They awake to a thunderous noise from above. Ergh bolts out of the bedroom on all fours, leaving the alchemist disheveled, thrashing about in tangled sheets that cling to his sticky flesh. He clutches the muscles above his hips as they burn from unaccustomed use. Pulling on clothes, he finds her peering through the heavy door to the first basement floor.
“The smokepowder and metal balls trap.” The air is a mix of sulfur, grit, and a growing charnel odor of exposed innards.
>Godsdamned adventurers. Are any of them still alive?
“One was. Then guts fell out. Why they come?”
>Duke Revulsio wanted gas canisters that could be built into ballista bolts. Like a proud idiot, I put my maker’s mark on them, wound up a side-quest for everyone trying to take down the bastard. There’s a certain kind of hero that follows every paper trail, no matter how inane.
“Ergh move bodies? Take stuff, put rest in vat?”
>They’ll keep. Breakfast first.
“Ergh make fritters!” she scampers away, on two legs this time
__________
It’s a cozy evening before the fire. The alchemist yawns and stretches.
>I feel like turning in. Ergh, would you like to be abed?
Ergh squats in an armchair, holding a book at arm’s length as her eyes track across it ravenously. “...We learn about Salt-Peter. Peter is useful person.”
>You…don’t…want to be…abed?
He’s nonplussed.
“Oh, that. Ergh play with Master later.” She judges the remaining thickness of the book. “Tomorrow. Peter has many uses”
>Oh…good, actually. I’m a bit sore.
“If we want a break, we wake you up.”
__________
Ergh crawls on the bed towards the alchemist, expression sultry, black eyes gleaming, black robe hanging open
"How does master want us? Above? Below? ...Behind?"
>What does Ergh want?
(A pause, then her tongue invades his mouth, wetly, as she pushes him down onto the bed) "Want your tongue. To start."
__________
Another re-gifting. It's become a ritual, like the refreshment of her humors
>Now you can give yourself eyebrows.
"How many times?"
>What do you mean?
"We've done this before, the gift, your sweetness. How many times?"
>...at least six.
"What are we to you?"
>...
He can’t answer. Her eyes look hurt. No, worse: Disappointed.
“Why are we here?”
>...Every time, I swear I won't bring you back again. Then I break my promise. I always miss you too much.
“Your promise is selfish. We want to stay.”
>It hurts me when you go.
“We melt. Every time. Still want to stay.” She glares, arms crossed, half pouting, half hugging herself. “Ergh didn’t get to choose to be. Ergh gets to stay.”
________
“A-Ah! mmmmhgrrrrrrr.” Her piercing cry slips into a sigh, then settles into a low purr. “Thank you, Master.” She turns on her side, curling up in profound satisfaction. “Ergh done.”
The alchemist wipes his mouth, enthusement receding to confusion.
>But I haven’t-
“Ergh. Done.”
__________
"We found her. In storage, under the acid-trap room."
>[ The alchemist doesn't look away from his work, but he winces. Shit ] Found who, my dear?
"Me. An old me. Head cracked open and empty. Floating, in a big jar. What happened to her?"
>I...I extracted your essence and kept the body for study. You had started decaying,
“But wasn’t gone yet”[Expand Post]
>You said yes to it! If it would help you ‘stay’ next time, yes.
“She said yes to be studied. Not to stay in jar forever.”
>Things in jars get studied! I've learned so much since then, gotten so close to a working nephritic organ. Next time-
"Put her in the ground. Or melt her. Please"
>It's not you.
"We know. She's an old meat puppet, a broken toy."
>That's unkind to both of us, Ergh. You're the culmination of years of work, mine and yours.-
"WE WANT HER TO REST."
_________
Sometimes, Ergh collects all the linens, furs, and quilts she can find, and makes a piled nest of them before the fireplace. They spend most of the day there together. A long, slender arm reaches out from the pile, grabs a chunk of cheese from the platter nearby, then retracts.
“Our favorite spot”
>Why?
“Not sure. Something nice happened here, we think. Like being close to it.”
>Ah, the first time-
“We had you. That’s it. She was lucky girl.”
_________
Ergh creeps through the manor basement, left intentionally abandoned-looking to deter peddlers and missionaries. She pounces—long arms flashing out to snatch something small, squeaking, and full of humors.
“Got. Sweet thing.” she whispers.
Outside, three figures—scapegraces all—do their own creeping in the last light of evening.
>Those goons in the spiked armor come round sometimes. Bringing or taking outlay. Must use this place as a cache.
