Once the dishes and pans were washed, the family settled in the parlor. Patience took to mending some underclothes on the sofa while Schuler grabbed his guitar for his routine practice. He slid a stool near the fireplace and turned to watch his wife work through Anax’s sockets. The glowing orb was faint in the flames, and appeared as some ocular aberration as it drifted from Patience to the guitar below.

Anax never imagined having a second host, let alone one that vied for the affections of his first. Though he was initially reluctant, he came to enjoy making the man’s acquaintance. Not only did their exploits in bed with Patience amuse him, but the skull found entertainment in his mind as well.

The knowledge contained within Schuler was of an entirely different life. Patience knew about nature. Schuler knew of the constructs of man. Glimpses of cities and vistas near and far engrossed Anax. He could hardly get bored flipping through Schuler’s brain. But what enthralled him the most was music.

In his first life, Anax only had the wind and birdsong to move him. Now he had an entire repertoire and inventory of pieces popular among the people and ones personally favored by the man. Whenever diving into his head, Anax would be greeted by a myriad of chords from assorted instruments. Woodwinds, strings, brass, percussion. He learned each of their names, shapes, and sounds. He could hear them all. By virtue of his experiences and gifts, Anax grew to appreciate Schuler. He did not regret Patience’s choice in accepting the man’s love.

Anax watched his second donor tune the instrument. He could easily search Schuler’s mind for what he planned to play tonight, but he enjoyed being surprised. Allowing the man and young woman some amount of mental privacy led to a more interesting and varied life together.

“Why do you never sing?” Anax asked. “It is a common practice to pair with instruments.”

Schuler chuckled. “I don’t have the voice for it.”

“Patience sings occasionally in the garden despite not being talented.”

Patience huffed, slapping her hand on her thigh. “Anax, that was a secret!” The embarrassment burned in her face.

Schuler’s eyes smiled at his wife before dipping to the shining pegs of his guitar again. “I’ll keep my singing to myself. Don’t wanna look a fool and tarnish my tested musical skill.”

“Oh, Schuler, it’s only us,” said Patience. In all the years she had known him, the most she ever heard uttered in song was a hum.

“Maybe. When I got just the right song.” The ends of his lips curled, flaring out his thin mustache.

Patience slipped back into the rhythm of sewing. Glinting needle burrowed through fabric, leading a slithering thread. As her fingers worked the cloth, her husband’s fiddled with wood, brass, and ivory.

Callused fingers plucked out a slow tune. Patience raised her head when she recognized the melody. It was the song Celeste Hargreaves sang for them at their wedding. As the notes fell into a practiced swell, tendrils extended from the cape of fog blazing against the fire. They curled around the guitar neck and offered a harmony to Schuler. Two parts played on the same instrument. Anax never ceased to amaze. His abilities seemed limitless, and his cooperation with Schuler lifted Patience even more.

“You’re doing a good job keeping up, Anax,” Schuler said.

“It’s your own skill that I’ve borrowed and learned from,” Anax replied flatly.

“You’re being humble.”

“I’m just stating facts. I’m an avid boaster when I am due credit.”

“What a strange creature you are.” Schuler sniffed with an absentminded smirk and transitioned into another song.

Patience smiled. She tucked a loose strand of burnt umber hair behind her ear before lowering her gaze to the drawers on her lap once more. 

As the hours passed, the evening chill pervaded through the house. The parlor remained as the last bastion of warmth. Patience and Schuler bided their time until sleep crept behind their eyes. It was then they finally peeled their feet from the rug and prepared for bed. The shock of frigid floorboards hurried their dance at the washbasin, and soon they dove under the down covers of the bed.

The husband and wife huddled close to produce their own warmth in their woven burrow. Patience nestled by Schuler’s chest while he laid his chin on her crown. He had flipped the skull upward for the jagged ends to do no harm. A fog flowed from the cracked base. Anax clutched his partners, letting his solid mist accumulate their heat and reflect it upon them both.