Book 3: Chapter 29 - Poorly Aimed Wedding Bells

Why do we all have a color for a name?
The answer to that question is incredibly simple.

It’s also none of your business.
—Cyan Asher, Interview

Violet leaned her head against the wall of the dilapidated house and looked out into the mist. A large yellow crystal had conveniently grown into the wall, offering both structural stability and a place for the reaper to sit. She kind of wanted a cigarette.

Not legitimately, by any means. She'd never tried smoking before, and she didn't understand the appeal. It kind of sounded gross, if she really thought about it.

But there was a romance to the idea. The scene of a lone woman, smoking as she kept watch over a dark and foggy landscape. Sharp eyes and thick smoke meeting the very same from a broken world. 

It would make a great scene in a book, and she was almost there.

On the other hand, it would also give her bad breath and maybe lung cancer, so it was a toss-up whether it would be worth it. In the end, she didn't have any to smoke, so there wasn't much point in dwelling on the thought. She'd just have to draw the scene she was picturing later.

That would more or less get it out of her system and avoid the foul breath. She couldn't afford that risk, anyway, with her hair greasy as sin and Kiera mocking her for failure to shave again. Her roommate was oddly particular about body hair, considering the girl was an actual animal with literal fur. And only when it came to Violet. Something about pale skin and purple legs. Kiera seemed to worry Violet would be mistaken for a Dr. Seuss character.

“Oh, shit, did I fall asleep?” Terry asked. The boy, who'd agreed to be Violet's partner on nightwatch, groaned and picked himself up off the dirty porch. Violet glanced down at him with a smirk.

“Nah, you were fully conscious while crumpled up in the dirt. Weird you don't remember,” she answered. Then she pointed at his chin. “You got a little dribble there, bud.”

Terry quickly wiped the drool from his chin with one sleeve, then climbed onto a second crystal near Violet. “I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me,” he apologized.

Violet shrugged. “Fatigue, probably. The last couple of days have been long, and you keep lending me your attributes. Honestly, I get it. And I don't mind,” she answered.

Truth be told, she felt a bit guilty about letting the group divide nightwatch evenly. They might not have known it, Kiera notwithstanding, but Violet had more endurance than any of them, despite it not being one of her better attributes. She could run on less sleep than they could. The mental fatigue of keeping watch was lighter on her as well, considering her perception. And since she could scare hedron away while daydreaming about unhealthy vices.

She saw the bags under their eyes every day while she woke up fresh and new. It didn't matter how despicable humanity was, or who Violet was planning to kill. Sleep was sacred, and everyone deserved as much as they could get. Letting her watch partner doze off on post was the least she could do. Especially since she knew they weren't necessary.

“I appreciate your understanding, but that was unacceptable on my part. Seriously, please forgive me,” Terry insisted.

“Forgiveness granted,” Violet replied. “But honestly, I don't mind. I kind of like keeping watch.”

“Instead of sleeping? Are you insane?” Terry asked.

“I mean, I like sleeping more; I'm not a monster. I just mean... it wasn’t long ago that even the air in my hometown burned my lungs. Now I can hang out in a primarily yellow region of the mist without batting an eye. It's encouraging, I guess,” Violet clarified.

“You're a real optimist, huh? That's good to hear,” Terry responded. Violet eyed him. The stoic man had been more amiable over the last couple of days, but only while alone with her. He seemed nearly vacant when the group was travelling together. She hoped he wasn't forming a crush or something stupid like that. She wanted to engage in a romantic relationship with him nearly as much as she wanted to cuddle a toad. Any pursuit of such an entanglement would only irritate her.

“Good to hear why?” Violet interrogated. “You looking for a new source of sunshine?”

Terry shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. Sort of the opposite, actually,” he answered.

“You're happy I'm an optimist because you plan to blot out the sun?” Violet asked.

“Because I've been avoiding an awkward conversation with you. And I figure it'll be easier to just spit it out if I know you won't take it poorly, I guess?” he said.

Violet glanced down at him warily before returning her gaze to the mist. It was important she appeared to be watching closely, even if she was certain no hedron were going to attack. It also gave her an excuse to avoid Terry's eyes as she ran through her memories of the man. 

As hard as she tried, she couldn't think of a single significant interaction they'd ever had. They shared a classroom and had been involved in a few group exercises together. But he usually kept to himself. There was, as far as she could recall, jack shit for them to talk about. Unless he had some sort of request for the upcoming mission.

“What? You want to trade seats in class when we get back?” she guessed.

Terry rolled his eyes. “No, Violet. I just... I wanted to say I like you fine, but I don't want to get married to you. You know? I've been keeping an eye on you since we left Prism, and you are perfectly pleasant. But I don't think it's a good idea,” he finally blurted out.

