Page 25 of The Shape of Monsters
More recently an has gotten into very little trouble, spending most of ans free time doing nothing but drinking and smoking.
Right now, in fact, River reclines on a low settee, practiced laziness loosening ans limbs. An is careful to lower ans eyelashes as an sips cloudy sweet wine from a shallow bowl, as if an is not paying attention to the rest of the room. Though the Moon-Eater and ans spouse know very well Irsu hears everything and calculates fast, there are strangers joining them for dinner tonight: the Moon-Eater’s oldest friend and a foreign designer everyone is excited about. Apparently her wife, too, though the wife has not made an appearance yet. That is the one River is most interested in, given the rumors burning through the crater city of a rival god, a fallen star. River is interested because though the Moon-Eater’s old friend, called Never, seems to share some at least of the Moon-Eater’s powers, it is not the one called a fallen god.
Currently in the room with River is Eliri, the foreign designer Iriset, and Never, all three of them clustered at the far waterwall, discussing the functionality of the design.
This is one of River’s least favorite rooms in the Moon-Eater’s fortress. An prefers the playful trickle of water features over the constant noise of surrounding waterfalls. This room, as wide as the tower it caps, has layered curtains of waterfalls instead of walls. Light filters through in wavering cool tones, uneven and disconcerting to River even after spending countless dinners here. As the sun sets, the light only grows deeper and more mysterious. But a chandelier of everflame floats above the oval table near River, granting a more consistent glow.
The designer Iriset lets go a peal of laughter and River checks to see ans spouse’s reaction: Eliri does not quite smile, but the muscles of her face are relaxed as she nods, agreeing with whatever brought Iriset such joy. It is a strong indication that Eliri likes this newcomer: Pulling anything close to a smile from Eliri has been difficult since the war, since those monsters tortured her and destroyed the last of the girl she’d been when they met. Beside them the creature Never sways like a pale pink piece of river grass. It watches them, occasionally answering some of the broken speech of Iriset’s—the woman uses mostly formal Sarenpet, with words River doesn’t know tucked in here and there. River has picked up the foreign words she uses to refer to herself. Some kind of pronouns.
An sighs and tilts ans head back to drain the bowl of wine. All River’s thick hair falls back over ans shoulders as an swallows, stretching ans neck. The feathers in ans hair itch where they grow from ans scalp. Mostly they’re downy feathers along the hairline at the nape of River’s neck, though a few stiffer primary feathers appear around ans crown. It’s been a long week already, and River forgot to rub in the salve in ans hurry to come to the Moon-Eater’s palace to bring Eliri home for a few days. But River gathers from the situation that Eliri will be reluctant to leave.
The arrangement Eliri and the Moon-Eater share has been inplace for several years, and River has come to accept it despite ans displeasure at her long absences from their home. In return for occasionally doing the Moon-Eater’s bidding, she is free to conduct her wildest experiments. To have what counts to her as fun. There are other intimacies between them, River knows, but they are not sexual on Eliri’s part, she says.
River disagrees that the sticking point of intimacy is necessarily sexual. The Moon-Eater shares something of himself with Eliri that he shares with no one else, and that is intimate enough. Perhaps in return Eliri shares whatever she’s capable of anymore. It is good, River reminds anself again and again, if Eliri can heal. If she can relearn her smiles, if she can sleep peacefully, if she can find her way out of the sluggish drowning that’s plagued her since she was taken from River. Since an did not save her. (And if this Iriset Sunderer can give the Moon-Eater the same or better of what he wants, perhaps Eliri will come home permanently. For that possibility alone River is determined to try and like the foreign woman. And use her on Eliri’s behalf.)
“Ah, but if I touch the threads I may untangle the whole array!” Iriset says teasingly, wagging her finger at Eliri in a friendly manner. It sets River’s teeth on edge, even a mocking threat. River wills ans jaw relaxed. Lazy.
When she first stormed in behind Eliri, Iriset Sunderer had stopped in her tracks at the sight of River anself, staring with sly curiosity. She dashed to River where an stood near the inset table and stared unabashedly at ans eyes.
It’s been a long while since anyone did such a thing—not only because of who Irsu River is, but because in the wider scheme of redesign aesthetics, Irsu’s eyes are not that impressive.
Though Eliri personally drafted the redesign caps with their cascading rainbow effect, so despite the basic nature of the color-changing design, it is perfectly detailed with no fray or spark.
