-30 years ago
The children ran around the small bedroom. Charity was giggling so hard she was wheezing slightly. Temperance gave chase, attempting to catch her. Clear, summer air blew in from a cracked open window. The room was on the third floor of the small townhouse. A bed sat to one side under the slanted ceiling and beside the window. Charity dived around the bed corner as Temperance hit their head on the low ceiling.
"Ahh!" Temperance cried and grabbed their head. Charity burst into more laughter that turned to more wheezing that turned to choking coughs. She sank to the floor, holding her chest between gasps.
"Charity, you ok?" The older child leaned down to their sister. The younger did not respond, continuing to cough. "It's ok, I'll get mom." They patted the girls back then ran down the stairs calling for their mother.
"MOMMMMM, Charity's dying come quick!" Temperance stumbled down the last flight of stairs, ramming into the skirt of a tiefling woman folding laundry. She put down the folded shirt and worked to get the crying child off of her dress.
"Temperance, Temperance! Are you alright?" The second it took to look into her son's eyes was enough to instill a newfound sense of alarm as she darted up the stairs, small Temperance still stumbling behind.
Luckily, Charity was not dying, due to Silence's quick wit and medical training. What did follow, however, was nearly a year of tests and investigation into Charity's chronic respiratory issues and fatigue. In the end, the cause was found: a rare but hereditary condition. One that neither parental line had a history of.
It was late in the evening. Care-well and Silence sat on a cushioned couch in front of the fireplace on the first floor. Silence was dressed in a robe, gently rubbing her husband's back. Care-well had returned home from work not too long ago, still in scrubs and holding several folded papers in his hand.
Temperance stood in the shadows at the top of the stairs. They had become very good at sneaking, though they weren't really sure why they had picked up the habit. Something was wrong with Charity, they had told Temperance that, but exactly what was wrong went over their head. So they listened.
"Everything I've looked into points to it being genetic. There's no other explanation... it has to be some complication due to the transformation happening during the pregnancy." He let out a shaky breath. Silence was quiet for a long time, letting the sound of the dying fire fill the weight of the room.
"Maybe... Did I make the wrong choice? We could have waited. Or have taken Fyrndolin's original offer." His voice was full of distress.
"Hayes," Silence put a hand on his face, turning it towards her. "We knew there was a risk. But what was the other option? Both of our children dead in the war? We still have our family. Here. Now. And I trust your judgment on the devils. We already see how Filanore is more... Tolerant... Of our views. We made the right decision. And it was our decision. Don't take that away from me."
Care-well sighed. "You're right, of course. Usually, I can remember that." He leaned forward, putting his curling horns into his hands. "She put weapons on our very bodies. And the sacrifice was our child's health. But the worst part is that you can hardly argue with the results. How's Temperance handling all of this, you think?"
It was Silence's turn to sigh. "Oh, about as well as one would expect. He knows something is wrong, but he's still young." The pair continued talking, but Temperance backed away and crawled up back to their room.
~25 years ago
Care-well entered through the kitchen door, just off from his shift. Silence was putting a large cast iron pot back into the oven. She was already in uniform for her shift later. Temperance was helping her nearby.
"Hello," he removed his shoes and put down his bag before stopping in confusion. "Temperance, why are you in Charity's clothes?"
Temperance was in a light colored sundress and gave a bit of a twirl. "I lost to her at cards." What they didn't add was that they had let her win. That part didn't matter.
"Ok...?" Hayes looked to Silence. She had an amused smile and gave a little shrug. She enjoyed her children's antics. He went back to unpacking while Temperance stood nearby, watching. "Do you need me to teach you the card game again? Maybe that way you won't lose to your sister next time."
"Yes, please! Charity's asleep again."
"Alright, let me get cleaned up and check on her first." He passed through the kitchen, giving his wife a quick kiss, before disappearing into a washroom. The two of them had set up laundry and a makeshift sponge bath in the room behind the kitchen. With Charity's condition and their professions, it was best to keep everything contained and quickly cleaned. Temperance went back to helping their mother until she left for work.
As the summer months turned to fall, school started again. Charity had fallen ill shortly before again, which has prompted the Hayes to become stricter in their routine. The kids now had to bathe when they got home from school, too. It was arranged for Charity to sit in the back, so as to be slightly further from the rest of the students. She was instructed not to handle any communal objects as much as possible. The innocuous had turned to risk. A borrowed pen was now a potential vector for disease.
Charity seemed to take it in stride. She mostly followed her parents' instructions. She might do some things her parents wouldn't want her to do – playing certain games, swapping bracelets, braiding hair – but she didn't eat after others and always washed her hands.
