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There's one thing about shadows that most people don't know (and probably wouldn't ever consider, if they had a notion that shadows could do anything at all), and that's how incredibly willful they can be. When given the opportunity, at least. You give one of those fuckers an inch, you'll soon find yourself short a mile.
At least, that was the case for Kremy. He wasn't sure about other people's shadows, honestly. And while he'd never admit it, he did wonder if the issue with his shadow was that it was a bit too much like himself. It didn't just reflect his silhouette, but his personality, flaws and all, in a way he found grating at times. It reminded him of when he was young, when he'd piss off his maman and she'd wish a child just like him onto his adult self, as some act of karmic retribution. Kremy never had children, so perhaps this was just how that curse was now manifesting.
Shadows were meant to be perfect mirrors of their owners, but to wield them in any magical capacity, one had to bestow upon them some agency. Usually, they stayed subservient, but - possibly thanks to his childhood antics, and the powerful will of his mother - Kremy's had grown a bit too much individuality. He wouldn't call it rebellion, necessarily, but it certainly had a penchant for bending rules when it thought he wasn't looking. Baron only knew where it learned that behavior.
It wouldn't have been a big deal, really, if it had kept to just being a little curious, a little bothersome, maybe poking around things it shouldn't from time to time, or even making the occasional cheeky joke behind his back… No, actually, come to think of it, it all started with just that.
One night as the krew set up camp, Kremy's shadow stood sentinel behind him - as it should - cast on a rockface to his back by the light of a campfire he was cooking on. He was just taking an experimental sip of his stew, contemplating if it needed a bit more paprika, when he heard a chuckle from the other side of the fire.
Across from him sat Gideon, the only other member of their party not otherwise occupied. Kremy glanced curiously up at him.
"Somethin' funny?"
Gideon shook his head, failing to hide his grin. "Nah, nothin'. Just…" He waved a hand vaguely, as if that was an explanation. Kremy blinked, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth pressing further. He turned his attention back to the boiling pot.
Not twenty seconds passed before Gideon gave a sudden, loud snort. Kremy startled. The entire shaker of seasoning he'd been carefully adding dropped into the pot with a plunk! He frowned furiously at Gideon.
"Fuck is wrong with you!?"
"Shit." Gideon shook his head, bit his lip. "Nothin'. Sorry. I just, uh… remembered somethin' funny."
Kremy waited for him to elaborate. He did not. "… Feel like sharing?"
"Nah, uh… I forgot."
Kremy leveled him an unamused look. "… You forgot."
"Yeah."
"Two seconds after laughing about it."
Gideon shrugged a shoulder guiltily, and took a sip from his waterskin. Kremy rolled his eyes, ready to let it go and fish his ruined shaker out of the stew, when suddenly water went spraying out of Gideon's mouth, all over Kremy and their dinner.
"GID!" Kremy stood, futiley brushing droplets off his vest and face.
"Sorry, 'm sorry!"
Kremy glared up just in time to see Gideon's gaze directed somewhere over his shoulder. Turning, he caught just a moment - a quick bit of movement of a dark shape out of place - but it righted itself too fast to call it out. Hands on his hips, he slowly made to turn back toward Gideon, feigning distraction before suddenly whirling around to face the rock. His shadow froze, caught, holding up its fist in an unmistakeable, mocking jerk-off gesture.
Kremy gave his shadow a furious glare. It melted back into its default position, mirroring his tense stance. Only then did Kremy turn his fury to Gideon.
Like a guilty child, he kept his gaze diverted, pursed his lips and sat with hands clasped on his lap.
"Do not encourage it!"
"I didn't say nothin'!" Gideon's shoulders rose defensively.
That had not been the last time Kremy's shadow had conspired with Gideon at his expense. In fact, it seemed to take a real shine to Gid. But then, it was an extension of Kremy himself, so he couldn't fault it for gravitating toward his best friend, could he?
What he could blame it for, however, was bringing Gideon's shadow into it.
Shadows did not, as a general rule, know how to operate on their own without an outside influence. Autonomy didn't seem to occur to them until introduced - assuming they had any mind at all in which concepts could occur, beforehand - and even then it took a lot of magic and a lot of concentration and practice to break them of their inanimacy. Usually, unless that shadow was being stolen by magical means, that influence was their owner. It hadn't occurred to Kremy that his shadow's rowdiness could infect other shadows around him. Not until it had started developing a fascination for Gideon's.
He caught it one evening, while they all drank and laughed in a tavern, on the wall beside Gideon's shadow. At first he thought it was the drink affecting his vision, but as he focused it became undeniable: his shadow was… poking at Gideon's.
The flames in Gideon's hair caused some flickering and inconsistencies in the silhouette of his head - an odd halo of light, contrasting the rogue, almost devilish looks of the man himself. Kremy's shadow was reaching up a hand, curiously passing its fingers over the light dancing there, watching them disappear momentarily within it. It seemed entranced by the meeting of dark and light. The light would win, each time, swallowing the hand passing through it, but then return what it took the moment it was removed from its field. If Kremy had allowed himself to ponder over it, he may have wondered if his shadow felt the same warmth there that could be felt from the real thing. (A warmth, much like that light, that always appeared ready to consume, but never really burned. Kremy had few occasions to touch Gideon's hair, but every instance stuck vividly in his mind, like a treasured album. He sometimes fell asleep to the memory of soft, warm locks flickering between his fingers. Not that he would ever admit it.)
As it was, the only thought running through his head just then was panic. Kremy quickly glanced around, making sure no one else had noticed. His companions were, thankfully, distracted. All of them were occupied by the raucous dancing that had started in the middle of the tavern - either participating or, in Gideon's case, watching on wistfully. Kremy turned and hissed at the wall. With a subtle snap, he finally got the shadow's attention. It twitched and whirled around, caught. And with its shoulders rising and falling in the pantomime of a sigh, it reluctantly returned to its natural position - that currently being the hunched over, agitated stance of its owner.