Violet abandoned the guise of keeping a careful watch. Instead, she turned her head to look at Terry. She didn't speak at first. While her expression was baffled, it was more curious than gaping. The sort of look she might give a man who suddenly pulled out a three-point jester's hat, only to return to quietly reading in a coffee shop.

“Am I special, or do you say that to all the girls?” she asked.

“You... have no idea what I'm talking about. Do you?” Terry replied, a deep red filling his cheeks. “Oh my God.”

“I mean. I think you just dumped me but forgot to ask me out first. But no, I'm not entirely sure,” she teased.

Terry groaned and buried his face in his hands. “No. No, that's on me. It was a stupid assumption to make,” he admitted.

“That I wanted to marry you because I let you sleep on post?” Violet asked. “No, don't beat yourself up. It was as reasonable a conclusion as... some, probably. Could have happened to anyone who is insane.”

“I'm supposed to marry an Asher girl,” he explained. “I was just told it was a girl I knew from school. But it was your... great-grandfather's idea? I don't actually know how you're related. I just know my calling is apparently useful to him, and he's been trying to arrange a marriage. Then you showed up in class right afterward, and... I've thought it was you for months.”

Violet blinked.

Then she started laughing, slapping her hand over her mouth to avoid waking the rest of the team. “Holy shit,” she practically squealed. “Sorry, pardon the language. But really, dude. Why didn't you talk to me sooner? You've just been coming to class every day and refusing to acknowledge it? Just saying, ‘Oh, there's my fiance, she has great hair, looking forward to another day of saying nothing to her!’ like some sort of lunatic?”

Terry turned from pink to crimson as Violet spoke, every word clearly making him feel smaller. “I thought it was awkward for both of us and you didn't want to address it any more than I did,” he admitted. “It seemed obvious at the time.”

“It seemed obvious that we were silently planning a wedding without ever addressing it directly?” Violet mocked. “Exactly what kind of signals am I sending people?”

“I only know one Asher, and I was told I knew the girl I was supposed to... you know. Who else would they mean?” Terry explained.

“Well it's not me, sorry,” Violet laughed. “Or, maybe I shouldn't be sorry. You did just reject me. No accounting for bad taste, I guess. Anyway, my stupid relatives do the occasional arranged marriage, yeah. But... I don't know how to explain this without sounding like I'm extremely full of myself. They have certain criteria for who is chosen to fulfill that particular role. Based on overall potential value to the family, and all that nonsense. I wouldn't be their first choice.”

“Well, this is mortifying,” Terry intoned. 

Violet waved him off. “Eh. You're not the first boy to convince himself we're getting married. Just don’t get all torn up about it now that you know you’re wrong. The last guy was a mess. You're already handling it better,” she joked. “So. What exactly does my family want with you? More importantly, have you given any thought to your new name?”

“New name?” Terry repeated, more confusion than question in his tone.

“Ah. You aren’t the one making the arrangements for this, are you? Your parents’ idea? They should probably share more details with you,” Violet remarked.

“I have to change my name?” Terry pressed.

Violet shrugged. “People change their name after marriage all the time. In the old-world movies, women seem to do it every time. You just have to change your first name, too. It’s part of the deal,” Violet explained.

“Why?” Terry questioned, discomfort worming its way into his voice with every response.

“I honestly have no idea. It’s just one of those things. You know, like how your hometown never gets locally relevant movies or books. Like nothing set in the same place, or with the same culture. It’s the same kind of arbitrary rule no one is willing to explain. Ashers all have to have a color name. I’m Violet. My brother is Hazel. My parents are Scarlett and Indigo. That’s neither a coincidence nor a weird inbreeding thing. Dad literally had to choose a new name when he married Mom. You’ll have to do the same,” Violet said.

“No offense, but I want to marry into your family even less now. That makes no sense at all,” Terry intoned.

“Probably a good call. It’s not a happy family. I think the color-naming rule is probably some sort of evil class war thing. That’s the vibe I get, anyway. Either that or it’s just branding. We Ashers do love to be recognized,” Violet agreed.

“I suggest Teal, and you can go by Terry for short,” a new voice suggested. Violet and Terry both glanced over to find a tired fox leaning against the nearby doorframe. 

“I’d like to say you’re up early, but you actually seem to have slept in for once,” Violet remarked.

“I like to be well-rested before my suicide missions. I don’t want my tail all frazzled in the heat of battle,” Kiera explained.

“Hence waking up only an hour before sunrise. Makes sense,” Violet replied with a knowing nod.

Both girls were quiet for a moment, silently offering Terry a chance to continue the conversation. The moment carried on from one to several before Kiera sighed. “Dude, why do you only talk so much to Violet? You’re gonna hurt my feelings,” she complained.