Temperance was careful. Very careful. Though right now that seemed like the least concerning thing on their mind. They had asked their parents to let their hair grow out before school started. They easily agreed, it was just hair afterall, but currently it looked more like an unkempt bob than anything. Their clothes had gotten baggier. Smaller sizes were uncomfortable and stiff. Were their shoulders getting wider? Temperance didn't want to look in the mirror to tell.
One thing they did know was that their horns were growing in. Charity's were twisting around her head, like their father's, while Temperance's were shooting straight up, like their mother's.
Temperance hated them.
It's like... they could tell everyone was staring at them. It didn't make sense, but they knew. Luckily, it was getting colder out, so wearing a hat wasn't too odd.
Today, however, lunch was inside. And inside was warm. The hat sat on the table next to a half eaten container of soup.
"Look, they're starting to zig zag back, isn't that cool?" A boy a year older than Temperance was speaking to another boy beside him. One was a tiefling with blue skin, and his horns were in fact starting to take on a rippled appearance, almost like a gazelle. The boy beside him had dark grey skin and white hair.
"Woah. I figured out how to do this," the other boy said, focusing intently until his eyes flashed red.
"That's sick! Hey, Temperance, your horns are growing in, too, right?" The gazelle boy asked.
"Oh." Temperance rubbed the stubby horns on their head.
"You know, my dad says when your horns grow in is when you become a real man," gazelle boy said, puffing up with pride at his biologically natural accomplishment.
"Really?" Temperance shrank in equal proportion.
"Totally. Hey, wouldn't it be sick to have horns AND flash your eyes red?"
"Hey, that's not fair to do both," the second boy lamented.
"I didn't say I could but what if?" The two continued to argue as Temperance placed the hat back over their head.
Later that evening, Temperance knelt in their bedroom. They were facing the dresser, with their horns pinned tight between the main frame and the next drawer. If they just snapped their head back quickly, it should be fine. It might not even hurt, their horns didn't have that much feeling, almost like a fingernail. They just had to break them off at the right place. Cutting a finger nail, not ripping it up from the bed.
CRACK! And an immediate cry of pain. Not like a fingernail! Definitely not like a fingernail! They held their head, which was starting to bleed. Temperance's mother flew up the stairs and immediately got to work. Questions of why were for later. Soon enough, they were in the same hospital their father worked at.
Their parents looked concerned, especially their father. It was the same look they had any time Charity was sick. But they weren't sick. Though perhaps the dresser idea was a rather bad one. Worst of all, Filanore herself paid a visit.
"Poor thing." She leaned in, hovering over him. "I could grow them back for you, you know," she half whispered. Temperance's heart raced. They wanted to say no, but they were also getting old enough to know there were some people saying no to didn't end well. Care-well glanced between the two of them, arms crossed with his perpetual frown. He wasn't always that insightful, but he could read the look of panic on his child's face.
"Filanore, if I may," he said, clearing his throat. "Temperance is at the age where he needs to learn the consequences of his own actions. If he was careless enough to break off his horns, well, for better or for worse he's going to have to live with the scars."
"Hmmm," Filanore stood up and moved away from Temperance. "It's hard to refute the argument when you are his father." She got uncomfortably close to Care-well and whispered breathily in his ear. "I would suggest you keep better tabs on your child to prevent any more... accidents... As his godmother I am simply concerned for his safety." She traced a line on his back with a sharp nail then left. Temperance was released a day later.
This time they were wrapped in a dark blanket so as not to be seen when lurking in the shadows, listening. Their father had his arms wrapped around his mother, who was crying into his chest.
"I can't keep going like this, Care. I want to be a mother, but instead of kids I have patients." She continued to sob as Care-well stroked her hair. "I just want to hold Charity, but then I remember I have to help with her coughing exercises. And now Temperance... I'm worried I missed something. I'm filling out charts and reports in my mind and I don't want to!" There was a short pause.
"The war... This transformation... I fear it may have affected Temperance more than we thought. He must hold some resentment towards the deal we made. He was very young. I managed to get Filanore to leave him alone, for now." Care-well continued to hold Silence until she pulled away, now simply sitting beside him.
"You give the Verdians and war too much credit," Silence said, wiping away tears. "Temperance has always been a little... odd. I asked him why he broke off his horns, and he just started bawling. He kept saying that he didn't want to be a man. What could have brought that on? I asked if he wanted to be a girl, I don't know, it was the first thing to come to mind. He paused for a moment, then said no to that as well, asking if there were any other options. I told him, 'Well, I never really thought about it as an option so much as something you're stuck with, but I suppose you could just be Temperance.' He seemed comforted by that, but what are we supposed to do, Hayes?"