A young woman in a shawl and tall, well-worn riding boots heaves open the heavy cellar doors.
Inside, Ergh’s jaws open too far, easily accommodating the entire front half of the rat. As the woman lifts her lantern, its beam catches something hunched among the broken wine racks. It wears a black wool dress, slit high enough for it to perch on its haunches. As the light falls over it, it turns to face her—skin the white of beachstone, blood smeared across chin and jaw, lips parted in a soft ‘o’. In its clasped hands, it holds a wet lump of grey fur.
It smiles cautiously. The teeth are human, but stained red.
“You want?”
It proffers the other half of the rat.
The woman takes in the scene for several long moments. The thing winces as it continues to proffer the rat, unsure how to proceed.
Calmly, she sets down the lantern, closes the cellar doors, picks the lantern up again, and turns away.
>This place is cursed. We’re leaving.
“But Edith, we haven’t—” a young man a the frilly shirt objects Someone of indeterminate sex and indeterminate hairstyle eyes the cellar door in concern.
Edith doesn't turn fully, just speaks in profile.
>We’re leaving.
Her tone brooks no argument.
_________
>I worry you should hate me.
“Don’t”
>I’m not sure you can. Your nature-
“Can. Did.”
>Oh…when?
“When you waited. Want to be with you. Need you to come back. Not fair that we need you for that. Would rather just be with you, not need you.”
A colleague visits to collaborate on an order of Creeping Fire for the Screaming Despot of Urgesh. The other dark scholar watches Ergh leave the lab, her robe swishing, then speaks, both hands resting on his cane.
>You made it for bedding, yes?
"She's a servant and assistant and helpmeet. And friend. Her intellect is on par with a clever journeyman, and every iteration retains additional knowledge. She'll be mixing the sulfur compounds for the batch.
>You're not fooling anyone, I saw its arse. Lifespan?
"Maximum lifespan of an instance is over sixteen months now, with bi-weekly flushes and filtering. Used to be semi-weekly for three months. The nephritic organs I made could probably go in a human with some tweaking."
>Ah yes, your old, worthy work. Hard to improve the human condition when you're burning them alive for the Urgeshi, but altruism doesn't pay tithes. Does it still eat rats?
"The rat-eating remains an...endearing quirk."
>And...the bedding?
(a door creaks open) "We hear you" (Ergh enters the lab, pulling a handcart of carboys. She sashays over to the men, placing a narrow, long-fingered hand on her master possessively) "The bedding is vigorous." She smiles, eyebrows raised in feigned innocence. "Sometimes we scream. Again, tonight, Master? When the rude man leaves?" The alchemist’s face reddens, the other man beams, eyes twinkling with mirth. His cane taps the floor decisively.
>I've come around. She's an absolute treasure.
________
"Want to stay with you. Sorry I can't." Clear, viscous humors leak from Ergh's eyes. They're leaking from everywhere.
>I know.
“Bring me back. No waiting like last time. You promised"
>Not until I'm sure of the new organs. They're almost perfect, more tests-
"No waiting. Waiting is worse than this. We miss you, between. We know when you wait. You change, go grey, get sad."
>I can’t do this again. I lose you, every time.
"We lose you when you wait.”
__________
Ergh reads by the fire, the Alchemist in a chair next to her, his expression a bit distant, his grey hair going white.
>Did you do the procedure today? You need fresh aqueous vitae every-
"every waning moon. And white bile every third. I filtered last week, no cast-off tissues, just humors."
>...I'm repeating myself, aren't I?
"You care. It's sweet." She reaches out a hand to him, he takes it and kisses it.
>Five years?
"Seven"
A weight visibly falls from his shoulders.
>You don’t need me anymore, then.
Her hand caresses his cheek
“Best gift. Better than eyebrows.” She pauses. “Still want you.”
__________
The colleague comes calling again, his cane no longer for vanity.
>How is he, my dear?
"He has good days"
>Is this one of them?
"Good enough. Just got worse, though."
>Thank you, I get such perverse validation from being disliked by a woman of character.
"Come in, pay your respects. This is the last time, yes?"
>I think so. Traveling takes quite a bit from me, these days. …I envy him, you know. Not the embuggerance, of course, the-
"Me. I know. Thank you."
__________
>Why is it dark and dank down here? Am I in a prison?
"This is home, Master. I'll light more lamps, bring in a brazier."
>....Thank you...uh...Miss...um...damn.
"Ergh. It's okay. We've done this before. Maybe you'd like some outside later? I'll ready the chair."
__________