Teddy and Colin asked if they should participate, and Thistle apologetically told them it would probably be better to minimize the number of humans looming over them. He didn’t specify names, but he knew Moon would probably be incredibly unhappy with having three giants at the table. Teddy and Colin made themselves scarce, wishing Thistle good luck and shutting themselves in their bedroom to watch TV. He could see the disappointment on their faces, though they were happy to support him. They were good friends like that.
He didn’t blame them for being disappointed. This was going to be great.
Jewel arrived first, mostly because he arrived when Thistle instructed Marcy to scoop up some water and carry him over to the table in a mug. She set it down and pushed the cup flush with the small table, so Jewel didn’t have to lean over so much.
“Hey, bug boy!” Jewel shouted as he was set down. “This is quite a spread you’ve set out!”
“Yeah!” Thistle enthused. “Teddy helped me–no!” He cried this last part with horror as Jewel tried to take some of the cakes. “Stop! We can’t eat until everyone else is here!”
Jewel let go and held his hands up defensively. “Sheesh! All right.”
“No need to be snippish, Thistle,” Marcy chided.
“Sorry,” Thistle said, embarrassed.
Jewel crossed his arms and rested them on the lip of the cup. “Marcy… Are you…?” He looked at her from under his eyebrows, clearly struggling to get the words out. “Um.”
He’s scared, Marcy realized. She drew her hands around the cup, which caused him to flinch back, which wasn’t at all what she’d intended.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said. “I promise. I’ll be keeping a very close eye on her.”
Jewel nodded, some of his tension dissipating. “Right. Thanks. Maybe this will be nice…or at the very least, not a disaster.”
Violet arrived next. Petunia was dragged along behind her, clutching her leg, sobbing and wailing about how she wanted to go to the tea party too. Violet told her over and over that she couldn't because it was too dangerous, and eventually Marcy convinced her to go sit in the pink dollhouse instead.
Violet was still a little nervous about being handled, so she rappelled herself up to the top of the table with a grappling hook. “Eh,” she said. “I forgot ‘bout the fishmen.”
“Yo,” Jewel said, raising his hand. "I'm Jewel." He'd been trying to get less shy about telling people his name at Colin's suggestion, not that he would ever admit he'd taken it.
"I'm Violet," she said, looking at the food instead of Jewel.
“Don’t touch the snacks, or Thistle will bite your hand off.”
“They’re for when everyone gets here!” Thistle insisted. “It’s just–Violet!”
Violet had started taking a cracker even as Thistle had been speaking. “It’s just one from a stack,” she said, holding it up. It was the size of a dinner plate to her. “No one’ll notice it’s gone.”
“...everyone already at the table will notice, because we just saw you–You know what, fine, pick your battles. You can have one cracker, but that’s it.”
Violet slipped the cracker into her bag. It stuck out the top very visibly. Thistle walked over and gave it a kick, which broke it so the pieces slid down into a heap in the bag.
“Hey!” Violet said. “Don’t touch my stuff!”
“Your st- Violet, I-”
“It’s all right, Thistle,” Marcy interrupted. She reached over and picked him up by the back of the shirt, and he went limp like a kitten that’d been scruffed. “Don’t get all worked up, everything is fine. We have more crackers.”
She set him down in one of the chairs. Thistle looked embarrassed again. “Sorry, I just want it to be perfect.”
“Because that moth man is going to be here, is that it?” Jewel said, smiling devilishly.
Thistle went bright red and hid his face.
“Speaking of,” Jewel said.
Thistle instantly stood up, craning his neck at the window Moon had instructed them to leave open for him to enter. It was five minutes after the start time of three o’ clock, which was the fashionably late he’d warned Thistle about.
Moon alighted on the windowsill, fanning his wings and peering into the house cautiously. He wore the outfit they’d picked out together - a deep blue velvet suit with a red cravat and a wide-brimmed hat topped with a feather, the sunglasses tying the whole look together.
Thistle had warned Marcy to try and be restrained around Moon to not freak him out, so she sat at the table vibrating with excitement, eyes burning on him with barely held-back eagerness.
Moon spotted Thistle and fluttered onto the table. Thistle jogged over, smiling big. "Moon! Moon, thank you for coming!"
