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It’s a rainy night.
“She requested that I meet her tonight and no other night.”
My intercom has a moment of static, then the distorted voice from the other side comes through. The speaker obscured, even to me. “And you can trust her?”
I step through a puddle, the splash of it adding to the cacophony of sounds. “No. I can’t.”
No response.
I step into the darkness of a side alley. I’m not taking the direct path, never should. For my own safety, and everyone else’s.
“I have to try.” I speak into the intercom again. Their silence is bothering me.
“Do you?” Their answer is mocking.
I pause under an overhang. Just to give my hair a small break from the incessant rain. Some of the droplets that fall down my hair I even freeze, and let crash to the floor where they split apart. The rest of me I keep drenched, my cloak does its job just well enough. “I do. I’m not making any progress on my own anymore.”
“There are… less extreme measures we can take. You know this.”
I don’t acknowledge them. I still feel mocked. “Are you going to stop me or not?”
“Never would.”
“Then this call is over.” I click once, and end it.
Without hesitation I step back out into the rain. It should be a mere five minute walk until I reach my target’s meeting place.
Thirty seconds pass exactly, when a new call starts.
I don’t have to check the caller to know how it is.
“At least tell us where, so we can retrieve your body.”
“You have so little faith in me.” I murmur, as I rise some other steps.
The cold is starting to seep into my bones.
Good.
“Wrong perspective, Promeia.” The voice groans. “We refuse to lose you. We value you.”
I give them the answer they want. “She’s terrifyingly open. A forum that anyone can enter, you should be able to track who she is very easily.”
“Giving us work on our day off is just cruel.”
I end the call again.
This time they won’t call me again. I know them too well.
That, and I have bored of speaking to them.
My target’s home has come into view. A simple apartment of no note. Just like any other. A stark contrast to the one who lives inside it.
She fascinates me.
More importantly, she can help me. Or at least I hope she can.
She told me she would leave the door open, and she has.
I can merely enter of my own volition. She is frighteningly naive or confident. I like both options.
The inside is furnished like any other home. Though I can’t help but notice that nothing that can be knocked over is at hip height. Most shelves are mounted very high or very low. An adaptation to the space that she’s had to make.
Even with that measure in place the space is messy. It is lived in, if I put it charitably.
For someone who wields ice as a weapon, her home is warm and cozy. Bright colors, an inviting atmosphere. I may have picked poorly.
My target is curled up amidst blankets and pillows, facing the window. The incessant tapping of rain drops against the window creates a backdrop of sound. It helps to hide my footsteps.
Her four tentacles behind her are swaying, ever undulating.
“The rain is mysterious, isn’t it?” She greets me without even looking at me. “It’s so calming.”
“I have been told I smell of rain.” I answer, dryly, recalling a past interaction. “More than once.”
Yidhari turns to me, though her eyes are closed. She takes a deep breath. “I can smell it.”
Then she properly turns to me. She sits up, with the help of her tentacles dragging her around and upright. Watching them move is fascinating and yet unnerving. It’s hard to tell if their movement is random or whether it is a preparation. I cannot tell whether they are intending to strike.
It always feels like the tentacle I’m not watching is the most suspicious one.
“Is that why you insisted on tonight? For the rain?”
“It is.” A smile creeps onto her lips. Bright and genuine in a way that confirms her naivety. “For the same reasons that I suspect you asked for it to be night. We got lucky.”
I wonder if she is right, and we had the same reasons. I doubt it. But if it helps, I am going to let her live in that illusion.
My coat is dripping onto the flooring now. Not that I think she minds. “Can we begin?”
Her smile falters. “So hasty… come, take a seat. I have many questions.”
I like her a lot less now. “I prefer to stand, thank you.”
I can already see the two of us hitting a road block.
Then, strangely, her smile widens again.
It catches my curiosity. What exactly is so amusing?
Lucky for me, she explains herself.
“You are just as mysterious as I hoped you’d be.”
Which in turn simply throws up more questions. “Who do you think I am?”
Yidhari continues to smile. Slowly she rises from her bench. The air of danger hasn’t faded just yet. “Oh, you could be many things. But a shadow of blue and black in the darkness, a mysterious savior at times and a warrior at others. There are myths around you, dear. Ones that I have become fascinated with.”
“Is this why you agreed?”
“To learn more about you?” Yidhari nods. “How could I not? You would make for a great side character in one of my many pieces.”
If there is one thing I expected least, it’s for me to become an object of her fascination. I already knew she wrote stories, I knew she indulged in myths and legends as all of the spook shack does.
For me to be considered a myth… I suppose it may not be too far off, in the eyes of a beholder.
“So this is your payment.” I heave a breath.
Having to reveal parts of myself is not a strong suit of mine.
