Mud and Shadow

Arms trembling with exhaustion, the young man regarded the final obstacle in his ascent to the top of the fortress wall. The overhang itself was just shallow enough for him to find purchase, it was the crows perched on the edge that concerned him. Two of them had already poked their wicked heads out to watch him climb, clearly plotting to undo his entire morning's work with a well-aimed peck. One cocked its head at an angle, and he gave a malicious grin in return. Today was the day, today was the day he would triumph over his winged tormentors and reach the top.
His left hand dug into the soaked stone as he unstrapped the walking cane from his belt with his right. It wasn't much of a threat to people (which is probably why he was allowed to keep it), but to the crows it was quite fearsome indeed. They gave a squawk of alarm as he barraged the overhang with wooden blows, but they simply flapped out of reach.
Just like he'd planned. With one swift movement, he tossed the cane to the flooded ground below and swung his hand up and over the top of the battlements. He hesitated for a moment with the second hand, as even without the horrible birds this was the most delicate part. Gripping the overhang with both hands, he tensed and kicked off of the wall as he pulled up with his arms, feeling the rough granite dig into his cold skin. He was just about to tuck his legs in to find purchase with them when the flutter of wings announced the crow's return.
He had planned to simply bat them away when he'd scaled the wall, but the fatigue from the hour-long climb and the difficult maneuvering onto the battlements had left him bereft of energy. This enemy eagerly punished his miscalculation with a flurry of sharp blows to his arms and head, weaving between his feeble attempts to swat them away. Humbled once more by his feathery foe, he slid down as far as he could on the lip before letting go.
Like every other time he'd attempted the climb, he'd ensured that there was an adequate amount of water to soften the ground beneath him should his attempt end in failure. Like every other time, he made sure to land feet first after lowering himself as close to the ground as possible. And like every other time; the impact still earned him a fracture in both ankles, with all the searing pain that accompanies it.
Once again, Jyn Yuan found himself writhing in the mud at the feet of the fortress walls, with the mocking caw of crows echoing in his ears. But as far as he was concerned, this was the newest first time this had happened; and once the pain began to ebb, he was already devising a new plan to get past the crows and enter Fogshroud Fortress. He didn't remember how many failures this made, and he didn't want to remember...
“That's number twenty-seven, Jyn.” came a smug voice from above.
...Not that she was going to allow him to forget. He swiveled his head around towards the source of the voice, and his eyes met with a pair of long, lacquered wading boots cautiously tapping the edge of the mud. Roughly tucked into these boots was a monochrome, albeit elaborate, full-length gown. It was the type of outfit meant to streamline a woman's body into a curve-less, willowy form; a task it was currently failing miserably at.
Simply put, Sylpha Amontilliada was overweight. Chocolate was her passion, her reason for existence, her one and only love; thus its impact on her figure was less a consequence than an inevitability. Still, looking up at her now, Jyn had to admit to himself that this impact hadn't been all bad. Not only had her breasts and rump swelled, but her formerly angular face had filled out in a very pleasing way (she also did that thing with her bangs that kept one eye covered, which he liked). Jyn would even go far as to think (not say, he'd never say anything about it) that she was the most beautiful young woman he'd ever encountered.
Naturally, they despised each other. It used to be an open declaration of hatred, a back-and-forth emotional barrage that had gradually cooled to mere mutual disdain. Now they simply tried to ignore each other; key word being 'tried', as her father always seemed to find ways to ensure they'd bump into each other. He'd saved Cezra Amontilliada from choking to death on a glass of wine that went down his windpipe with a hasty punch to the diaphragm, and the old man had tearfully expressed his gratitude with a promise to repay his debt. The very next morning, an excessively thankful Cezra had showed up at the shipyards where Jyn lodged with Sylpha by the arm, announcing his intention to wed the two of them as thanks.
Sylpha was understandably upset by this sudden turn of events, which is probably why she screamed all those bad words at Jyn (the sailors who worked at the shipyards were so offended by her obscenity-laden rant that they swore to never use such language again). Jyn sniped that he'd rather be given a few pieces of gold that some ugly, foul-mouthed scarecrow, and it had only deteriorated from there.
Had his present circumstances been different, he might have tried to be friendly with Sylpha. But the pain rapidly climbing up his mud-caked legs made him more sensitive to insults, which is exactly what she followed up her numerical observation with.
“Why is it that every time I find you here, you're covered in something? It does wonders for the smell of course, but you could always just try bathing.”
“I planned it this way...” Jyn retorted.
“So... your plan was to fall into the mud? To think you get angry whenever I question your intelligence.”
Jyn glared at her but bit back a retort. Much as he hated to admit it, he needed her help to get back to the shipyards. Sylpha was quite aware of this as well, which meant the price for transport would be an unceasing torrent of snide remarks without fear of reprisal.
