Trust Exercises

Chapter 9

"Fuck --"

"Take your time," said Pike as Percy struggled with the ties of her vambraces as they prepared to leave the temple's gatehouse. The infirmary had fashioned a splint for his hand so he could use it to steady the cords for the other to work, but still this meant he really only had use of his off-hand. "We have all the time in the world. It took Grog forever to figure this out with his fat fingers and he had both hands." When he did manage the tie on the right, he had to pull one cord with his teeth.

"I still can't believe you manage to move much less fight in all this," he said, starting with the left.

"It took a lot of training and practice," she said, "I was getting tired of getting left in everyone else's dust." Once the left was on her, she gave an experimental shrug and rolled her neck a few times to test the fit. "All right, now for the breastplate buckle." She pulled on the plate to her chest, and then let the straps to it dangle behind her for him to fasten.

"It's a lot of trouble though, isn't it? Taking it on and off." As he took the left strap, he was grateful that at least, for the most part, his thumb on that hand was still fully functional, even if the skin pinched with every movement.

"I conveniently have page boys at my disposal, so even if it's a hassle, I don't worry about finding anyone to help me with it," she said, pinning the straps to her back as far as she could reach in an attempt to be helpful, though with what armor she had on already, it wasn't very far.

"Seems like less of a bother to just not get hit," he said, carefully threading the buckle. It took him a moment to make sure it was secure. Many of the other pieces Pike could get herself, or just needed to be braced against her as she did the fastenings. It was much easier to be a wedge or clamp than the actual person tying.

"Do you need any help with yours?" she asked as she worked.

"No, I think I can manage." In comparison, his armor, still laying at the gatehouse's counter, was very simple; just two reinforced pieces of cured leather that fitted over his shoulders and chest like a vest with lacing that tied on each side. While the ties helped keep the piece secure they weren't essential, especially once under his coat. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing, his thought process always that once he was in range where it wasn't enough, it was already too late. But aside from the relative comfort compared to plate, if someone wasn't paying close enough attention to the slight extra bulk, it almost looked like he wasn't wearing armor at all, which had its own advantage against plate. "I need to warn you, Pike. If anything happens on our way back, I'm going to be pretty useless without the prosthetic."

"What do you mean? Aren't you ambidextrous?" she asked. He was grateful she didn't immediately try to reassure him that nothing would happen. Even if the trip there was uneventful, with the amount they'd been through even Pike herself wouldn't have believed it.

"I'm left-handed. The-the demon was right-handed. The new pistol isn't a one-handed weapon. If my wrist isn't supported with the kick-back, well, I'd be down two hands for a while, at least," he started. "The long gun can maybe handle firing with one hand if it's properly supported against something else, but I don't think I'd be able to assemble it in time to do much of anything. And the sword... forget it."

"Well, you're not the first noble I'd be escorting across the countryside," she said. "Anyway, Emon isn't really that far, so...I was just thinking, we should we should iron out our story about what we were doing here now," said Pike, fitting on her gauntlets.

"Are you offering to lie for me?"

"I wouldn't consider it lying, I would call it, uh... clergy–penitent privilege," she said. "What do you want me to say?"

"I think you can tell them what we really came here to do," said Percy, pulling his own armor from the counter and over his head, the gatekeeper on the other side of the counter not even glancing up from the weathered pamphlet he read. "And that it was successful. And I know they probably wouldn't believe that I managed it with some kind of manly stoicism, but you can probably leave me soiling myself out."

"I think I can do that much," she said, watching her fingers flex as she tested the gauntlet's fit., "I, um, know I told you about the whole...how if you wanted to fix your hand, that there's ways to do it, but it's brutal and expensive."

"I know, Pike," he said. He didn't really need this now, just as he was deciding if leaving the laces to dangle or actually trying to tie them would be more of a bother.

"Like, it's not just cutting it off first to get a clean canvas, but also...once the new one forms a good number of people don't like it and don't think it's theirs – think it's possessed by some such – and they like, want to cut it off again. There are really good reasons that a lot of people still have missing limbs and it's not just all about the cost."

"I...know, Pike."

But you've already been possessed by a real demon, so I don't know what you'd do. But...I mean, I still think you should try to get along without it, and you've obviously got to fully recover from this first, and it couldn't really happen soon but – if you wanted to start saving up for it, I can start asking around for someone who could do it."

"I'll think about it. I'd made quite a bit of progress on my own," he said. And it had been true. He'd been proud of his work, figuring out how to articulate the fingers that had grown numb and useless with the ones that remained. The delicate parts he'd salvaged from the recycled gnome mechanisms were beginning to be able to pick up more subtle gestures that he could tune better as he tuned his own motor skills with the device. It had been exciting, to be honest, watching it evolve, and to not -- necessarily anyway -- be building yet another killing machine. It was an odd glimpse of his life before, or what could have been, even moreso than seeing his sister, or Whitestone liberated, because even if he loved them both dearly they'd so obviously changed and suffered that it was difficult to see past their harsh reality.

But all that work lay melted and burned and destroyed in his pocket. He had thought he had done a good job but in the uneventful weeks building it he realized that though he could wield a firearm with it for target practice he had no idea how it would stand to the heat of actual combat, and this indicated the real answer was 'not well.' If he was going to build a new prosthetic, he'd need to figure that out, too. The pistol itself was unreliable enough -- he couldn't deal with repairing his hand during combat as well.