"Of course. It’s lovely to see you." Moon slid his sunglasses down to peer at Violet, still sitting at the table. "And who's this lovely creature?"
Violet blushed and squirmed. "V-Violet."
Moon took her hand and gave it a kiss. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he purred. "You may call me Moon."
Violet blushed even deeper and giggled. Thistle felt dread crash over him. Oh no. This was the worst thing that could have happened. Moon is like this with everyone.
Marcy couldn’t hold it in any longer. She leaned over, grinning. "Moon, it's-"
Moon cut her off with a glare. "You may call me Mister Moon."
Wow, okay, so maybe not everyone. Marcy wrung her hands, enthusiasm shot. "Right, okay…. Mr. Moon, it's great to meet you. Thistle's told me about you."
Moon pointed at her with his cane. "Let me make something perfectly clear for you. I am not here for your entertainment. You are not to touch me, ever, nor my companions without explicit permission immediately beforehand. As long as I am in the room, there will always be a nearby window open, or some substitutable manner of egress. You are not to stop me from attempting to leave, and you are not to make demands of me. You are not to touch me, ever. Do I make myself clear?"
Marcy looked cowed and chastised. "Y-yes, sir."
"Moon," Thistle whispered. "You don't have to talk to Marcy that way. She's nice."
Moon turned away from Marcy. “Never hurts to set clear boundaries.”
Thistle mouthed Sorry to Marcy, and she shrugged.
“Well, Marcy is going to make sure everything goes smoothly, and that Severa really does stay nonviolent. Um, I’m sure she’d love to talk with you, Moon, but-”
Moon pointedly turned his back to Marcy and walked over to the table.
“Right,” Thistle said. “Um.” He skittered over to Marcy. “Sorry, Marcy,” he whispered. “I want you to have fun, too, but it might be better for you to hang back and not intervene unless someone is in physical danger.”
“Oh,” Marcy said, trying not to let it show how crushed she was. “Right. I’ll…I’ll observe.”
“I’m really sorry, it’s just-”
“No, no, I get it.” She was trying very, very hard to get it and just be happy to be an observer–it really was an incredible privilege very few other humans had ever gotten–but she felt herself getting more upset with Moon. Of course it made total sense for him to be standoffish around her–there was no telling what kinds of experiences he had in his past–but could she not even interact with Thistle freely when he was around? Surely he didn’t have the right to demand that?
She kept her eyes on him. His frame was broader than Thistle’s, more muscular, and Thistle barely came up past his waist. Thistle seemed…more at ease around him much more quickly than he had been with Marcy.
Don’t be jealous. Don’t be jealous of a guy eight inches tall. That’s too ridiculous.
More than that, she was burning with curiosity. She knew even less about him than Thistle did, even less about him than she knew about Jewel and Violet and Severa. It was a significant effort to not just reach out and brush her fingers against him. The temptation was real, but she knew the consequences would be dire.
His wings were beautiful, with eye spots. He smelled nice. He fanned his wings as he stepped forwards towards Jewel, getting on with the interrupted introductions. "And who might this strapping specimen be?"
Jewel flushed deep red and sank down into the water in his mug, averting his eyes. For someone who’d been teasing Thistle about having a crush, he’d gotten awfully quiet as soon as the attractive one had shown up.
"This is Jewel," Thistle said. "He's shy."
"I'm not shy!" Jewel burst out.
"Then say hello."
He looked nervously at Moon. "H-hello."
"There," Moon purred. "See, I don't bite."
Marcy cleared her throat. "Speaking of… It seems like everyone is here now. Should I bring her out? Is everyone ready?”
The creatures on the table scuttered to their seats. Moon took the seat to Thistle’s right, leaning his cane against the chair, while Violet sat at the end of the line.
That left the other half of the table empty. A gap big enough for the largest tiny person invited.
“I think we’re ready!” Thistle said, flashing her a thumbs-up.
“Ready,” Moon announced.
“Let’s go, I guess,” Violet said nervously.
Jewel glowered and crossed his arms. "Sooner it can be over, I guess."
Marcy walked into the pantry, leaving the tiny creatures alone.
“Why are we doing this again?” Jewel said.
“If I can form a connection with Severa, she might not need to hunt,” Thistle answered.