Things were getting off the rails very quickly after that.
Over time, it seemed that every moment he stood a little too close to Gid, his shadow got just a bit closer. And, to be quite frank, he and Gideon were close very often. They worked together, schemed together, traveled together, occasionally shared a tent or room. Proximity just came with the territory, and that wasn't his fault. But when your shadow was beginning to develop a crush on the shadow of the closest person to you, separating them became a problem.
Case in point: Not long after the first incident, Kremy was sat beside Gideon at a fire. He forgot what he'd said, but it had Gid laughing in an open, unguarded way. He had been a few ales into the night and it was affecting the quality of his laughter, tilting it toward something one could almost call a giggle. Kremy had been watching, feeling something warm in his chest…
… Until he caught sight of their shadows in his periphery, and that warmth was doused in a wash of cold.
Behind them, Kremy's shadow was still grinning. It had been leaning close into Gideon's shadow, closer than Kremy had been leaning toward Gideon. Noticeably closer. Its head tilted sideways as it admired the way the hulking shoulders of the shadow next to it shook in silent mirth. It looked ready to lean in further still.
Kremy stood abruptly.
"Whoa, man!" Gideon blinked up at him. The residue of laughter still dusted his speech. "Where ya goin'?"
Kremy was already stumbling over the log they both sat on before he could even formulate an excuse. "Uh, um…" He gestured vaguely into the surrounding forest. Glancing to the side, he saw his shadow right itself to mirror him, shaken from its… whatever it was doing. "Gotta piss."
"Oh. Well, watch out, gonna trip if ya—"
"Good luck!" Gricko was well past sloshed as he waved merrily at Kremy from across the campfire. "Don't pee on anything I wouldn't!" Kremy rolled his eyes, ignoring the guffaws from Torbek as he left the group.
Venturing as far as he could while still allowing the dim light of the fire to reach him, he leaned sideways against a tree. His shadow sat guiltily on the forest floor before him, trying to seem inconspicuous.
"You," Kremy addressed it in a low hiss. The shadow had the gall to point to itself questioningly. "I fuckin' saw that."
The shadow shrugged.
"Don't you play coy with me," he sneered. "You've been gettin' way too cozy out there! And not even a bit subtle about it!"
Even in the dim light, Kremy saw the sarcastic shift in its stance. The shadow pointed at itself once more, haughtily. Kremy could almost see its brow raised. He chose to ignore whatever it was implying.
"Yes, you!" He caught himself as his voice raised, glancing around to confirm the rest of the boys didn't notice before turning back. "Look, you gotta quit it. You can't be gettin' all— all googly-eyed over my— … the fellas, it ain't right! What if someone sees ya? Huh?"
His shadow crossed its arms petulently. Kremy's mother would have loved to see it.
"It could—" ruin everything, he almost said. "— fuckin' embarrass me, alright? Suppose one of 'em noticed, what would they start to think?"
Both he and his shadow had their arms crossed, but while Kremy felt his shoulders raised, anxiety spiked, shifting from foot to foot, his shadow looked downcast. It didn't need a face for him to see some familiar pain there. One might call it longing.
He felt it in his own chest, like a thicket of brambles around his heart. Constant, growing, choking, tangled inextricably through his ribcage and leaving a scar for every day he'd known Gideon, keeping the score. He'd gone far too long without pruning it. Perhaps this was his fault.
"Just…" He swallowed, steeled himself. "Let it be, alright? Push it down. Nothin' good lies down that path you're tryna go..."
Its head lifted slightly, seeming to meet his gaze.
"I know it ain't fun. Trust me, I… I know. But it's not so hard after a while, promise." He sighed. "… Ya get used to it."
Whether he was talking to himself or the shadow now, not even he knew. But as he shook his head ruefully, he saw it do the same, and knew now it had gone inanimate once more.
"You alright back there, Kremy?" Speak of the devil— Gideon was stood at the edge of the treeline, calling out to him.
"Didn't fall in, did'ja, mate?" Gricko cried out somewhere behind him. Torbek's giggling could be heard faintly.
Kremy turned with a sigh back toward camp. "By the gods, can't a fella have a li'l privacy around here!?"
◇◇◇◇◇◇
It hadn't stopped there, as Kremy had hoped, but it at least took a while before his shadow tried anything again.
Oh, it thought it was slick, too. Waited for moments when Kremy was too distracted, when it thought he wouldn't notice, when he couldn't pull himself away from his current situation to admonish it. But Kremy saw.
He saw its touch linger when he patted Gideon on the back.
He saw its hand reach for the larger silhouette of his friend's when they walked beside one another.
He saw it lean into Gideon's shadow, saw it gaze up at its flickering halo, saw it curl into itself when Gideon went off with some stranger, when he kissed a pixie - or two, or three. (But how could he fault it, then, when he felt so very much like doing the same?)
The true horror came, however, as they sat at a fire with some fungal folk, ready to exchange tales. Because it was then he saw his shadow reach the distance behind him, out toward the hand of Gideon's shadow once again.
And that other hand reached back.
A shock of cold seeped into Kremy's chest. Ice spread up his arms from his fingertips. Out of sheer panic, he tried to reach back to— to what? Grab at the incorporeal wrist of his incorporeal shadow and pull it away? Oh gods oh fuck! Gideon's shadow was turning its head—
"Oh, you don't have to hold hands!"
Kremy's head snapped around so quick, he heard a crack somewhere in his vertebrae. All eyes were on him.
