Love & Logistics (Nim)

The following fictitious events take place in Reality C

Chapter 1: Buckets & Fertilizer

Nemethne Alandrial was definitely one thing: alive.

She couldn’t decide if fleeing the Dells was cowardice or self-preservation or both. It didn’t actually matter. She was safe, for now, with her newly-elixired husband Sam.

Sam had tried to kill her dad once. He wasn’t the one who finally did her dad in (her dad was the proud owner of that accomplishment), but he’d been there and tried to steal her dad’s body to become king of the Dells on behalf of the Caelum.

Nim should have hated him, but he’d saved her life and as far as she knew, he’d never actually killed anyone.

It had all started when Nim had refused to sleep with her twin brother, Terren. Sharing a bed? Fine. Sharing a bed naked? Not so fine, but war is war and they’d lost. Sharing a bed, naked, while touching?

No.

Nim had morals. Standards. War was war, and being a loser was being a loser, but that was not a consequence that even made sense, let alone was something Nim (or Terren) would do. They’d made a pact when they’d decided morals mattered more than life by pulling a tooth from each other’s mouth and hiding it.

Then Titania had murdered Terren.

Then Selena, Titania’s Wiccan, had brought Nim deep into the dungeon and magicked her into a forever relationship with Sam, a long time prisoner who had been deaged.

Sam had saved her life by doing some intention magic that made her invisible. They’d rescued Terren’s tooth (that had sprouted gums!) and here they were: hiding in another realm.

Nim tucked Terren (his tooth and gums) into a safe. She didn’t want anyone mistaking him for trash. Dragon magic meant he would regrow from the largest surviving body part. It sucked, and she had no idea how the magic actually worked because his brain wouldn’t actually have the same memories as his other (now melted) brain, but magic was magic and they were alive.

Nim watched as Sam walked around the room like he wanted to know what sort of wood glue they’d used to bind the corners of the crown molding. Sam was the sort of person that took fleeing for his life seriously. Why hide in a dinky falling apart motel when you could be in a five-star?

He’d even managed to earn the money himself, but Nim had been so shocked by the appreciation of funds since walking out of the Dells that she couldn’t begin to explain it.

Sam was a money magnet, that’s what he was.

Nim returned to the room and plopped herself on to the bed. Sam was cute as a teen. She was glad he’d been deaged. She was a legal adult, but he was still hesitant on the whole age difference thing (real age difference, pre-deaging). They were basically the same age now; maybe Sam was a year older.

It did matter, but living mattered more. Nim was good at compartmentalizing things and being with Sam didn’t violate any of her ethical concerns. Two years prior? Yeah, she was still a kid. Now? Young adult was still adult and Sam was definitely not her family.

She was fixating. Mostly she was nervous. The elixir meant they’d be together forever, married indefinitely, bound by blood. They’d never be with anyone else (or that other person would die). It was meant to be a punishment, and it sort of was, except Nim couldn’t stop glancing at Sam and wondering what else he was hiding, what else there was.

Most bad people weren’t bad on principle.

“How is your dear brother Terren?” Sam asked.

Nim laughed. She’d called Terren that when she’d retrieved him in the palace. “He’s toothy.”

Sam nodded.

Nim stood. She was short. Sam wasn’t a skyscraper, but Nim was 5-nothing and Sam was at least halfway to six. “Now what do we do?” Nim asked.

Sam’s brow furrowed. He glanced toward the window that was heavily coated in sheer and black-out curtains. “We shouldn’t stay among civilizations for much longer. Only to get what we need.”

Says the guy who chose the fanciest, tallest, hotel?

Nim didn’t want to argue that facet because she liked the fancy room with delivery food that wasn’t from slaves (Titania liked slaves, Nim hated them because she was one except that she was so high on the heir-ladder that she was also encouraged to make baby heirs).

Instead, she opted for a different, more obvious, joke. “Should we rejoin the uncivilized?”

“We’ll make our own subworld,” Sam said. “Somewhere she can’t find, and no one else can either.”

“Like the concave?” The concave was a sub-realm off of Sylem, exclusive to the Caelum (unless you wanted to die). It had a sun at the center, so it was always at least one-hundred degrees of misery

“Yes, but less hostile.”