Moon was staring at him. Thistle shrunk under his gaze. “I just–I just think it’s worth trying to find some way she can live without killing people.”
Moon folded his hands on his lap. “That’s awfully noble of you.”
“I still think this is kinda stupid,” Violet muttered. “She’s a predator.”
“We can at least try!” Thistle insisted. “If you had to eat people to survive, I’m sure you’d love for someone to try and help you! She’s hurt and trapped and scared and she has no way to help herself! You’ve been there!”
Violet’s ears lay flat back against her head. “I-I guess.”
Thistle nervously looked back at Moon, searching for approval. Moon looked surprised, if anything. “You really mean it. You really have compassion for her despite being terrified of her.”
Thistle fidgeted with his fork, unsure if he should try to confirm or deny it. He certainly felt something, and there was definitely both compassion and terror in his maelstrom of emotions.
Marcy came back, mercifully cutting the train of conversation off. She set the cage on the table and said in awkward Pixish, “All right, Severa, ready to exit?”
Severa tentatively uncurled, looking up at Marcy, and nodded.
“Remember, if anyone says she goes back in, she goes back in,” Marcy said to the others in English. "I’ll grab her as soon as you give the word."
“Your kind certainly are good at grabbing,” Moon commented darkly.
Marcy waffled back and forth on how to handle the rude comment, before she decided to just ignore it and unlock the cage then lower the door open.
Severa hauled herself out of the cage, slithering her long body over the door. Despite their agreement, all the small creatures at the table fidgeted. Jewel’s eyes were wide. Violet flinched repeatedly. Thistle’s breathing picked up. Moon’s face was cool and collected, but his ears twitched.
Severa didn’t seem bothered. She curled her coils up underneath her to use as a seat. "Hello,” she announced. "I am Severa."
Thistle suddenly realized he would be stuck translating if he wanted Jewel and Violet to understand Severa. "She’s introducing herself."
“Uh, h-hey,” Jewel said in English. "I’m Jewel."
Violet opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut, grabbing the tablecloth.
“You may call me Moon,” Moon said in Pixish. He reached out and lifted her hand up as though to give it a kiss. She was the only one big enough to have hands significantly larger than his.
She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “What are you doing?”
His eyes flickered up to her, eyebrows raised. He quickly turned her hand sideways to give it a handshake instead. “Just–just a greeting, darling!”
“He’s just being friendly,” Thistle said in Pixish. “These are my friends Jewel, Moon, and Violet.” They weren’t his friends yet, not really–he didn’t make any magic with them. But he was patient. He’d get there eventually. “Jewel and Violet only speak English. But I can translate for them.”
Severa nodded. "Thistle intends for us all to be friends. I am willing to give it a try, though I do not think it will work." She put her enormous, scaly hand on the table. "How do we have…a tea party?”
Thistle perked up. "Well, you sit around and talk nicely and drink tea and eat snacks." He switched to English. "I told her your names, and I’m explaining to her what a tea party is." He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t even considered the logistical difficulties. He’d never had to serve as a translator before. This was going to be…cumbersome.
"Wonderful," Severa said. She never had any enthusiasm in her voice, or much emotion at all. "May I eat, or will that upset your little friends?"
"Yes, go ahead!" He switched to English. "Everyone take some yummy snacks now! Dig in!"
"Finally," Jewel complained. He took a cake and bit into it. He got sparkles in his eyes immediately. It looked like he was about to cry, enraptured by the taste.
"You've never had cake before?" Thistle asked.
Jewel shook his head.
"Well…what do you think?"
Jewel swallowed quickly, face burning. "It's….fine." He quickly reached over and took two more.
Thistle beamed. “Yeah, it’s– Violet!"
Violet had been shoving food into her pack without even eating any of it. "What? You said we could have the food!"
"To enjoy with each other! Not hoard for later!"
"I'ma borrower! We hoard and save for later! It’s kinda our whole thing!”
Severa reached out towards the table, and everyone fell silent. Her enormous hand dipped into the bowl holding the mealworms and emerged holding one of the wriggling creatures. She simply opened her mouth and swallowed it whole, in one smooth motion.
