All I’ve worn for the past eight years is hunting gear or my Demonslayer uniforms. I guess I miss dressing more... feminine. It was a sad thought, but one that didn’t particularly bother her enough to dwell on.
She opened the door to Reia still standing there. With a bored hint to her eyes, she held a pair of brown slippers in her left hand. Emerie’s cheeks heated in embarrassment and then grew hotter when a brush was pushed at her.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude earlier,” Emerie grumbled, taking everything from her. She was quick to put the shoes on.
“Huh?” Reia let out a small laugh. “No, you’re fine. I wouldn’t want a stranger waltzing in on me while I was bathing either. Just heard you scream, so I got worried. I did have to stop this one from running in.”
She hiked her thumb behind her, and Ingram’s raven skull appeared off to the side of her. His orbs were their usual orchid purple.
Has he been there the whole time?
“He was sitting outside the door and wouldn’t let me through at first,” Reia continued, then sighed and shook her head. She threw her hands up as she turned to walk down the hallway. “Duskwalkers, so protective for no damn reason!”
She imagined Ingram sitting with his back against the door, barring anyone entry. As much as it would have been unneeded, it still made her feel like fluffy dandelions were sprouting in her chest.
Not long after they’d been alone, Delora had offered for Emerie and Ingram to come inside.
After they made their way in and were standing in the spacious living area, Magnar had explained to both of them how he would need to fill the tub.
When he said he would need to cut his wrist open and place a few drops of his own blood in the tub to form a warm water spell, Ingram had grown... distressed. He’d offered to do it, despite never having done so before.
Having to watch him use his own claw to hurt himself, then grow frustrated when it didn’t immediately work, made Emerie feel terrible. Magnar had been telling him not to worry about it just as the spell finally glowed to life.
Purple glittering magic filled the drops of purple blood to turn them clear and then they increased in volume.
Her relief at finally being able to have a proper, private bath overshadowed how disturbing she found the process.
Ingram had come across as uncomfortable and nervous inside their home. He adopted a crouching position, balancing himself on one hand, as though he wanted to appear smaller. He also rarely allowed more than an inch of room between him and Emerie, and often made sure she was between him and Delora.
Honestly, she’d expected Ingram to be his big, imposing self. So, to experience him be so unsure only made her understand that he was not used to any of this.
She doubted he’d ever been inside a home that was furnished, let alone one that not only belonged to a living human, but another of his kind. It seemed like he was worried about breaking things, and his skull was always set on facing either Magnar or Emerie.
His spikes and scales had been raised in alertness; whether that was in fear for Emerie or just uncertainty in general, she wasn’t sure. The fact he’d sat outside the bathroom door still didn’t answer that question.
Ingram approached her now that Reia was out of the way, just as she pulled the brush through the tangled strands of her hair. Still low, keeping at her eye level, he sniffed at her.
He let out a sneezing huff. “You smell different.”
“It’s called soap,” she happily hummed, feeling clean and fresh for the first time in two weeks.
“I do not like it,” he said, causing her to smile.
How did she know he was going to say that?
“You should try it sometime,” she teased, not that she thought he smelled bad or anything – quite the opposite in fact. Although, she currently wasn’t a big fan of the coppery, odd scent of his blood, like it was stronger than a human’s.
The bathroom was on the right of the hallway, so it didn’t take her long to lead them to the open living area. She asked if she could take one of the ribbons currently tied to the hairbrush, and when given permission, removed it.
She placed the brush on the massive dining table that sat in the centre of the kitchen on the right.
Emerie didn’t like tying her hair back, as it often revealed more of her scarring and the hair loss she had around her left ear. However, she wanted it out of the way and in a style that would prevent it from tangling in the future.
Pushing all of it to the left, she plaited it down one side so it flowed over her shoulder and stopped just past her breasts. At the same time, she tried to ignore the five damn stares that were obviously on her as she took in the house once more.
She’d never been inside a home with ceilings over eight feet in height, but with how tall Magnar’s forking antlers made him, it was no guess as to why it was necessary. There was a simple chandelier made of timber, plain but giving plenty of light with its candles.
She drifted her gaze to the right where Delora eventually turned away to work at a cooking hearth, the counter cupboards next to it open and without doors. Directly in front of her was a big fireplace that was lit, giving the area a warm, comforting glow.
There was only one living room chair, but it was plenty big enough to fit a Duskwalker and human on it if they were to sit side by side.
Delora likes to paint, Emerie mused, since every bit of wall had some kind of colourful image or pattern on it.
Well, almost all of them. The one right next to the door on the left was of her, Magnar, and... a tiny Duskwalker? She wasn’t sure since it lacked horns, but she guessed it was a white skull on a human-shaped, black blob.
She didn’t know they could be small.
Against the large dining table that came to her rib height, there were two chairs that were small in their seating bases, but tall enough to allow a human to reach the table’s surface. She figured they were for Delora and Reia, when she was a guest here.
There was a singular bigger one, which she assumed was for Magnar.
However, Reia wasn’t sitting on one of two human-sized chairs. She was curled up on Orpheus’ lap, who had chosen to sit against the wall next to the door – on the other side of the painting.
Delora gestured to one of the available chairs. “Sit. Food will be ready soon.”
She did as she was told, and Ingram was quick to sit by her. She brought up one leg to tuck under her, not wanting it to dangle, but didn’t bring the other up since Ingram had curled his tail tip around her ankle. He was being awfully needy, which was making her bashful about his behaviour.
I don’t want them getting the wrong idea.
It didn’t take a genius to realise Delora and Reia had intimate relationships with their Duskwalkers. She was just going to pretend it didn’t make her extremely uncomfortable.