Chapter Text
Darius Bowman loved many things. He loved his parents and his brother (even though he stole the last of Grandma’s cookies last week). He loved the toys littering his bedroom: dinosaur figures and gaming controllers. Paleontology textbooks shoved haphazardly on the self, tabbed in sections he wanted to go back to. He loved his daemon too, because the idea of anyone hating their daemon was ridiculous to him.
Mom said that meant he loved himself and the people who hated their daemons hated themselves. Still, he didn’t understand it. Even if a daemon was an extension of himself, it was still something slightly other. It didn’t make sense, which usually meant he’d press the matter, but when it came to this he let it drop. Darius never cared much about the inner workings of daemons anyways.
He preferred the inner workings of things that shouldn’t exist. At least, they shouldn’t anymore. Not by natural standards anyways. Though nature could be thwarted, that was simple to see now. Dinosaurs roamed the earth when they shouldn’t, so why should he care about the natural reaction of daemons? If science could beat nature ten-fold there was no reason to think of the nature of daemons.
They just were. And for the first time in his life, that answer was simple enough.
__
Dinosaurs were a staple for as long as he could remember. Stuffed animals on his bed changed out to models lining his bookshelves. Watching conferences with professors at the age of ten. Documentaries on the family computer and coloring books at the kitchen counter. Facts sputtered endlessly from his lips.
At first, people found it cute. Called him smart, a kid genius for being able to memorize those facts, to recite them with ease. Darius soaked in the admiration like a sponge and Florieke practically glowed with praise. Trying to mimic dinosaurs as best she could. Lizards and snakes with the same scale pattern. Light glinted off her scales, hissing in frustration as she couldn’t get the pattern just right .
Daemons couldn’t turn into dinosaurs, and that may be the biggest atrocity he’d ever heard. They had to turn into real animals, that was a fact, simple. The animal couldn’t be extinct, again simple in theory. Until dinosaurs were brought back. Giant, hulking creatures roaming Isla Nublar.
Alive again. Yet daemons couldn’t turn into them.
Some scientists believed it was because the new dinosaurs weren’t pure. Weren’t made naturally, or fully naturally. Which only sparked more judgment across the community. If dinosaurs weren’t ‘natural’ then did that mean test tube babies, by that logic, shouldn’t have daemons? After all, they aren’t made naturally. Are things made unnaturally without souls? Without a tie that bound them to the earth, to life as they knew it?
It was highly theoretical, highly controversial and Darius found himself sinking his teeth into the matter.
Florieke curled around his bed frame, trying to replicate different scale patterns. Books about snakes spread over the shag rug in the center of the floor. The bottom of his spine flaring in pain from sitting for so long.
There had to be a way to have a dinosaur daemon. There had to be.
The carpet prickled against his skin, sharp needles dancing across. An acupuncturist without training, prodding at his flesh with a dozen sharp points. Hoping they didn’t hit an artery, or nerve.
A shiver ran down his spine, hand clamping around his upper arm, nails pressed down hard. Crescent moon shapes blooming into bruises over his bicep. Florieke slithered to his side, wrapping around his wrist. Cool scales wrapped around his wrist, up, up, up. Shoving his hand aside so she could press against the new forming bruise.
“You’re okay,” She hissed, or spoke more so. Anything she said as a snake came out lashing and quiet. A hissing kind of slur beneath her words that she couldn’t control. “Open the window, take a deep breath. We’re okay.”
“You don’t feel it?” Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Needles wriggling deeper under his skin. Breaths short, hardly there puffs.
“I’m a part of you, of course I feel it, but hurting yourself isn’t helping anything.”
Sometimes it didn’t seem like she was a part of him. Not like how other people described it. How their emotions reflected one another, bounced off each other. Florieke seemed calm even when the world spun out from his fingertips.
Maybe it was because she was a snake.
__
Darius hated the texture of fur. They learned that when Brand settled, it was perfectly normal in their living room. Maup’s ear twitched and Brand looked up in shock, shouting at the top of his lungs, “We settled. Hell yeah, we settled!”
He did a victory lap around the house, leaping over the side of the couch and throwing his hands up into the air. Jordans hitting the ground with a crack, like they did when they tried to play basketball at the neighborhood hoop. (They were, admittedly, both terrible at it. Even though the apartment kids tried to get them to play based on their sizes. Brand holding a head and a half on most kids in his class and Darius just slightly taller than Ricky Oleson, the kid marked for future football captain by the time he could walk.)