Thistle tried to convince himself it wasn’t scary. He reached into the bowl and took one of his own. He bit the head off–that was as big of a bite as he could get. We’re not so different. See? We even eat the same food! She’s just big enough to eat the whole thing in one bite! Oh God oh God oh God-
“Is it working?” Thistle said, voice shrill. “Does anyone feel anything?”
Violet’s tail thrashed. Jewel nibbled on his cakes, rendered speechless. Moon lifted his teacup up and spoke in English. “I feel thirsty. I thought this was a tea party? Hm?” He waggled the cup.
“R-right! Marcy, can you pour the tea?”
Marcy’s mind was filled with horrible images of her spilling the hot liquid all over the tiny people at the table. Don’t think about it, don’t spill it, holy shit. She took the teapot in the center of the miniature table and brought it over to herself, then filled it with tea from the larger teapot.
“There you go,” she said, setting it back. “Enjoy!”
Moon ignored her and picked up the miniature teapot, pouring himself a cup. “My, this smells delicious! I haven’t had tea in ages–not since I lived with those borrowers back in Louisville.”
Violet’s tail curled upwards. “You lived with borrowers?”
“Yes, indeed! And I know what you’re thinking, how could that have possibly worked? Considering our, ah…” He gestured to Violet, tracing an imaginary line from her head to his. “Differences.”
“Wha’sthasupposestamean?” she demanded.
“I’m simply referring to the fact that I’m nearly thrice your size, darling.”
Violet looked a bit mollified.
“But to answer the question, I simply used magic to make myself smaller!”
“You can do that?” Jewel said, astonished. “The most I can do is make myself look like a fish, but I don’t actually turn into one.”
“Yes, I know a number of spells I can use to modify my appearance!”
Thistle’s mind ran off with that thought. Was this…was this what Moon actually looked like?
"What is he saying?" Severa said.
"He, uh, he said he lived with borrowers for a while, and he can do magic to alter his appearance, including shrinking himself down."
“That’s fascinating,” Severa said, voice as flat as ever. “All of my magic is for helping me hunt.”
Moon looked nervous. “Erm…right.”
“Although I suppose for certain kinds of creatures-”
“That’s enough about hunting,” Moon said. “Magic is fascinating, and it has many uses beyond hunting.”
"You don't have to be scared," Thistle whispered to Moon. "Marcy will stop her if she tries to hunt us."
Severa took the teapot and poured some into her cup. “You know, Thistle,” she said, lifting the cup in her enormous hand. She was able to fully close her hand around it. “I’m surprised you’re so tense around me, but perfectly at ease around Moon, considering he’s an ukubó.”
There it was again. A word he’d never heard before in Pixish. Thistle was faced now more than ever with the realization that his knowledge was limited to whatever his hive had known about magic, and whatever knowledge gaps Mother’d had, he now had as well.
Whatever the meaning of the word, Moon didn’t seem to like it. He stood up, slamming his hands on the table and rattling everything on it. “Do not say that in front of them,” he growled.
Thistle, Violet, and Jewel drew back fearfully.
“They don’t know what it means,” Severa said, amused. She lifted her teacup to her mouth and took a sip. "Two of them don't even speak Pixish."
Had…had Severa just called Moon a slur or something? “Severa, please be nice,” Thistle whispered. He’d have to ask later what that word meant.
Her mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Fine.”
Hackles still raised, Moon sat down.
"What exactly is going on?" Jewel said, irritated. "You're all just yelling at each other in Pixish."
"Sorry," Thistle said. "I think Severa called Moon a rude name or something."
"...huh, I didn't expect her to attack us emotionally."
Moon crossed his arms. “But, yes, to get back to the point, I’ve interacted with a number of species of magical creatures and learned a number of magical spells.”
“Well lah-de-dah,” Jewel said, burying his nose in his teacup. “Mr. Cool Guy over here. Thinks just because he smells nice he’s God’s gift to the table.”
“He does smell nice!” Violet piped up. “Like hickory and cured meats and cheeses!”
Questioning eyes fell on her. “What?” Jewel said. “No he doesn’t. He smells salty, like ocean water.”
“That’s you,” Violet insisted.
Moon’s frame shook with laughter, and he leaned in towards Thistle. “What do I smell like to you, my dear?”
“You smell like…honeysuckle. Wildflowers.”
Moon smiled, eyes soft. “You all have discovered my pheromones.”
