She was used to feeling like Calliope's presence dominated from across the room, but it was something else to be right next to her. The hairs on her hackles rose imperceptibly - not for fear or anger, but anxiety. Like a constant exchange of static electricity was passing between them. This feeling was utterly foreign to Finch and she had no idea what to make of it. Was she infected with something? Is this what it felt like?
Silly bird, twice stricken: once by whatever digging in the soil by the Prominence had done to her, then again by Cupid's very pointy little arrow. And boy, did both wounds itch.
Finch stilled for a moment when Calliope curled around her. She even held her breath for a second. It seemed like a latent threat - the same way she'd snaked her head around her at the Prominence, canine teeth so close to her eyes. But after a moment, her fear ebbed, and the closeness turned into what she'd been longing for. Comfort. She drew in a deep breath, surprised to find Calliope's eyes granting her their full and undivided attention. Now that she had her alone, it seemed as if she had turned into a different creature entirely. Still rough and abrasive, quick to jump to conclusions (and, to Finch's delight, her very own defense), but a softer version of the women she'd traveled so far with. This. This I can work with. Was she still scheming an escape plan? Maybe. Did she want to escape? Finch turned her luminous green eyes back to Calliope as she replied to her in tense, quiet tones.
"There's no fixing such a disease." Immediately she wanted to respond: There is! There must be! I just haven't learned how yet! But Calliope silenced anything she might have said with a soft, intimate gesture. Finch's eyes grew glassy and distant as electric feeling raced through her from where Calliope's nose had pressed into her cheek. It was chaste. Something she'd done quite often with her own sister, and her father, but it felt different now. It felt sharper - almost like a weapon. Something dangerous. She nodded dumbly as Calliope continued, too wrapped up in the initial sensation of her touch to reply intelligently at first. Eventually, she said: "How can I succumb to fear when I'm leashed to you? You fear nothing and so... I will try to fear nothing," she rasped, licking her lips. How quickly her mouth had gone dry. Finch coughed softly to hide it.
"No, I haven't seen any others that have been sick in that way. I do worry that all of these quakes could have unearthed something. Things survive for a long time underground that never see the light of day... if they were suddenly exposed to the surface, I'm not sure what could happen. But, please - " She stammered, searching within herself for a shred of confidence, "This evening, could you just help me be brave? I'll worry about the world gone mad tomorrow. I don't want to think about it tonight. Tell me about your life here. My auntie has told me stories about what this used to be - the Pirates, when her cousin Sparrow led. I was so - " Isolated? Uninspired? "So set apart from everything in Avalon. All I have are second and thirdhand accounts of the adventures of wolves I don't even know. Tell me your adventures." With all of the scraps of bravery Finch had left in her, she finally let her body fully relax and press into Calliope's side. Taking a great leap of faith, she lowered her head and rested it upon Calliope's paws that were curved around them both and glanced up at her bashfully. Tiny, Finch-sized steps toward whatever it was she thought she was chasing.
"speech"