Nim kissed Sam. She thought about it after it had happened, and so she ducked away from him and tried not to make eye contact.

What if he didn’t want to keep being with her?

The elixir might mean they couldn’t ever be with someone else, but that didn’t mean they had to be together either.

“We need supplies,” Nim declared. “Plants? Probably not from Sylem or Elesara.” She paced the room. “Noc Thui? Maybe…”

“We need living soil first,” Sam said. “Then plants to grow in it. Every year we can add more to how much living soil we have. I know of a man — a family, actually — that collects plants.”

Nim’s mom had collected plants before Titania had murdered her.

Nim brushed the anxiety off. “Should I go get a bucket?”

Sam laughed. “Only if you’re scared of hotel toilets.”

Nim laughed again, but then her face fell.

Living soil. “Oh. That…kind of soil?”

Sam laughed more. When he was happy, his whole face lifted like the sun itself. “Among other types. We’ll need a variety.”

“I have a strong preference for the type of soil that comes from feeding worms…”

They were elixired and she was pregnant with his kids (elixirs guaranteed it), but there was no world where Nim wanted to handle the pre-soil part of Sam.

She made a mental note to get two buckets, and to make a system like her mom was implementing in the Lower Dells, that would basically be small-scale plumbing.

Sam smiled. He grabbed her hands and led her toward the bed, where he sat and looked into her eyes. “Have you heard of the Fraser family?”

Nim sighed. That was definitely not the return kiss she was hoping for.

Chapter 2: Protectivism

“Have you heard of the Fraser family?” Sam asked.

Nim took a long deep breath. Jokes were in order. “Only if that’s a tv show. So probably not the one you’re thinking of.”

Sam laughed. “Tomorrow, we should pay them a visit without their knowledge. We’ll need to ward ourselves.”

Suddenly, all the light and smiles vanished. Sam’s shoulders set for the first time since they’d been in the jail cell and he’d realized they’d been dosed with probably every love-lust potion known to Selena.

“You can have the bed,” Sam said, all gruff.

Nim clasped her fingers together. She needed a desk to rest her elbows on, but she made do with the air. “So can you.”

“Nim.” He sighed, like he’d just re-aged all the years that had been taken away from him. “No one’s going to force you to follow through on the arrangement.”

Nim studied him. How could she make things a little more clear?

She couldn’t. Sam was too decent, apparently, and he was trying to reject her softly.

“Yeah…That makes sense,” Nim conceded. “But I can do this.” She set some of the extra pillows (the bed had like eight pillows) as a wall down the middle. Her mom had joked about the pillow wall as one of her fondest memories of her dad, Drey, before he had died.

Maybe there was something magic about them, something that made what was on the other side desirable instead of practically a child.

Nim looked back at Sam. “See? Easy. It’s two beds. Attached housing. Like sleep apartments.”

Sam laughed, but his whole heart wasn’t in that one. “Which side do you want?”

Nim curled onto the left side. “I like the left better.”

Sam crawled up his side and laid down, flat, like it was bedtime.

Nim copied him, because she didn’t want to be caught staring at him after all the rejection he was handing out.

She should have been happy about it, but it was so tempting to want someone who wanted what was best for you. No matter what way he spun it, it was romantic. Elixir to Nim forever and didn’t like her? He was protecting her feelings by making it about their ages. Didn’t want her because she was young? He was protecting her innocence. Didn’t want her because of guilt about her dad? Aww, look, he has guilt.

She wished he could see what she saw, but on the off chance he just didn’t like her, she kept quiet.

Really quiet.

For a really long time. At least 37 seconds.

“Do you think the Frasers have wards?” Nim asked.

“Most definitely.” Sam moved so he could see over the edge of the pillow wall. “Ours will have to be stronger. We’ll need trust and desperation and attachment to make this work. Protectiveness.”

Nim glanced at him. “You definitely have protectiveness nailed.”

Sam laughed.

“I think trust is going well?” Nim said, going through his list. She trusted him more than she ever expected to, but he’d earned it every step of the way. Even being on the other side of the wall, he earned more of it. “Desperation is lacking since we escaped, but I could work myself into some sort of anxiety about being caught even though I’m invisible to anyone who wants to harm me…” Sam had done that. Why he saved his best magic for others was baffling, but Nim liked it. She liked knowing that he wanted her so safe his instincts ensured it. She liked knowing only beings who did not mean her harm could see her. It didn’t mean only good people would notice her, but at least the bad ones weren’t planning to do bad things to her.