"I mean, you can if you want!" continued the myconid. "But—"
"I was just— I— … I-I was just scratchin'—!" Kremy could feel sweat prickle the back of his neck. He didn't even know he could sweat. "… Everyone quit lookin' at me!"
After that, exhaustion and visions stole all his focus.
It would be a long time before any of them got a moment of rest. If his own attention had been stolen from his shadow's antics, he could at least rest easy knowing the rest of the crew - especially Gideon - had been distracted as well.
It was in the light of a glowing waterfall, deep in a fae cave, where he and Gid finally got some true alone time, and where the extent of his shadow's meddling became apparent.
He'd been enjoying it, this escape with Gideon. They hadn't had a chance to just… be the pair of them, catch up with one another, get some quality time without the rest of their company, in a long, long time. They reminisced, gossiped about the others in ways they wouldn't dare within earshot of any of them. Gideon talked excitedly about his bike, and despite not giving a single solitary shit about bikes or engineering himself, Kremy found himself hanging on every word, simply to share in the joy Gideon felt. He gave input, suggestions. He asked questions — not to learn, but simply to hear the answers.
They joked, they laughed. Gid laughed beautifully. As his whole face bloomed in a smile, Kremy noted some new lines to his crow's feet that hadn't been there when their journey started. They suited him. Like for all the quest had aged them with stress, uncertainty and near-death, so too was there evidence of joy. Brambles rooted deep in his chest as he thought of all the laughter shown in those lines. Pain bloomed as he wondered if he'd get to see more form. If he'd get to watch Gideon grow old.
The ache of longing grew only more pronounced as he glanced over behind them. Cast by the dim glow of the water, two shadows merged into one shape — the shape of an embrace. Four arms, this time, were holding one another. Reciprocating. He allowed himself just a moment of wistfulness as he watched them. His own shadow seemed to press its cheek to the broad shoulder of Gideon's. He saw, mottled only slightly by the halo of firelight, the fuzzy image of Gideon's lips pressing to a reptilian head.
Kremy held in a gasp of pain, and stood.
"'S getting late, Gid." Silently, he was quite proud of how even he kept his voice. He cleared his throat, partially to unblock whatever knot was tying around it, and partially to get the attention of the pair behind them. "Should probably head back now."
Mercifully, the two shadows quickly returned to their posts. Gideon let out a groan as he stood and stretched. "Yeah, reckon yer right," he conceded. Slinging an arm around Kremy's shoulder, he led them both back to the bike. The weight of it broke something fragile in Kremy, but he kept that to himself.
When they'd made their way back to the cottage, said their goodnights and returned to their rooms, Kremy stood for a long minute, alone in the dark. At length, he sat on the bed, lit a candle on the nightstand. His shadow sat on the silhouette of a bed behind him as he turned.
"Never again." He didn't sneer it, didn't hiss or bite. He wasn't angry. He didn't have it in him to be, not just then. His voice was soft, but resolute. "You are playing a dangerous game. One that'll get him hurt, too. And that's where I draw the fuckin' line."
His shadow had been sitting dutifully, until that moment. Its chin dropped just a might.
"So help me, Baron below, if you get him hurt… If we…" He shook his head. "… I catch you doing that one more time, and you'll never move again without my say. You got that? I-I'll put you away if I gotta, I'll take away your—" Waving a vague gesture, he wilted into himself, head in hand. "… No more, alright? We're done. You're done… I'm done."
He didn't bother to check for a response. Wearily, he climbed under the covers and blew out the light.
◇◇◇◇◇◇
They were in Motherhorn. They were alive. They were tired. Still, Kremy's heart felt both light and heavy, like a buoy on a turbulent ocean, bobbing around enough to make him seasick. On his tongue still lingered the taste of iron, and of Gideon.
They were alive. They were tired.
The crust of stage makeup still coated his eyes as a trembling hand wiped at them. He was used to a little eyeliner, had gotten into the habit of gently dabbing around his waterline to avoid ruining the look, but in that moment, he simply could not be fucked. Not to clean it, not to maintain it. He was just so… so tired. Not that he expected to sleep; far too much had happened. Far too much was going to happen.
As the others sorted out their sleeping arrangements, Kremy stepped into a mostly-empty hallway and patted his pockets, looking for his cigarette case. He'd just pulled one out (not bothering with its holder) and had been searching for some matches when a tiny flame appeared before him, alight upon a large red thumb.
"Thank ya, Gid." He leaned forward with the cigarette in his mouth, sucked in some of the flame, and took in a deep drag. Gideon shifted next to him, leaning against the wall. Kremy couldn't quite find the courage in that moment to look at him.
"We did good, huh?" His arm nudged Kremy's shoulder.
Kremy let out a huff of smoke. "Gideon Coal, I reckon they'll be puttin' your name in a star on a sidewalk somewhere."
Gideon let out a single, bashful chuckle. "Well, I had the perfect costar. Helps when ya got, y'know… chemistry or whatever."
Kremy chose not to overthink that. "Maybe we went into the wrong business." Finally, he glanced sideways. Gideon was watching him, arms crossed over his chest with a small smile, hidden beneath his mustache, but evident in his eyes. His hair was dishevelled still, both from his stage look and from Kremy's own fingers running through it. He couldn't stare too long, though, not after what had just happened.
"Aww, Kremy," Gideon teased. "Don't gotta make any big career moves just to kiss me."
Kremy choked on the smoke in his throat, wheezing out several ugly coughs. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, as the oxygen returned to his lungs and his friend watched on in concern. Gideon patted his back with a soft "whoa now."
"Damn—" He hit his own chest with his fist. Brambles tightened. "Damn fae smokes… Never bummin' anything off of anyone here ever again."
