They’re in a drawing room that looks…haphazard. The house allowed them to decorate and there is a mishmash of furniture, the walls are a mix of white and rainbow splashes and the artwork is faintly disturbing. The problem is, Kilney doesn’t know what parts of the room denote his personality and what parts Ramshackle’s; it’s all a mess.
He wonders if they cannot decorate a room together, what chance do they have of undoing the work of a thousand years? He shakes himself and opens his notebook where he’s writing notes. To be able to make a new contract, he needs information.
Ramshackle has informed Kilney he can go about two weeks before he absolutely needs to feed. In his head, Kilney keeps a timer for ten days. He has that much time to come up with a different contract and find a way to feed Ramshackle that does not involve souls.
“Does food do nothing for you?”
Ramshackle is sitting ramrod straight next to Kilney because, in their combined wisdom, there is only a single sofa and a table in the drawing room. He is uncomfortable. He may have witnessed people’s intimate moments, he may have held their hand as they gave vent to their fears, but no one ever asked him what he was feeling. No one was interested in him.
And here is Kilney, asking questions, asking for vulnerability. He is acutely aware he doesn’t know how to open his mouth and speak about himself.
“Ramshackle?”
“I enjoy eating but it doesn’t feed my soul, only my body.”
Kilney cocks his head to one side. “What about alcohol?”
“It is only as a prop.”
“That cannot be true,” says Kilney pointing his pen to him, “I saw you savouring your Pinot Noir. Your knowledge of different kinds of drinks is encyclopaedic. No one becomes an expert on a subject because it’s a prop.”
Ramshackle huffs. “Fine. I enjoy drinking, now and then.”
“It’s like pulling teeth,” mutters Kilney. “Okay. Does drink do anything for you? Does it nurture you, quench your thirst? Anything?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t paid attention before.”
Kilney rolls his eyes so hard, he gives himself a headache. “In that case, we’re going to the Rising Dragon. It’s time for some experimentation.”
They spend three hours in the Dragon and Kilney adds two notes in the notebook. One, Ramshackle really loves his alcohol. Two, the man doesn’t understand the concept of thirst. This helps him because this means they simply have to rewire his system to accept a signed contract as sustenance instead of a soul.
They’re back in the drawing room, Kilney buzzed but excited, Ramshackle sour-faced.
“Okay house, how do we help rewire Ramshackle’s system?”
He’ll have to die. You’ll have to resurrect him but this time with a different intention. We’ll help.
“Die?” Kilney feels all his buzz leaving him.
“No need to sound so smug house,” glares Ramshackle at no one in particular.
“What about his memories? How do we make sure he comes back intact with only a few adjustments?”
Ramshackle is at once touched. He likes that Kilney is committed. He likes that he cares about him too. They really are friends. He doesn’t know what to do with that information.
It may be an improvement if he doesn’t remember anything.
He cannot fight a house but Ramshackle is suddenly feeling violent. Kilney diffuses him by putting a hand on his shoulder.
“If his memories dissolve, he won’t remember me, or you, or our deal. We don’t want that.”
Kilney can feel the house sigh in dismay. He feels on edge. He has only ever negotiated with belligerent spouses, not entities that are older and wiser than him.
Fine. We’ll tell you what to do but Ruidan Kilney, this is the last platform. If you don’t get off now, you’re stuck on this train. Because you’ll have to be a part of the ritual. And you’ll be changed too by the end of it.
“Changed how?”
We cannot be certain. We haven’t tried this before.
“How do you even know this?”
Ramshackle is up and pacing. It’s a habit he has picked up from Kilney. He has never felt afraid in his life but the thought of losing his memories, those imperfect but precious threads of himself is terrifying.
We’re still connected to the realm we belong to, Ramshackle. You may have severed your ties but we haven’t. That’s how we know these things.
It isn’t a satisfactory answer but once again, Kilney diffuses him, this time with a reassuring smile. That smile seems to be saying we’re in this together. It feels nice to be a part of a team, observes Ramshackle.
“Let’s do it then,” says Kilney. Lunar will be upset with him but they’ll understand. He thinks. Hopes.
23 of 26 of an ongoing series The Dream Maker. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.
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