|
The home of Peter and Doll Wood -- at least, the home they let everyone know about -- sits in the Summer Hollow, easy to find. It's Spring, and that means Doll is sitting outdoors, but the windows to the little cabin sit open, the smell of cooking fires and fresh-baked pies and a roasting haunch of meat and bread and cookies and maybe some fudge all float around the Hollow.
Look, Peter is a big guy with a lot of muscle to move around, and that means that he requires a lot of food.
Also, Doll likes to cook.
She sits outside the door of their cabin, humming quietly to herself and knitting; her porcelain fingers click-click against the wooden needles, and something in a hearty blue and orange emerges from between her hands with an almost magical speed.
As was his wont Asbolus arrived a few minutes before the appointed time, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt that lended well to the usual "Nothing to see here" air that tended to wrap around the Winter Courtier. He gave Doll a polite smile as he approached, the usual laser focus in his gaze long gone. "Afternoon. Thank you for being willing to meet with me."
"Yes, of course I will meet with you. I am glad to be a helpful friend," agrees Doll. She sets the knitting down in a basket next to her chair, a neatly-carved affair with a Summer sun carved behind her head. "How can I help you, Christopher Martinnson?" Her blue eyes click-click open and shut as she blinks.
He paused for a moment, the name almost foreign to him at this point, before making a "may I?" motion towards the nearest seat to her. "It's been quite a while since someone called me that."
"That is part of the reason for my visit, however. During Buidhe's return to the freehold I...lost my way thanks to revisiting old duties and facing reminders of where I fulfilled them, and I haven't been able to connect with my usual anchor for such matters to right myself once again."
She gestures toward a considerably larger chair, the only one outside the house near hers. It's clearly Peter's chair, since it's sized to him, and likely to make Asbolus feel rather like a kid in dad's shoes. "Of course you may." Her head cants to the side, and she doesn't do the usual Doll Babble; she's focused, somehow, clear.
"Oh, I see," agrees Doll, tipping her head the opposite direction. "What is your usual anchor, may I ask? Mine is making things, keeping the house, it helps me ever so much. After we had a problem a few weeks ago I was terribly confused but it does help me a lot to cook and clean and knit." She turns one hand up toward him in offering, reaching toward his.
"Thank you. Always better to ask when visiting others, as I see it." He nodded with a small brittle smile on his features as he took a seat, taking a moment to adjust that even at his above average height he didn't quite touch the ground.
"The man who currently bears that name as far as the rest of the world is concerned. We've maintained a closer bond since my return than most do, from what I've learned, and have come to an accord."
"Oh, I see," says Doll, in a way that makes it clear that she doesn't really understand at all. "I do not know about that myself, I do not remember anything before, so I don't know about that." A vague sort of shrug, and she keeps her hand stretched out toward him. "May I see your hand, please? I would like to make an assessment."
It was only then that he seemed to notice that her hand was outstretched, nodding and giving an apologetic look as he let his hand rest in hers. "Of course."
Whether or not it's actually necessary, Doll closes both of her porcelain hands -- smooth and warm -- around his, and there's a solemn sort of silence for a moment. "You might try," she offers, "adding an additional Touchstone. You can do so if you want to, and it might make it easier for you in the future. If you feel bad about having something other than your Fetch as your Touchstone, maybe you can think that if he likes you then he would not want you to be hurt. If you didn't know you could do that, well, now you know that."
Asbolus let out a slow breath as Doll clasped her hands around his, nodding quietly at her suggestion. "I wasn't aware, no. Will definitely look into it, however."
She doesn't say anything else at the moment, just holds on to his hand. Doll goes very, very still, like -- well -- like a doll, really. Her eyes don't blink, and she doesn't even appear to breathe. The heat of Summer flares around her: the scent of wildflowers and the buzz of insects dancing with each other on a hot July evening.
Bruises blossom on her white ceramic forearms, along the side of her face, and then she lets out a long, slow breath. "There. Better, I think."
A faint swirl of cold air rose from around the Darkling almost in response to Summer's touch, the man himself blinking rapidly as the cracks in his psyche that had lingered for months finally filled in once again. He turned towards Doll with clear relief in his features, mingled with a note of concern as he saw the extent of what said mending did to her in return. "Very much so, thank you. Is there anything I can do for you in return?"
"Don't make that face at me. I will be fine. I heal very fast in the Hedge, and if I wanted to, I could heal myself," Doll assures. "I save healing for special occasions, because so often I have to do so many other things." Her eyelids click-click open and closed again, and a smile slides across her face. "Find yourself a Touchstone that does not depend on another person," she answers. "Then if you just spend a little time with it, all of the little badness can slide away. It will only be when you are hurt quite badly in your head that it will take so much time to heal."
"Understood. Thank you again, then for taking that burden upon yourself for my sake." He nodded quietly, giving a small smile of his own. "I can certainly do that."
|