the witch sat with agnes, one of the first friends she made outside her group of friends. "you're not weak." she had been working on a potion to help the people who were injured at the ball, but she had to wait for the nurses to leave and they were annoyingly vigil. it was the first time that she'd been without her magic. she looked up at her friend. "they won't let you out because you're not better yet. healing takes time." and that was something that she was truly sure of. "what do we do?"

"i know..." she grumbled under her breath. she traced the fabric of the hospital blanket. it was soft, too soft, another reminder that this room was out of her budget—and how, now, agnes was beholden to jasper skellington. "do you mean what do we do to pass time in here... or in general? about whatever the fuck—pardon my french," agnes digressed. "happened with the ball?"

Elias was no Kingdom of Far Far Away. Back home, there were bathhouses, steam spas, and aestheticians who understood that maintaining perfection was hardly vanity. It was a public service. A facial, a scalp massage, a fresh manicure, perhaps a pedicure if the week had been especially trying. Elias offered none of it. Across all three realms, self-indulgence seemed to rank somewhere below swordplay and impending doom.

Where was the glamour? Where was the civic responsibility?

There was no proper sanctuary devoted to beauty, only an abundance of dive bars and kitschy boutiques. Even Ulstead, for all its rustic charm, recognized that appearances mattered.

Mere days in the city, and she was already regretting her decision to forgo her driver, personal care team, and private staff. No one anticipated her needs with quite the same precision. Finding help in Elias that met her standards was easier said than done.

On the recommendation of her cousin Fae, Francesca had decided to give Belleza Beauty Salon a try. The moment she stepped inside and saw the glass-block walls, she began mentally preparing herself for disappointment.

Wrapped in powder blue cashmere over an ivory silk blouse and tailored cream trousers, Francesca looked less like a client and more like the woman expected to own the building. After a complete remodel, of course.

As she waited for the front desk attendant to appear, a hairstylist named Señor Senior, Junior sauntered over.

"Do you have an appointment?"

As though I looked like someone who relied on walk-ins.

"I booked a ten o'clock," she replied with a pleasant smile.

His gaze swept over her before drifting toward the front desk.

"And are they with you?" Señor Senior, Junior asked, gesturing toward the only other person waiting in the lobby.

Francesca followed his hand.

"No." The answer was clipped but polite. She turned her attention forward once more while Señor Senior, Junior glanced down at the iPad in his hands.

A series of disapproving tsks escaped him just as a petite blonde hurried behind the front desk. Her name tag read Olivia. The moment the iPad landed in her hands, she bit her bottom lip.

"This is not good, Flaversham," Señor Senior, Junior muttered.

Olivia's eyes widened as she scrolled through the morning's appointments.

"Ms. Fortuna, I'm terribly sorry." She looked up with an apologetic smile. "It seems I've double-booked the ten o'clock appointment."

"Oh." Francesca's smile never faltered as she cast a measured glance toward the other client before returning her attention to Olivia.

"We're completely booked today," Olivia continued, her voice growing quieter. "But if you don't mind, we can pair you together."

Silence settled over the lobby.

Francesca's gaze lingered on Olivia for a beat longer than was comfortable before softening ever so slightly.

"These things happen," she said, her voice as warm as it was composed.

Only then did she turn to the other client, offering a practiced smile that could have passed for genuine kindness.

she always felt out of place when she steps foot in belleza, but belleza were the best in giving her a hair cut (they knew how to handle her curls!) and she liked listening to the gossiping stylists, attendants, and clients.

to be honest, agnes was more than happy to step back and let the woman take the appointment—but curiosity got the best of her.

"if she's okay, then count me in," agnes said with a grin. "i'm agnes." she extended her hand out for a handshake.

as olivia ushered the two further into the salon, agnes kept pace with the older woman. "say, have i seen you around? what's a woman like you doing in a rinky-dink like this?" before olivia could shoot a sharp glare at agnes, agnes raised her hands. "i mean elias as a whole as a rinky-dink. don't worry, olivia. i wouldn't dream of making fun of this place, you guys will give me a bald spot."

When Agnes had written down her office address, Max had never imagined it would be a laundromat.

He'd figured maybe a WeWork, or the kind of office a private investigator would have. She used to work at the Elias Chronicle, after all. Fresh & Clean hadn't even made the list.

The door chimed as he stepped inside, followed by a gust of cool air that almost made him forget how weird this was. Almost.

Max looked around, but didn't see the brunette curls he'd grown to associate with Agnes. He made his way over to the service window and was halfway through asking if she was around when he heard her voice.

He turned, a boyish grin already tugging at his cheeks.

then, she used her foot to drag a step stool over to her, using it to hoist herself up onto one of the washers.

