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Nosramus thought she had moved past it. She thought she had grieved enough. It felt silly as it was. It was only a science experiment, and a failed one at that. She had allowed herself to cry, tears tainting the leathery skin of the miserable creature in her arms. She had allowed herself to bundle it in the softest rags she had, swaddling it tight as if it would feel the cool chill of the mines and cringe against it. She even had allowed herself to carry it gently the entire way, slightly rocking back and forth, back and forth, to the Salmonsnake pool. No point in good meat being put to waste.
But, as she had kneeled down to place the creature in the pool, she could not bear to pull the little beast from her chest. Instead, she wailed, and wailed, and wailed. No one would disturb her, the Spectre Knight would make sure of that. She pressed the creature to her chest so tightly that if had still been breathing surely it would have suffocated. When the wailing and the pressing wasn’t enough, she began to beat her fist upon the floor and curse. How cruel. How cruel this world was.
When she was done, there were no more tears, her throat was raw with grief, and her fists were so bruised they could hardly hold the child, she sat staring at its formless face. That face never seemed to be able to produce anything but endless cries. An unnatural creature that could never be soothed by any natural means. Nosramus couldn’t care for it correctly, try as she might, and now it seemed she could not even end it correctly. Instead, she tucked the blanket around its approximation of a chin, in case the small thing became cold, and stood, adjusting it in her arms.
Silently, she moved past the Spectre Knight. She was glad that he could not speak. She was often glad of this fact, but usually it was out of annoyance towards the Spectre. Now…now she was glad she did not have to face his indignation.
As quietly as Nosramus had arrived, she made her way back to the laboratory she called home. It wouldn’t have been a proper place for the experiment, she told herself, it's too cold, too dark, too dangerous for such a miserable creature. No, she thought, it would never have been enough.
She had allowed herself to kiss the child's semi-formed forehead, before she lowered him gently into the chest, among the old robes and deteriorated books. They would make a fine bed for him. She tucked him in tight, and allowed herself one more desperate look, hopeful for that which she knew could not be, and that she would never wish to be. Then, she closed the lid, and rested against it for a moment.
She had to go. She had work to do. And this, she told herself, was all a part of her work. She finally pulled herself from the chest, though it was a battle she felt she could not, and did not desire to, win. She sat at her desk. She wrote in her journal. She turned to her samples. She did not let herself think of it again.
She thought herself stronger than this, but the wild and savage shout she gave when the little girl’s fingers had graced the chest had frightened her. Don’t touch him, she had shouted. Don’t touch him. The girl had flinched away, taking refuge behind the dark priest. The knight had let her hand fall to the handle of her sword and straightened.
“Ah…forgive me…” she said. Had she believed herself capable, she might’ve gone bright red at her outburst. Instead, she turned back to her desk and straightened a few bottled elixirs that were already in order.
“I prefer to maintain my privacy… I’m sure you would understand…” she said. There was no response for a long moment, until finally the knight spoke.
“Right. We apologize for the inconvenience,” she had replied. Despite the courteous answer, Nosramus swore she could hear a wavering tension of distaste in her voice.
“I’ve done all I can to aid you in your journey…so if you’ll excuse me,” Nosramus added, finding her seat at her desk and opening a tome. She allowed herself only a quick glance at the way the knight carded her fingers through the girl's hair, a gentle assurance that she had done no wrong, and no harm would come to her. She forced her eyes back to the pages, staring at the words, but not finding any sense in them. She would not allow herself to look, but she listened as two pairs of footsteps, one gentle and pattering, the other heavy and sure, retreated from the laboratory. The dark priest remained a moment longer.
“Thank you,” he said, just above his breath, before beginning to retreat as well. It didn’t seem he was accustomed to saying it. Nosramus felt her lip twitch at the thought.
“You’re welcome,” she said, as she listened to the gentle swish of his dark robes moving through the room.
“Oh, and Enki,” she said, turning before she could change her mind. The priest stopped, but only spared her a glance over his shoulder. She traced the outline of his nose and brow with her eyes. In another life she might have seen herself in his face.
“Take care of that girl,” she said. He seemed to imperceptibly start at that, as if surprised it would be asked of him, rather than the knight. He gave a sharp, jerky nod, before following the path set by his companions out the door.
Nosramus stared at the doorway for a moment, watching the light of a torch grow softer and softer, until finally it was gone, and she was truly and wholly alone.