A Tale of the Shapeshifters

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑿𝑿𝑽𝑰𝑰 - 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝑻𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝑺𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒔

The sun always shone the brightest in late fall and early winter. Never spring, nor summer. Its rays dashed down from the heavens in sharp sprints, breaking through the bitter cold air, and landing on Sir Claudius's neck of ice. How could the air be so cold and yet burn and penetrate at the same time?

It felt as though someone was branding him on the nape of his neck with a fiery stick. The man pulled his black cloak over his face; it fell across his forehead.

"Gettin' sunburnt, ey?", Athena rose from her crouching position, twiddling a gardening tool around her nimble fingers. "That's why I wear a hat." She tapped her straw hat, which draped a shadow over her entire frame, with the tool. "Would you like me to buy you one when I go into town?"

"No, thank you. Cloaks work just fine."

"They will in November when it's cold. But it won't be the same story come springtime. You will burn up in those black garments, Sir. Not suitable for gardening, when you need all the energy you can."

"I suppose." He rolled his eyes, longing to go back inside, where he could journal or read. I enjoy spending time with her and watching her garden... but I would rather watch from a window.

"Now, Sir Claudius, you see how I am planting the bulb seeds? These will grow into tulips, hopefully. I just love tulips, don't you? I think they're real' beautiful." She held out her hand. "Why don't you give it a try."

His legs stiffened, almost buckling beneath him. "Me?"

"Well, who else?"

A shaky, gloved hand reached out to Athena's slender one and took the seeds. He knelt down, as she did. He could feel the wet mud seeping in through his pants, dampening his nervous knees.

"Miss Everleigh, I do not feel comfortable... digging in the dirt with these gloves. I'm afraid they will become dirty."

"Pish-posh! We'll just wash them." She put a hand on his shoulder, gripping his firm muscles. "And if you don't want to get them dirty, simply take them off. I'll hold onto them."

Sir Claudius winced; his whole body caved in—first his chest, then his shoulders, and then everything else. "I— Alright." He laid the seeds upon the ground, commencing pulling the gloves off of each finger on his right hand, before doing the same to the left. He sucked air into his lungs, but all flames drowned out of his body, and all that remained was the stiff, freezing wind. Sir Claudius tore off the right glove. Athena's pupils dilated as she intently watched; if she were a cat, she might have stalked and pounced on his hand.

Streaks of purple veins, like rivulets, washed all across his hands. And then, in light silver—almost blending in with his skin tone—were scars. Detailing every muscle, every corner, every crevice. The man in black blinked, holding his face down. After taking off the left glove, he picked the seeds up with his bare hands and planted them into one of the holes Athena had dug.

A few minutes of silence passed between the two of them. Athena stole glances every now and then of Sir Claudius's scarred hands as he dug in the dirt. Sir Claudius stole glances too, of her curved back and the bust of her dress. Even wearing plain day clothes that her mother had made for her, she reminded him of roses.

"Athena... we are—friends, yes?"

"I assumed we were." The girl's eyes tore away from his hands and back to her work.

"And friends tell each other secrets, yes?"

Athena's stomach rose into her chest. Her eyes lit up like the morning sun. "Yes, yes they do." She turned toward him, looking into his eyes, and instead only finding the hem of the cloak.