“Ah, ah,” Iriset had said, barely holding her hand back from clasping River’s face. An had tilted ans chin in warning. “What tiny details. Did the designer individually draw the… hmm, windows? No, pieces?” A pout pushed her bottom lip out. “The pieces of individual color in the eye.”
“Facets?” River suggested, not quite charmed but mildly impressed she was so free with her linguistic ignorance.
“Like the sheer cuts of a crystal, hmm, yes, that works.”
“Eliri the Adept Hand designed them,” River said in ans warmest voice, which more often than not comes out sounding like a drawl. An tends to avoid warmth for that reason unless an is among friends. Clear, cold clarity works best in leadership, when backed with caring actions.
“Irsu River is Eliri’s spouse,” Eliri said plainly, as she says most things, and Iriset blinked before glancing at River with more than professional interest, as if she already felt invested in Eliri and therefore in her spouse.
Iriset’s coloring and structure was clearly of the same Osahar ancestry as Eliri, but there the similarity ended. She had her wavy hair long and in strange tangled knots, wore her clothes like they would never fit, and something in her expression spoke of a manic nature, or at least something eager. Eliri’s is a quiet, restrained genius, subdued even, but Iriset crackles with it. Challenges with her bearing. She surely would be more suited to the Moon-Eater’s constant mischief. If River is lucky.
Now, Iriset laughs and the Never creature says, “After dinner,” as it turns into a more human appearance. Its floor-length silver hair moves in thick tendrils like tentacles in a current.
Eliri adds, “With permission”—she is always careful—“the flow of water from the cupola can be shut off and Iriset can dig in.”
Iriset claps twice, then weaves her fingers together to clasp underher chin. “Is it circulatory?” she asks Eliri, glancing at the thin juncture where the waterwall meets the floor and the water vanishes into a thin strip of darkness. They all three have their backs to the entrance, so River is the one to see the Moon-Eater enter with Iriset’s spouse.
Though River has never considered the Moon-Eater to be an actual god, an has always treated him as such—not only for the sake of politics, but for the slight strain of fear River experiences now and again when the Moon-Eater does the smaller bits of his magic. Not the shape-shifting, impressive as that is. No, it is the tiny moments: a grin with too many teeth, eyes with more than a single pupil, an echo of words behind his words—those such things that send a chill down River’s spine, reminding an that whatever the Moon-Eater is, he is not human, nor chimera. And therefore impossible to know.
Now, when Iriset’s wife Lyric Aharté walks gracefully into the room at the Moon-Eater’s side, River must swallow back a gasp like a gut-punch.
For all the Moon-Eater’s sinuous power and occasional bluster, it is true that no people wear the red-rock color of his skin, nor the shards of blood-brick in the eyes. To see a human so designed, elegant and quiet in bearing but with the compelling gravity of a commander, takes River’s breath away.
An will pretend to be entirely unaffected, of course.
Fortunately, an already reclines, and can set down the empty wine bowl to instead light the tip of the nearest leaf roll cigarette by dipping it into the everflame channel inset into the table. River brings it to ans lips for a long drag. An pulls the glow of fire as close as an can, then takes another breath of it, this time drinking in the actual smoke. As River exhales, it filters through ans closed teeth as vivid pink smoke.
“Irsu, darling,” the Moon-Eater says, stalking into the room, “a turn please.”
River slithers to ans feet and holds out the cigarette obediently, as the other three turn together. Iriset immediately comes to Lyric’s side. Lyric’s surprised look is obvious even to River, and she lets Iriset touch her cheek. The sunderer’s brows quirk up in question, but as far as Irsu can tell, Lyric doesn’t know how to respond. She—he? az?—looks exhausted and disoriented. Lyric tied the pleated skirt she’s wearing in the style that most locals would use to indicate femininity, but given that Lyric fell from the sky and is more similar to the Moon-Eater than the citizens of the crater city, perhaps it means nothing. River might have to plainly ask.
“Come, come,” the Moon-Eater says, pink smoke sliding through his teeth. “Let this god introduce all, and then there will be toasting and food.”
Iriset slides her hand down to Lyric’s hand and squeezes it, just as Eliri arrives to stand beside River. She does not take ans hand, occupied as it is with the returned cigarette, but brushes her shoulder to ans and glances up. She murmurs, “Are you well?”
