Chapter 4: Chiffon Makes You Weightless
Warden felt the static of his prophet’s presence in his office. That incessant hum of Fabric’s change as she sat just on the edge of his sensory essence on the other side of the veil that separated the Material world from the transitory Fabric realm. Loomia, a prophet, was not truly here in the Material, but she hovered her body just over the chair in a sort of mock of human habit, just inside the Fabric realm. Warden was born with the primal essence to see into the Fabric realm, also known as his sensory essence. When he had given himself to be a threadbearer for Loomia—the Material counterpart to a prophet of the Fabric—his vision into the Fabric realm became much clearer.
She was taller than his own great height, but it didn’t come as a surprise considering she wasn’t human. Her body stretched out over the small office chair as she worked alongside him. She had four long arms with hands that pointed into sharp nails that acted as a sort of sewing machine. Her fingers moved rapidly as they sewed together Fabric essences, the clothes that threadbearer’s would derive their powers from. Her own Fabric essence was made of a stiff but translucent tulle essence. Large puffy sleeves that drooped down past her hips. The bodice sheer over her black charcoal skin revealing her silhouette in detail. She had no definable feminine features; she was smooth over her chest like a seamstress’s dress form. She was like a sculpted version of a human, stretched thin and lean. An intricate embroidery of elegant lace patterned her skirt. A feat she had expressed took her years of delicate Fabric essence gathering to achieve.
Warden had finally started getting used to the work of gathering Fabric essence. The ‘spirit’ of living things were different than the soul. For all his life he had known them to be one in the same.
The spirit is what differentiates the living from the dead. The soul is what differentiates the humans from the rest of the living. – A Tearsies Proverb
Fabric essences are cultivated from the spirits that linger just inside the Fabric realm when the living of the Material die. Those spirits could be recycled and used to repair tears in the Fabric realm, but most were naturally woven into more life. Then there were others—like the ones Loomia was using—that were sewn together to create items of power.
Warden moved into this office just a few months ago as a Fabrication officer for the Department of Fabrication Enchantments. The job had provided him with a suitable cover for his new purpose as a threadbearer for the prophet that sat before him. When people had discovered the cotton-like plants that grew threads of tangible Fabric essence into the Material, it wasn’t long before a person with too much money figured out a way to make more. Fabrication of Voile had begun it’s spread rapidly. How these plants came into being is still a mystery among the prophets, all they know is they grow on fields of the dead.
“I finally have a reason to meet Dr. Sharp.” Warden broke the silence and Loomia’s sewing ceased. He felt a certain relief. There are those who hated the sensation of metal scraping against something. A shudder during lunch as a fork skids across someone’s teeth. Warden was one such person. “Thank you for setting it up.”
“Setting what up?” Her voice was breathy, like the low notes on a flute. A grey smoke puffed from her lips as she inquired. She looked at him, her charcoal eyes examining him without pupils or irises, just a solid satin black gaze.
“I am to go examine a Fabric augmentation on a vagrant in her morgue.” Warden waved his hand shooing away nonsense, as though it were obvious, and smiled. His white teeth shone brightly against his dark skin, his face scrunching. The contrast of his hazel eyes against his deep skin was almost unnerving, it would only become more so as his irises turned light steel grey the more he gave himself over to threadbearing. “It’s impossible an enchantment like that just appeared on a homeless man on accident.”
“I did not do it.” Her tone was flat and unfeeling as she answered. For a moment she just gazed back at Warden before abruptly getting up. “We must go to her. Now.”
“Is that ready?” He didn’t hesitate at her command as he turned his forearm and summoned his extended inkwell. More sigils came into view, spreading across his veins. He had only really delved into one Fabric essence, chiffon. The essence of weightlessness, adaptability, and illusion. For now, however, he had only adapted the weightlessness of the chiffon Fabric essence into his arsenal, unlocking the ability to jump great distances and temporarily remove or shift the weight of something. Loomia had been working on adding adaptability, but that essence ability required a range of Fabric essences gathered from many different spirits to truly make it work and it was taking a considerable amount of time to complete.
“It is not. We will have to go with just one essence. We shall have to supplement with tulle.” She stashed away her work into the sort of space between the folds of Fabric that she seemed to have access to everywhere. She jutted forward a single finger and pierced through Warden’s shoulder with a long needle-like nail, connecting a single thread between them so they could share power, and she could track him more accurately as he moved about the Material.