Maup climbed over the couch behind him, scurrying up his leg with tiny, needle-like claws. An otter.
“Language,” Mom shouted from the kitchen. But the effect was lost as she practically sprinted around the corner to see what Maup was settled as. “Oh, sweety, she’s beautiful.”
Dad wrapped a hand around her waist, kissing her on the cheek. His eyes twinkled in delight, as they often did, “I think you’ve got your place on the swim team in the bag.”
“Ah fuck yeah,” He leaped up, high fiving Darius. He smiled leaning back, Maup accidentally brushing against his shoulder. Just barely, the prickling sensation came back.
“Language.”
“Yeah, shit, sorry. Oh crap- no sorry. I-” Freshman year of highschool rubbed off on him too easily. A swear folded into his vocabulary.
__
“D, want to go to Steven’s? Think he’s got ice cream and a new gaming set-up in the basement. Could be fun.”
“No, sorry,” He didn’t look up from his place on the floor. Back flaring in pain again. He was fairly sure it was becoming chronic. “I’ve got to study.”
Brand snorted, “Do you always have to be studious?”
“Do you always have to be a dick,” Darius retorted with ease.
“Mom! Darius swore at me.”
“I did not, he’s a liar.”
Dad’s voice called back, raspier than normal, “Darius don’t swear. Brand don’t snitch. And if you’re going to try and sneak out, please try to be more quiet about it. It’s no fun waiting in a dark living room when you come home.”
“How’d you know?” Brand called back.
“Thin walls, boys, thin walls.”
__
People talked. Of course they did. Most life forms communicated in some way. Scientists were trying to interpret the clicking and roaring between dinosaurs as some kind of dialect. Trying to study the patterns without their eardrums bursting.
But this was different. The whispers, the stares as Florieke curled around him. Long snake form wrapped around his torso, climbing up his side so her head peeked out of his hoodie.
In elementary school, people were fascinated with who could get their daemon to be the biggest, the scariest thing. Who could look like something more than a baby animal. But by the time he’d reached middle school, most everyone had the talk . Certain daemons looked bad- something too big was seen as dangerous, a future criminal or someone to be wary of. Something too small was seen as weak, easy to take advantage of, easy to find their soft underbelly. There were very few animals people regarded as acceptable by society. But even those had their faults.
A politician with a bird daemon was seen as too flighty for the position they were given. A president with a dog daemon was seen as a yes-man, someone with a higher power that could control them. A stranger with a cat daemon was seen as cold and uninterested. Anything too bright was someone begging for attention. Anything too dull showed a person without a personality.
Florieke hissed words into his ear and most people steered clear of them when they saw her head pop up.
He clapped louder than everyone else as Brand finished first place at his swim meet. One hand in the air with the annoncer. Darius snapped a picture of him to use as blackmail. Cap low over his head and hot pink goggles that looked too small for his face. To top it off, he was wearing a speedo.
He launched himself off of the stands, hugging him around the middle even though he was sopping wet. His hands encircled him, holding him close. Maup did a victory lap in the pool, hopping out as dripping wet as Brand.
“Holy shit,” Someone yelled, white towel around their shoulders. “Your brother’s the creep.”
“What do you mean by that?” Brand said warningly, three ticks away from throwing a punch. He only knew because he’d done it before, after someone insulted Mom. She’d cleaned up his knuckles as they gathered around the big sofa. Reminding him that he shouldn’t fight her battles while he silently seethed.
Darius didn’t know what was said, but if Brand had gotten mad enough to throw a punch then he was on his side. He didn’t anger easily, which should have sent warning signals immediately.
“Come on, man, you know. He’s got a snake daemon, and it's huge. I mean a corn snake, garter maybe, nobody’d bat any eye but that fucking thing.” He pointed at Florieke, who’d given no indication of caring of anything that came out of his mouth.
“What’s wrong with a snake? No, no, tell me, Tristan, what’s so wrong with snake daemons?”
His eyes flashed to Darius before continuing, lowering his voice as though that’d stop him from hearing. “You know.”
“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.”
“They’re all psychos. I’m pretty sure they did a documentary on it. Cunning bastards— skimming off payments, money laundrying, fucking murders , man.”
“Anyone with any daemon could have done those things,” Brand said, strangely calm all of the sudden. “For example,” He took two long strides forward, punching Tristan so hard he fell against the tile. “I have an otter daemon and I can still beat the shit out of you.”