“It is.” Yidhari steps closer to me. “I simply must know more about someone as cryptic as you are. So how could I say no? And don’t worry, I don’t need any dennies or anything else.”
Information is the most precious payment of all. I wonder if Yidhari knows that.
Less extreme measures, huh?
To me however it is an acceptable exchange.
“And you plan to use this only in… fiction?” I have to ask. To know.
“I’m not interested in dreariness of reality, only in its corruption. Nor do I gain anything from connecting these dots back to you. It’s fascinating how the seemingly most realistic stories are never the ones that get looked into deep enough, hm?”
She chuckles, clearly an attempt at humor of hers.
But I can only feel relief. The feeling of danger is starting to subside.
Her motives are genuine, if seemingly misguided.
“I assume you want your payment upfront then?”
Yidhari’s head tilts at that. Her tentacles squirm a little faster. A bit more excited, I assume. “Not… quite. I want to hear what you actually want from me first. Maybe I’ll learn by doing. As one might say, show don’t tell.”
The meat of the problem.
Trust is not an object of currency here, desperation is. “I need you to freeze me.”
I expect her to object, to be shocked at the idea of it. And yet it seems to only tease more interest from her.
She wants to hear more, so I tell her more. “I have experienced one trial by cold. I need another, harsher one. I need to be more resilient. And my hope is that someone who uses ice to kill, can get as close as possible to killing me.”
“A game with death.” Yidhari nods sagely, as though I didn’t just suggest that she kill me. As though she’s even excited by the prospect of it. “And you chose me as the second player.”
“So you agree?”
Her smile turns mischievous. Her hand plays with one of the tentacles, lets it wrap around her wrist. As if teasing me. “I can’t say that I’m practiced in what you’re asking. I can’t promise I’ll get you to that edge as close as you want to be. But I can promise to try.”
“Good enough.”
It is just an experiment after all. I don’t expect her to be good enough.
Desperation. The driving force.
I unlock the mechanisms holding my arms in place. A second later I late my cape fall to the floor.
Yidhari observes me.
Not with the gaze of a pervert, but that of someone studying me. She wants to know all about me, and the way I present myself is one of them.
Perhaps I am imagining it, but I believe to see two of her tentacles reaching for me. Reaching out to grasp me already.
“Do you need me any more undressed than this?”
It is a genuine question. Some might see it as bold, I see it as pragmatic.
“Depends.” She grins back. “How many suction marks do you want to have by the end of this?”
So it is as I expected. The tentacles are her way to channel the ice.
“I don’t care for suction marks.”
I begin taking off the rest of my clothes.
I know what kind of stories she writes. I know their content.
I know this doesn’t phase Yidhari.
Though she does grace me with a spell of privacy, as she slips away. “Just follow me when you’re ready.”
I keep my boots on for the moment. To not disarm myself utterly, and because they may not require to be removed at all.
The clasps around my wrists I do not even think to remove. At some point they stopped being clothing and started being a part of who I am.
Then, I do follow.
I wish the air in the room was cold enough to feel on my skin. I wish I could feel my body reacting to the lightest breeze.
It is just barely too warm to grant my wish. At least it’ll create a contrast when she time actually comes.
I find her in her bedroom. Her clothes are still on her body, she has seen no reason to remove them.
But she has created a nook in the side of her bed. She’s gathered her blankets and pillows to create a little mountain, and has sprawled herself out across it.
She expects me to simply fall into her arms, and let myself be embraced by her entire body.
“I’ll be gentle. Promise.” Yidhari smiles at me. She talks like I need convincing. Like this wasn’t my idea to begin with, my ask.
“Don’t be.” I answer without a second thought. “I don’t want you to be.”
Yidhari chuckles. It seems I have missed some kind of implication. A joke perhaps.
Not that I care.
Instead, I simply do as she expects and crawl onto the bed.
Trust. Desperation. The line blurs, and I strafe off my shoes as well.
Strangely, it’s only with them off that I actually feel naked. I suppose naked and disarmed may be synonyms. Only the clasps remain.
Though they don’t seem to bother her.
Before her hands can reach me, her tentacles do.
One wraps around my wrist, to urge me forward. The moment one of them can reach my neck, another wraps around it.
It may already be too late to escape, should I have to. She’s already dragging me into her clutches.
The Sea Monster has a victim, one that continues to crawl towards her.
Eventually I find myself positioned in her grasp.
I am leaned against her, facing away from her. I prefer being unable to see her face. It makes it easier to imagine that she isn’t present.
Her tentacles are still busy wrapping me up. With every heartbeat I can feel my motion get more restricted than before.
One has decided to play with my neck. The thickness of its base is too much to even envelop me entirely, but the thinner end of it is lingering near my face.