Graciously, Gideon chose not to comment. But his hand rubbed at Kremy's back a bit too long to be helpful. "Y'alright?"
A deep breath in, out. Kremy's gaze stayed ahead of him. "Yeah. 'M good now."
"I mean…" Gid shifted from foot to foot, searching for some words Kremy couldn't guess. Finally, he let out a sigh. "… Lot happened tonight. Y'alright?"
"No more than any other day in this fuckin' place." Kremy took another drag.
"Little bit more," mumbled Gideon. Even without looking, Kremy heard him shift to scratch at his neck. He dared to glance over at him, and now it seemed Gideon's turn to avoid gazes.
"How ya mean?"
A sconce on the wall opposite them illuminated just enough of the gloomy hall, casting them both in a warm yellow light. It was just enough to show the darkened shade of red in Gid's cheeks. Even without it, though, the flames on his face and head were just a bit brighter than usual, giving his features no place to hide. They licked at the gaudy wallpaper at their backs. Kremy's eyes turned away when Gideon's returned to him, like magnets repelling, to follow the pattern downward.
"Y'know, just… Seems like it's maybe been… significant—"
Gid was speaking still, but very suddenly Kremy wasn't listening. His eyes trailed down, down the wall behind them. Something was wrong — and not just the fact someone thought this kind of damask would look good here. His brows furrowed. His eyes squinted.
His eyes widened.
"— a-and I thought, maybe we could talk about…" Gideon's words trailed off, unheard. "… What, what's that face?"
"Oh fuck…"
Gideon's face became almost maroon. "What?"
Kremy turned to back away from the wall. "No…. no no no…"
"Well, geez, fine, forget I mentioned—"
"Gid…" Kremy looked from the wall now before him, to the sconce opposite it. Back and forth. Back and forth. "Gid, look!" he hissed.
Properly concerned now, Gideon pushed off the wall and looked to it, eyes scanning frantically. "Okay, alright… Ugly wallpaper, what about it?"
His voice remained low, yet desperate. "Our shadows're gone, Gid!"
Gideon squinted at the wall a second. Casting about, he found a broom nearby, and picked it up. He waved it in the air between them. A slender shadow wiggled with it, but nothing more.
"Shit."
"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck…" Kremy dropped his cigarette, clutching at his head.
Gideon looked between the wall and him. "W-Where is it? What do we do? Does— Wait, does the hag have 'em??"
"I-I dunno…"
"Should we get the guys?"
Through the panic, it had occurred to Kremy just where their shadows may be. Or rather, how they might have disappeared. Thinking back, he did recall seeing multiple shadows in the room he'd just left, making the possibility of anyone else's being stolen - while not impossible - a little less probable. A shadow-stealing hag probably would have grabbed at least a couple more from their party.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down. "No… No, I-I don't think any of them lost theirs. Think it might just be us."
"How come? 'Cause of the play? Is she trying to keep just the leading roles here or somethin'?"
"Gid…" Reaching out, he grasped his friend by the shoulders, meeting his eyes at last. "I think they're okay. I don't think she took 'em — I-I mean, I assume I'd be able to sense it if that was the case… I'd feel her magic or somethin'."
"Then where'd they go?"
Damn if he could let Gid see whatever state their shadows may currently be in, but damn him even more if he could ever lie to him… Well, at least about something this significant.
"… I dunno. But wherever they are… I think they went there themselves."
"How d'ya mean?"
Steeling his resolve, Kremy stepped past Gideon and down the hall. "C'mon… Guess it's time I finally told ya."
◇◇◇◇◇◇
He didn't give Gideon every detail. In fact, if he was being honest, he didn't even give him most of them. But he told him enough.
"So my shadow can move on its own now?"
"Shh!" Even with how late it was, the two regularly had to duck around corners to avoid being spotted by stage crew. They were too easily recognized now. No way they could slip by anyone without having to explain themselves, or having their predicament noticed. Kremy waited for a pair of goblin stagehands to pass by before leading Gideon down another corridor. "Yeah, it can."
"You've seen it?"
Kremy sighed. His eyes scanned into every open door they passed. "Yeah, I have."
Gideon huffed in amusement. "Bet they've gotten up to some trouble, if they're anything like us."
They turned a corner, following signs to the main stage, and a hunch Kremy had. "They sure have," he muttered. Not terribly like us, though, he kept to himself.
There was a guilt gnawing in Kremy's gut, shading the already-present anxiety over the fact this whole thing was his responsibility. His lack of control over his own shadow — his own magic, his failure as a warlock — had caused Gideon's shadow to not only be taught how to move, but how to feel. Kremy's affection had been forced upon an unwilling participant — worse yet, the one being in this or any world whose trust he could not stand to violate. It was a perversion, a violation of his and Gideon's friendship.
He couldn't leave Gideon behind in this search (not that Gid would have let him go alone, he knew), but he was sure if he saw the things Kremy had seen these past months… Well, he didn't know how their friendship would recover.
Gideon had kissed him on stage, that was true. He'd put on his best, most convincing performance yet. But things done consciously — done out of necessity— were different from… whatever all this could be called.
He wondered how much more he should explain, what he should prepare Gideon for, as they snuck their way backstage of the now-deserted theater.
"Look… Gid, um…" Kremy took a lantern off the wall, held it out for the other man to light. One couldn't hunt a shadow in darkness. "I-I don't know what they might be up to right now, but… I want ya to know, I'm sorry about all this."
"Aw, Krem, it ain't your fault."
Kremy sighed, peeked around some costume racks. "It is… It is. I should've… y'know, gotten a better handle on it sooner. It's a big responsibility, wieldin' a shadow, and I…" Holding the lantern aloft, he let his eyes roam around for any sign of movement. "… I just feel like I let ya down. And I'm sorry."
