“And real men don’t eat / ‘Cause they’re above that, dammit!” 

 

The phrase “like ripping off a band-aid” had lingered in the back of Madelyn’s mind ever since the revelation that things were not all quiet on the gendered front. It was a sort of comfort object; they would figure out just what, exactly, needed to be said and done, then go ahead and do the thing—the thing, in this case, being ‘tell Sybil then go from there.’—The problem with that phrase, though, was that, ideally, it was meant to represent the idea of getting something unpleasant over quickly so it didn’t have to last. And when it came to making a big, confusing confession that even they were still struggling to parse, having it be over and done with in a matter of moments wasn’t an option. More accurately, Madelyn might say they were having to rip off several band-aids, and also make sure that each step along the way the person she was ripping said band-aids off for the benefit of was following along alright. By that point, the whole simile just broke down and didn’t really serve a purpose other than to confuse. 

 

But pondering it made a passable distraction from having to deal with the consequences of telling the girl Madelyn capital ‘L’ Liked—the one who seemed not to prefer men—that Madelyn wasn’t a man, as it turned out. And so what if some naive part in the back of their brain was hoping that might mean something to Sybil? It wouldn’t, probably, but they were allowed to hope. Though that hope wouldn't do them much good if they were just going to keep staring apprehensively at Sybil, clearly baffled as she tried and failed to fit the pieces together in her mind. God, the way her nose scrunched up as she chewed her lip was way too cute. “Right, so I—” The moment Madelyn piped up again, Sybil’s eyes rose to meet theirs. It wasn’t until she craned her neck to do so that Madelyn realized just how close the two were standing. They took a step backward, and inhaled slowly, as though savoring a pricy drink—really Madelyn just didn’t trust their lips and tongue to make the correct sounds at the moment. 

 

“Isa—uh, right. I guess not that,” she stammered, rushing to make the correction though clearly still perplexed by what she’d heard.  “Okay, what do you mean by you don’t want to be Isaac?” 

 

In spite of, or more accurately because of, Madelyn’s anxiety demons prodding the back of their brain, reminding them of the rejection they might face, Sybil’s reaction of slight bewilderment mixed with general open-mindedness did little to quell the irrational expectation that everything would go suddenly and inexplicably wrong. As such, Madelyn did their best to remain cool and aloof in their response. “There’s not really an easy answer to that. But I guess the simplest way I could put is that I’ve realized ‘Isaac’ doesn’t really describe who I am anymore.”

 

Syibl wasted no time with her rebuttal, seeming oddly engaged by the whole thing, still refraining from revealing any reproach, almost as though there was none. “I don’t think I follow; a name is a name, it doesn’t describe who you are. But either way, what you said seems to imply that who you ‘are’ has changed?”

 

“That would be one way of putting it, yeah. Though, I think it would be more accurate to say who I am hasn’t changed, I’m just in the process of realizing it was different all along.” That felt like more of an admission to themself than to Sybil. It wouldn’t be the first time Madelyn had gone to great lengths to deceive themself. Nevertheless, it accomplished little in actually getting their point across.

 

As though sensing the introspective nature of Madlyn’s point, Sybil pressed further. “That’s a nice enough platitude, I suppose, but it doesn’t really help me understand.”

 

All her curiosity and intent to well and truly understand should have done Madelyn good; instead, they only felt all the more trapped, backed into the proverbial corner of needing to explain. “Yeah, that’s fair. I suppose I’m kind of avoiding the hard stuff, ironically.”

 

Sybil quirked an eyebrow, eyes looking Madelyn up and down as though searching for an answer somehow written across their face or along their pantleg. “And how is that ironic?”

 

Madelyn sighed, shaking their head and casting their eyes downward, “It’s not worth getting into, unless you know what a bandaid is.” In spite of everything, they found a smile in the end. The whole situation felt ridiculous; here they were stammering their way through the confession they’d been hoping to hammer out rapid fire, dodging the real issue at hand, all while Sybil drove them forward to get on with the point.

 

“You’re still doing it.” There was a hint of playful fondness in her voice; she wanted to bring levity with a laugh, Madelyn could tell, but was too scared it would be the wrong time. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Madelyn offered her a half-hearted chuckle of defeat at the admission, never leaving their throat or showing on their lips. “So basically what it is, there’s this thing back on Earth. I guess it’s a condition? Basically a person gets born one gender, then as they grow up they realize they feel like another. And I think that describes me.” Madelyn sucked in their breath, waiting for the moment of disgust, of rejection to come. It didn’t. 

 

Silence followed, breached only by the sounds grass rustled by wind, the calls of birds and the beating of hearts. Sybil’s fingers lightly traced her jawline, down to her chin as she turned everything she’d heard over in her head. “In that case, I take it that back on Earth ‘Isaac’ tends to refer to men?” 