__
Florieke shifted into a chimpanzee, sitting on his bed while Darius took the gaming chair. While he didn’t like fur he could appreciate the fact that she had opposable thumbs for two player games. Trying to beat levels of the Jurassic World Game.
A knock on the door shattered their carefully curated silence.
“Come in.”
“Hey, kids.” Dad’s daemon, a quokka named Alexandra, said.
Dad followed behind her, the bed dipping down with his weight. “Can you turn that game off for a second? Pause it, please.”
Darius groaned, suppressing an eyeroll, “It doesn’t pause.”
“Just… for a second.”
Florieke sent him an annoyed look, he gave a slight nod back. “What do ya need?”
“Do you want to go into town with me?”
“Really,” he let his eyes roll this time. “That’s all?”
Dad gave him a small smile, the kind that nestled in the corner of his mouth. Not quite right, not considering the smile lines etched into his face. “Want to spend more time with you is all.”
For a second, he considered it. Riding in the suburban, exposed skin sticking to the seats with sweat, the air conditioner had broken and they had yet to take it into the shop. Brand offered to take it in a dozen times, going so far as to say he’d wait with it while they fixed it. But each time his parents shut the idea down.
A pain, considering it was the middle of summer.
Darius leaned back in his chair, drawing out the sentence far longer than it should have been, “I don’t wanna.”
His smile fell, but only for a second, “Okay.”
And he left.
__
Sometimes, Florieke appeared as a monkey in public. After video games she didn’t turn back into a snake, but followed him as a small monkey on his shoulder. Sometimes getting bigger as they settled into the plush library chairs at downtown Chicago Middle School.
It was quiet there, during recess when kids were running back and forth. Daemons at their heels, competitions to see how big or scary they could become taking place at the top of the playset. The ‘fastest’ kids trying to get a cheetah or a deer or something fast to match them. As if to prove how fast they were. Other kids took off as birds, trying to see how high they could go. Sent their daemons out as watch guards as they played make believe. Made their daemons small in hide and seek as though it would make them small too.
But the library was sparsely populated unless they were assigned there. Meaning there were plenty of nooks and crannies for them to burrow into. Books spread around them, that she could flip through with an opposable thumb. Writing down notes from him, getting the information quicker than they should be.
It seemed like cheating, though he didn’t think he could cheat learning.
People seemed to like her as a monkey better than they did a snake. Something soft and small, covered in fur that sat on his shoulder or flipped through books with him. No one gave her a second glance. Not in the library, not when she was small and quiet. Not even when she jumped to the tops of the shelves to reach books for the older kids, ones they said they were too young for.
He was old enough to start to understand what the kid on Brand’s swim team meant. When he looked at Florieke in disgust, but not quite. More untrusting, like he thought she’d lash out at him in front of the crowd. Bury her poisonous fangs into him and tear out flesh before his daemon could retaliate. People saw Brand too, saw Maup as something small and furry to perch on his shoulder. Something so harmless. But they still gave a second glance at her needle-like claws and tiny razor teeth.
People expected them to be dangerous. It wasn’t fair, but he got it now. Partially.
He knew what was safer.
Silently, in the back of the library, Florieke still. Shooting him a careful look, so balanced, free of judgment to the point that he knew she was judging him. He shrugged, didn’t bother to respond as she climbed down the bookshelf, stack of books in hand.
They didn’t have to speak for her to understand what he was asking. It was inherit, it was a lie, but a good one. He never really cared all that much about daemons, about the logistics of them, not like he cared about dinosaurs. Florieke never cared what people thought of her glittering scales and eccentric patterns, but she’d do this for the both of them.
He thought maybe, with time, they could be a monkey. Could be small and docile, something fun loving and energetic. People liked daemons like that, people liked the person those daemons belonged to.
It was so very easy, he learned so long ago how to hide himself.
__
Florieke didn’t shift into a snake again, and no one batted an eye. Not his family anyway. His science teacher gave him a look close to relief but not quite as the snake didn’t show up. As Florieke perched on his shoulder as a small squirrel monkey. People didn’t pin him with odd looks anymore, though they didn’t talk to him more either.