Silence was his reply. He figured he deserved that.
"When this is all sorted, I promise I'll… I dunno, get a leash on that thing. Magically tether it to me for good. And I'm gonna make sure yours gets fixed, too, so don't you worry, alright?"
Once again, silence. Deserved as it might be, it felt out of character. Kremy finally turned around, and found himself alone.
"… Gid?" He glanced around frantically. Oh gods, first the shadow, and now the whole damn Gid? What the fuck—
"Kremy." He heard his name in a low murmur. Backtracking a bit, he found Gideon, leaning sideways against a beam by the big curtain separating the front stage from back. There was some light source casting a blue aura that lit his face as he stared out. Kremy quickly tiptoed over and peeked around.
The stage was empty, save for a single spotlight shining from above onto the back curtain. The front curtain remained closed, hiding it all from the empty theater beyond, but there, in the twilight glow of the light, two silhouettes moved across the space in tandem.
"They're dancin'." Gideon was smiling. Kremy didn't notice. Inside his chest, his heart was sinking into a sharp tangle of vines. Dread poured over him, frigid, life-ruining.
"Alright… Alright, we found 'em, good," he babbled. "I-I-If you just let me handle it, I'll get mine wrangled, a-and yours should—"
"Hold on, now, Krem—"
"You just— You can wait back here, and I'll—"
Gideon cut off his spiral with a hand to the shoulder. "Kremy, calm down. We found 'em. No one's around, they're safe. We got a minute."
Kremy looked at him incredulously. "… No, Gid, we do not got a minute," he hissed.
"Why not?"
It took Kremy a moment to get over the sheer shock of his friend's newly acquired nonchalance over their situation. "… Because they're still detached from us, Gid! They're vulnerable! We're vulnerable!"
Gideon rolled his eyes (Kremy bawked) and turned back to watch the pair. "C'mon, man. My shadow hasn't gotten to dance in a while, let 'im have this."
Baffled, Kremy looked out again at the stage. The pair was doing some kind of freestyle waltz, held close to one another. Not either of their usual styles, but the shadows seemed naturals at it, the way they moved as one. Gideon's lowered Kremy's into a sudden dip. Kremy's shadow's shoulders moved in silent laughter.
Awful. Terrible. Oh, but it could — would — get so much worse if they let it go on much longer.
Still, Gideon watched on with a look Kremy didn't quite understand. It was sad, distant. Wistful. Perhaps it was the dancing he was reminiscing over. It wasn't the kind he seemed to prefer, but he'd been without his rhythm for some time. At least a week or something. Long enough to make him nostalgic.
Kremy let out a frustrated huff. He was really starting to panic, and Gideon's lack of gravitas was only setting him more on edge. He slipped off his jacket and hat, and rolled up his sleeves.
"I'm goin' out there."
Gideon's small smile dropped as he looked down at him. "Kremy—"
"I'm goin' out there, and I'm stopping this."
Gideon huffed. "Man, what's got you so upset about it? They're just dancing!"
"They shouldn't be, Gid!" Kremy paused, checking that his sudden increase in volume hadn't alerted the dancers. The two remained blissfully unaware of anyone's existence beyond their own; Gideon's shadow spun Kremy's out, then back into its arms, like a romantic yo-yo. Kremy turned back to Gideon. "They should be by us, followin' us and mimicking us and… doing as shadows should!"
Gideon held his gaze a moment. There was still something sad in his eyes. Kremy hated it.
"… This is really botherin' you."
"Yeah, Gid, I'm bothered that we're in the realm of a fuckin' shadow-stealin' witch and our shadows are—"
"No, I mean…" Gideon looked back out at them. His shadow was holding Kremy's a little closer, their tempo slowing. I'm running out of time, Kremy thought. "… This."
Kremy had to look away from the stage. "Gid..."
Gideon watched on, eyes wide, mournful. Finally, he sighed. "… Five minutes, Krem. Give 'em five minutes…" He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders hunching inward. "I'll keep an eye on 'em."
Kremy turned to look out at the stage again. It was where he and Gid had, not a few hours prior, been standing. Where they performed for their lives as a doomed romance. Where they'd kissed for the amusement of a powerful hag.
Where he'd died in Gideon's arms.
Kremy's shadow laid its cheek on the chest of Gideon's. Gideon's rested the glowing beard of its chin on the crown of its partner's head, sharing a halo, arms loosely yet intimately wrapped around its waist. It was unmistakeably earnest. Unironic. Romantic.
Kremy couldn't stand it.
Tears in his eyes, he quickly made to step past Gideon. He didn't even make it fully on stage before large hands were grabbing him by the waist and hauling him back, out of sight of the dancing pair.
"Nope—"
"Gid!" Kremy hissed, wriggling in his grasp. Gideon got him pinned so swiftly, it stunned him for a moment. All it took was one arm to restrain Kremy, arms trapped to his sides, feet dangling off the ground as he was pressed against a wall of cushioned muscle. When his mind finally caught up to the situation, he seethed.
"Gideon Nathaniel Coal, you let me down right this fuckin' instant!" He kicked his feet and wriggled helplessly.
"No."
His tail thrashed as he attempted to twist around. Gideon held him like it was nothing. Kremy was totally powerless. If he hadn't been so upset, it would have impressed him, to say the least. (In fact, he might not have minded it at all…) As it stood, his desperation was increasing, and he let out a low, animalistic growl.
"I swear to every god in every fuckin' pantheon, Gid— If you don't— fuckin'— let me go—!"
Gideon had the absolute nerve to raise an eyebrow at him. "You'll what."
Kremy thrashed like a fish on a hook for a moment. It was ineffective. "I'll bite you!" he threatened, breathless.