Hospitals were a place that some considered eerie. Under the bright fluorescent lights, life and death were created in one place. Your first breaths, your final breaths, the chance of life-changing news all happened in these pale rooms. Jasper sat quietly as the sound of monitors filled the room he was in. Beside him lay a sleeping Agnes. He had offered to sit with her until she woke up so Leo could get something to eat. His future brother-in-law had given him an earful. It was toned down for Donnie’s sake but still stung all the same coming from Leo. There was nothing he could bring himself to do but sit there in the silence. He hadn’t been the one to injure Agnes, but the guilt still weighed heavily on his heart. The silence was broken when he heard the soft gasp of a deep inhale. He startled, looking at Agnes with furrowed brows. “You’re awake.” He commented. Relief colored his tone. “How are you feeling?”

by the time she opened her eyes, she was face-to-face with jasper skellington of all people. right. she tried to sit up, but she could only groan from the pounding of her head.

"in pain," she mumbled as best as she could. once she gathered her bearings, she took in the hospital room. "oh, fuck." she whispered under hear breath. "i can't. i can't afford this place." then, she shot jasper a glare. "and what are you doing here?"

Ambrosius glanced toward the unfortunate man just in time to watch him catch himself on the table before anything could topple over. A quiet laugh escaped him. "Well... you've made a convincing case."

His gaze returned to the untouched glass in his hand before a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps I've been giving this decision far more weight than it deserves." He finally held the glass beneath the fountain, watching the wine fill before lifting it with a satisfied nod. "There. One glass."

Looking back at her, he offered an easy smile. "Thank you. Sometimes I need someone to remind me not every decision has to be treated like a matter of state."

"but you're absolutely right. one drink is enough," she echoed his sentiment. "some people are drinking more than they normally do, though. do you think they're running away from something?"

violet gasped as she looked down at herself. "—WHAT?!" she screeched.

she'd managed to make it outside, to the gardens that she would have described as breathtaking and tranquil, had it not been for the rumbling inside the building and the distant clatter of armour chasing after everyone. there was still chaos out here, leaking out from the windows and doors of the house. she wasn't the only one to have made it outside, all of them hoping that maybe outside the grounds the world would be normal again...but this was not happening to violet parr.

somehow, she'd grown taller by two feet. now standing about seven feet tall, she was the same height as the fountain in the middle of the garden. when had it happened? while she was walking?

maaaaaagical side effect, a voice inside her head told her.

a soothing reminder. or a warning.

the fucking chocolate fondue.

violet put her hand to her head and breathed out a shaky breath. "this is fine, this is fine, this is fine..." she chanted.

agnes quickly made her way outside. if something were to happen, it would be better if she was out in the open, that way, there was less chance she could hurt someone.

and agnes was greeted by a sight that she couldn't ignore.

"oh, no. violet," agnes grumbled under her breath. she approached her friend, hands extended out — mostly because agnes was unsure what exactly was happening with violet... apart from the obvious extra height.

"violet, it's agnes! be careful." agnes thought that using a softer voice would make things feel less intense. "violet, what if we stop moving for a second?" she winced as she saw violet hitting the roof. "what if we crouch or sit down for a moment?"

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit as he stepped through the entrance to the Summer Solstice Ball, taking in the lanterns hanging overhead and the steady hum of conversation filling the gardens. It should have been easy to enjoy. People were laughing, music drifted across the dance floor, and for the first time in weeks the city seemed willing to give itself permission to breathe. Donald wanted that. He really did. His trip with Goofy had done him good. They'd wandered farther than either of them originally intended, spent more nights around campfires than in inns, and somehow managed to avoid anything resembling responsibility for nearly two weeks. It had been strange. Peaceful. Too peaceful, maybe. Returning to Elias had felt... different.

He couldn't explain why. Nothing was obviously wrong. The wards around the city still hummed beneath the surface of his magic. The streets looked the same. The people looked the same. Yet ever since he'd crossed back through the gates, he'd had the distinct feeling that he'd walked into the middle of a conversation everyone else had already been having.

Donald exhaled quietly, shaking the thought from his head. "You've been gone too long," he muttered to himself. "You're imagining things." It wouldn't have been the first time he'd let caution get the better of him. His gaze swept across the ballroom almost automatically, lingering on familiar faces before moving on. Good. That's what tonight was for. Donald reached for a glass of sparkling cider from a passing tray before deciding against it at the last second, instead folding his hands behind his back as he continued into the crowd. "One evening," he said under his breath with a faint shake of his head. "You can manage one evening without expecting the world to end."

and honestly? someone of donald's prominence looking worried like that only added to the anxiety. however, a human part of agnes was also relieved. someone cared as much as her.

she gave a tiny wave to the waiter, refusing the drink. it wouldn't feel right for her to indulge herself, even if the liquid courage would help her feel less out of place. if something were to happen (not to say it will, but just incase), agnes would like to be sober for it. "are you okay?" she asked him. "you look really pale." a beat, then added, "and i sort of can hear you..."