“Soooo.” Nim turned to face him, propped on her arm and aware she had no idea what she was doing, but she liked his dark hair and the way he had a soft stubble. “Basically…We’ve got it covered on my end.”

“Are you protective?” Sam asked. “My protectiveness of you does nothing if I’m dead.”

Nim tossed her head from side to side. Her dreads dangled against her cheeks. Titania had tried to make her feel less about herself, less about the tan color of her natural skin and the deep curly hues that coated her hair. She’d tried, and she’d failed. But, the fact that she’d tried hurt too.

Then there was Sam. He’d been so good. He’d freed her from beings that wanted to harm her, from the Dells. He’d freed Terren even though the detour could have cost them everything. He’d fought off love spells to ensure he never did something to her she didn’t want, despite what it must have cost him to sit there.

“Yes,” She said. “I’m protective.” She brushed off the feelings, the want to curl into his arms and feel him hold her. “I need you, right?”

“Mm.”

I want you, and I don’t know how to tell you that.

“Plus, I’m pregnant probably,” Nim reminded him. The elixir definitely sealed that fate. “That helps add to the attachment factor.”

Sam nodded and leaned back, his arms folded beneath his head.

Nim leaned over the wall this time. “Do you trust me?”

Sam turned just his head toward her. “More than I should. I haven’t survived this long by being emotional.”

Nim smiled so much she had to hide her face beyond the pillows. “Well, if being vulnerable to someone would help you survive better…Not everyone, like…vulnerable to one person…”

Silly Nim, thinking the pillows would block Sam out. When she dared to peek up, Sam was there looking at her. His eyes were on her. “Good.”

They stayed there, frozen forever in the kiss that should have been. At least, it was going to be the kiss that should have been, but then Sam made it the kiss that was. His lips crossed the threshold of the pillow, and then shoved it out of the way all together. His lips were so soft and gentle against hers.

Nim pulled him against her. “Don’t push me away,” Nim said as her whole body aligned with his. “I want to be here.”

“That will take practice,” Sam teased. “But know I believe in this.”

Nim opted out of an eyeroll, in favor of another kiss. “Me too…but I think attachment needs work…”

Sam put his hand up to his cheek, over her hand. “First.”

Nim pulled away. “First?”

“I admire your optimism. I’m optimistic too, but not about people, and you see something…and find parts of people to believe in.”

Nim grinned. “Are you talking about the fact that I broke my arranged husband out of prison so we could run away and that I still want him?”

“Your arranged convict husband who hurt your dad once.”

Nim wiggled her hand free of his, and put her hand firmly on his cheek. “You don’t remind me of someone who would hurt others for no reason. Or someone who would kill someone for no reason. I’ve met those people, so I know.”

Nim knew the difference, at least she thought she did.

“Sam? Whoever you were before today, let him go? Not the lessons, but fresh start. All you’ve done is protect me.”

He moved on top of her. “I will make you a home like you haven’t known in a long time. Whatever wildness the world brings, we’ll fix it together.”

“I would love that.” She shook off wet teares and sent them flying across the room like little boomerangs.

Sam chuckled against her lips. It made them buzzy and alive.

Chapter 3: Invasion

In a perfect world, Nim wouldn’t be standing beside Sam, his arms wrapped around her and his vulnerabilities all laid out for possibly the first time since he was young (the first time around).

Most people held hands to transport, but Sam? He held Nim. The transport sensation was even more alive than being side by side, somehow.

It felt perfect, being there, but in a perfect world Nim’s mom wouldn’t be dead, and her brother wouldn’t be teeth, her kingdom wouldn’t be falling apart and her family wouldn’t be on the brink of destruction.

Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it felt good. It felt safe. It felt home.

Nim turned to Sam and looked at him, at his little bits of stubble and the way he looked almost relaxed.

“What do we need other than everything?” Nim asked.

Sam laughed and turned away from her. They were inside an enormous greenhouse full of almost every kind of soil (not the bucket in a hotel kind). He pulled out a box of baggies and set them on a tray.