He supposed that was fine, he didn’t like other people very much. They were…boring, but not really. They were surface level—smooth and flat. Not too much of anything. Their conversations were practiced and boring. What did you do over spring break? Oh that’s cool I went swimming. Yeah it was great. Okay, have a good day. There was no reason to remember those conversations, no reason to have them if they were more of the same.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t like his classmates or didn’t care about them. No, that wasn’t it at all. It was just…he didn’t want to be friends with people that gave a sigh of relief that his daemon was no longer a snake.
They didn’t care about him, they saw everything at face value.
__
It seemed to happen all at once, though the logical part of him knew it’d lasted over the last few years. All coming together to get to this point.
“We didn’t want to scare you,” Dad said in a hospital bed. He looked too small like that, like he wasn’t the man who teased and smiled. Alexandra curled by his legs, looking perfectly healthy.
A tear traced his cheek as he sat there, silent for a moment, “How much time do you have left?”
“Now, now, don’t you worry about that.” He waved it away weakly. “I have something to give you.” Carefully, he opened the drawer next to his bed, pulling out a small cardboard box. “Go on. Open it.”
Darius didn’t reach for the box, though Florieke grabbed it and scurried back to his shoulder. “How much time do you have left?”
“Darius-”
“How long!” He shouted all at once. All the air in his lungs dispelled.
“A few weeks,” Alexandra said smoothly, her voice normal unlike Dad’s weak rasp. “We’re deteriorating, they say there’s nothing they can do.”
“No.” Darius stumbled back, back, back. Hitting the wall on the other side of the room. “No, Mom wouldn’t let that happen.”
Dad smiled sadly, “Doctors don’t usually work on immediate family unless there’s no one else that can help. Besides, your mother is an orthopedist, not an oncologist. She’s not trained to help me.”
Darius shrugged, wiping a stray tear away. Fighting not to let a small smile twitch, not to let the joke win. He remembered, sitting at the kitchen table, Mom trying to help Dad sound out the professions.
“ This is why in movies they just say ‘I need a doctor’ not whatever that is. It sounds like I just puked in my mouth, ” Dad laughed.
Mom hummed, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes though her face was stern, “ Considering how much our janitors have to clean up the waiting room I wouldn’t be surprised they were named for that purpose. ”
“You promised we would go to Jurassic World, you promised.”
It seemed so silly to focus on now. He couldn’t think of anything else.
“I know. I’m sorry, you’ll have to go for the both of us.”
“I never wanted that, I wanted to go with you.”
He didn’t wait for a response before he left.
__
The funeral was quiet and short. For the first time in months Florieke curled her scales around his wrist
People shuffled around, they gave Darius and Florieke a second look. Darting eyes at the flash of scales from his rented suit jacket.
He let the tears flow, silently urging her not to be like this. Not now, don’t ruin this. Don’t ruin this.
She appeared as a squirrel monkey on his shoulder. Something everyone seemed to prefer. Stood stock still now, not attempting to provide any comfort.
__
The months waned on and his grades slipped out from beneath him. Formula’s didn’t make sense, he didn’t care that they didn’t. Didn’t want to focus on them— couldn’t focus on them for too long without his attention straying to the PC on his desk or the shelf full of notes.
For a while he tried to catch up. Tried to be the best, he was always good at stuff like that. Always without a care. He could pass tests and scribble half thoughts down like he was Einstein. But it wasn’t working anymore. Nothing was working anymore.
He shut his blinds, now. Liked the cold, a gentle reminder of Florieke around his wrist, calming him. They didn’t turn into a snake now, not even in private. It would be easier to adjust to life in the real world if they kept up the pretense when they were alone. Darius wasn’t dangerous, he wasn’t a freak. His daemon was nice and soft and normal just like the others. He was normal just like the others. Nothing had happened to make him sharp and dangerous as a snake should be. By all rights a monkey made more sense than a snake, no one raised their eyes when Florieke was small.
People thought it was grief, he wasn’t so sure but he didn’t correct them. Grief let him close his window at all hours of the day. Grief let him stay inside even as Brand—half exhausted from his long shift with a strained smile—asked if he wanted to hang out with his friends. Grief let him cry over the texture of oranges, because people assumed it was some convoluted memory of his father and not the way the strings got stuck in his throat, on his tongue. Sharp, almost, in his mouth. Impossible to eat. Grief let his grades slip and gave him pitying glances from his teachers and ‘ take all the time you need ’ notes slid onto his desk.
In a way, grief was the best thing that ever happened to him. As soon as the thought crossed his mind he squished it back down. Deep inside, down, down, down where it could never see the light of day. It was horrible and wrong…and maybe they were right. Maybe he was a snake. Cunning and twisted as they said. Thinking his father’s death was anything but tragic. Thinking that for a moment it gave him an advantage.
