Chapter 3: Story 1: Of Death and Metal, part 3

Nico couldn’t help but be excited. This was the first time she’d ever been invited to a party in all the sixteen years she’d been here. And a party at the graveyard no less! She already liked the graveyard, but now she’d get to make new friends in her favorite place! 

She checked the sky for the hundredth time to make sure she had the time right, smoothed out her dress, and slipped her lute case over her shoulder.

Nico couldn’t help but worry a little as she slipped out of the house just after her parents fell asleep, wondering if she’d find anybody nice to talk to, or if somebody might try to take her lute. She shrugged and pushed those thoughts away, knowing she’ll figure it out once she got there. 

She couldn’t help but skip once or twice on the way, beaming brightly at the thought of being included.

---

“Will it hurt?” Verith asked, rubbing her rings anxiously as she waited. Over the past four years, she’d decorated her hands more and more. She’d actually almost run out of space so she gave in to her father’s insistence about getting her ears pierced. 

“It won’t, don’t worry,” he said, his slight exasperation slipping into his voice. “It’ll be fine, there’s nothing to worry about.” He didn’t have much else to say.

---

An hour later, Nico had fallen asleep alone, curled up crying against a headstone. 

“Aye, you there! What’re you doing down there, your dress is getting dirty!” She startled awake, almost hitting her head on the stone behind her. She looked around hurriedly, trying to form an excuse as she searched for the source of the voice. 

She heard a cough from above her, and when she looked up-

“What’re you gawking at? Never seen a tortle before, eh?” The floating figure chuckled at its own joke- and looked startled when Nico burst into tears again.

“Aw, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” He floated to the ground and sat, looking concerned. “What’s wrong, why the waterfalls?”

“Th-they told m-me there w-was a-a party a-and it was w-would b-be here,” she choked out, drawing her knees up close and rocking back and forth. 

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“Oh,” was all the specter said for a moment.

“I-i was gonna m-make friends a-and t-talk to people a-and s-sing a-and-” She burst into another round of tears.

“Make friends? . . . well, I know I’m not your first choice - I wouldn’t be my first choice either - but I don’t exactly got much else going on. You can still make at least one friend, yeah?”

Nico sniffled. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Great! Now get yourself up, no more wallowing for you!”

---

Verith rubbed her ear, fidgeting with her rings faster than usual. “Y-you said it wouldn’t hurt . . .”

“Well, it didn’t hurt for very long, so it might as well have not hurt.”

She began to protest but closed her mouth as usual. The half-orc reached to tug at the small stud newly embedded in her ear, but pulled her hand down and twisted her rings some more.

Verith wasn’t sure how she felt about the small jewel. She wanted something red or yellow, but her father insisted on a more “feminine” color: blue. 

The compliments she got on the way home didn’t make her feel any better. She kept hearing that she was “finally becoming a woman” or things of that nature, and she didn’t like them. Why did growing up have to be decided by somebody else? 

But . . . she sighed as she sat on her bed. There was nothing she could really do. Verith looked at her hands and the metal circling her fingers. She’d made them hers, so . . . so why couldn’t she do the same for this?

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

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