“Look, are you going to help me out or not?” Jyn said with the politest tone his pride would allow him.
Sylpha looked over him with a haughty eye. “No, I think not. I broke out in a rash the last time I had to drag you back to the carriage. Wouldn't wish to get mud on this outfit either...”
This last remark, coupled with her turning her ample backside to Jyn, proved too tempting a target for him to ignore. Was slinging a handful of mud at Sylpha juvenile? Yes. Would there by consequences down the road because of it? Yes. Was it satisfying?
Oh my, yes.
Slypha froze as the mud landed wetly on her, only turning to look once the cold muck started trickling down into her boots. By the time she'd finally locked eyes with Jyn he was busy shaping a second mud ball with a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. Sylpha sputtered in silent fury for a moment before striding up to Jyn with murder in her eyes.
“I was going to have Eigar carry you to the carriage” she spat through gritted teeth, “what purpose does ruing a perfectly good dress serve in getting you to that hovel of yours?”
Jyn turned his gaze downwards, eyes tracking the mud ball flicking back and forth between his hands. It wasn't that he didn't have a reason... it was... he just...
“Felt like it.” he mumbled to his hands.
“Is that so? Then here's something that I felt like doing.” Sylpha hissed.
Next thing Jyn knew a hunk of cold slime was dripping down his face. He recovered in seconds, scoring a point-blank hit on her bulging belly with the projectile he'd been shaping, and Sylpha kicked a wave of mud at him in retaliation. Things continued in this manner until the both of them had collapsed from exhaustion on the muck-strewn battlefield. They lay there for some time, their heavy breathing only stilled by the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Lady Amontilliada, the carriage is waiting.”
The new voice was strangely muted. It wasn't a whisper, but a barely audible scream. Its quality caused your entire skin to prickle and your bones to chill.
Sylpha sighed and squelched to her feet. “Do we have a tarp or some manner of-?”
“Yes, milady; already put out on the seats.”
“Excellent work, Eigar. Take this one and lay him out on one of the forward wheels, would you please?”
“Yes, milady.”
Cold, thin fingers hauled Jyn out of the mud and into an upright position. “Can you stand on one leg, master Jyn?”
Jyn tenderly applied weight to his right foot, resulting in crippling pain shooting up his body. He tried the left one, and though it also protested, the pain was somewhat more bearable. He was dimly aware that there was something he was supposed to be remembering at the moment, but the agony was slowing his mind.
“How far is the carriage from here?”
“Not far; not far, master Jyn. Lean your weight on me, I'm not as frail as I look.”
Jyn eyed Eigar as they hobbled towards the carriage hidden in the morning mist. It was quite difficult to fathom Eigar's disposition at the best of times, given his lack of muscle and skin, but Jyn knew Eigar wasn't unhappy with his current role. None of the Arisen from Maus seemed particularly unhappy to be given a second chance at life. As they approached the carriage, even the skeletal horses seemed to be enjoying the cool mists. Eigar leaned Jyn against one of the wheels and opened the carriage door; revealing Sylpha, who was wearing a new gray dress and a withering scowl.
“Here.” she said, hurling a muddied towel at Jyn's face “You better get it all, because if I see so much as thumb-sized smear on the upholstery I'm never speaking to you again.”
She retreated back into the carriage, leaving Jyn to futilely imagine what such a wonderful scenario would look like. He started wiping off his face, noting, despite his annoyance, that the towel still carried a faint flowery scent hidden beneath the mud.
“How far did you get this time, master Jyn?”
Jyn peeked out over the towel at Eigar for a moment before moving onto his arms.
“Got halfway on top before the crows regrouped.”
Eigar clacked his teeth together as he looked the carriage over.
“Ah! So next time then, master Jyn?”
“Should be, if I can figure out a way to toss the cane up on the-”
He stopped halfway down his arm as he realized what he'd been forgetting.
“I forgot the cane!”
The carriage window cracked open and the cane slid out onto the ground at their feet.
“Who told you you could pick that up?” Jyn asked the window angrily.
“A 'thank you' might be a bit more appropriate here, I think.” noted Sylpha from the depths of the carriage.
“Don't get your hopes up.” Jyn growled to himself. He'd cleaned off as much of the mud as he could, but by that point a lot of it had dried and adhered to his skin and clothes. While some would see this as an annoyance, Jyn saw only opportunity. After all, he couldn't smear mud on Sylpha's precious upholstery if it was dry.
Sylpha seemed to have reached the same conclusion, as she barred the door to the carriage after looking him over. Jyn had always hated the way her nostrils flared whenever she looked at something she particularly disliked; which, besides him, included filth of any kind. It was most fortunate that the carriage didn't have any mirrors, as she hadn't quite gotten all the mud off of herself either.
“Not good enough, peel it off.” she commanded.