He gave up on pre-algebra. On the assignment two weeks overdue that he said he had finished and had forgotten at home. That was expected to be turned in soon. He didn’t bother with trying to finish it. Settling in front of the screen again and dying.
__
Darius didn’t have nightmares since he was a kid. Child-like fears of monsters under the bed and things in the dark. Squished between his parents as they held him afterwards. Remind him that it was only a dream.
He doesn't do that now. Shoot awake in his bed, surrounded by darkness of those damn closed windows. Dying, again and again. In a hospital bed, just like Dad. Switching places with him, having to watch as his Dad watched him die in some twisted scenario. Eaten alive by dinosaur jaws, over and over and over again. Never able to reach the finish line. Failing at that too. The one thing he was good at—knowledge of dinosaurs, video games. Failing at it like he was failing at school.
Not good enough for anything anymore. Grief was the greatest thing that ever happened to him, and it was also the worst.
__
The days seemed to pass in a blur as he boarded the boat to Isla Nublar. Mom kissed his forehead and murmured, “Be safe.”
Brand holding him in a one armed hug, far stronger than it should be considering. Whispering, “Dad would be proud of you. Remember to take pictures, I want to hear about everything, kid.”
Now, hours later, the boat docked and they were loaded into the back of a jeep. The air heavy on his chest, so humid it was a physical entity weighing him down. He took in the others with wide eyes: a deer thing running next to the jeep, a chameleon shifting colors the opposite of the environment around them, a great dane, a sugar glider, and something hidden beneath another boy’s clothes. Something small then.
Odd creatures, a mismatched bunch then.
__
It was two twenty-seven when Darius went to the kitchens for a glass of water. Letting himself go. No one else was up, there was no reason now for them to keep up pretenses. Florieke followed behind him as a snake. Something slick and black as a trail of ink disappearing into the night.
And then Kenji was there. Rubbing his eyes, blinking in confusion at the countertop where she lay waiting for him to fill the glass with ice. Opening up the pantry for something—crackers maybe, if they had them, or cookies. Something that would take the edge off of the ice. He knew as soon as he took a drink the ice, the coldness of the glass, would set his teeth on edge. Sending aches up his jaw as though he’d injured himself. But warm water balled at the center of his throat, making him gag. There was no happy medium there.
“What are you doing up, kid?” Kenji yawned, flopping into a barstool. Head pillowed in his arms, mere inches away from Florieke. Didn’t he notice that she was a snake? Shouldn’t he be flinching away, accusing them of lying?
“Not a kid,” Florieke hissed, flicking her tongue more than normal. Making it sound like a cartoon snake. lifting her upper body up in curiosity so he could see her stomach, her stretched form.
Darius eyed her, but didn’t make a move to stop her. Kenji already saw them, there was no taking that back. Besides Yohe was sagging by Kenji’s feet in a disheveled mess.
He lifted up the chocolate he managed to snag out of the cabinet. It wouldn’t do much good but it was something sweet to take the edge off. “Snack, I can’t sleep.”
Kenji nodded, not sparing Florieke a glance. It struck him as odd until a few hours later, in the daylight hours when Florieke was soft and concealed again. When Yohe was standing tall and proud. Kenji was one of the only people who didn’t flinch upon seeing her.
__
Glass had a particular sound to it. Shattering wasn’t like in the movies. It wasn’t the shriek and clatter of shards. But the feeling that came afterwards. The rush of wind through the space. The fear that there was no longer a border between the outside and the inside. Between danger and safety. The crunch underfoot, knowing that it was becoming impossibly smaller.
Watching someone die was similar to that.
Their body, hanging, trying to grasp on. The inbetween that he had, the space he held between safety and danger of another person. Claws and fingers entangling his hand and wrist. Too scared to risk his soul to go outside—to change himself, to somehow reveal himself. It was an old, stupid fear gone in an instant.
An instant was too long.
A body plummeting through the air was loud until it wasn’t anymore. The shouts, the shrieks of pteranodons swooping but not able to catch the too fast moving mass. Then everything was silent and something shifted inside his chest. A click, click, click of something righting itself and Florieke was suddenly heavy on his shoulders.
Long and green, slithering under his shirt in shame before he could actually get a look at her. Before any of them could.
Florieke settled as Ben fell to his death.
