Based on my ask from the other day, a little snip-it for your consideration!
“18.7 millimeters from hairline to chin tip. 4 millimeters below average, yet well within normal range.” Bolaire. scribbled his notes down quickly before twirling his fingers in a complicated series of movements, causing the beautifully fluid glass measuring tape to lift from Its face to hover above, awaiting next instructions. Bolaire taps his left index finger on his desk three times and the measuring tape stretches horizontally across Its cheekbones. “12.4 millimeters from sinistral zygomatic bone to dextral zygomatic bone. 2 millimeters above average, and again, well within normal range. This is going to be such a special specimen.”
Azune takes a moment to breathe through his nose. The cool kiss of the measuring tape feels incredibly grounding against his feverish skin each time Bolaire measures a different part of his face. No, It’s face. Here he is not Captain Azune Nayar of the Arcane Marshals. He is not a veteran of the Falconer’s Rebellion. Here he’s not a person, he does not have to be. That’s what Bolaire told him in the theatre in his head one of the less-fatal weeks. Azure had been panicking about the increase in layoffs of Revolutionary Guard when Bolaire offered to get him out of his head. So, on the upper patio of the Seven Stars Azune placed Bolaire over his face to take a backseat in his own mind . He was not, however, prepared for Bolaire to guide him through a conversation of how to figure out what it is he actually wants, how to ask for it, and who to ask if of. It was the most relaxed he’d been in years, that hour or so he spent with his head on Bolaire’s spectral thigh, gloved hands combing through his loosened braid, and a gentle voice reminding him, “You don’t have to pretend to be a person here.”
It settles back against the ebony heartwood table pulled perpendicular to the Curator’s desk. Bolaire watches as his specimen melts back into a state of dissociative bliss. The glaze in the boy’s eyes bring joy to Bolaire. He remembers back to how hesitant the boy was during their first discussion. He was stumbling over himself and looking anywhere but Bolaire’s face. After the third or fourth attempt to complete his ask Azune shook his head and bit his tongue, tears forming.
Bolaire relented and offered assistance through a firm grip on Azune’s chin and forced eye contact, “You don’t have to pretend to be a person here. Is that what you need? To be a thing?” Tears flowed freely and Azune noded aggressively, refusing to look away now that his needs had been laid before them both. Bolaire smiles to himself and returns to the present, sending his measuring tape to measure It’s handsome nose.
“Nose length, 58 millimeters. Hmm, long and strong. Width is,” a twist of fingers and a moment for rearrangement, “34 millimeters. Beautiful. The way people will come from far and wide to see It.”
A small whine, barely audible, comes from It as Bolaire turns back to his desk to complete his report on his museum’s newest exhibit while said exhibit basks in the feeling of not being useful, or helpful, or really anything at all.
<3 Lichqueen
Uge i would read 200 of these cakes. I will Captain Ship Curator/Exhibit to the depths of hell which we a assuredly headed towards.
I love the detail of Asune finally able to meet his gaze once Bolaire Names what it is he needs.
I love the specific patter of Bolaire saying the measurements out loud, somehow both soothing that he is right there, he's not alone or unguarded, while simultaneously reinforcing what they are to each other.
Prime example of this cake genre.