"I don't know, but the kid is obviously worked up about it. He's also at that age... maybe it'll work itself out as he gets older." He placed a hand on hers. "But as for the rest, I could reduce my shifts, stay home with the kids more. I don't know... we'll figure out some way to make it all work." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, dear..."
Temperance backed away, eyes burning, and hurried back up to their room.
A few weeks later, Charity was having another flare up. She coughed and coughed, spitting up mucus and having to breathe into a special tube the doctors gave her. Temperance sat beside her bed, on the floor, knees curled up to their forehead. They'd seen the two boys from school again, and they didn't want to think about what they'd said to them. Temperance's mind forced the thoughts in anyways.
"Temperrraaannnccceee, you have to tell me what's going on at school. I've been so bored here," Charity complained. She had only been out of school for the week but was already stir crazy.
"Nothing. It's boring and awful. I don't see your friends, anyways." Temperance squeezed their eyes shut. Moisture leaked out the sides.
"Gods, Temperance, it's only boring because you're boring!"
"I'm not boring!" Temperance cried, finally looking up. Charity was grinning ear to ear. She had won this match.
"Then tell me what happened. Come onnnnnn, please?"
Temperance sighed. "Someone made fun of my horns again."
"Who? Tell me you didn't talk to Gazelle Boy again."
Temperance was silent.
"You DID! Didn't you? Gods, Temperance, why do you listen to him? He's stupid. My friend's sister dated him once and–"
"Eww, Charity, I don't want to know," Temperance said with a small smile.
"No, no, you have to know, it's disgusting! Like I was saying, he was making out with my friend's sister and–" Her own snickers caused her to stop mid sentence to cough.
"See? It's so gross it's making you sick," Temperance said.
"Ugh, fine," Charity continued after catching her breath. "I won't tell you... if you tell me why you broke your horns off." She looked triumphant again. Had she planned this?
"I didn't like them," Temperance said, shrinking back into themself. They told Charity everything, but it was hard to say what you struggled to have words for.
"Why? Because they looked like Mom's?"
"No... I didn't like them ever, but then gazelle boy–"
"Temperance, you have to STOP. LISTENING. TO GAZELLE. BOY."
"I... I don't... The horns were too... I don't know, they were too manly."
"But guys are supposed to be manly, all the girls are into that... Unless..." Charity gasped. "Are you into guys, Temperance? My friend has a cousin who's gay. She says he has the best outfits ever, and you have the best outfits ever. I know because you keep stealing my shirts and I only get the best–"
"No... Well, maybe, but that's not why," Temperance's mind was reeling. Charity always got like this when she was stuck inside for more than a few days. To stop her would be like trying to stop a wave. Better to go with the flow. "Sometimes I feel like I don't want to be a guy at all."
"So you want to be a girl then?"
"Umm, not really."
"Oh, so neither. Makes sense." Charity nodded, satisfied.
"It does?" Temperance was bewildered. How did their sister seem to get everything before they did?
"Yeah, my friend said her cousin's boyfriend used to be a girl. I guess you can be anything you want as long as your outfit is fashionable enough."
"...I don't think that's how it works."
"Sure it is. Look at all the politicians in the city. How do you think they got in power?"
"People voted them in? Or I guess a lot are appointed now." Temperance had no clue where this Charity wave was flowing.
"No, it's because they looked the part. People vote for the one that already looks like they won. And look at this!" She pulled over a newspaper, a few days old. "You know the old observatory? The one they reopened a few months ago? Some guy was just living there the entire time! When they reopened he stole one of the janitor's uniforms and just pretended to be working if anyone passed by."
"I don't see what you mean."
"Of course not, you're practically blind," she teased. "Well, I mainly just wanted to tell you that story in the newspaper. It's the only interesting thing that's been in there all week." She shrugged. "So you're neither. That's cool. Now my big... um, sibling? Is cooler than my friend's cousin."
"You can still call me brother."
"Hmm, maybe I can think of something cooler while I'm stuck here." She coughed again.
~20 years ago
Temperance washed their hands, dried them on a kitchen towel, then considered how long that towel had been out. They opened a drawer of clean towels, washed their hands again, then lifted out the clean towel to dry their hands. They used the towel to close the drawer then lifted the dirty towel and took it to the laundry in the next room, tossing both in. The skin on their hands was starting to crack.
The atmosphere in the house was gloomy, to say the least. Charity had passed not too long ago, and each was recovering in their own way. Or at least trying too. Care-well had tried picking up more shifts at the hospital, but his supervisor had denied the request. He had known Care-well too long and too well to let him drown out the grief in over working. Silence kept trying to go through Charity's room, but each time she broke down in sobs. Temperance kept up the cleaning routine. It felt wrong to stop. The thought was starting to make them feel nauseous.