Settled as a snake and he realized they were right. All of them, all along. Only a monster, a freak, would settle as something so dangerous as their friend’s body plummeted like a drop of rain water.
__
She was an emerald tree boa climbing up branches as they built a shelter. Taller than him and fierce-looking if not for the neon colorings.
The others weren’t afraid of her, but their gazes were heavy as they watched her. Realizing the exact moment they’d become this . They’d always been this, but they were hiding it. Hiding it well.
__
Ben smirked as he walked into the treehouse. A tigress and an ankylosaurus at his side. It was impossible to think that he of all people could have a tiger as a daemon, but for most it was impossible to think Darius could have a snake.
He sat on the far edge, taking first watch when the floorboards creaked next to him. Ben, watching too, still silent with the giant cat behind him. It seemed impossible given how creaky the floorboards were, but he couldn’t put it past them. Rini and Ben were always quiet.
“You settled.” He said it like a question though they both knew it wasn’t.
He nodded, Florieke coming closer without having to be told. Letting the moonlight shine against her offending scales. He tried not to look at her too much anymore. The bits of her that exposed him, too big to be hidden, too dangerous to be acceptable.
“Of all things, you picked a non-venomous one?” There was laughter there, hardly suppressed as he looked at them.
“What do you mean?” He’d always been told all snakes were dangerous and cunning and horrible, horrible things.
“Florieke, she’s an emerald tree boa. They’re non-venomous, all boas are, they just look scary. Of all the snakes you picked something non-venomous, and well, bright.”
“We didn’t pick.”
“I know…I meant, I guess.” He sighed, pointing at Rini. “I mean we didn’t get to choose either, but we settled as a tiger of all things. But you picked a giant fucking snake that just so happens to not have a venom gland. I researched every threat on the island that I could—snakes included and boas weren’t something to be afraid of despite the,” he gestured to her slanted eyes, to her jaw. Maybe they were more like dinosaurs than he thought.
“We settled when you were falling,” He didn’t know why he said it. Didn’t know why he was arguing. It wasn’t right, they were supposed to be dangerous and wrong and horrible.
“We settled when we defeated Toro.”
“So?”
“ So that doesn’t make me a bad person, even though I was fighting a dinosaur. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“Fighting a dinosaur and killing someone are different things.” He tried, no matter how much he cared about dinosaurs. When it came down to it, Ben had fought Toro for his survival, and Darius had failed to save him.
“Yes, but it wasn’t your fault. I chose that, knowing the risk. I chose to go on the monorail roof. I chose to fight Toro. You were just trying to help me.”
Darius’ hands shook in his lap as he asked, quietly, “You don’t think I’m a bad person?”
“No.” The way he said it left no room for argument or explanation. Firm, reassuring.
__
As night fell on the boat, the group gathered in Yaz and Sammy’s room. It was far too small for all of them, let alone their daemons. But it seemed wrong to try to go anywhere else. Seemed wrong not to bundle together even though Brand was here, after almost a year his brother was here again. Dave, Mae Roxie giving them soft looks as they shuffled into one room together.
Sammy and Yaz in the center, pushed close against each other as they took over the sides. Behind Yaz, Kenji looped his arms around to stay on the bed. Brooklynn clinging to Sammy and Darius bunching them all together over the headboard. Ben lay at the end of the bed, both the furthest from them and the closest to each one of them. His head on Kenji’s legs, his feet inches away from Darius’, equal distance from them all, yet slightly detached from their pile.
Behind the end of the bed, where they couldn’t see. Aart curled up on the floor, carefully to let Nispar rest on his back. Talons clinging to his fur so he didn’t get crushed in his sleep. Phascacia pushed against her ribs, tucked in by Yohe entangled with her. Florieke hung around Phascacia’s neck, looped around so part of her was touching Yohe, draping herself over Aart and close, but not touching, Nispar on his back. Rini lay slightly away from the group, but impossibly close. A barrier between them and the door, her tail twitching where it rested against Yohe’s paw. Back foot in the space between Aart and Phascacia, not touching, but a near thing.
They were together, entangled, impossibly. They said daemons shouldn’t be touched by others unless they were in love. Darius was never one for understanding daemons, but this, well, this made sense. Perhaps the mainland doctors would think them odd for touching one another when they weren’t in a romantic relationship but that didn’t matter.
He couldn’t think of them, of any of them, without the overwhelming sense of peace, of softness, of love.