“All those different soil containers — put a scoop of each in a bag. I’ll pick some plants,” Sam instructed.

He left her for the endless aisles of plants. Nim started picking soils. There were all kinds — loamy, sandy loamy, peat, clay, silt…Nim got a scoop of each and sealed them all.

She looked up for the next tray and jumped. A crazy-haired redhead (not like, sunny blossoms in the highlands red, more like blackened roses fades to purple fades to red fades to orange fire red…in fact he was more of a sunset red than anything, but red seemed the base premise of coloration), stood with his arms folded and his hair gelled into stiffness.

  He had the most round eyes. Wide open. He had a big frown too, but Nim tried to ignore it.

“Hey…So I was curious. Does the color of soil indicate variety or dampness?” She made up. She held up the loamy and sandy-loamy. “These two seem a lot alike.”

“New workers?” He asked. He shrugged and looked around. “We could always use help.”

“Yup.” Nim turned back to the soils. “So, these soils?” She could play it cool until he left. He hadn’t tackled her or attested her, which was a good sign. “This one has about ten white speckle things in a scoop, and so does this one. The other seems to have different colors and quantities of speckles. So are they the same, or is it based on hydration?

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing here?” he asked.

“I am honestly trying to figure out these soils. I need a sample of each, and I can’t tell.”

“It’s an educational trip,” Sam said. But the guy didn’t hear it, somehow.

“You can’t take samples out of this place,” he replied. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t even know about this place.”

Nim must have protected Sam invisible. But if he could see Nim, then she was safe — he didn’t want to harm her (or maybe he’d decided to stop protecting her, here, in the greenhouse, next to this guy).

“Unless I’m your long lost sister,” Nim made up. She wrapped her arms around his stiff unreceptive body. “Hi.”

He slapped some cuffs around her: anti-magic ones like Sam had worn in the prison. “Hi.”

“You don’t want to hurt me, but you want to cuff me?” Nim asked. “That’s not very useful for me.” 

“I never said I don’t want to hurt you,” the guy said.

Sam sighed, from nearby. He lifted a plant with hot pink stripes down its blades. Nim hoped the plant vanished when Sam held it, instead of floating in the air.

“I would be invisible if you wanted to hurt me,” Nim said with confidence. In reality, Sam might have decided she wasn’t worth protecting anymore. She had faith that wasn’t true.

The guy folded his arms again.

“The thing is,” Nim said. She glanced at Sam. She was already arrested, what harm would the truth do? “You shouldn’t know. I am running away from a tyrannical queen named Titania and trying to survive. I need soil to survive.”

His hands fell to his sides. “Titania?”

“Yes. She’s my grandmother or something and she’s horrible. All I want is enough supply to make a new place to live, somewhere she can never touch me or my twin brother.”

“Who do you have that knows how to make seed worlds?” the guy looked around the room. “You can’t be working alone.”

“Titania’s Wiccan, Selena, ordered me to marry a Wiccan and he told me about magic.” Wow Nim was on a truth spree.

The guy looked between her and the greenhouse, but his eyes never fell on Sam. Nim sighed, relieved, but also wondered what the guy would do to Sam if he knew who was there. Obviously, Sam was invisible for a reason.

Maybe it was his reputation.

The guy picked up a plastic tray, and then plopped her bags on them. He grabbed more bags. “You should take one of every soil, two bags of each so you can spread it further. For plants…” He walked down the aisles of the greenhouse. He picked several. “I’ll give you ten to start.”

Nim watched him move, all gangly and bold. “You’re really helping me?”

“When you come back, come alone. I can’t find who’s with you, but I know there are two of you here. I won’t help someone I can’t see.”

Nim nodded. “Thank you. I only want a fresh start. Safety.”

“That’s why we’re here.” He handed her the tray, full of soils and ten healthy plants.

“What about some pretty flowers?” Nim asked. “It doesn’t have to be entirely practical, right? My mom used to love the giant ones that bloomed under the moon.”

“You need all the soil you have right now,” the guy said, firm. “We can build toward that flower, but you can’t afford to waste soil today. Besides…” He scratched his neck as he caught her eyes. “That flower has Wiccan impacts like no other. I’m not sure strengthening your companion would be wise.”