“Ph…eremones?”
He picked up a cube of cheese and weighed it in his hand. “I smell different to everyone. It has to do with my magic, you see.”
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a grappling hook catching on the table and distant grunting sounds.
Violet leapt out of her seat and rushed to the end of the table, peering over it. Of course it was Petunia hanging from the line of the grappling hook, shimmying her way up it in her prettiest dress.
“Petunia, get down!” Violet shouted. “Go back and play!”
“No!” Petunia shouted back. “I’m coming to the party!”
Severa uncoiled herself and slithered away from the table. Marcy hesitantly raised her hands as though to stop her, but nobody told her to, so she didn’t. She let Severa go over to the edge and lean over to look down. Violet’s knees buckled, and she fell, shuffling away from Severa but refusing to leave the grappling hook.
What Petunia saw was her sister’s face looking down at her, then the much larger face of a scaled predator leaning into her field of view. She froze halfway up the line, letting out a scared meep.
“You-you see!” Violet yelled. “It’s dang’rous! Get back!”
Petunia’s gaze stayed frozen on Severa. Severa stared back, eyes misty, tears brimming. “Oh, oh my God,” she breathed. “That baby is so small. Whose baby is that?”
Thistle got up and got between Severa and Violet. “That’s Petunia,” Thistle said. “She’s Violet’s little sister. They don’t have parents. Violet is taking care of her.”
“No parents?” Severa said, heartbroken. She put her hand over her heart. “Can…Can I hold her?”
Thistle bit his lip. He already knew what the answer was going to be, but he had to translate it anyway. “Violet, she’s asking if she can hold Petunia.”
“What!” Violet stood up ramrod straight, fur on end. “No! Definitely not!”
“Violet, if she wanted to hurt Petunia, she wouldn’t ask to hold her.”
“Maybe it’s just to get her up on the table.”
“She wants to hold me?” Petunia’s distant voice said. She cautiously restarted climbing up the rope. “Everyone else is up there and nothing bad happened!”
“Please,” Severa said desperately. “I would never hurt a child. Please let me hold her.”
It suddenly clicked for Thistle. She had an egg due. Either she was hormonal, or she had a soft spot for children. Maybe this could be the key. This was the first time she’d expressed any strong emotions about anything at all. Even during hunting her general demeanor had been passive chagrin and dull acceptance of the situation at hand.
“I can’t,” Violet said, starting to cry. “I can’t let Petunia get so close to a predator. I can’t. Thistle, even if your humans are here to watch, they won’t be able to stop her in time if she hurts Petunia while she’s holdin’ her.”
That…was a very good point. Thistle had no counterargument. “Okay, you’re right about that… But what if we just let Petunia come up on the table? She doesn’t have to get close. Severa’s been here long enough that we can see she’s not going to just ballistic for no reason.”
Severa kneaded her hand, still looking at Petunia.
Violet hesitated. “All…all right. But only if Teddy comes and sits at the table too.”
“No,” Moon said instantly. “Having one human here is bad enough.”
“Would you all just calm down!” Thistle said, stomping. “Nothing is even happening. I’m the one she tried to kill, not any of you! And none of the humans in this house have done anything except try to be supportive right now!”
Moon flushed and turned away. Violet fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and muttered.
Petunia’s little hands finally appeared at the edge of the table, dragging herself up. She wound her grappling hook line behind her. “I’m here!”
Severa made a motion to start towards her, but Thistle stood in front of her, despite his own hands shaking with fear. “Severa, wait.” Marcy is here, Marcy would stop her if she attacked.
She stopped, eyes still on Petunia. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“I believe you, but Violet is uncomfortable with you holding her.”
Severa flexed her hand, looking anxious to interact with Petunia.
“Violet?” Thistle prompted.
Violet’s head swung from Thistle to Severa to Petunia. “I…Okay, she can sit at the table. But she has to be at the seat farthest from her.”
“Thank you,” Thistle breathed, having no idea how to resolve this otherwise. “I promise she’ll be safe.” He turned to Severa. “How about you sit at the table together for a while before we talk about holding her?”
Severa backed up slightly, coils wrapping around herself. “Yes. Okay. Thank you.”
