Shadows Over Camp Darkness

Turn left at Alburquerquie

It was one of those nights that begged for you to sit on the stairs and look at the stars all night long. Not a single fluffy cloud in the sky to obscure the view, a three quarter moon hanging low enough to touch, and the slightest of breezes that didn't chill so much as tickle across the skin and encourage cuddling. Gideon was wrist deep in blood when it occurred to her to stop for a moment and enjoy the atmosphere before she went back to helping the Cook butcher a carcass of meat. It wasn't just a healthy outlet for some of her looming aggression, though it helped, and the fresh blood would actually go a ways to help soothe the Fury's healing wrists, but Gideon needed the entrails to help feel the Hell Cat and her babies. The Kittens would be nursing still, and would be for the greater part of the next month or so, but the Cat could use all the extra nutrients she could get. And it wasn't like Gideon would be queasy over a little offal.

The day had gone mostly well; her little chat with the vampire had had some kind of an effect, though it was still too early to tell just how hard he was going to listen to her words, and the rest of her kids seemed to be rolling along without too many obvious bumps. Hantu needed very little in the way of direct handling; his confidence was growing simply because he was being put in situations where his natural skill sets had worth, something he hadn't gotten a chance to experience before. Omen Angelspawn had been suspiciously quiet all day long, but not in a brooding way but more of a contemplative internal way. Gideon figured to let him have another day or so before she poked at that ball of barbed wire. Cala was going to need the next day to be all about her; Gideon had seen the girl clawing at her arms when no one was looking; as if she could scrape off a layer of contamination. Aglaope would need to feed soon, so maybe Gideon could combine that with Cala's treatment somehow. There had to be a way to help both girls without things getting messy in every way that counted. As for the Nightmare, Gideon was just glad to have made it through the day without someone trying to kill her, let alone having Mardrom offer the Fury her literal throat. Gids knew her self-control was strained thanks to injuries and the provocations as of late.

A distraction of the best kind wandered into view, in the middle of his patrol. Virgil was backlit by the moon, a silhouette that Gideon could recognize simply because she knew the way he moved. It still felt odd to her to acknowledge that they weren't just bedmates but actually loved each other and the strange flutter in her gut that mixed with guilt reminded her that she was keeping a pretty damn big secret from him that affected him directly.

Just before Gideon could call over to her lover she stopped herself, scanning around to see if she could spot anyone or anything else watching. It was just over a week into the Camp and she had to be so careful now, now that she knew that not everything was kosher in Oz. Instead of hailing Virgil over, Gideon focused back onto the cooling entrails wrapped around her fist, letting her mind go over which parts of the dead beastie her Cat would likely eat and which ones she'd avoid. She was trying to think of anything to keep her mind off of Virgil and how she could almost feel him stalking around the Camp in a literal sense. Now that the Healer had brought her awareness to it, Gideon couldn't keep her mind from worrying at the sensation like a tongue poking at a missing tooth. It hurt but somehow she couldn't seem to stop herself from metaphysically prodding the connection.

Furies weren't supposed to form these kinds of bonds; the deep connections that would allow someone in past all magical and bioengineered defenses, and yet Gideon wasn't delusional enough to deny the fact that Virgil had and so had a few of her friends. It left Gideon feeling more than a little off kilter to realize that she had actual connections to beings that weren't Fury, and that left her feeling highly exposed and vulnerable now. Especially since Virgil had already used it to trick her into unconsciousness.

Cookie grunted at Gideon and pulled the entrails out of her hand, drawing the Fury out of her own head space and back into the moment. Virgil had ambled off keeping to his patrols in an irregular, ever changing route and Gideon breathed a little easier now that she could avoid a confrontation again. "You gonna talk about it?" Cookie asked in the gregarious way of the Clurichan. A distant relative of the Leprechaun, the Clurichan cared more about wine than anything else, but somehow Cook had ended up here at the Camp as a chef. Gideon always thought it was best to not ask how that kind of thing took place. The Cook had always been here, would likely always be here, and no one ever paid him much mind, which gave Gideon an idea.