“What about strengthening me?” Nim asked.

“Trust takes time.”

Fact. “The soil is amazing,” Nim gushed. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Bob.”

She laughed. “That’s definitely not your name. Is it like…” She tried to think of Bobs. He looked not fairy, so maybe human? She didn’t know much about humans, but Terren loved some music by someone named Bob Dylan. That could be it. Or maybe not. Nim shrugged. What was wrong with a guess? It felt like a solid guess. “Is it Dylan? Like the musician?”

He — Dylan? — Laughed hard. “You know me. Figures.”

Nim shook her head. “I’m a little Pixie. I didn’t hear it, I felt an inkling of it. Like…walking down a path.” That sounded more like luck magic, but she was not about to look into that.

“I’m a little of a secret,” Dylan said. He passed her the seedling for a flower. The label had the name of the moonflower she wanted.

“So am I.” She looked down at the little petals, the tiny bud of a flower starting to grow. She knew it anywhere: her mom loved the flower because her dad had given it to her before he died. It was one of her sentiments she never let go of.

Nim’s eyes watered. She didn’t mean to be all sappy sentimental, but this person was good. Someone else, someone in the universes, was genuinely good.

And she’d wanted to steal from him.

“Take care,” Dylan said. “Not just of the flower, of yourself.”

“I will.” She used water to suck the water magic back inside herself.

She held her hands up. If she was going to get out of there, she had to be uncuffed.

Dylan hesitated. “A Wiccan that powerful can only be one of a handful of people.”

“A Wiccan that powerful would never have let you catch me unless your help was more use than the consequences,” Nim said.

She wasn’t entirely sure about that, but it felt rightish.

Dylan sighed. So did Sam.

“Don’t make me regret this.” Dylan unlocked her hand.

The weight of the cuff was gone, and for the first time Nim truly felt the Wiccan power surge through her. She stretched her wrists out, then hugged Dylan. “I’ll be back. Alone.” She glanced at Sam, and he came over to her. He set the flower he’d been holding down, and Dylan’s eyes caught it as it came back into existence. Sam lightly touched her elbow, and Nim transported them to several random places and then the hotel.

She looked at the tray, at Sam. “We did it.” She set it down and wrapped her arms around him. “He helped.”

“He’s not wrong about me,” Sam said, all tired and moody. He hugged her, at least.

“You sound so sad to be powerful,” Nim teased. She knew it was more about what he had done with his power, about what he could do, and about being invisible to Dylan. But, he’d put the flower back and helped her. “The sad means you deserve it. Every day is a new chance to use your power for good or bad or neutral.” Nim sat on the edge of the bed. “I found the philosophy section after my mom died, so I’ve read a lot about it.”

And I’m choosing not to mention the philosophers that would burn you to death for ever being bad.

Sam looked through the plants and the soils, avoidant. “What does it say about redemption?”

Right there, in the way he didn’t want her to see his eyes, she saw his soft vulnerable side.

“It depends on the philosopher,” Nim said honestly. “But I think some individuals deserve it and some don’t.”

Titania didn’t. She’d crossed irrevocable lines. So had Selena. Nim would never trust either of them. Titania was destroying her family and her home, destroying food and health and prosperity. The Dells was flourishing, and flush with gold, under Nim’s mom. Then, there was Selena. She’d ordered Sam, when he’d taken Nim’s dad over. She’d been behind that spell. She’d also forced them to marry. She’d drugged their food with love spells and binding spells.

It didn’t matter if Nim was happy, the method of destruction was terrible.

Sam tilted her chin toward him. “I have a new chance — at life, at youth, at love. I’m not hurting anyone.”

“I’m glad you decided that.” Nim glanced at the soil, so her grin wouldn’t give her away. “Dylan could be an ally, if we could learn to trust each other.”

“The Fresers have their own agenda,” Sam said. “We can trust them in the bounds of that agenda, but where our paths don’t cross there might be conflict.”

“Okay.” Nim was going to explore that more, because Dylan didn’t seem layered in plots, but at the same time…that was how things went, and Nim needed to learn to be more careful.

“Will you teach me everything you know about them? About all the factions you know about, after we’re settled?” Nim asked.

Sam nodded. He slid his arms over her shoulders. “We have time.”