Chapter 8
I See Pictures In My Head

“Are you absolutely sure this is, like, fine?” I asked, hoisting myself into the practical tunic. I’d noticed that a lot of the clothing worn by women in the village was a little more… progressive than I expected from the kind of medieval stylings I’d expected. The dress-part was split at the front, allowing for a lot more freedom of movement, the obvious trade-off being the difficulty of enforcing gender roles. And even then, it still easily went halfway down the thighs.

“Yes,” Octavia said from the other side of the heavy door. I’d waited a day before visiting her. The night before I’d turned into a wolf again, but this time I’d been prepared. I’d put a fire on, laid a bunch of the large blankets in front of it, and had spent most of the night cuddled up with Pancakes. “As I said, I’m more’n happy to part with them if they go to a good cause such as yourself.” I couldn’t help but blush a little bit. She was being so nice! It was a little difficult to really appreciate it, though, as I tried closing the… front bit, and had no idea how. There were strings or laces or something.

“Um, Tavi?” I asked, and got a little ‘hmm?’ of confirmation in response. “How do I close the… uh…” I tried to think of what these things were called. Come on, I’d seen Pride and Prejudice a dozen times or so, I had to remember. “...Bodice?” I tried.

“I can help if’n you like,” Octavia said. “Are you decent enough?” Reflexively I just responded in the affirmative, and she opened the door. As soon as she saw me, her face went beet-red and she turned away. “Miss Maya,” she stammered, “I thought you said you were decent.” I looked down. I hadn’t put the trousers on yet, and realised that maybe she hadn’t been expecting to see my bare legs. I quickly turned around and covered myself up.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, “still not used to all this.” 

“You’ve nothing to apologise for, Maya,” she said as she stepped closer. “Only caught me off-guard is all. I take it where you’re from, they don’t dress as we do.” I nodded and turned around again. Only a few feet away from me, I thought she was staring directly into my cleavage, until I realised she was taking a look at the bodice. “How’d you not know how to lace a bodice?”

“Never wore one,” I said honestly. “Is it just like tying...” I had almost said ‘sneakers’, but I got the distinct feeling she wouldn’t quite know what I was talking about. 

“Like lacing a boot,” Octavia said. “Allow me.” She took the two pieces and deftly wove them together, then wrapped them around my waist. Her fingers were doing careful work and I made sure to keep my arms and eyes pointed up, so I wouldn’t constantly be looking down at her, or at my increasingly prominent bust. 

And I had an okay time ignoring everything going on, right until she had to tighten the thing, and she gently pressed a hand against my abdomen to pull the strings tight. Something about the intimacy of the touch against my stomach, even through what felt like thirty layers of clothing, made my heart flutter. 

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You’re twitching.” Her hand stayed firmly in place.

“I… yes,” I stammered. “Just… not used to this.”

“You didn’t have anyone do your clothes for you?” she asked, and seemed genuinely surprised. “I’d think someone such as yourself would’ve had servants lace you up.”

“I… what? Servants?” I was almost offended. I hadn’t been able to afford food some days, the idea of having servants was so wild to me, I didn’t know what else to say. 

Octavia smiled up at me in confusion. “Really?” she asked. “I apologise if I’ve offended, Maya,” she said as she finished the lacing. “I just figured you were noble in one fashion or another.” She stood up in front of me. “The way you carry yourself, I mean. You’ve the air of someone with an education. Not like us country folk, leastwise.”

“I… not really,” I said, embarrassment creeping up and trying to change the subject. “I used to work in… uh…” Trying to figure out how best to translate ‘barista’ to medieval-speak, I stammered for a moment, before settling on something that made sense at least. “I was a sort of servant,” I said. “Mostly, um, food. Preparing drinks and so on.”

“Oh!” Octavia said. She seemed pleased. “So you’re saying I needn’t worry about upsetting any upper-class sensibilities.” 

“Eat the rich,” I blurted out, and then slammed my jaws shut so hard it made my eyeballs shake. Octavia’s head turned so slowly I was almost expecting a sound effect, like the sound of creaking metal. She stared at me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she opened her mouth and let out a hearty laugh that immediately broke the tension. 

“Stars, Maya!” she laughed, “Do all servants speak like that where you’re from?”

“Oh, god no.” I couldn’t help but scoff. I’d always been unpleasantly surprised at how some of the people I’d worked with, who had spent decades slaving away for companies who would ditch them at the drop of a hat, who would never once question the validity of that system. “No, it’s not a popular opinion where I’m from, either.”

“Well, you’ll find that people here don’t much hold nobility in high regard,” Octavia said, “but not out loud, y’hear?” She stepped around behind me to tighten the laces there too and I felt a little bit like a stress-ball being squeezed. “Too much?”

“Yi,” I squeaked, and the pressure let up. “You have trouble with nobles here?”

“Not really,” she said, “but technically there’s a baron who owns this land. He leaves us — and your cousin — alone, on account of us not having enough to tax. Decent enough sort, I suppose. There,” Octavia said, and put her hands on my waist. “You’re all done.” 

I turned around to thank her, but her hands stayed in place, and suddenly we were face-to-face. She didn’t pull her hands away. In fact, she didn’t pull away at all. “Yeah,” I said. I didn’t know what else to add. I’d never been in a position like this. Was I supposed to say something? Did women act like this around each other? Sure, I knew they did in queer movies, but that was back home, and I never knew how much of that was real. 

