Page 109 of The Shape of Monsters
“Ah, no, I don’t want any elaborate flirtations or anything to complicate… anything. I just need to release tension,” Iriset assures, though it’s not entirely true. If Roc Aliel, who looks capable and has a very interesting, blocky face, walked in here and pressed her onto the wall, Iriset would gladly participate in getting fucked.
But thoughtful Eliri studies Iriset’s face for a moment, then says, “Eliri can help. Have late dinner with Eliri tonight.”
Taken aback, Iriset nods. Then she spends the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about claws and crystal teeth, and wondering what an orgasm would do to the resonance of quartz bones and if Iriset would be able to echo it back through her own system.
Eliri arrives with two lacquered boxes, one quite heavy with an elaborate bowed handle. She offers the smaller to Iriset and says, “This way,” proceeding to lead Iriset to a different tower, up into a rooftop garden with intricately carved crenelations and a lot of night-blooming eris flowers trailing their vines around the bright white stone.
They sit and unpack the snacks and drinks in the smaller of the two boxes. It’s finger food and some light wine and infused water.Out of the heavier box Eliri removes a water pipe. “Eliri brought drugs,” Iriset murmurs.
The chimera pours one of the infused waters into the glass basin of the squat pipe. “Irsu is a connoisseur,” she says. “Eliri sometimes partakes, especially when consumed by a frustration or problem, or when Eliri… I… need to let go of something.” As she continues to speak, she sets up the various accoutrements: charcoal and matches, the leafy drug itself, a smoothly articulated pipe decorated like a snake, with a mouthpiece of bright copper.
As Eliri deftly sets up the pipe, Iriset pinches the leaves. They’re a mix of various things, some more like shredded fibrous roots, the rest actual leaves. The combination smells floral and rich.
Iriset drapes herself across the rugs, gazing at the little sliver of moon and twinkling stars, passing the snake back and forth with Eliri. In addition to the flavor—and effect—Iriset likes the process of this, too. It’s sexy, isn’t it? Lips on the warmed metal, bringing smoke inside her and the little bubbling wet sounds of the water basin. “What is it Eliri lets go of?” Iriset asks, watching her words turn to thin smoke.
“Eliri,” the chimera murmurs.
“Eliri?” For a moment Iriset doesn’t understand at all. Then she frowns. It feels like too much of a pout, bottom lip jutted. She sucks it back in, distracted by her teeth dragging over sensitive skin.
“Self,” Eliri whispers. “Let go of Eliri. Nice to diffuse like this smoke. Eliri would be the sweet peel in Irsu’s pink cigarettes. Inhaled, diffused, let go, all that’s left is Irsu’s dreams.”
Iriset puffs a laugh. She still doesn’t understand. Iriset would never let go of herself.
“What happens to chimeras like me in your future?” Eliri asks several minutes later, her voice rougher and languid, just how Iriset feels.
“Hmm, hmm,” Iriset hums, letting smoke out through her nose. It burns a little. Wrinkling it, mind drifting, she says, “There are no chimeras like you. Just remnants. Eyes and feathers passed down down down from the stable, balanced chimeras that survive. We have rep-cats, rainbow bees, skull sirens. Um. My father said unicorns survived.”
Eliri is quiet for another while. Iriset, too. She likes how melty she feels, loose around her bones. Like her face might slide off, but in a good way. Then Eliri says, “The Holy Design won’t sustain unbalanced chimeras. Is Eliri balanced?”
Turning a little too fast, Iriset puts the snake down. “I see that in the plans, too. But if a chimera leaves, if you leave, then return to the crater after the new arrays, after it’s all fixed to the steeples, you would be all right. It’s the moment of transition that’s dangerous. Almost like rivation, themetadesign”—Iriset really likes that word—“will pull everything apart and snap it back together in the new configuration. That’s when…” Her mind catches up with Eliri’s actual question and Iriset pokes Eliri’s nose. “Don’t you think Eliri is stable? The fetal mesh was used. Your design is fully integrated, isn’t it?”
Eliri wraps her fingers around Iriset’s pointing finger and holds it to her chest. “Yes. But fully integrated doesn’t mean stable or balanced by the requirements of Lyric Aharté’s Holy Design. It’s not natural what was done, these bones. They resonate differently, ache and pull differently.”
“The Holy Design isn’t natural—what does natural even mean?” Iriset demands.
“That’s what Irsu says,” Eliri murmurs. She still has Iriset’s finger, and squeezes tightly before releasing it to curl away from Iriset. “But the people who took this chimera away from Irsu said other things, and tried to prove it.”
Iriset rolls so she can shape her body around Eliri’s, though shedoesn’t touch, unsure Eliri would accept any physical comfort. Iriset’s mind buzzes with thoughts, as usual, but they don’t feel overwhelming and instead drift one by one, out of order. “They hurt you?”
“Some people do not consider chimeras capable of pain, despite the—the evidence.”
“People are awful everywhere,” Iriset says. Iriset risks putting her hand on Eliri’s elbow.
“Some people are good. Iriset, and Lyric Aharté.”
“Good and bad is reductive,” Iriset says to avoid talking about Lyric. “Two is the worst number.”
“Better than one?” Eliri asks, and it almost sounds like she’s teasing.
Iriset smiles and tucks up against Eliri’s back, hugging her middle. “I had a lover with eyes slit-pupiled like a cat’s. Remnants from the Apostate Age. From now. There are many design aesthetics that last, through generations all the way to my time. People with feathers in their hair like Irsu River. Scales. We have rep-cats and skull sirens. I’m not sure if the lattice snakes are remnants of apostasy or not. Oh, and the royal griffons.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Eliri says. “If all that lasts of me are remnants.”
“You’re in a book I read in a forbidden library,” Iriset whispers, like she’s confessing a secret. “Eliri Who Touched the Sun.”
Eliri’s hand creeps up and she hugs Iriset’s arm around her waist. “Nobody calls this chimera such a thing.”
“Not yet,” Iriset promises.