“You don't seriously want me to sit down and pick each and every piece of dirt from my skin do you? Because if that's what you're expecting, you're out of-”
“Milady, there is a line of dark clouds off in the distance, I think it would be wise to return to the house at best speed”
Sylpha opened her mouth at Eigar's interjection, before turning towards the horizon, and Jyn followed suit. There was indeed an ominous sprawl of clouds slowly drifting towards them, and the wind had already begun to pick up. Sylpha pressed her lips together as she gave Jyn another once-over, clearly considering a compromise between neatness and alacrity.
“Scrape off what you can on the wheels and then get in here.”
Jyn muttered a quick word of thanks to Eigar as Sylpha withdrew into the carriage once more, and the skeleton nodded in return. Jyn hastily scraped his arms and legs against the nearest wheel, then slung the towel and cane over his shoulders and hoisted himself (not without difficulty) up into the carriage with his upper body.
The inside was dominated by a lumpy tarp and Sylpha's generous frame. The tarp crinkled and bunched as Jyn struggled onto the rear seat, and Sylpha glared at him the whole time. After a solid minute of floundering, Jyn had pushed himself into a roughly upright position, and Eigar closed the door behind him.
Jyn swiveled the cane in his hands as the carriage began to move, not daring to look Sylpha in the eyes for fear of being kicked out; and, for a time, she seemed content to let things stay this way. They made steady but occasionally bumpy progress along the coastal roads towards Misthold (which contained both the shipyards and the Amontilliada estate), the clopping of bony hooves gradually fading beneath the drops of the incoming rain.
There was a sudden flash of light inside the carriage. Sylpha had lit a lantern to combat the overcast darkness; which had overcome the sunlight so gradually that Jyn had failed to take notice of it. The shrouded flame cast odd shadows and danced against the raindrops on the windows, at least where Sylpha wasn't blocking it.
Jyn's eyes turned to Sylpha herself, who's features had been eerily distorted in the new light. Because the lantern was at her feet, her prodigious breasts caused a shadow to fall over the lower half of her face, with her cheeks blocking the light from reaching her eyes. The illumination had caused her visage to take on an almost mask-like quality, which was surprisingly unnerving to behold until she broke the silence.
“What are you staring at?” she snarled.
“Nothing.” Jyn mumbled as he spun his head to the nearest window.
The rain was obviously picking up because there wasn't much to see outside, unless you were a fan of falling water. The rain was becoming heavier by the minute, and the wheels kept splashing in drowned ditches beneath them. The sound of sliding wood was followed by an increase in the rain's volume, and Jyn turned back towards the noise. Eigar was busy yelling something through the slit at the front of the carriage, and Sylpha mood suddenly worsened.
“It can't take that long! It's just a ways off the main thoroughfare!”
Eigar yelled something vaguely apologetic in reply, but the downpour meant Jyn was unable to hear it. Sylpha threw back her head in frustration and slammed the slit shut. Jyn knew that he was opening himself up to be an outlet for her anger, but his curiosity got the better of him; just like it always did.
“Is... something wrong?”
Sylpha didn't answer for a moment, as if trying to calm herself.
“The storm's gotten pretty bad, we don't have time to stop at the shipyards.”
“So... we're going to your place, then?”
Sylpha averted her gaze and, hesitating a little, nodded. Jyn looked out the window for a few seconds, before sliding over to the door and grasping the handle.
Sylpha reached over and slapped his hand away. “We are in a moving carriage and you are injured! Is staying at my home overnight really so horrible that you'd risk trampling and hypothermia before setting foot inside!?”
Jyn carefully weighed his options for a full minute before making another attempt at the door. Sylpha slapped him (on the face this time), then plopped down between him and the door to block his only route of escape.
“If I have to sit on you to make you behave, I will.” she hissed, and this was enough to make Jyn give up on the matter.
The wind and rain only continued to increase in ferocity as they neared the Amontilliada estate, almost to the point that Jyn was concerned the carriage might be bowled over en route. But eventually the carriage came to a stop, and the nearby lights indicated that they'd reached their destination. The carriage door opened a crack and Eigar shouted into it over the deluge.
“A moment if you please, mistress Sylpha; I'm off to fetch an umbrella and another pair of hands! I won't be long.”
He shut the door and the cacophonic din of the rain was somewhat muted again. Sylpha, seemingly satisfied by Jyn's resignation, switched back over to the other side of the carriage and grabbed the lantern. Jyn craned his neck up towards the window nearest the mansion, but was unable to make out shapes in the illuminated rain.
“So... is he going to-?”
“Don't.” said Sylpha.
“But-”
“Just don't.”
She opened the lantern and extinguished the flame within. It was probably just an irrelevant combination of wishful thinking and dancing shadows, but Jyn was sure he spotted the faintest flicker of a smile on Sylpha's lips as the light went out.