"Do it."
Kremy snapped at the air by Gideon's head. Gideon didn't seem fazed. Fucker knew Kremy could never hurt him like that. (Not without a mind-altering fae curse, at least.)
Time for another tactic.
Kremy winced, panting heavily. "Ow— Ow, Gid, you're hurtin' me…"
He could hear the frown in Gideon's voice. "No, I'm not."
"I can't— breathe—" Kremy fake-choked.
He felt a shift in the grip holding him, and for a moment he thought it had worked.
The next moment, he was being held in two arms, pinned horizontally with one around his chest and the other around his thighs and tail. The overall grip was less tight, but even more immobilizing than before. Kremy let out a long huff of frustration, before attempting to thrash again.
"Let me fuckin' go!"
"Why?"
Kremy glared sideways at Gid. "I already told you!"
"Didn't tell me enough."
"Gid, what part of 'our shadows shouldn't be runnin' rogue' don't you fuckin' understand?!"
"It ain't about that, Kremy."
Kremy looked about one more look of increased indignation away from a medical event. He sputtered.
Gid ignored him. Arms laden with angry alligator, he made his way back to the side of the stage. The two shadows were fully slow-dancing, now, swaying in a meandering circle. Kremy couldn't bear to look at it. He felt close to a panic attack, grounded only by the grip he found himself in.
Gideon watched on, however. Eventually, he looked down at Kremy, lying tense in his arms, and sighed. "… Does it really upset you?" His voice was soft again — wounded, more fragile than anything of Gideon Coal had a right to be. Like paper that had been crumpled and flattened a few too many times and dunked in water. Kremy dared to glance over at him. "And I don't mean the… the whole danger thing. I mean… them. Together."
Swallowing his pride and hurt, Kremy forced himself to look at the stage.
"… Doesn't it upset you?" He hated how crumpled and weak his own words sounded now.
"Why would it?"
"It's… They're…" Kremy looked down, away from the shadows, away from Gideon.
"Did the… Did the play upset you? D'ya… y'know, wish we'd had different roles?"
He couldn't pretend he didn't know what Gideon meant now. Still, he could avoid the truth.
"What," he scoffed. "make me kiss fuckin' Gricko or somethin' instead?"
Gideon mumbled so soft, Kremy wouldn't have heard it if they weren't so close. "Or no one at all…"
Kremy watched a couple tears hit the floor below him, sliding off his snout. He didn't answer. How could he?
With a wavering sigh, Gid set Kremy onto his feet. He cleared his throat, yet still sounded gruff. "We'll go out together. Don't think we should charge out there or nothin'. They'll probably run if we spook 'em, right?"
Kremy nodded. Truthfully, he knew that if he had snuck up on them, there would have been too high of a risk of them scattering, and too many dark corners for them to hide. But he'd been desperate.
"Maybe we can… I'unno. Reason with 'em."
"How?" Kremy dusted off his waistcoat, eyes downcast.
Without another word, Gideon stepped out onto the stage. He didn't sneak, yet kept his footfalls lighter than they usually were — a hesitance, a care to his step that Kremy wasn't used to seeing. Watching from the curtains' shadows, he crouched to hide partially beneath some kind of mobile light fixture, with the practiced ease of a man who was used to hiding from himself.
With their guard obviously down, it took the pair of shadows a moment longer than it should have to notice Gideon. (Absolute lack of situational awareness, another reason they shouldn't be out on their own.) He stood there before them, hands raised placatingly, like a man trying to steady a spooked horse. Immediately, Kremy's shadow looked panicked, grabbing the other's arm and glancing side to side. Kremy crept back a bit further under the rigging; he knew exactly who it was looking for.
"'S alright, yer fine."
Gideon's shadow stood protectively before Kremy's. Had it not been glancing around its partner, Kremy's shadow would have disappeared behind the larger silhouette entirely. The two watched Gideon with suspicion.
"I'm not— I'm not here to break up the party, alright?" He gave them a weak, crooked smile. "I ain't like that. I just… Y'know, Kremy's worried. Got a witch around who likes to collect shadows, and y'all are out here, unchaperoned."
Gideon's shadow folded its arms, cocking its head.
"Nah, I know," Gideon chuckled. "Trust me. But… Can't protect him from everything, can we?"
Kremy's shadow stepped out from behind Gideon's, but kept a hand on its partner's arm like a tether. It glanced to the side, toward where Kremy remained hidden. No doubt that it had some sense of where he was now, when its attention wasn't held by handsome men. Baron knew they shared that weakness.
With a sigh, he crawled out of hiding, dusting off his shins. He knew when he'd been spotted. His shadow and him stared each other down for a long moment, before it turned away, burying itself in the arms of its companion.
Kremy was an expert at breaking his own heart, it was true. It felt all the more unfair here, with that heart on display, personified, baring itself for anyone to see and pity. (Not that he needed anyone else's pity — he had plenty of his own.)
Tentatively, he stepped out onto the stage, giving the shadows a wide berth. As he came to stand next to Gideon, the two dark shapes looked at him, stances tense, as if he was some wicked monster preying on their joy. He supposed that wasn't unearned. He was, in fact, the villain of his own story.
"What do we do?" Gideon asked softly.
Kremy looked from the cowering lovers, up to sad dark eyes. Flames and a backlight of blue formed a corona around Gideon's head that almost blinded him. His resolve crumbling, Kremy turned to face his friend fully. He held his arms out wide. One hand came to rest on Gideon's bicep, while the other reached for his large, calloused hand, lifting and holding it aloft in his daintier green fingers.
"We'll give 'em five minutes."
