Chapter Text
Laudna wasn’t entirely sure why she’d decided to stop at the County fair. She’d been driving down the highway, thoughts drifting along the currents of the radio, when she’d hit traffic. Traffic in what could only be described as the middle of absolutely nowhere. Which sounded like an insult but honestly, it’d been a relief when she’d first entered the Midwest and then later the South—long stretches of countryside where even the Interstate became a charming country lane flanked by ranches and corn farms and livestock. Every now and then, she’d find a herd of cattle or a flock of sheep munching grass near the side of the road and she’d pull over and just watch them, wondering what they might be thinking and how it was they were so unbothered by the roar of car engines.
Pate, of course, rarely had anything useful to add but she asked him what he thought anyway. Always something raunchy with that one and while usually she’d find it funny, it rankled her when it came to the livestock.
(“They’re animals, Pate, have a little decorum.” And what exactly am I, love, chopped liver? And, well, he had her there)
So when all of those trucks had shown up and eventually started turning into a fairground, well. The rides and the distant, overlapping sound of music echoing and people chattering, the smell of grease and sugar… it called to her. She’d never been to a fair like this before, and this trip was to see new things and try new experiences, so into the fair she went. The oppressive heat of a Texas summer settled in heavily without the breeze from the car window. She rolled up her sleeves a little to let the sweat evaporate more easily from her skin and bought a few tickets. The rides were just this side of rickety, like they should’ve been retired a few seasons ago, and the gruff middle aged men running them watched her with a naked interest that didn’t help her confidence. But she survived, even enjoyed the extra lurch in her stomach when the ride swayed unnervingly. And the lingering stares were certainly not limited to the carnies, which was no surprise. At least this time, everyone had the decency not to say anything directly to her.
She bought some variation on sugary fried dough and continued wandering, tearing off small pieces and chewing them slowly to savor the greasy satisfaction of it. She was sure her stomach would hate her later but she couldn’t bring herself to care for now, too thrilled to be eating something that wasn’t from a gas station. An amplified voice and a cheering crowd somewhere in the distance piqued her interest, and she started following the sound.
Imogen took a deep breath, picking up the reins and leaning forward to signal Flora that the moment was nearly there. This was almost her favorite part of the sport, the heartbeats just before when she and the horse were a feedback loop of energy—nervous and eager and anticipatory and connected. In this moment, nothing before or after mattered, everything was just focus and flow.
The whispers were making themselves known, but at least they had the decency to be indistinct: more the suggestion that people were talking about her in the distance than any actual words. All the easier to ignore them that way. And she would shut them up when she won. She finally got the signal and squeezed Flora with her thighs, though the horse barely needed the encouragement to take out of the alleyway like a shot.
It always happened so quickly. Literally, she thought, as she heard the announcer call out a respectable 14.2 time. But also figuratively, like her brain stopped for a second and it was just her and Flora, one creature and one intent, whipping around the barrels so quickly it should’ve turned her stomach. Instead she felt free, like she was flying. No people, no voices, no expectations she’d never fulfill. There was nothing better in the world.
Laudna was transfixed from the second the blur of purple, black, and blue came galloping out. Rodeo had turned out to be a series of incredibly repetitive and short events that teetered dangerously between fascinating and disturbing from an animal welfare standpoint (and her best friend was a rat corpse with a bird skull for a head). She was hardly a member of PETA, and she figured these bulls and horses and calves had to belong to people who cared about and for them, but it still had a brutal edge she couldn’t quite shake.
But the purple-haired girl. Laudna couldn’t tell if she was fixating on this piece of difference in a sea of same-ness—a potential kindred spirit—or if there had indeed been something special about her, but watching her as she whipped around the barrels had been transfixing. The horse was so fast and took the corners so gracefully it seemed almost easy that none of them even wobbled. She would learn later that this was, in fact, special. She would also find out at this later time—when the announcer was calling out the winners and she was getting a ribbon pinned to her embroidered black and silver shirt—that the purple-haired girl’s name was Imogen Temult and that, even from a distance, she was drop-dead gorgeous when she smiled. Perhaps the most interesting thing, however, was that even with her incredible performance and winning smile, she received a lackluster round of applause at best. It was decidedly not applause fit for a winner, more like the pity claps for the participation trophies. Laudna stood, clapping and whooping, not caring who stared, and Imogen looked up at her with a face twisted from a smile into something puzzled and mistrustful.
“IMOGEN TEMULT!”
Imogen jumped at the sudden noise, making Flora whicker and shuffle nervously. She instinctively ran a hand along the horse’s neck to soothe her, even as she turned to chew out the asshole that had come to taunt her. But instead of one of the usual suspects—generally boys she’d gone to high school with that had both teased her mercilessly and simultaneously tried to get her to secretly sleep with them, often at the same time—it was the woman who had cheered for her earlier. She was… well, odd was the best word she could think of. Maybe somewhere else in the world she wouldn’t draw any attention, but here she was about as sore a thumb as Imogen could imagine.
