Crawling Back Awake

[eightdead]

She'd gone back to sleep after the initial digestion of, well, everything, and the strange little bug was motionless against her side for all of that time. Waking back up hadn't yet convinced her that this was all a dream. Sometimes she woke up several times before she really woke up. Dreams liked to screw with her.

Octavo opened her eyes, curled on her side, and the elaborately patterned mantis skittered so that it was in her direct line of vision. Somehow, she knew it -- he? -- had been sleeping, too. It didn't have eyelids, though, so she had no idea how she knew that. What had the device said? This was her soul?

"I have a name," the mantis rasped.

Fantastic, she thought sarcastically. "So what is it?"

"Set."

The psychs would have a lot of fun with that one. "I see. Well, Set, I'm willing to bet you know my name, and all about me. Right?"

Set buzzed his wings, briefly, in irritation. "Of course I do. I'm your daemon."

Octavo pinched the bridge of her nose and crawled into a sitting position. Set flew, for a few seconds, before landing on her leg; his bright wing coloration became very visible as he did so, and Octavo frowned. She'd never heard of a praying mantis that looked like this. Then again, before now, bugs had just been for squashing. Or for letting her dogs chase and eat, if it was a big enough bug.

Her dogs -- well, it was a good thing that she had a dog-sitting service to walk and feed them, if this wasn't a dream. She hoped it wasn't, privately. Life had been very boring lately. And people wouldn't be able to text her annoying pictures or work orders in another universe -- right?

"I'm not for squashing," Set insisted, still irritated. "You would only hurt yourself. Though I might pay to see that." Dumbass was heavily implied at the end of this statement. "But enough of that. I know what you're thinking."

She grimaced. "That's going to get fucking annoying."

"No, it won't." Set's pearly eyes gleamed at her. "We will make this work, we will survive. You always have, haven't you?"

Octavo sized him up for a moment. "You don't blab, do you?" There was a man tied up in her basement, and these people probably had laws against murder. It would be just her luck. "I'm not going to stand for a talky, obnoxious daemon."

"I can keep secrets," the mantis rasped. "Just like you. You can tell me anything."

She smirked. "If that's true, Set, I think we're going to get on marvelously."

He buzzed his wings again. This time, it almost seemed to be a sort of guffaw. "We already do, you just haven't noticed."

Octavo's response was interrupted by a nurse entering the immediate area. She closed her mouth immediately. Even though she was tempted to offer her services to these people, her time in the Observatory was still young and she'd yet to see signs of competence. And she didn't trust these nurses as far as she could throw them, either. They were either smiling or monotone, with nothing in between. The former was the reason she had a private practice doctor, back home, where she could request a specific bedside demeanor. (Polite and succinct.)

This one was the smiley kind of nurse. But it was disconcerting -- like a smiling, vacant wall. "How are you feeling, Miss Conner?"

She grimaced. "It's Octavo," she insisted. There was no point in them calling her anything else, especially if the dream suspicion panned out. "And I'm fine. Just weak."

"Right, I'm sorry. I forgot." For some reason, the nurse bent down and stared at Set, like she was checking for something. And then she straightened, with another creepy smile. "You two seem to be all right. I'll be back to check on you later."

And with that, the vacant wall-nurse was gone. Set audibly snorted.

"Not much going on there," he rasped.

Octavo rubbed at her arms, which felt strangely sore. It was probably because of being weakened, she figured. "How long do you think they're going to keep us here?"

"Probably until you can walk without constantly swearing."

She'd attempted to walk before crawling back into bed and falling asleep. Set had been quiet, then; watchful. Octavo made a face at the memory of how sore her feet had felt.

"Fucking perfect." Feeling like a lame gazelle, she turned her gaze on the collection of objects by her -- her belongings, such as they were. And the PHS, which she hadn't reached a decision about yet. She reached out and pulled it to her. "I guess I should explore with this thing, then."

Set flew up onto her shoulder, so that he could see the screen. "Good idea. It must have more information."

"Precisely."