Warden ran outside, pulling on his coat and placing his hat over his dense crimped hair. The rain had ceased and a clear sky with a few scattered streaks of indigo clouds that lay overhead. He took a moment to look around for anyone viewing and then braced his feet against the ground and focused on his weightlessness. He felt his Fabric self warp and move, the chiffon against his skin lifted his weight away from him and he became light in the breeze as he pushed off the ground shooting into the air. Loomia was close behind him just on the other side of the Fabric, keeping herself grounded to his position and guiding his direction through their connection. Warden adjusted his weight, pushing towards his head to propel him upwards then down to his feet to bring him down. He then lightened himself before hitting a rooftop to avoid hitting the ground too hard and breaking something.
“I feel something. Something strange coming from the Material. It’s making a tear.” Loomia whispered to Warden as she tugged on their gossamer connection to guide him to the source. Dr. Sharp’s morgue.
Warden leapt off the rooftop, launching himself urgently into the air towards the morgue. He felt the malevolence, a small bloody rot that snagged roughly. Inching its way into the Material bit by bit and chewing away at the Fabric like moths.
With a few more great leaps Warden finally reached the rooftop of Dr. Sharp’s morgue. His ears perked at the sound of a clatter below and a shriek. He signaled to Loomia, and she plunged all twenty of her fingers into Warden’s back, pulling them out to create more connections. The threads bursting from his back like wings. She wrapped her tulle around them both and they phased through the roof of the building into the assaulted room below.
The haze of the phasing cleared Warden’s eyes, and he came face to face with the scene. A tall blond man lay crumpled on the floor at the far end of the room. Glass shattered around him, the cabinet doors hanging uselessly on their hinges, spilling their contents onto the ground. A gradual pool of blood bloomed from his body. A woman, assuming Dr. Sharp, had locked herself in an office room, her wild screams sounded out as a large naked man beat with impossible strength on the door. Splinters of wood went flying as the door frame began to break way with every hit.
“The boys spirit is already calling more demons here.” Loomia instructed. She bolstered her defenses, with all twenty connections, her tulle could flow into the Material. She covered the floor of both the Fabric and the Material with laced tulle. Anything that walked overtop would find themselves sinking into the ground, and the lace would wrap around them, trapping them.
The naked man went first, his feet sinking into the ground. He tried to turn to face Warden, but his feet were firmly planted as lace began to crawl up his legs. Warden lightened his body, pushing forward, then he moved his weight forward into his fist causing it to lurch for a heavier strike. He hit the naked man in the back of his head, his hand punching through skull bone and into the fleshy squish of brain matter. Warden pulled back on his hand, only to have something latch onto his fist. Rows of unnaturally formed teeth began growing at a terrifyingly rapid pace from the shattered bone. Warden got a good look at this thing as it bulged in twisted flesh, a perfectly cut square on its chest bloomed red and black ichor, rows of teeth lined the wound, as well as the wounds reaching across the creature’s face. It was marred wildly with slashes and stabs, two scalpels protruding from its face. The black ichor covered its arms, squirming extra limps lifting off of him, one bursting forward to hit Warden.
Warden felt the tulle flow over the strike, the black writhing limb whiffing air as though the threadbearer wasn’t even there as it phased through him. The threadbearer moved the tulle essence into his arm and freed the limb by phasing it through the entrapment of teeth. The forearm of his coat was shredded, dozens of sharp scratches had torn the fabric thoroughly. The naked creature tried to move again, giving out choking growls of frustration, blood bubbling from the wound where a mouth might have been. It pulled forcefully on its feet, tearing the muscles and tendons, snapping its bones until it could crash through the door towards Dr. Sharp.
“Loomia, I need my staff.” Warden commanded. He felt ten threads snap as Loomia let go with two of her hands to begin her work crafting his weapon. Warden’s command of tulle would be clumsier now that half their connection was gone, but it would be enough to get through the wall and between Dr. Sharp and the naked man.
It was more of a drain, and he had to work to get through the brick wall and the many books on the shelf that stood on the other side it, but Warden managed the phase. Dr. Sharp was curled up on the ground behind a heavy wood desk in the far corner of the room. She had toppled shelves and piled anything she could carry against the door. Potted plants had sacrificed their clay pots, books, files, bags, side tables, couch cushions, and an ornate office chair was now giving Warden the precious time he needed to get to Dr. Sharp. She was a mess of tears and terror. Her limbs shook uncontrollably and the only sounds to come from her mouth were frantic cries. The threadbearer quickly grabbed her arm to see her inkwell, the sigils pulsed with Terror, she would be completely unconsolable until the debuff was removed. Her actions were entirely dictated to get away from the creature that was scaling the mountain of office furniture towards her. The threadbearer was relieved to see her health sigils were intact and full. She wasn’t hurt.