“Can I help you with anything else, Maya?” she asked, and her lips were curled in just the slightest bit of a smile. I became aware of my own being dry. When, with titanic effort, I drew my eyes up to hers, I realised that I’d licked my lips when looking at her mouth and oh god what would she think of me and why did she bite her own lip and smile like that and look at me with those slightly closed eyelids??

“I…” I said and spun around. “I should go!” It was the first and only thing I could think of. I didn’t know what to do and the last thing I wanted was for her to think less of me. Especially if she found out I was the Witch she’d treated just a few days before. I was expecting her to be mad at me for being so rude, but to my surprise I heard her chuckle. 

“Very well, Maya,” Octavia said as she walked over to the table. She’d filled a large sack with clothes. “Don’t forget these.” She smirked as she handed it to me, and I took it with a guilty blush. “Please, do consider coming by again some time,” she said. I nodded. I wanted to. If I was suddenly a woman now, then it would be nice to have someone around who could show me the proverbial ropes and I could use my alleged ‘I’m not from here’-ness as an excuse. 

“Okay,” I said quickly as I walked to the front door. Octavia made me feel weirdly appreciated, but also strangely vulnerable. More than anything, right now I wanted to sit on a sofa and, with Pancakes on my lap, read a bit before the sun set. Moreover, I was wondering if I was going to become a wolf again. The moon wouldn’t be all that full again tonight, so I was curious. “Thank you again, Tavi.”

“Any time,” she said as she held the door open for me. “I mean it. My door’s open to you at any time.” 

“You mean your family’s door?” Octavia shared a house with her parents, after all.

“No,” she said with a sweet little smile. I took a few steps away from the house, but she halted me with a word. “Maya,” she said.” I turned around. “Just one question, if I may.”

“Hmm?”

“Why’d you leave your home country?” she asked. “If I may be so bold as to ask, of course.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that one. I wasn’t really sure what to say. I could allude to my earlier comment and claim to be some kind of cool revolutionary on the run, but I didn’t think I had the energy —  or the education — to follow that one through. “I suppose,” I said after a few seconds, “I didn’t quite fit in.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her, and she waved me off with a little goodbye, which I happily returned. I was humming to myself as I made my way through town, the bag slung over my shoulder, when a shout stopped me in my tracks. 

“Miss!” The man approaching me didn’t look familiar, but he didn’t seem threatening or threatened, so I just calmly waited for him to approach. He had something wrapped in what appeared to be brown paper in his hands. “You’re the Sister Witch, aye?” he asked. A little perplexed at his strange phrasing, I nodded anyway. 

“I’m his sister, yes,” I said. “Is something wrong?” 

“Not at all,” the man said. “But Octavia came by the house this morning, said on account of your brother fixing her ol’ Da’s leg that I ought to pass you along a just reward.” He handed me the parcel. “That’s a prime cut, that is,” he said. As I took it from him, he licked his lips a little, like he was a little sad to let go of it. It squished. “And I’ll thank you not to burn that all the way through,” he added. “My Bess was well cared for, so you best not spoil that meat, you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” I added with a smile. I was about to turn around, but he was fiddling with the hem of his shirt in a way that made me feel like he had more to say. 

“I was wondering, Miss,” he said, “if’n you could ask your Brother about stopping by.” I raised my eyebrows. 

“Is something wrong?”

“Day before yesterday,” he said, “I burned myself warming up after a day outside, you understand.” I nodded. That made sense. “Only, I’d been seated on a cold bench for an hour or two, and so when I came inside I turned my backside to the fire—”

“I understand!” I quickly interrupted him, and then actually thought about what he’d said. I was sure there was something I could do. “How, uh, how bad are the burns?” 

“Just superficial, Miss,” he said, “but well, they’re right up in there, you see, and—”

“Okay I think I have some aloe cream or something I’ll come drop it off as soon as I can bye,” I sputtered and turned around before this man could tell me everything about the condition of the skin between his cheeks. “Promise!” I added as I hurried home. 

The way back was easier now that I’d walked down it a few times, and I was home before long. Pancakes was happy to see me, although I couldn’t help but suspect that this was also related to the smell of fresh beef in the package. For a brief second, I considered figuring out how to cure or salt the meat or whatever it was that was done with meat, but I realised I hadn’t eaten yet and that I was probably going to be wolf tonight. I put it in storage and put the sack of food in front of the door. I figured that’d keep Pancakes from getting to it at least.

Finally, I threw off my coat, threw some logs on the fire, grabbed a magazine, and went to sit down. Not strictly speaking a sofa, the Witch seemed to have nonetheless created a cozy corner using blankets and stuffed pillows, which the other house I’d seen so far lacked. I was happy to find that I wasn’t the only one who preferred sitting on something soft. 

Pan quickly joined me with a “mrrp!” and put his head on my lap. It had taken some pushing to get him to realise he was no longer the size of a dinnerplate, but he’d finally caught on. Sipping a cup of tea and scratching the dog-sized cat behind his ears, I realised how comfortable I was. Much more than I’d ever been. My legs curled up underneath me, I was smaller than I’d ever been, and being able to touch my face without the usual stubble was certainly nice. It was like there had been an itchy spot on my back my entire life, and now that it had been scratched, the lack of discomfort was tangible. 

It didn’t last, of course.

Elamimax

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