A second is wrapped around my chest. Almost like she intends to cover me from prying eyes, it is squarely around my chest. Though I am thankful that she is taking care not to tease me.
It feels platonic.
This one is also the one pinning my arms to my side.
A third then has wrapped itself around my belly. Thoroughly in place it has already suctioned itself tightly onto me. This one won’t let me go.
The fourth and final one then is wrapped around my hip. The end of it is curling around my right leg, trying to go ever tighter, ever farther.
They aren’t as slimy as I was expecting them to be. I am indifferent to that revelation.
For now, it feels warm. The body heat Yidhari emanates courses through me. My still rain water soaked skin is cold to touch, enough that even the slight warmth of her tentacles is enough to feel hot.
It won’t be for long.
Her arms, finally, are just loosely resting on my shoulders. There is something very calming about this restraint. About being unable to move at the will of someone else.
I don’t have to move. I can simply give up control.
“Tell me when you’re ready.” Yidhari murmurs, in a low tone. “Or if you’d like to just enjoy this feeling a little longer. It is rather nice.”
For a few seconds I consider the option.
There is something to the living restraints. Different than cold metal. Different than the steel I usually use. Something that I hadn’t really considered before. Though I can’t tell if it is boon or bane just yet.
Or worse, if they’ll interfere with the goal.
“Begin.”
I speak it as a command.
“Hmm… fine.” Yidhari continues to whisper, as though she is implying things. “But I did forget how nice it is to wrap someone up like this…”
Despite her wistful sigh, despite her longing words, she does do as asked.
Her tentacles begin to cool. My body begins to react to the cold. A first shiver runs through me. The air I draw in is quick and hasty, as what little air is in my lungs loses in volume.
But it doesn’t hurt yet.
I need it to hurt.
Already it feels different to the clinical cold I am used to. There is for some reason a difference between manufactured cold and natural cold. A difference that I cannot pinpoint, that I cannot describe.
Now, I feel it more than ever.
Her Tentacles squeeze me tighter, as they slowly approach the freezing point. She is taking her time with this. Or perhaps she simply doesn’t have as much control as I was hoping that she did.
I struggle.
For a few heartbeats my primal survival instincts overpower me.
A desire to be free, to find warmth, to fight and survive.
I am not strong enough to beat the strength of her tentacles. Not even close. I make a note that if I have to ever face her on the battlefield I can never let her catch me.
Then I have myself under control again.
My breathing is quickened, my heart beats faster. Deep breaths to focus myself again. I am lacking the sensory deprivation of being underwater. I am lacking the weightlessness.
But I do have something else.
I can hear Yidhari’s heart beat. I can feel the warmth of her body behind me, even as her tentacles become colder. I can feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.
It’s practically the opposite. Instead of too little senses, I have too many to feel.
My body is trapped under constantly undulating tentacles that simply won’t stop moving no matter how strongly they’ve suctioned themselves to my body.
They are now reaching a temperature where the air in the room starts to condensate on their surface. Soon, it’ll start freezing.
It’s nothing I’m not used to. This is far from capable of killing me. It used to be able to. But I live the cold more than most.
I need more.
“I can feel your heart.” She whispers. “I can feel it beat faster. I think… I’ll be able to tell when it’s slower.”
The sound of her voice breaks my trance. It’s a reminder that I am not alone.
I never knew how much I treasured the feeling of being alone in these moments. I thought it wouldn’t matter, but her presence is… disrupting.
It’s an experiment, one I have already decided I am not going to repeat.
As if to support her words, the tentacle on my chest tightens. It presses into me. It’s like she is listening to my heart a little closer now.
Which only makes me want to calm down further, and deny her that pleasure.
I’ve found another obstacle.
My breathing is obstructed.
If every breath is a challenge, it makes it all the more real. Perhaps she will at some point squeeze too tight, and give me the feeling of being underwater that I have come to treasure so.
We’ve reached freezing.
I can tell by the frost building on the tentacles. The water in the air, and the water on my body are reaching the right temperature finally. Another faint shiver runs through my body.
My eyes close.
Any second now I will sink in that state of meditation that I so crave. That endless void of no thought, as my body accepts death and my mind fights it, when it extends every moment that I have left, and let’s me think with a clarity that defies logic.
And then Yidhari speaks.
“Still alive… still fighting. Good.”
It breaks that meditation. That expectation.
But it’s also a reminder.
A reminder that she doesn’t actually want me to die. I can feel her check my vitals, a tightening around my chest, my wrists, a squeeze of my thigh.
It’s… reassuring, may be the right word. She won’t let me die, no matter how cold we get. Not that I care. If I do die, I was too weak, and nothing was lost.