“Dr. Sharp, look at me.” Warden brought her to her feet and took her trembling face into his palms making her eyes peel away from the entity and into his bright hazel eyes. Her soft brown hair was falling out of its brass clip, the strands stuck to her reddened face with tears and snot. The threadbearer summoned his chiffon, coiling the power around his fingers. He moved his one hand to cup her jaw, his fingers on one side and his thumb on the other, to keep her looking at him. His other hand dropped down to her forearm, feeling the Terror that had its claws in her. He lifted the weight of it. Dr. Sharp gasped as her vision became clear and her inconsolable cries quieted. The Terror was muted, but it wasn’t a permanent solution. He let go of her face and held her hand as he assessed a way to get her out of the room. He did not have command enough of tulle to phase them both through the wall.
The naked man had clambered atop the barricade, his stumps for legs pouring a bubbling liquid that seared the ground below him. The stench of rot curled into Warden’s nose, and he gagged. Dr. Sharp seemed completely unfazed by the smell, her body calmed, the shakes had begun to subside.
“This is not ideal.” Warden braced himself between Sharp and the man. “You’re going to go for a bit of a float, I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t hit the ground too hard.”
“Wha-“ Before Sharp could ask Warden lightened her body and the desk and threw both towards the open doorway, her body flailing and almost hitting the frame before she made it through. The creature slashed at her, but it hit the oak desk with a crunch of finger bones against the solid wood. As she neared the ground Warden gave her weight back and she rolled with a thud onto the floor. He also dropped the lightness on the desk, the heavy wood crashed down onto the creature, squishing it beneath. Warden continued this strategy, lifting bookshelves, filing cabinets, and any heavy object he could reach to pile on top of the creature, crushing it into a pulp of flesh and ichor.
“Finn!” Dr. Sharp’s voice rang out from the other room.
Warden looked into the main room. Dr. Sharp had her arms under the blond man’s arms, and she was pulling with all her might, her feet slipping on his spilled blood. The threadbearer felt a prickle skitter across his skin as a tear opened up just around where the blond man had laid. Two hellhounds were nipping at the edge of the tear, reaching for the dislodged spirit of the blond man. Loomia had rushed in and hit one with the half-finished staff, the creature writhed and engaged with the prophet, leaving Dr. Sharp to fight off the second.
The air buzzed with the presence of the Shadow Weave, the smell of metal and rot was heavy in the room. Hellhounds were easy to kill, but difficult to fend off if too many arrived at once, and it never seemed how heavily one trapped and area, they always evaded. The tulle pawed at their legs, the lace curling up latching onto their matted fur, tugging pieces of skin off. However, they continued to close in, ignoring the sinking floor.
Warden, satisfied with the buried naked man, ran into the main room to attend to Dr. Sharp. He slid against the ground and kicked the imposing hellhound in the face, the hound whimpered, and its jaws unlatched, letting the blond man go. Dr. Sharp scrambled against the blood that covered the floor to pull him away from the threat. She couldn’t see the hazy tear that hung suspended in the air, a black rippling weave glittering on the other side, nor could her eyes fully focus on the hellhounds, but she knew a threat was there. The confusion goading the Terror in her to resurface at any moment.
“Warden,” Loomia’s soft unfazed voice sounded from the Fabric. A limp bundle of rotting black fur hung dead from the needles of her grasp. She let it drop to the floor of the Fabric with a dull thud. She pushed Warden’s staff through their connection, he felt it ripple through the fabric and jut out from his chest. He grabbed the staff and finished pulling it out and into the Material world. He felt the weight of the enchanted weapon in his hands. It was a solid roll of Fabric essence, pearlescent and etched with blue sigils.
The second hellhound barked, and Warden shoved the staff forward into its throat. One end phasing through half the creature before the threadbearer brought it back to solidity, shifting the weight from the back to the front piercing the hellhound completely through. The creature choked on its bark before going limp. Warden flung the thing off his staff. The room fell silent, save for the desperate scrambling of Dr. Sharp as she hurried to save the blond man’s life.