 

“That’s right, yeah.” Another pause followed, neither speaking as Madelyn took in Sybil’s expression. She was contemplative, but patient, chewing on her lower lip with eyes slightly narrowed. Her hand lightly twiddled with one of her cloak’s tassels, weaving it between her fingers as she mulled over all she’d been told. And, though she clearly seemed a little perplexed, Madelyn found herself surprised and relieved to see no rejection or anger written on her face or in her body language. They didn’t really have any legitimate reason to believe there would be any, but that didn’t stop such anxieties from surfacing. And it was still a tad difficult to trust what they saw when those anxieties still simmered at medium-high over the back-burners of her mind. “You don’t really seem upset,” was the best they could manage. 

 

Their comment seemed to stir Sybil from the trance of thought she’d woven herself into. “Why would I be upset?” Her response came abruptly, eyes snapping up to meet Madelyn’s with surprising intensity, then narrowing. 

 

“I don’t. I’m sorry. I guess years of society at large telling me people like that—like me—are weird or deranged or disgusting or any combination of the three didn’t do me much good.” They found themself laid bare, trembling, feeling much akin to a small insect curled up and dying in the palm of Sybil’s hand after making their one and only futile sitting. Only, when that proverbial palm closed around them, it was not to crush, but to shelter. Any trace of offense melted away as Syibl lay a hand upon Madelyn’s own, thumb gently running across their knuckles.

 

“The things you say about Earth sometimes. I guess it can be hard to believe that you don’t secretly hate me for taking you away from there, but then I hear shit like that.” Her mouth twisted into a grim, apologetic smile while her other hand reached up to squeeze Madelyn’s own. 

 

“It’s not all bad; realistically speaking things probably would have been fine for me, at least where I was.” Their admission stung, perhaps most of all because they knew it was true. And it begged the question as to why it had taken so long to arrive at any conclusion beyond ‘Yes, there’s probably something going on there, but I don’t plan on doing anything about it.’ Fear of rejection was a powerful tool to keep one lying, both to others and to oneself, and it made a convenient cloak to cover the truth. And yes, Madelyn had their reasons, yet it was impossible to deny that one of them was simply ‘But what if things go wrong? They probably will.’ “Things probably would have gone okay, but there would always be that chance, y’know? The possibility of things going to shit. And that made it,” they paused, “that makes it a lot easier to pretend it isn’t there.”

 

Sybil nodded thoughtfully, “I can relate; not entirely, but I know what it’s like to feel the need to hide oneself. Many fear witches and the power we wield. My magic cost me loved ones, when I first manifested my abilities, I tried to pretend they weren’t there. And Isa—sorry. Listen, it never works. You have to be honest about what’s inside you.” She squeezed their hand comfortingly, and forced a smile, urging herself to perk up a little as she changed the subject. “So you don’t feel like a man. Does that mean you feel more like a woman? That would kind of make sense, actually.” Her smile grew.

 

Madelyn blushed. “I wh—yes, no, I’m not sure. Still figuring it out. I might be, might also be something in between.” Sybil’s bit about being honest with oneself rang in their head, and, if nothing else but to appease that beast, Madelyn allowed themself to admit that there was something more lurking within. Something they had yet to uncover, and would need to if they wanted to fully understand themself. There would be time for that later, though. Time when there wasn’t a gorgeous woman taking their hand in hers and offering casual, flirtatious smiles like that. “But what do you mean it would make sense?”

 

“That’s actually quite simple, I think, anyway. The magic which gave you that body chose to make it more feminine for a reason, not to mention the fact that it’s clearly still changing you, albeit slowly. And, I dunno, you’ve always felt unlike any man I’ve ever known. Trust me, I’d know.” Something about the way she paused, stammering a little at the end as her face reddened told Madelyn there was something more Sybil wasn’t saying. They could take a guess; Sybil was obviously attracted to them, but attraction was just that, attraction. Sybil had someone else, and Madelyn wouldn’t waste her breath holding it for their feelings to be returned. 

 

Which wasn’t to say the whole ordeal hadn’t had an effect. Sybil wasn’t the only one with reddening cheeks. She’d called Madelyn feminine, unlike any man and, presumably, more akin to a woman. Such a thought sent warm ripples through their belly and up to meet those radiating from their cheeks. It was enough to add another tally to the “yes” side of the little mental scoreboard Madelyn had been keeping to answer the greatest question of the yet very young century: “Am I a girl, actually?” It was still anyone’s game, though, Madelyn assured themself.

 

“Hey, you still with me?” The realization dawned that Madelyn had been spacing out in front of Sybil, bringing a fresh coat of pink to their cheeks. 

 

“Yeah, sorry.” They exhaled heavily, the tightness in their chest letting them know they’d apparently been holding their breath for some time, and broke into a laugh.

 

“Good to see you smiling. It, uh, well it suits you a lot better than that tight-lipped, dour face you’ve been making, anyway.”  Sybil found it had become her turn to blush, though Madelyn felt she took to it well. “So is there a different name you want to go by then, if not Isaac?”

 

“I’d like to be called Madelyn.” Their moment of levity evaporated. Something in Sybil changed. She tensed, her whole body going rigid as her muscles tightened and head snapped to attention, eyes wide. 

 

“What did you just say?” Her once carefree posture was now tightly coiled, almost defensive as a ragged, panting breath grated against her throat.