I can feel the sharp sting of frozen air in my lungs. The exhales are ice cold now, inhales are bringing in the warm air around me.
“I need to do this more often.” The Thiren whispers. “You’re telling me so much without a single word.”
I find myself sinking into a different feeling.
Rather than an acceptance of death, I give into a different loss of control.
Trust.
I give Yidhari control over my body. Over my wellbeing. My eyes are still closed.
Almost like she accepts my offering, the tentacle playing with my neck now covers my eyes. She’s taking away a sense.
This surrender is different.
Not one I had planned for, not one I ever even thought I might seek out.
But it is a new feeling. A new perspective. It may be worth exploring.
As I feel my temperature plummet even further, as the ice cold feeling of her tentacles envelopes all of me… I do not feel the fear of death.
It should be upsetting. That is what I came here for. To feel that fear again, to seek out pains and then find a new escape from them.
But it isn’t.
There is nothing upsetting about this.
I sink back into her. I let every muscle in my body relax. With every exhale I imagine myself sinking into the ground, vanishing.
At this point my body is so numb I might not feel anything at all. Even the warmth behind me is starting to fail and succumb.
More importantly though… the movement remains. The promise of warmth just within my reach. If I speak a single word, she would end it and save me. She would bring me back. I trust her to.
That promise… it’s intoxicating. It’s nauseating.
For the first time in forever, I do not crave more cold. I crave warmth. The warmth that I have repeatedly asked to be taken from me. Warmth that I never I deserved.
“You are strong.” Yidhari whispers, and I do not mind her whisper. “I’ll go further. I’m curious myself now how much you can take, dear visitor.”
Good, I want to say. Please, I want to ask.
But I can do neither. I do not have to do either. She’s already doing what I would ask of her.
I reach the point that I desire. When the cold feels so cold that it starts to burn. When the body struggles to understand what it is feeling, and simply vanishes into chaos. When the mind sees no more escape but the inevitable acceptance of death.
Ordinarily, my life should flash before my eyes now. I should feel the pain that I crave, numbed by a frozen heart.
Yet the feeling of Yidhari’s body… The intimacy of her tentacles constantly moving… A mass of muscle that contains me. Even as frost creeps throughout my body… I feel present. I feel aware.
I have no desire to escape reality, not right now.
Instead… as everything else freezes, my heart thaws.
Another breath. A weaker one.
I can feel the dark. The promise of the dark end. That sweet lullaby that promises an escape.
I trust her to pull me free. So I do not resist it.
Not this time.
And Yidhari does save me. She does stop, she pulls away.
By then I have already surrendered to it. In that moment I lacked the desire to save myself. Knowing someone else would do it for me.
I awaken in what feels like a fuzzy prison.
Blankets.
Plushies.
I feel warm again. My eyes remain closed.
My entire body feels sore. More sore than usual. It’s not just the ice this time, but the little pressure marks that her tentacles will have left. Little suction cups that clung to me.
I am throughly aware of every single one. I can feel them, pulsing as my heart beats. My skin roughed up by them and their desperation to cling to me.
It is a pleasant pain. Less of a sting, more of a linger.
Just the way I want it.
A tired sigh escapes me.
I am unnerved. The memory of my surrender clings to me. I should not even be capable of such a thought. I should be capable of death, yes, but not of its acceptance. Nor should it have been that easy. I barely offered a fight at all.
Just as I am starting to ponder the implications of what I did in that moment, I feel jostled by a tentacle wrapped around my waist.
It is warm again, alive. Though it doesn’t grasp me as desperately. I would compare it to a hug, if I had to compare it to anything at all.
I do not struggle against it. But I do shift my body, and slowly grow aware of the second one wrapped around my thigh.
She hasn’t properly let me go. I shift my head, and become aware of the soft pillow upon which I rest, which I now realize is not actually a pillow at all.
“Good morning.” Yidhari’s voice is somewhere above me. “And? Did you learn what you needed to learn?”
“No.” That much I know.
I did not learn what I originally set out to learn. Far from it. I didn’t even get close. “But I do have more questions now. I will require your services again.”
I will have to get close to that moment again. I have to find out why I surrendered, and if it perhaps too could be turned into a strength.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Yidhari whispers. Her fingers strafe through my hair.
“Did you obtain your payment?” I am not feeling talkative. I do not wish to share stories of my past so she can learn of them. But I will hold up my end of the bargain if she asks me to.
“Oh, plenty and more. I have… so many ideas for stories.” Yidhari chuckles. “You cannot even fathom how fascinating you are to me.”
I accept her words with an appreciation, and refuse to open my eyes.
I am not ready to awaken again and face the world. I’d rather just rest here a little.
With my head laying in the lap of the first person I trust.