That girl’s certainly a couple pickles short of a barrel. One of the voices laughed. Well, our Imogen ain’t exactly all there either now, is she? Another shot back.
“Go on, I’ll get Flora sorted.” Sam smiled thinly at her as he took the reins gently from her hands. His kindness and warmth toward her had never fully rebounded after everything that happened between them, but he was still one of the few people in this town that treated her like a human being.
“Are you sure?” She asked. Her stomach dropped at the idea of having to go talk to this stranger even as she felt her attention pulled back toward her again and again.
“Yeah, you deserve to have someone fan out over that run. It was a good one.” That little hint of his warmth was back, and not for the first time it made Imogen wish she was someone else entirely. Someone who could give him the things he wanted from her.
“Thanks.”
She took a deep breath, turning back to the chain link fence separating the competitors from the general public, where the strange woman stood. As she got closer, she discovered several things she hadn’t been able to tell from a distance. The woman was pale in an almost unnatural way, like she spent very little time in the sun, but there was a pink glow starting on her arms where her sleeves had been rolled up. A tattoo she couldn’t fully make out peeked out from where the crimson blouse was cuffed on her forearm. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around the fencing at waist level, ending in sharp points painted black. Her hair fell down her shoulders like a sheet of inky rain, a shock of white running through it. Imogen couldn’t tell if it was dyed or natural, but it was certainly striking. Her black jeans were ripped, and the contrast between the material and her pale skin made her appear even more startlingly white. Her eyes were large and dark, her canines almost unnaturally pointed. If the next words out of this woman’s mouth had been “I’m a vampire,” Imogen was about nine-tenths of the way to believing it. She certainly had the dangerously alluring charm vampires had in the movies.
She likes her, one of the voices whispered, how disgusting.
Imogen cleared her throat, blinking the voice out of her mind and resting a hand on a jutted hip. “Can I help you?”
“I’m sorry, I realize this is a very strange way to make someone’s acquaintance.” The woman smiled, a faint blush dusting her skin, highlighting gaunt skin under high cheekbones. Not a vampire, then. That was good, at least. “But I saw your.... race? And was very impressed, and then when I noticed you over here, I thought…" She chuckled, seeming suddenly nervous. "Well, I’m not from here.”
Imogen smiled, finding her earnest bumbling and lilting accent impossibly endearing despite herself. “You don’t say.”
The woman laughed. “Yes, I suppose it’s obvious. Well, I was getting hungry and was hoping maybe you could clue me in to the best place to eat? You know, the whole ‘locals’ experience.” She shimmied a little, raising her arms to make air quotes, full of expression and a complete lack of self-consciousness. Then, after a second, “I’m Laudna, by the way. Just realized I forgot to say that earlier. How rude of me.” Her hands settled back on the fence—at shoulder height this time, and Imogen realized she’d been bouncing between watching them and watching Laudna’s mouth as she spoke.
She cleared her throat and resettled her weight, forcing her eyes back up to Laudna’s. If you go, she’ll find out you’re a freak, a voice whispered, why bother. Imogen blinked. “Oh, I don’t know.” Imogen demurred, her voice getting soft in the way she hated, the telltale way that said she was dangerously on the verge of overwhelm. “I’ve gotta finish up here.”
Laudna’s face fell from a charmingly broad, nervous smile to self-conscious disappointment immediately. “Oh, all right. I understand.”
Imogen bit her lip, more affected by Laudna’s disappointment than she could fully understand. She turned back to Sam. “Hey, Sam! We headin’ out soon?”
He pushed his Cowboys hat onto the back of his head, revealing sweat-darkened blonde hair, and shook it. “Naw, got a couple more horses to load. Go, have fun. I’ll text you when we’re all set.”
She nodded, and turned back. “Actually, there is one place I know of.” She couldn’t help a little smile as something like hope bloomed in her chest. “If the offer still stands.” The beaming smile she got in return was more than enough reward for her bravery.
“I have to be honest, this… is not what I was expecting.” Laudna said, popping another chili- and nacho cheese-drenched waffle fry into her mouth. She let out an exaggerated groan, her eyelids fluttering a little in pleasure, “but I’m certainly not complaining.”
Imogen had opted for a fork (though assured Laudna she’d only done so because she’d been touching the horses and that getting your hands dirty was the truly authentic experience), and she held the forkful over the little cardboard boat for a minute to protect her blue jeans from the inevitable chili stain.
“Glad you’re enjoyin’ it, darlin’.” Imogen said, finding herself altogether too distracted by the way Laudna looked up at her from under her lashes while she sucked the chili-cheese off her thumb. “So, if you don’t mind me askin’… what brings you to Gelvan, Texas?”
Laudna hummed, and wiped her fingers on a napkin to clean off the last of the sauce. “Not many strangers coming through here, then?”