“I’m a pretty girl. Boys like talking to pretty girls,” Violet quipped.

Kiera narrowed her eyes, then stood and walked the rest of the way to join the nightwatch. She faced the crystals Violet was sitting on and crossed her arms. “Yeah?” she asked.

“Yep,” Violet confirmed with a smug grin.

“Don’t you think it’s more likely he freezes up around hot women?” she tried.

Violet shook her head. “That would make perfect sense, of course. But unlike some women, I don’t have a talent for lying to mirrors. So I know what I look like. Clearly, the boy is chattier with pretty girls,” Violet teased.

“Didn’t he start the conversation by dumping you faster than he could ask you out?” Kiera quipped.

Violet scowled at the clear point Kiera scored on her. She hadn’t been paying close enough attention and didn’t realize how long Kiera had been listening. Terry obviously hadn’t, either, if the bright red on his typically placid cheeks meant anything. Violet glanced at Kiera’s tail.

“Shouldn’t you be off chasing rabbits or sneaking into gardens? Terry and I are discussing important family business,” Violet tried.

Kiera glanced at Violet’s legs again. “Preparing for the bitter butter battle, are you?” she joked.

Violet tried to glare. She really did. But some unfathomable force pulled at the corners of her mouth until she found herself smiling. It was her own fault. Since they weren't at the nest yet, she'd chosen to wear shorts instead of her ACU trousers. This was the cost. “Alright, this round’s yours,” Violet conceded. “Terry only talks to me because he wanted to plan our wedding, apparently.”

“Oh, God,” Terry complained. “I’m sorry. I should have spoken up sooner, alright?” he practically begged. “Can we talk about anything else?”

“Like what?” Kiera asked.

“There is literally nothing else important to talk about,” Violet agreed. Kiera had won the day, and a new target of ridicule had been chosen. So the roommates had quickly returned to being staunch allies in pursuit of a common goal. Together, they could completely shatter Terry’s facade of disinterest and quiet solitude.

“We’re going to reach the nest today,” he pointed out. “Maybe we should discuss ways to stay alive while fighting yellow hedron?”

Kiera and Violet shared a look, then turned in unison to face the thick mist obscuring the horizon.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Violet noted.

“So what was your first dance going to be? Was Angelo the best man? What colors did you have picked out for the wedding? Please don’t say violet; that would be so cheesy,” Kiera interrogated.

Terry covered his face with his hands and sighed about as heavily as a teenage boy was capable of.

Violet grinned at the ordeal, but the wheels in her mind were on another journey entirely. She was certain the boy had been mistaken. While it wasn’t above Cyan to try and arrange a marriage for Violet, her uncle wasn’t actually the head of the family. That honor went to her great, great, great... grandfather, Red. She wasn’t sure how many “greats” to use, but the man was ancient. Violet genuinely was too significant to be married off for any reason that wasn’t absolutely extraordinary. Cyan could probably kill Violet before he managed to get an arranged marriage. And, more obviously, Cyan didn’t want Violet to marry the negotiator. Which meant someone else would need to arrange it. 

That was extremely unlikely. At least, as far as Violet understood the situation. She hoped that was the case, anyway. If this happened repeatedly, it would be an easy-to-solve problem this time. But killing everyone she was supposed to marry wasn’t a permanent solution, which made it fairly useless in the short term as well. Thankfully, she was all but certain Terry’s intended spouse was someone else entirely. And if she was being honest, she didn’t care who.

What mattered was why. 

Why did the Ashers want Terry of all people to join the family? His calling was interesting, certainly. But worth extended marriage talks? He didn’t seem impressive enough to warrant that. Unless there was something she didn’t understand about his talents. It was a shame Kiera had interrupted before she could get an answer.

She waited until both Kiera and Terry were distracted with each other, then activated Fatal Flaws. It wouldn’t exactly answer her question. Sometimes the talent presented her with no information at all, in fact. Finding people’s weaknesses was only useful if they actually had one. Half the time, all she got were standard human flaws. The sort of thing she could assume when she met anyone. And when it did provide a useful weakness, that was all it did. She couldn’t learn what his strengths were, and those were far more likely to attract her family’s attention. 

But a point of leverage would help her find the answers she needed. 

So she scanned him, then smirked. The boy definitely had one minor flaw she could exploit. And she could use it to get everything she wanted and complete her mission all in one move. She was excited to learn what the Asher family needed from such a spineless creature.

It was something she’d definitely need to interrogate him about at her earliest opportunity. Fortunately, that would likely be later in the same day. Because he was right. They were going to enter the nest before nightfall. And in a nest? Violet would absolutely be in control.