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For June, the worst part of the storm was when it was quiet. With the howling winds and deafening thunder, she at least had a sensory reminder for why she felt a creeping sense of dread. Without the auditory input, all she had was the dark and the dread and Parsidarach’s shivering weight on her shoulder. The lights were out and Marcy was away and Parsidarach had hurt himself trying to fly in the storm only an hour before and June wanted to stay strong, but her swift mind was turning over all the ways this could possibly end up being the worst thing that ever happened to them.
Parsidarach was making soothing noises, nonsense words that only unnerved June more for hearing them from her normally stoic daemon. For the first time since she was thirteen, she wished he hadn’t settled or that he’d at least settled into some nocturnal creature instead of a gyrfalcon. The dark closed in further and her thoughts rushed and then there was the crack of lightening and the roar of thunder but no light to go with it and damn it all she wanted was light –
She shrieked, afraid and furious for being afraid, for being denied that simple desire – light – and Parsidarach dug his talons into her shoulder, startled, and then there was a firefly.
It hovered lazily before them, both calming and unsettling. Calming, because June could see now, at least a little. Unsettling, because it was made of fire and she rather suspected she’d somehow produced it.
They stared at it for several long moments while the wind kicked up again and the shadows flickered.
“Do it again,” Parsidarach demanded. With a little effort, she did. She created a whole swarm of fireflies and they banished the darkness and she could breathe again, thank god, even though she was still freaking out a bit. Okay, a lot, but not because of the storm anymore. “Well,” Parsidarach said softly. June turned to look at him. The fire’s light reflected strangely, comfortingly, in his black eyes. “Well, I guess that’s you settled now.”
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He should have known, should have been prepared for this. He should have. Heck, he did know. He was June’s alpha and the Commander’s son and he grew up at Maillardet’s, dang it, he knew about the Night Games. He knew all about the Night Games and how competitive they got and he’d even made that agreement with Rosario and Mal, but now he was panicking and even feeling Verdandi’s fluttery wings against his neck wasn’t helping to calm him down. What if he dragged Mal down? What if he dragged June down? He beat muffin batter with more vigor than actually required, for longer than he should have due to his distraction, and ended up over beating the batter. He cussed mildly and wound up having to throw it out. He started on cookies, instead.
“You should make this your last batch, I think,” Verdandi advised several sheets of cookies later. “You’re running out of room and June will be here soon.”
“Shoot! What time is it?” He glanced at the clock and sighed. He put in the last batch, set the timer, and got started on the mountain of dishes he’d racked up. “Hey, Dandy, would you mind…”
“Of course, even though I really don’t think we need to keep up appearances around June, Ernest,” she said. Her slight weight drifted away from him and then she shifted, her form flowing smoothly from a moth to a black bear.
“It’s not keeping up appearances,” he said. “It’s just… pretty much everyone else has settled and you’re always a bear in public and –”
“I’ll settle when we’re ready, Ernest,” Verdandi said quietly. “That might not be for a long time. It might be never – that happens to some posters – but the way I am now is how you need me.” Her head nodded seriously and her paw rested reassuringly on his back. “There’s no need to fret now, especially not about me.” Her ears flicked back and he heard it as well: June was at the door. He doubled down on the dishes and his worrying, but thankfully Parsidarach swooped in, distracting Dandy so she didn’t comment on his increased anxiety.
June noticed. June pried the issue out of him – one of them, anyway – and as she did, Verdandi hummed with approval. “See?” Ernest could all but hear her saying. “She would understand.”
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Maks’ memories of the Night Games were almost beyond recall in some places and terrifyingly clear in others. He mostly remembered Ernest saving him and June pushing him beyond what he thought was possible. Mairen told him later that his clearest memory was Parsidarach’s arrival, of the falcon diving to the ground to land at Maks’ head and standing over Mairen’s battered body, screaming and mantling. Really, June said later, Parsidarach should have left the scene immediately to get help. Instead, the falcon refused to leave their sides and had even ended up hovering in the nurse’s station while June, Ernest, and Verdandi waited outside. Mairen also remembered how difficult it had been for Nurse Bliss to convince Ernest to hand him over once they reached the station… and how Ernest had carried Maks to the Wright household once he was well enough to leave the station.
Mairen was positively gleeful over the new sleeping arrangements. He chattered excitedly with Verdandi long into the night. Maks noticed that the blue racer spoke more than ever while his jaw was recovering and wondered if the daemon was trying to make up for his relative lack of quips.
This was a quiet moment, though. It was just after dawn and Maks, though awake, could feel the lingering haziness of sleep pulling at him. Ernest wasn’t quite snoring at the moment and at some point in the night, he’d turned on his side and thrown an arm over Maks, who was comfortably tucked into the embrace. Mairen was still asleep, coiled up on the mattress beside his head, within the crook of Ernest’s arm. On top of Mairen, shining in the faint light, a green moth spread its wings over Mairen’s coils.
“Good morning, Maks,” Verdandi whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Morning, Dandy,” he said quietly, grinning. Then he shut his eyes and drifted back to sleep.