Of course, their routine was a bit more... involved... than the original one the family had to adhere to for Charity's sake. Towards the end, it had been necessary to mask in most public spaces. If any of them got sick, it could have made her worse. Their mother had about cried the first time the two of them went to the market after Charity's passing. Temperance had slipped on a mask.
At first Temperance's parents assumed it was just an odd grieving method. But their obsession hadn't waned. If anything, they were more meticulous in their sanitation than ever.
Care-well stopped his child when they came back into the kitchen.
"Show me your hands," he said wearily. Temperance showed their palms. Care-well sighed and flipped them over, running his thumb over their cracked skin. "Temperance, this is excessive. If anything, your skin being this dry is destroying your body's natural defense system." Temperance took their hands back, clasping them in front of themselves. They looked down.
"I... I'm just being careful," they muttered lamely. Care-well sighed again. He went past them into the laundry room and opened a high cabinet, producing a box of thin cloth gloves.
"You've shadowed me before. You know how to use them properly. And use that hand cream your mother got you," he said, shoving the box into Temperance's arms.
A few months later they graduated and planned to attend higher education. In the medical field, of course. They didn't want a party, but had finally relented when their mother ensured it would be small and outside. They weren't particularly keen on being out in the local park, under the veranda, but it was better than being stuffed in a room with a bunch of half strangers. The thought alone made them feel claustrophobic.
They wished their sister were here. It had been long enough to where it was beginning to sting less. Things were feeling normal again – or at least as normal as they ever would. Less crying, the house felt lighter, and sometimes they could talk about her memory in a happy way. Temperance had even found a system that worked for them. They had a small bag with a pair of gloves, mask, a handkerchief, and a small bottle they filled with whatever disinfectant they could find. A classmate had teased them that it was a purse, though this didn't hold the sting the student obviously hoped it would. If anything Temperance kind of liked the thought. Either way they would take that type of teasing over some of the other comments their classmates had made, particularly after their horns broke. They were glad to be leaving that place.
The party was dying out. People had brought by gifts, which they accepted graciously if not stiffly. They still hadn't found that sense of style Charity was so sure would fix their life. Ah, well...
Next in line was Filanore. She always looked slightly different to them. Was that right? Or were they just bad with faces? They'd already stared at her for too long, it seemed.
"Congratulations, Temperance. I had intended to give this to you in another year or two, but you went and graduated early on us. Such a bright mind." She held out a rose colored box with a black ribbon. Temperance took it tentatively, pulled at the ribbon, and opened the box to reveal a set of gloves. One black, one white, with Filanore's symbol upon each in the contrasting color. When they touched the gloves they seemed to know what they did before Filanore even said it. "They're magic. They'll give you a little edge, help pull together any high class outfit, allow you to cast Guidance... and Prestidigitation." Did her eyes flash?
Temperance was almost shaking as they held the gloves, then realized they should say something. "Thank you," they whispered, still staring down at the pair. They looked up, noticing most everyone was occupied talking, eating, or checking the time. "Ah, excuse me for a moment, please," Temperance said, and fled to the nearby building to attune to the item. Filanore smiled, watching them go. When she turned around, however, their father stood with arms crossed and a slightly deeper frown than usual.
"What's the meaning of this?" Care-well asked.
"Whatever do you mean? I simply gave a graduation gift."
"Of gloves. With Prestidigitation."
"A useful tool for those in the medical field, no doubt. And it is a rather common spell."
"Filanore, there's no way in all of the many levels of this crumbling tower that you don't know exactly what you're doing. You know they haven't been handling their sister's death well and you're feeding into it." He was pointing at her now, heated. This caught the attention of Silence who moved towards the two in order to perform damage control.
"Oh, yes, Charity. A shame about that one. And a shame you never took up my offer of help to try for a third. Though I suppose the offer to help spice up the bedroom still stands. I've actually had more takers on that than you might think." She smirked watching the man in front of her trying to contain his emotions.
"Thank you, but no," Silence butted in, taking her husband by the arm. "And we appreciate your generosity. We've just been rather concerned about Temperance. They seem to be doing better, and we'd hate to see your gifts end up as a crutch instead of an aid."
"What is a crutch if not an aid?" Filanore chuckled. "But let Hayes here speak. I won't punish him. At least not for this."
Care-well seemed to cycle through an infinite number of statements, questions, and accusations before finally speaking. "I just need to know... why? If you drive them down, it surely hurts your personal plots as well."
"Maybe it's a bit of a repayment, dear. Though mostly you could think of it as insurance. A half functional loyal servant is better than a fully functioning rebel, after all."