TBTT 34. Who wants to see what she's been making?

[moonshadows]

Joshua had been a little surprised when Tessa asked him to bring her a clock and a calendar as well as a copy of the schedule that had been delivered to him, but only a little. Whatever it is that she’s doing to calm their Lord down, she seems to be taking it rather seriously. Demon or no, she’s a little young to be choosing a career for herself, if her blithe comment of ‘my job’ is to be taken as a proclamation of a self-appointed position. Then again, maybe the Warlord has made ‘tame demon’ a job title. Whatever the case, Joshua’s not about to ask. He used to take Tessa to work with him a few times a week to try to instill a sense of adult responsibility in her, since she couldn’t exactly go to public school and was (to the best of his knowledge) too young to be legally employed, even if an employer was willing to overlook the whole ‘demon’ thing.

He’s starting to re-think what ‘too young’ means in relation to her.

“Going out, boss?” His secretary pauses, hands hovering over the keys of her typing machine.

“Only briefly, Marcia. The Lord wants his demon, and she apparently scares the guards, so I have to go get her.”

Marcia scoffs and resumes typing.

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It’s slightly surreal, he thinks as he watches her dance through the routine for the fifth time. He’s halfway through conquering a world that’s who-knows-how-far away from the one that he was born on, in the company of a girl half orc and half dreadlord, and he’s giving her the same lessons he gave every demon hunter initiate he’s ever had. Of course, she’s already partly demonic, so some of the lessons come as naturally to her as breathing. The combat is harder for her, but she’s so determined to master it that he has to tell her to stop before she tires herself out.

Between sessions, they sip on electricity and he teaches her the magical side to being a demon hunter. Her quick and dirty assessment – above average in fine manipulation, below average in raw power – is accurate, and she’s picking up the techniques much faster than any other student he’s had. There’s not much chance to test her on those, given their underground environment and a lack of demons to hunt, but he’s considering teaching her the things he’d learned before he lost his eyes.

Very surreal, to have come so far – in more ways than one – only to find himself revisiting his beginnings.

But this time, I am being given the obedient devotion that should have been my due.

She finishes the sequence and looks to him, eager for his judgment. A frown would mean she messed up somewhere, and she would practically beg him to tell her what she did wrong. The tiniest nod, and that glorious, addictive smile of hers would wash over him, joy not for having done it right, but for having pleased him. She executed all the moves correctly; that’s not why he had her run through them the fifth time. She needs more practice to make the motions come naturally, and to that end, he neither frowns nor nods. Instead, his blade flashes out and hers rises to meet it in the same motion that began the routine. As metal rings against metal, her face lights up in understanding, and now he nods.

“That’s enough for today,” he says shortly. To anyone else, he would sound angry, but she knows better. “You’re improving, but you still need more practice with the motions.”

“Yes, Kal’shan,” she sighs as she puts her warglaives away. The wistful look on her face as she closes the cabinet is nothing new. “Have I improved enough to practice without you?” she asks hopefully.

The memory of her falling over in utter exhaustion flashes before him, fear and guilt bleeding in its wake. “Not yet. Not until you can go a whole session without needing a break.”

Her face falls briefly, but then fills with determination. “I understand. I won’t fail you.”

The declaration stuns him momentarily. It’s something that many have said to him, but coming from her…he actually believes it. “I know you won’t,” he says, and her face lights up again.

He dons his illusionary disguise and she follows suit, the reality of where they are once more descending upon them. When they are alone, he can forget the last few decades and entertain fleeting fantasies that he is someone else, building a new life without the crushing failure of his past to rot the foundations before they’re even built.

She follows him out the door, meek and demure as befits her fictitious role with the eyes of his guards on her. He’s not sure why she unnerves them, but every one of them is uncomfortable with the duty of escorting her anywhere. Unexpected, but useful – it will strengthen public perception of her being leashed by his will alone.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says casually as her guards open the door to her suite. “Interruptions of any kind while I am bonding with my demon will be fatal to the one doing the interrupting.” He leaves it vague as to who the fatality will come from.

The guards look at each other nervously. “Understood, my Lord,” one of them says, but he’s already striding away, their compliance taken for granted.

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Tomorrow. He’ll be back tomorrow, and for a good chunk of time according to the schedule he gave Joshua. It surprises her how nervous she is. It’s just oiling his horns. And sneaking into his mind and repairing some things that are broken, a little voice in her head whispers. It’s not like she’s oiling his wings or anything.

She stops for a minute, heart pounding with the intensity of that thought. It would be wrong, wrong, wrong – she’s pushing the limits of what would be appropriate as it is, he’d never let her-

-but he doesn’t know. He wasn’t raised on Nathrezene, he doesn’t know the most basic things about his other half. And she doesn’t know how things work among the Kal’dorei. And his wings are so ragged…she knows he doesn’t know how to care for them, and she’s not trying to-

Deep breath, Tessa. Get a grip on yourself. You’ve got enough going on tomorrow as it is. Without the proper healing salve, she could argue herself into and out of it all night long, and still not be able to do anything. If she can get the proper ingredients, or something that works similarly, then maybe she’ll argue herself blue. In the meantime…

Making sure the hidden recording device can’t see, she unwraps the plain wool and admires the finished product. Maybe it’s not proper at this stage, but she’s not doing it to try to gain his favor. There are no other Nathrezim here to compete against, and she has no expectations that he’d ever judge her worthy even if he found out what he’d tacitly agreed to. No, she’s not doing it in attempts to orbit closer to her star. She just wants to do things for him. The burning desire to serve him hasn’t lessened any, and she suspects it never will.

The wool cloth is wrapped up again, the package set carefully by the oil and polishing cloth. A bath, some quick tidying, and she slips into bed early.