Laughter lines creased Gideon's face as a smile broke across it. It was like watching the final frost of spring melting off a crocus under the sun. It was a wonder Kremy could ever deny him anything; joy always made him look so very handsome. Handsome enough that for a few blissful steps, Kremy had forgotten about Gideon's lack of rhythm.
He was rudely reminded when a large steel-toed boot landed on top of his foot.
"YÉ YAILLE—!"
"Sorry! Shit! Sorry!"
The dance was broken as Kremy, red-faced and wide-eyed, paced in a limping, wide circle. Screams were muffled in his closed mouth. He held tense, shaking fists at his sides. Gideon followed him, stammering apologies.
"Lemme see, lemme see—!"
Kremy avoided Gideon as he breathed deep through his nose and fought to keep his tone a low mumble.
"Fuckin'… couillon, va t'en loin d' moi avant' j'te le gris-gris mettre—!"
Behind them, a pair of shadows remained, facing one another and ready to share another dance that had been put on pause. They watched the corporeal pair with fond amusement.
Eventually, when Kremy no longer felt at risk of yelling, he sat on the floor, rubbing his foot. Nothing seemed to be broken, but it still smarted. Gideon hovered sheepishly.
"Maybe you should lead."
"Me leadin' doesn't make you less likely to stomp on me, Gid."
Gideon scratched at his cheek - several shades redder than usual - and glanced to the side. Their shadows waited politely for them.
"You could stand on my boots, then."
Kremy glanced at him skeptically. "And what about your feet?"
Gideon looked him up and down. "… Think I'll be fine, Krem."
Kremy could have been offended, but frankly, Gid had a point. With a sigh, he got back up. A strong arm held him around the waist as he planted a fancy spat-clad shoe on each of Gideon's boots. He looked over at the shadows, who now looked to be shaking in silent laughter.
"Laugh it up! Clock's still running, you now got four minutes!"
Unperturbed, the two redirected their attention to one another. Kremy's attention was redirected as well, as he was pulled in closer. Gideon began to sway. His movements lacked finesse, they didnt follow any specific beat, but somehow they closely mirrored what their counterparts were doing. Kremy held close to him, trying to convince himself it was to avoid falling off and putting his feet once again into dangerous territory.
"Feel like a li'l girl at a daddy-daughter dance," he mumbled.
Gideon huffed. "Well… got the daddy part right, at least."
Kremy's eyes rolled so hard it tipped his head back. "Eugch." Gideon chuckled.
"So… How long?"
"Hm?" Kremy looked to the side, watching the other pair. They were held just as close as he and Gid. Unconsciously, he found his cheek resting on Gideon's shoulder, mirroring them.
"How long've they been… Y'know." He felt Gideon jerk his head toward them. "Goin' steady?"
Kremy scoffed. "Not entirely sure… First time I caught yours movin' was back in Thither. Mine's been trying to get his attention for forever, though. Wouldn't be too surprised if they'd been sneaking around."
Gideon hummed thoughtfully. "Well… Can ya blame 'im?"
Kremy raised an eyebrow, but did not lift his head. It was late, and frankly Gideon's shoulder was comfortable. (He tried not to think about how easily he could fall asleep there.)
"I mean, I'd like to think I strike a handsome figure." He flexed his arms a bit. Kremy rolled his eyes again.
"Yeah, I bet you would." He adjusted his hold on Gideon, moving his arm up around his neck. It was more comfortable, this way. It felt snug, safe. Less likely to fall out of step. His mouth tilted into a smug smirk. "Think you're forgetting what figure managed to seduce 'im to life, though."
Gideon's chuckle could be felt in the breath on the back of Kremy's neck, in the chest that shook against his cheek. His voice was low. It made Kremy shiver. "No magic then? Just devillish good looks?"
"Mm, and a bit of charm. Magical or otherwise." His eyes slid open (when had they closed?) to see their shapes on the curtain, held so close. Gideon's shadow was staring down at Kremy's in a way that could only be described as adoring.
Brambles scratched, but the thorns didn't feel so deep. Not just then. Kremy would tend to his wounds later. For now, Gideon's chest shook him once more in a soft chuckle, making him feel warm in more ways than one.
"Bet they loved doin' that play," Gideon mused.
"Yeah, I'm sure they were tickled about it."
Gideon was quiet for a long moment. Distantly, Kremy was aware the five minutes he'd established had to be up by now, but he couldn't quite be fucked to care.
"Was a little fun, wasn't it?" There was a forced nonchalance to Gideon's voice. "I mean… Stressful, yeah. And a lot of blood, but… Had its moments."
Kremy hummed. "Yeah? Y' like actin'?"
"Y'know, I think I do."
"Suits you. Bein' a romantic lead."
The chuckle Gideon gave was endearingly bashful. "Well… I had a great costar."
"I won't argue with that." A wide, toothy yawn. Kremy blinked his eyes open again, once more unsure of when they'd closed. "Coulda done without the blood, though, you're right."
"Yeah, well… Maybe the next one'll be cleaner."
Kremy scoffed. "Already resigned to our fates here, hm?"
No answer came. Across from them, the shadows remained much the same as they had. Close, cozy. They fit together well. At length, Kremy let out a long sigh.
"I dunno what to do about 'em, Gid."
"'Bout what? Shadows?"
"Yeah…"
The slow sway of Gideon's feet had come to a near stop. His boots remained mostly planted, though he and Kremy rocked gently still. It felt like a small glimmer of hope, that there was rhythm still in him, if only he took the time to gently coax it out. Kremy didn't think he'd mind helping him get there.
After a thoughtful silence, Gideon spoke.
"Could always just… let 'em be. Couldn't be so bad, could it? Certainly less stress than fighting it."
Kremy breathed out a soft sigh. "… Has been tough, keepin' them in line."