But even as he used the other prosthetic he'd built, the simpler one that would crudely clamp into positions which made it serviceable in the shop, to build the broken one in his pocket now, he would look at his left hand. He'd remember seeing his own flayed skin and muscle and fat under Ripley's tools during her applied anatomy lessons and the small voice in the back of his head would say that he could just grab a blade from his desk and rearrange his tendons instead of playing with all these tiny gears and levers. Ultimately, rearranging himself internally would not be that hard, the tiny voice insisted, and he realized that ultimately that voice in his head was not the demon, and maybe had never been the demon. Maybe the demon had not given him any ideas at all and had just pretended to be a spark of inspiration as it clung on to him in anticipation of the feast Percy would bring on his killing spree. Was it not in their nature to lie?

But even if these designs on his own hand would work, it wouldn't be like the pistols. It wasn't something he could do alone, and who could he ask? Pike? She may know the most about healing in the group but she would take his eagerness to take a blade to his flesh as a desire to harm himself even if it was quite the opposite. A touch of healing magic to reroute the tissue to where it was needed would help, but would a holy power even knit together flesh in places it did not 'belong'? So much of the practice of healers was believed to be gifts from gods, the more visceral work of it done cleanly by holy magic or better not done at all, so who else would desire to go against them, who would have the knowledge to help him, except the one who had opened him up and showed him those parts of himself existed? Who could he ask for help but Ripley herself?

He stuffed down the thought as soon as he'd had it, because as factual as it seemed, he didn't think it was true. The priestess Miral had been 'like him,' had been willing to get her hands messy and while she was merely tolerated she hadn't been expelled from the temple or goddess's service yet. There had to be others who would try such a thing, and if someone was willing to chop off his entire hand in service of repairing it then they must also not be too squeamish of trying to cut it open so he could tinker in there and then stitch it back shut.

But right then he struggled with even his armor's lacing. He had a long way to go. Pike offered her hands which, even in their gauntlets, could still manage easier than his could.

"So you and Vex, huh?" she asked idly as she finished the knot's loops. During the ritual, she had, of course, heard everything.

"Don't I need to beg her forgiveness before I even think about her that way?" he asked.

"The reason she's going to be fucking livid is because she cares about you, and that you care about her is why you're going to do it anyway, right? So maybe instead of avoiding her think of it as motivation?"

"I don't know."

"I mean if she's not your type that's one thing. But then you've got to tell her that, too. Don't leave her hanging as some kind of like, second choice, or like this ‘first choice but I'm going to say I'm not good enough for you when I'm too much of a coward to discuss open relationships or bringing in a third or something because I put you up on a weird pedestal' or whatever." The experimental tug she gave on the lacing was a bit too aggressive and nearly made him gasp.

"It's not that. I...I can't give her what she wants. Not now. Maybe not ever."

She sighed, and circled around behind him to the other side to finish the job.

"Percy, what you need to understand is one of the things the Briarwoods tried to do to you is ruin you for anyone else. They tried to poison all love, or help, or affection you'll ever get. They might be dead but they're still trying to ruin you. You can't let them win."

Something in him trembled in the anticipation of not just killing them but destroying them utterly. That had never been the demon, that part had not been quelled when they died, had not been silenced when he'd given up on revenge to live. Maybe you did not have to choose between your friends and family and satisfying your endless capacity for spite, though. Perhaps you really could have it all.

Pike sure knew how to motivate people. It was good she was on their side.

He had to wet his lips to continue. As appealing as her words were, he still had his doubts.

"It's still unfair to her, isn't it?" said Percy as she started on the other lace.

"I'm going to be blunt – you're more than a dick, even if you kind of are one. You know that, right?" said Pike.

"I know, but even so, I can't --"

"Okay, I know you're young, but you're not that young, and you were a fucking sailor for a while, weren't you? You've got a mouth, dear, use it," she said. "You don't have to take off a stitch of clothing if you don't want to, and if she insists just tell her you're not ready for that. And if you do a good job and she's not an asshole, she'll be patient with you. Hell, you don't even need to do a good job, enthusiasm counts for a lot! I've seen this work for a lot of guys and I'm sure it can work for you. I mean, I don't even have a dick and I have no trouble satisfying girls, it's really not that hard."

"Uh, Thanks, Pike," said Percy, thinking he saw out of the corner of his eye the gatekeeper raise an eyebrow.

"Do you seriously have no idea how many girls would be all over a guy who's not just trying to get his dick wet immediately? Like this will really be the least of your problems. You just need to remember to shave before so your stubble doesn't irritate her m--"

"Thank you, Pike, I will be sure to put that advice to good use," he said a bit more forcefully, watching the gatekeeper at his post fully eye them above his wrinkled, torn pamphlet. Something that worn could only either be religious meditations or pornography, Percy figured, and he wasn't about to give this stranger a better show than either.

"No problem," she said, ignoring the gatekeeper entirely as she picked up her mace from the counter. Percy took his short sword, untied the peacebinding, and after a moment's thought, fastened it to his left hip. Even if Emon was close, he had a feeling this would be a long journey anyway.

END