Wilted

Water

     Jørn took another can of cheap beer from Øystein's kitchen table, cracking it open before flopping on the couch. "You remembered to restring your guitar right?" He asked his friend, who was still hovering at the window, peeking through the flimsy plastic blinds.

"What the hell could they be doing out there?" He muttered, ignoring Jørn's question.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Øystein. Why should we care?" 

"Well, since I have a straggler staying in my house…" he gave a sour look and joined his friend on the couch, uninterested in the politician speaking on the television. Politics in his own country were about as important to him as, well, whatever Orchid said she was.

"Pelle thinks she's a witch." Jørn crossed his legs, flicking the channel to a local weather report, "They're probably sacrificing something to Loki or braiding eachother's hair." he joked, forcing a grin out of Øystein. "She seems like a good kid though, let her off the hook."

"Yeah, if that 'good kid' becomes a distraction…"

"Come on, man, nothing's gonna distract Pelle from Mayhem, witch or no witch."

Øystein exhaled, a knot loosening ever so slightly in his gut, "Hm, Yeah, I guess you're right." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

He couldn't stop himself from stiffening like a wooden plank when he heard the door swing open.

-

     "And I was wondering if you would help me sew some stuff on my stage clothes!" Pelle asked hopefully, averting his eyes from Øystein's glare as he stepped in the living room, sporting a pair of Viking worthy braids in his dusty blonde hair. 

Orchid nodded happily, "Oh, sure! Only if you show me how you do your cool make up!"

Øystein could be heard scoffing from the couch, earning a scornful glare from Jørn, "Hey kids, you have a good time?" He yawned, throwing back the lukewarm beer, "Nice Hair-do, Pelle, you do those yourself?" 

     "Orchid...did them for me." Per lowered his eyes in shame at Jørn's knowing smile, "After we did a ritual sacrifice!" Taking a moment to style your friend's hair like giggling schoolgirls at a slumber party wasn't exactly Black Metal, but The other men's eyes lit up at the mention of a ritual. Now that was Mayhem as all fuck.

     "Damn, okay." Øystein chuckled in amusement, a joker's grin playing on his face. She may have been mildly irritating, but at least Orchid wasn't boring. "Mr. Butcher, if you don't mind entertaining our guest, I'm gonna get that guitar strung." He grinned, offering his spot on the sofa as he pulled himself up.

"That's Dr. Butcher to yo-Oof!" Jørn tried to sass back, interrupted by Øystein dropping the almost full box of beer on his lap, "Gah! fucking asshole!"

"Thanks!" 

     Orchid couldn't help but giggle, some from anxiety, some from the brotherly antics. She fished a needle and some spare thread from her bag and daintily sat in the middle of the sofa. Both Per and Orchid were quite tiny, and comfortably squished together with no problems, "That was nice of him…" she muttered. 

"Don't let Øystein ruffle your feathers, Kid. He's just pissy that he broke his strings trying to do some shitty tuning technique." He pulled two cans from the box, tossing it in both their laps, "Here, if you're staying, might as well."

Orchid gave him a worried look, picking up the can and slowly opening it. It smelled like her father, if not a little more clean. "Oh, uh, Thank you…" she muttered, taking a long drink until her throat felt flooded with bubbles and the can felt significantly lighter. 

Jørn chuckled to himself, "Oh, you party, huh?"

"Not particularly." She laughed, wiping the corner of her eye, "I've not tried this before, it's odd." 

"Beer?" He laughed, "Well, you took it like a champ, Dracula over there sips like a girl." He raised his can at Per, who hissed in response and kept gently nursing his own drink. "Hiss at yourself, Pelle. Save that for practice tomorrow."

     Per, as usual, seemed barely into the conversation, even leaving for a second only to come back with a tattered jacket on instead of his nicer one. He wordlessly flopped his arm into Orchid's lap. She only fished a scrap of fabric from that bag and began to stitch, ignoring Jørn's questioning gaze.

"So," He started, flipping the channel on the television, switching to some horror film with goofy gore effects, "How did you two meet?" 

Orchid thought for a moment, ripping a piece of denim in her hands, "My family moved around a lot when I was young, we were neighbors for a bit." She hummed happily, downing the rest of her drink, "Pelle really helped me, I did my first curse with him!"

Jørn exhaled, cracking open another beer, "Yeah...that makes sense." 

'Dear fuck she actually believes this.'

     "Dad wasn't a fan of you, remember?" She nudged the blonde, who gave her a soured expression, like someone had just insulted him. 

"Doesn't matter, he's fuckin dead." Per said bluntly, "If he didn't die before I saw you again, I would have done it myself."

"Oh stop," she muttered, holding up his jacketed arm, now sporting raggedy strips that hung down like a zombie that spent forty years underground, "How's that?"

"Perfect." He grinned, admiring her work.

"You look absolutely evil, no question!" She beamed, "Okay, other arm now." 

Per flexed his right hand into a claw, making a shrill hissing noise as he grabbed her arm, in an attempt to frighten the girl.

"Damn you, quit it! I'm holding a needle!"

"Stab me, I won't feel anything."

     Jørn raised an eyebrow, stiffly watching the TV and trying to ignore the horseplay. It felt like babysitting, except instead of children, it was two deeply neurotic adults in costumes. 

-

     Øystein didn't come out of his room that night, nor did the mysterious drummer ever show his face, but Orchid wasn't necessarily worried for them, especially after having a few more beers with Jørn. He was snarky, sure, but he made the best drinking buddy! 

"You alright?" Per asked quietly as he led her up the stairs, stumbling against the rail.

Orchid's head spun as she walked through the door, collapsing on the bed. "Mmhmm…" she nodded, holding her stomach, "Maybe. Sit with me?"

Per sat on the edge of the mattress, not bothering to flip the lights on. "You're gonna be miserable tomorrow." He paused, the familiar feeling of spindly fingers undoing his braids catching his attention. "Hm?"

"Shh, Don't wanna sleep in those." She lifted up slightly, "Cute."

He wouldn't lie, the feeling was nice, even when she gathered a handful of blonde hair and held it to her face, inhaling deeply. "Well, alright, here…".

     A garden's worth of dead flower petals spilled onto his pillow as he undid her hair as well, it was much easier to take them out than put them in. "I've not seen you with your hair down." He muttered, touching a finger to her nose.

"Cute."

Orchid smiled, giving his hand a squeeze before he got up, "Night, Pelle."

"Night."