Hemlock shivered, despite his improved outfit, because Blackfeather had chosen to draw him so close he could feel the cold breathe on his neck. The breathe was only a fraction warmer than their environment.
Blackfeather's hands were running up his sleeve and he felt a shiver run up his back. Not of excitement, but of dread. Nothing about Blackfeather sat right with him. Everything felt wrong. Like it was parallaxed. Out of place. On a different dimension.
"Like I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted…" Blackfeather's body was flush against his back, chest pressed against his shoulder, chin tucked over his shoulder, in a rather intimate embrace. Blackfeather's hands lifted the lid up a crack to show him the contents. "Look. Look at what you've helped free."
He couldn't help looking down. The glow inside the box in this barely lit facility made it impossible not to look.
It was a person.
A human.
A frozen, cryogenically frozen human being, hooked up to a thousand different electrodes. If he wasn't held into place, he would have tried pushing away.
Their eyes were darting left and right. They were alive.
Blackfeather released him and he crumpled to his knees. "Who?" He managed to choke out. His eyes were permanently open now. Unable to unsee the contents of the box. He felt like that woman from the Old Earth story. Pandora.
He'd opened the box and now he was paying for his sins.
"These are the people you've helped free." Blackfeather knelt beside him, whispering into his ear, his nose touching the scars on his head. "You're a hero."
He shuddered, wrapping his arms around his body. "I don't understand."
Blackfeather stood. "I seem to remember how a sad little man stepped onto my doorstep, so lonely and lost. Longing for a higher purpose. You were so loud with your cries. I couldn't help it. You seemed so sad."
Hemlock remembered what he was talking about. How could he not. When he stormed out of his room, to get away from Yngvir's teasing, then got overwhelmed by the crowds in the mess hall. "I…" He started, but he didn't have an excuse. Something to say that he'd never been there at all. But he'd come, he'd walked right in, and tried to open the box himself.
"I only thought it would be nice to help someone out."
Blackfeather turned Hemlock's face to him, with a cold finger that felt like the touch of Death.
Hemlock whimpered as Blackfeather brought their faces closer, his lips hovering over Hemlock's. "Of course, I can't take all the credit. Cassio synced with Yngvir on her own volition. All of this wouldn't have been possible without that mistake." They were practically sharing the same warm breathe now and Hemlock wanted to throw up.
Blackfeather then pushed him down onto his back, straddling him, and pinning his arms above his head. "I thought, why not, push this sad little man in the right direction, let him distract Hawthorn while Gingko returns?"
"It was you." Hemlock gasped, as he remembered oddly forgetting where he was going after he'd escaped Denne's betrayal. "You made me go down that hall. You knew who was going to be there."
"Of course." Blackfeather tapped his temple. "I know a lot of things."
Hemlock felt a burst of rage rip through him and he surged past the hold on him to shove Blackfeather off of him. Blackfeather caught him in his rebellion halfway through, and pinned him down with twice as much force. He cried out. "Oh shushhh, this isn't so bad. I'm not even hurting you."
The force wrapped itself around his neck, "Is that better?"
The feeling of comfort betrayed him and shame took the place alongside the pleasure rolling through him. It didn't have the same effect as it would during the sync, but in any other circumstances, his body would have also betrayed him. He squirmed as much as he could against the force around his neck. Blackfeather tutted, "What, am I not good enough for you? Since I'm not the almighty Hawthorn." The way Blackfeather spit the name, he could have been talking about a pest or an undesirable skin condition.
How had he gotten caught up in all this? Why had Blackfeather picked him of all people. Blackfeather stopped and cocked his head, "Oh? You don't know?"
Blackfeather stood up and laughed, tilting his head back. "What a Delight! I had no idea that you'd turned a blind eye to your own memories. All this time, I thought you knew. I thought that was why you'd come to me."
Hemlock rose to sit up, rubbing his neck, glad the feeling of the choker had gone away for the time being. That was for some other time, some other place, somewhere far away from this place. "I don't know what you're talking about." He felt like a metronome, spitting out the same words over and over again. No wonder people thought he was stupid and slow. He didn't know shit it turns out.
"Well… that's not my secret to tell. Pity. Probably would be more satisfying if you knew." Blackfeather made a face and let him rise to his feet. "I suppose you'll find out soon enough. If you want to."
Hemlock didn't understand, but he didn't have much time to process because the world around him shuddered.
Blackfeather hopped to his feet, grabbing the long feathered coat from the coat rack. "Finally! It's begun! Come, let's go see the ceremony." Blackfeather draped the cloak around Hemlock's head and slipped a hand around his waist. Hemlock couldn't move his arms so he simply tried to keep his distance. As much as he was allowed.
Something deep within his soul, inside his gut stirred at the shudder that had rippled through the ship. Something strange. Something foreign. Something he'd forgotten existed.
He noticed as they passed through the confused masses of people in the mess hall that none of them could sense their presence. They were passing through them and no one could see or sense a thing.
Blackfeather glided like a bird through them, carrying him under his wing.
Even in the holovater, the experience felt surreal. Hidden under the layers of black feathers, he felt oddly safe. Like these feathers weren't just feathers, but something far more archaic and powerful.
"Oh they are feathers, my little bird. They're the feathers of the Psy. From their wings."
Blackfeather grinned down at him, "I stole them off someone. Someone who's very angry I took them."
Hemlock knew enough now that he could make the connections finally. He'd seen the scars on Yngvir's back. How could he not, when they shared an 8 by 8 room together for years without private changing spaces. But he'd always accredited it to some awful accident as a mechanic or a flight assister.
Never would he have guessed were they because someone had ripped them off him.
Does that mean, Cassio had wings?
"Oh no, bird, Cassio never had wings, she's royal blood. They don't need wings. Only the guardian Psy needed wings. The kinds of guards that protected royal blood." Blackfeather had bent over to press his lips close to his ears again and the hairs on his body stood unpleasantly. "I don't think he's doing much guarding anymore… don't you agree?" Blackfeather gave him a conspiratorial smile that he could feel against his ear.
He tried not to think anything. Lest it betray him to Blackfeather again.
Another shudder ran through the ship and they were tossed out of the holovater as it drew down its walls. The feather cloak caught him, as if it had a bone structure of its own and Blackfeather's arm had snaked around his middle. Holding him close. Blackfeather stroked his arm with his other hand. He shied away from it.
"He's finally awake again. We must go quickly so we can greet him."
"Greet who?"
"Blackthorn, of course!" The delighted expression on Blackfeather's face was perhaps the most deranged look he'd ever confronted on a person's face. Truly, this was what madness looked like.
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