"'Specially with how clung to my shadow yours is. Like tryna shuck a barnacle."
Kremy scoffed. "Please. Like yours hasn't been glued to mine since the moment it knew how to be."
"Oh yeah?"
"Lookit 'em." Kremy watched them with a wry smirk. "Talkin' 'bout how handsome and irresistible yours is. But you see the way he's been lookin' at mine? Like blinkin' would be a tragic waste." He scoffed. "Wants to kiss 'im so bad it makes him look stupid."
Across the stage, the shadows' dancing - if it could still be called that - rocked to a halt. Gideon's was still looking down at Kremy's with an affection one didn't need to see a face to perceive.
It took him a moment to realize they'd stopped moving as well. Gazing down, he saw a long stretch of shadow across the floor, connecting their feet to the other pair's.
Gideon's voice was very close to his ear.
"Should he?"
Kremy pulled away, just enough to look up. There he saw a familiar face, looking down at him with a new sort of affection.
No, perhaps not new. Just newly brought to light.
"… What?"
He could feel Gideon's heartbeat galloping against his ribcage, so close were they now. His own raced to meet it. The tempo felt weak in comparison. But hadn't his heart always had this weakness?
"Should he?" Gideon shrugged a shoulder. "Y'know… Kiss 'im?"
For far too long, Kremy stared dumbly up at him. He was patient, though, it seemed.
"I… I mean…" Kremy's gaze darted between two dark eyes, as if one of them would suddenly give up the joke, as if this was a prank he was about to play into, just another thing to call ironic. But all he saw was earnestness, vulnerability. Gideon was always the braver of the two of them. "… Y'know, I-I dunno if I ever have seen 'em kiss."
Lines appeared by Gideon's eyes. A smile. "Really?"
"Yeah…" He swallowed.
"Might be long overdue then, hm?" Oh gods, he was so close…
Kremy nodded weakly. "Yeah…"
His eyes slid shut as soft lips found his mouth. He could feel the gentle, almost hesitant pressure, undertoned with heat so warm it traveled to his toes. For all his rows of teeth, hard scales and thin skin over tough bone, Gideon kissed and held him like something delicate, something precious. Like Kremy may shatter. It was a softness many would never assume the genasi capable of, the kind one reserved for their most treasured things.
It didn't feel like the play. It didn't feel like an act.
For so long, with so much effort, had Kremy tried to manage his brambled heart with nothing but his own weak willpower and self-denial. The thorns spent years overtaking him, growing faster than he could fight them off. Trapping and digging and scarring and choking and blocking out the sun — a pain you told yourself could get easier to bear over time, if you were a liar. Kremy lied often. But lying was never enough to manage the overgrowth. What he'd needed was something not to trim, but to consume. To cleanse.
Across the stage, their shadows were dutifully following their lead. A halo of light burned bright around their heads.
Fire. Fire had been what he'd needed, all along.
◇◇◇◇◇◇
"Now, I will remind you one final time," Kremy stood in the doorway with hands on his hips, sternly looking out at the darkened porch of Roslof's - well, currently the krew's - cottage. Behind him stood Gideon, and behind them both, the glow of the light within the home cast against their backs. The porch was empty as he spoke to seemingly no one but the floor. "You stick to the darkness. No populated areas, no streetlamps."
On the porch before them, both his and Gideon's shadows nodded. Between them, their hands were clasped, but that wasn't so different from how their corporeal selves stood.
"And so help me, Baron, if you are even a MINUTE late to curfew, you'll be tethered to us into the afterlife." Kremy pointed at the pair, giving them a severe look. "Gid and I will never so much as kiss without a light between us separatin' y'all. Got it?"
"That might get complicated," Gideon muttered.
Kremy barely passed him a glance. "You're made'a fire, we'll find a way."
The two shadows looked to be chomping at the bit to get out of there. Obediently, their feet remained tethered to their hosts until given the go-ahead. Kremy gave a final sigh, and waved them off.
"Alright. Go enjoy your date, now."
He'd barely gotten the words out before his shadow was dragging Gideon's off by the hand. The two slithered off across the ground into the night, disappearing into the pumpkin patch. Kremy closed the door with a sigh.
"Well," Gideon chuckled, placing warm hands low on Kremy's hips. "Boys're off at the pub. Kids outta the house." He took a step in closer, tipping his chin down to look at his partner with heavy-lidded eyes. "Whole house to ourselves."
"Mmm…" Kremy hummed. His arms draped over Gid's shoulders. One hand twirled a soft, burning lock of hair around a clawed finger. "Suppose we could make good use of this time alone." His mouth curved into a long, toothy smirk as it hovered an inch before his partner's lips. "See how much rhythm you still got in them hips."
With a snap, the record player across the room came to life, starting on a pre-placed album of slow jazz. One arm slid around Gideon's neck while the other hand rested in his larger palm.
With a grin, Gideon began to shuffle his feet with Kremy, leading him in a push and pull across the floor of the living room. He spun Kremy out, then back into him, holding him close, back to chest. Kremy's head tilted back as he laughed.
"You been practicin'!"
"Maybe a li'l." His lips pressed to Kremy's cheek as he held him close, hips swaying in time with the music. "Got me a good teacher, keeps me motivated."
With a hum, Kremy turned in his arms, still held close. "Must be a very talented man."
"Mm, handsome too."
Out in the dark of a moonless night, two figures moved unseen through familiar paths to their favorite spots, dancing all the way. No one could see the way they melded together, moving as one.
Inside the warm light of the cottage, two similar figures danced just the same. Breathless laughter joined the tinny music wafting out the windows, like instruments joining in. The only eyes on them were their own.
Not a heart nor toe was broken that night.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