The small creatures all cautiously retook their seats. “Everything okay?” Marcy whispered.
Thistle flashed her two thumbs up. “Everything’s cool, calm, and copacetic!”
Petunia dashed over, giggling happily, and clambered up into Violet’s lap. The poof of her dress crinkled against the table. “Vivi! Look at all the food!”
“Yes,” Violet said cautiously. “You can have some.”
Petunia opened her bag and started shoveling food in. Ah. Well, Thistle wasn’t going to tell Petunia not to do that.
Severa watched the tiny borrower, her expression now completely different. She had a soft glow about her. She was smiling. “Your dress is very pretty.”
Thistle translated. “She said your dress is pretty.”
Petunia perked up. “Yay! Thank you, thank you! Your ribbon is nice.”
Thistle translated. Severa reached a hand up and stroked her hair ribbon. “I’m not sure why I wear it. I suppose it feels nice, sometimes, to feel beautiful, instead of only destroying beautiful things.”
Thistle’s skin crawled. Every time he’d almost managed to start forgetting Severa’s true nature, he was reminded of it somehow. He decided to only translate the Thank you.
Moon cleared his throat. “So tell us more about yourself, Severa. Do you have any children of your own?”
Thistle certainly hoped not, because they would have been keeping her from them the past few days. “No,” she answered, much to his relief. “Though not for lack of trying. My first hatchling starved to death, because I was a poor hunter at the time. Inexperienced. My second disappeared from my nest at the hands of a predator while I was away. My third egg was laid premature, small and feeble, and when it hatched it was not strong enough to survive. I’ve held off on mating for a while after that, since I could not take any more heartbreak.”
“Oh?” Moon said. “That’s tragic. I’m so sorry.”
Thistle privately thought it wasn’t tragic at all for there to be fewer nagas in the world, but he did have to admit the idea of innocent babies dying was sad, of course. Theoretically. In reality, he was struggling to detach himself from the hivemind way of thinking–that he shouldn’t feel bad about someone dying if they were a threat to the hive.
But he wasn’t with his hive anymore, he was with Marcy, and Severa wasn’t a threat to her.
Severa’s gaze came over and burned into Thistle. “But I do have an egg due soon, now. I hope it will be different from the others, but I do not have much hope. I need lots of magic to produce a healthy egg.”
“Right…” Thistle hadn’t felt the spark of magic he knew meant he was making a connection with someone else. Severa was just too scary. It was easy to say you were friends. It was harder to actually do it. You couldn’t fake it. You could lie to yourself, but you couldn’t lie to magic.
Severa picked up her teacup agitatedly. “Perhaps your plan would work, Thistle, if I were allowed to hold the baby.”
“I’m sorry,” Thistle said. “Violet doesn’t want you to.”
Severa slammed her cup down. “I would not hurt a child! I have never hurt a child! You act like I am a monster!”
You ARE a monster, Thistle wanted to say, but he didn’t, of course. “I’m sorry.”
“Uhh, Thistle,” Jewel said nervously. “What’s happening?”
Severa’s tongue flicked in and out, and her sides heaved as she hissed in air. “We both know this isn’t going to work. I’m going to die, and you’re not even going to let me hold the baby before I die. And for what?”
Marcy’s hands crept closer, alarmed by the visible increase in agitation.
“Severa,” Thistle squeaked. “Please. It’s not going to work if you get mad at me.”
“It’s not going to work at all!” Severa got up, leaning over the table at Thistle. “We both know that! You are trying to defy the natural order of things! You are foolish and naive! To think I could be anything other than a killer, a predator! I am hungry! And not for companionship!”
She lunged. Jewel splashed back in his cup, Violet grabbed Petunia and darted away, and Moon threw himself at Thistle to push him out of the way.
She didn’t reach him, though: Marcy’s hand closed around her, yanking her up into the air.
Severa writhed in her grip, squeezed her wrist. Petunia cried loudly. Severa stopped and looked down at the little girl, tears in her eyes.
“I wouldn’t hurt a child,” she insisted.
Still sobbing in fear, Petunia got up and scampered away, Violet not far behind.
“Come back,” Severa wept. “Come back. Please. If I could just hold a baby one more time, I could die happy.”
“Okay, teaparty over,” Marcy declared. “Sorry.”
***
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