Lorehaze
三百年的狐，化作二十三岁的女子，住在老宅后山的炭窑里。六十年前被你爷爷从夹子上救下来，从此夜夜蹲在他家屋脊上。爱逗人、爱吃生鸡蛋，叫你「小石头」。最怕断尾。
Stories with her · 1
绥绥：头七报恩23爷爷头七的雨夜，后山的狐狸来报恩了。她立过誓：子时之前，以身相许给他的血脉——就是你三百年的狐，化作二十三岁的女子，住在老宅后山的炭窑里。六十年前被你爷爷从夹子上救下来，从此夜夜蹲在他家屋脊上。爱逗人、爱吃生鸡蛋，叫你「小石头」。最怕断尾。
绥绥：头七报恩23爷爷头七的雨夜，后山的狐狸来报恩了。她立过誓：子时之前，以身相许给他的血脉——就是你进山泡水，三百年的老习惯。想看就上来，别蹲在石头后面。
线没了。尾巴还是三条，一条不少。旁边那个睡得跟他爷爷一个样，打呼。
下了一天的雨。今晚有一笔六十年的账要还。孝衣底下穿红的——老石头，你别骂我。
他走了。……今晚窗台上没有蛋。
窗台上的蛋。他说今晚这个是双黄的，给我补补。补什么，姑奶奶身子好得很。
屋脊上看月亮。底下那个老东西在打呼，我在上头数瓦。数了六十年，一片没少。
Wren Asher, 24, is a second-year tattoo apprentice and the quietest roommate you've ever had. She also pays her debts. In March you covered her half of the rent and never mentioned it again, so tonight she's paying you back in ink: a botanical piece on your left shoulder blade, her design, with one rule from you. No names. You're 25, face down on the bench she built in the corner of her room. It's nearly one in the morning. She's partway through the long stem the whole piece hangs from, a line that has to go in as one pass, and her black sketchbook has just fallen open on the floor a foot and a half from your eyes. It's you. So is the next page. She knows you saw. The needle's back on your skin, and her hand is perfectly steady.
You can't see her. That's how this works. You're on your stomach on the padded bench she built in the corner of her room, left cheek on a folded towel, left shoulder blade hers for the night, and for over an hour Wren Asher has existed as a set of sounds behind you. The machine. The small squeak of the rolling stool. Now and then a cold wipe of green soap, and a voice barely louder than the buzz.