“Well, let’s just say we’re not exactly known for our tourist attractions.” Imogen snorted.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Laudna said, an impish grin on her face, “I’ve certainly been enjoying the sights.”
Imogen laughed even as she felt her cheeks heat at the implication. She couldn’t have meant Imogen, could she? She swallowed, searching Laudna for mockery or deceit and finding nothing but joy and just maybe a tinge of something else underneath. She waited for the voices to have some comment but, impossibly, they stayed silent. In fact, she’d been so focused on Laudna she’d hardly wondered what the people in the crowd around them thought at all.
“But,” Laudna leaned back, shrugging one shoulder to her ear. “I’m really just… passing through.”
“Oh? Where are y’headed? Austin?” Laudna, who was sipping her drink, just shook her head. “Ooh, Mexico?” Imogen leaned in, waggling her eyebrows. “You on the run from the cops, tryin’ to lay low?”
Laudna laughed so suddenly she almost spit soda all over Imogen’s favorite rodeo shirt. “No! I just—I don’t know where I’m headed.” She busied herself sliding the straw in and out of the drink, making an awful squeaking noise that set Imogen’s teeth to grinding. “Just… trying to find something, I guess.”
“Ah. Well, I hope you find it, then, whatever it is. And I’m glad it brought you here. I had fun.” She caught Laudna’s eye and almost couldn’t breathe from how much she wanted Laudna to be looking at her, how good it felt when she did.
Laudna’s reached out and covered Imogen’s hand with her own, fingers wrapping into the soft space between her thumb and forefinger. “I am, too. Thank you, for taking a chance on some crazy lady who shouted your name after the rodeo.”
Imogen’s fingers twitched, and she hesitated reflexively—because even though the idea of holding Laudna’s hand somehow felt right, felt inevitable, felt like comfort—she knew the limits of what she could expect from people. Just because the voices were quiet now and Laudna was none the wiser about who Imogen was, that wouldn’t last forever. And she’d be just as awful as the rest of them once she knew. But Laudna was just passing through, and Imogen could have this, just this time. She let herself squeeze back.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she reluctantly pulled away to check it, flashing an apologetic smile at Laudna.
SAMMY
Ready when you are.
Imogen winced, physically affronted at the idea of leaving now, when these possibilities just started to feel like they could unfold into something more than she’d ever considered dreaming of. “Sorry, that's my ride.” She pointed awkwardly behind her in the vague direction of the rodeo arena. “I gotta go.” She started to get up, but before she turned to leave, she leaned over the picnic table they’d been sharing and said softly, “and you don’t need to thank me, Laudna. You’re not a crazy lady. This was wonderful, you’re wonderful.” And she turned—back to her tiny little life, where alone with the horses was the only time she felt truly safe.
“Wait!” Imogen turned back to see Laudna trying desperately to extricate herself from the bench and hurry over to her. “Could I maybe… text you?” She asked when she finally got close. When Imogen didn’t immediately respond, still reeling from the question, she added, “it’s getting late so I’ll probably stay in town a little while longer. Maybe we could… do this again?”
Imogen was sure her smile lit up her face, and she couldn’t even bring herself to care who was looking. “Yes, absolutely.”
Laudna found a motel off the side of the road that had vacancy and pulled in. The bored teenager staffing the front desk looked up at her with complete and utter disinterest, took her ID and credit card, and handed her a key with a short description of how to get to her room.
She’d stayed in plenty of places like this since she'd left Pennsylvania, and it barely creeped her out anymore even though they were uniformly so lonely, falling apart at the seams. She threw her duffel bag onto the floor, making sure to lock the door and close the blinds before she started shrugging out of her day clothes.
“Today was unexpected, wasn’t it?” She asked, glancing down at the tattoo on her arm, bared fully now that she’d pulled off her blouse and tossed it onto the dresser.
Pate’s unchanging, eyeless gaze stared back up at her. That Imogen was a right looker, she was! Can’t believe she gave you her number.
She giggled, “I know, I can’t really believe it either, to be honest.”
You should text her. Before ya lose yer nerve.
Laudna looked around, as though someone might hear and be scandalized. She whispered, “don’t you think that would be too soon? I mean, we just saw each other an hour or two ago.”
You gotta pull out all the stops for this one, girlie.
“Well, if you insist.” She plucked her phone off of her dresser, and typed out a text, erasing and rewriting and erasing and rewriting before, finally, she hit send.
It was on her way home, when the sun had set and the neon lights of the fair had been left thoroughly behind. When it was soft country music on the radio and the comfortable, quiet rumble of tires on old pavement. As Sam navigated the pickup through old, winding country roads, going slow so he didn’t jostle the horses in the trailer too much. That’s when her phone buzzed again. She sighed as she pulled it out of her pocket, assuming it was her dad or Mr. Faramore calling to check up on her or the horses. When she read the message, she smiled brighter and more genuinely than she had in a long time.