 

Fear gripped Madelyn, who, paralyzed by Sybil’s gaze found themself able to do naught but choke on their retort, “I, uh, Madelyn?” 

 

As though the name had reached out and struck her, Madelyn reeled. “Who told you that name?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

 

“Uh, n-nobody, it just came to me. A few days ago actually back in town. I needed a more feminine sounding name ‘cause the townsfolk saw me as a woman. Is something wrong?” Their voice grew quieter, meeker by the moment; they may have towered over Sybil, but the witch carried such a ferocity with her that shriveled and shredded their burgeoning confidence like  razor claws through fine silk.

 

“I don’t—you can’t.” As though realizing just what sort of energy she’d been exuding. Sybil exhaled in what nearly became a cough, deflating as her gaze found the ground below. “I just, I don’t understand.” Sybil hadn’t looked so positively shaken since Madelyn had first laid eyes upon her, struggling to process the reality of what she saw instead of the woman she sought. 

 

“Y-you don’t like the name? I’m so—”

 

“No!” She shuddered almost visibly. “Not that, no. It’s a good name, a right name. I just, I don’t understand, I’ve heard it before. I don’t know where, or when. But I’ve heard it, and it was important to me. Maybe someone I knew as a kid? It wouldn’t be the first time with you, you’ve always felt familiar in a way I can’t place.”

 

“Do you need me to go by something else?” They didn’t want to go by anything else, but if that’s what it took to get Sybil over whatever ferocity they’d just witnessed, it would be a welcome sacrifice.

 

“It’s not that, no. I can’t explain it, I’ve never felt this way about a name before. But it’s right, it suits you. Calling you M-Madelyn, it feels right. Feels true, truer than Isaac anyway. You’re Madelyn.” She spoke with finality, more to herself than her companion. Yet Madelyn wasn’t one to disagree; even in this state, something about the woman they undeniably fancied uttering their name felt cathartic. “Anything else would feel wrong, especially since you picked it. I just wish I understood why I’m so bothered by it.” Despite the pleasantness of being acknowledged for who they were, Sybil’s voice still carried a heavy load of raw, unfettered emotion. Emotion that strangled her voice and shook her limbs.

 

“I can’t help but feel like you’re mad at me.”

 

“I know. I wish I could say I wasn’t, but that name, it simultaneously feels like it should and shouldn’t belong to you. You picked it for yourself, that's all that should matter, but clearly it isn’t. But it’s fine; you’re Madelyn now, that’s that.” She waved her hand, almost dismissively, and once again, Sybil seemed more to be addressing herself than anyone else.

 

The whole situation seemed impossible for Madelyn to get a read on; there was really only one thing they’d ever seen Sybil care so much about. That, if nothing else told Madelyn all they needed to know. Whatever it was, this was important. “Is this going to be an issue between us?”

 

Another pause, Sybil breathing slowly, forcing the shaking to stop, the scowl to smoothen, the hurt in her eyes to fade behind a glaze of forced calm. “No, no it won’t.” Her voice carried an eerie stillness, flat and blunt. “The way I’m feeling right now is just getting in the way. I’ve been letting that happen too often, need to narrow my focus to the reason we’re here. Should have done that a long time ago.”

 

“I don’t think that’s—”

 

“I don’t care. We can’t just do this.” Her eyes met Madelyn's and, for a second seemed to say a great deal more than her mouth was as they momentarily softened and watered, before Sybil forced that calm mask upon herself. “I’m not here for that, I’m here for her. And until I have her, nothing else should matter, it’s time I start acting that way.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. So Madelyn it is, then?” She seemed to force the name out, once again losing her stoicism for the briefest of moments as her voice quivered.  “I guess you probably want me to start trying to think of you as a woman as well?”

 

“I’m not sure. I just—I know I’m not a man.” All that seemed so unimportant in face of what Sybil was clearly going through, but Madelyn lacked the wherewithal to address her distress. 

 

“Well, that’s not going to help me one bit.” She barked a bitter, throaty laugh. “I’ll try and make that switch, though.”

 

“I appreciate it.” They made another half-hearted attempt to confront Sybil on what was clearly something deeply troubling, but couldn’t. She felt so out of reach, not unlike the woman Madelyn had met just days ago, whose walls were so firmly erected. And so, instead, they did exactly what Sybil would ask of them. They focused on the task at hand. “So do you mind giving me a rundown of how today’s gonna look?”

 

“Like I said before, these last reagents are where things are going to get dangerous. Nothing we can’t handle; in fact, today especially shouldn’t be much to worry about at all. But maybe make sure that sword arm is ready and practiced, you’ll be needing it.” If Sybil appreciated Madelyn’s tact, she showed no sign of it. But at the very least her tone had grown more gentle; hard exterior or no, she had no desire to see Madelyn hurt. “I know that’s not a lot to go on, but I’ll explain more when we get there.” They offered up no reply, save a quiet nod, and gathered their things, setting off on the long road before them. Both walked the remainder of the morning in silence; not since that first day, when Madelyn had appeared, frightened and confused in the home of a shaken, desperate stranger, had Sybil felt so distant.