There was a wariness that weighed heavily over them. It was hard to be optimistic when Elias' track record had been tumultuous in the last few events. Hope was stronger than any weapon that could be forged. It was Leo's compass, his why to prevail when darkness loomed. It was easy to think of the worst possible scenarios. He knew Agnes was in the same boat as he was, albeit she was a bit more pessimistic. He didn't blame her; he never did. If anything, he understood. Leo refused to let something happen to her. Not tonight, not ever. Agnes had become someone he had grown to care for. A sister he never imagined he'd find in another persona again.

"Three seems like a good number." He agreed, taking a sniff of his cupcake as if he could smell the magical properties on it. "If I became a giant, I would fee, fi, foe, fum myself out of here ... and ruin this fit. Which I look great in, thank you, can't risk that. I'm not bullying you. I'm preparing you. I want you to be the best warrior you can possibly be." He snorted a laugh, shaking his head. Leave it to Agnes to say something so out of pocket. "See, I like Max too much to leave. That's my son, and I would not get him in the divorce."

"i was about to suggest dognapping, but that might be a bad idea, huh?" she asked. a waiter then passed by with some drinks, to which she asked for a glass of water.

"okay, time to be honest. how long do you think it will be, before something dramatic happens here?"

The Summer Solstice Ball had transformed Elias into something out of a storybook. Golden lanterns hung from every tree surrounding the gardens, casting warm light over polished marble paths and the slow swirl of dancers moving beneath the stars. Laughter drifted through the evening air alongside music that seemed to find its way into every quiet corner of the celebration. It was beautiful.

Ambrosius wished he could stop looking for exits long enough to appreciate it. Old habits were difficult to break. Even dressed for a ball instead of standing in polished armor, his eyes instinctively swept the crowd every few moments. Nothing appeared out of place, yet his mind continued its quiet inventory of the room before finally allowing itself to settle. He found himself standing beside the enormous wine fountain near the edge of the ballroom, a crystal glass balanced lightly between his fingers while he regarded the flowing wine with far more concentration than it deserved. He looked down at the empty glass again before letting out a quiet laugh.

"I've spent more time debating this than it would take to actually drink it." Finally noticing someone nearby, Ambrosius smiled sheepishly and held up the untouched glass. "Settle something for me." His tone was warm, inviting rather than formal. "Does accepting one glass of wine count as enjoying the evening, or does it count as making poor professional decisions? I'm beginning to think I'm overthinking it, but I'd appreciate a second opinion."

as best as she could, agnes tried navigating the space — making conversations, listening to the music, observing the flower arrangements. she knew she looked out of place, but the effort was still there.

a particular wine fountain caught agnes' eye. what was the intention behind this fountain? gosh, working at a museum really changed the way agnes thought. it was tempting to get a drink, but agnes refrained, only drinking the soda she had in her hand.

"i don't see how one wine would impact your work," she offered. "you'd still be more sober than most of the people here." she chuckled as she took in her surroundings, a man was wobbling towards a table and bumped into it. "case in point."

Leo stood in front of the refreshments table, staring at the person in front of him as if they had grown a second head. "What do you mean this is faerie food?" He was just about to take a gigantic bite of the cupcake in his hand when the server made an offhand comment about the food. "Are we talking magically delicious or should I worry about turning into a giant?" Leo was growing sick of magical mishaps. After being explained, they were made by the fairy godmothers in Elias, and his nerves eased the slightest bit. "Level with me here, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust the safety of this food?"

"maybe three," agnes answered honestly. "although, i wouldn't mind seeing you turn into a giant... or better yet... a miniature. that way, you can stop bullying me during our training. and you can finally leave eric."

Agnes made them sound bigger than they were. "I think fair's a stretch." His gaze drifted toward the casino floor below. "People still lose money here. Bad deals still happen. Half the people walking through those doors are making choices they'll regret tomorrow." There wasn't much he could do about that. People came to places like Snake Eyes because they wanted something. Money. Distractions. Hope. Sometimes all three at once. At her next comment, Logan shook his head slightly. "I don't know about that." He wasn't being modest. He genuinely didn't.

Agnes cared in a way that was impossible to miss. She stood outside council buildings and made sure people heard her. Logan tended to keep his head down and solve whatever problem was directly in front of him. The methods were different. The reasons might not have been. His cigarette burned lower between his fingers as he considered her words. "I spent most of my life around people who had power and used it to make everyone else's lives worse." Orion. His father. Even Hades when he was in the mood for it. "Doesn't seem that hard to just... not do that."

When Agnes sighed, Logan glanced back toward her. The thing was, he agreed. More than he probably wanted to admit. People deserved a place where every conversation wasn't a trap. Where every deal didn't come with hidden teeth attached to it. Whether Snake Eyes could ever become that was another question entirely. After a moment, he shrugged. "I guess we'll see." It wasn't much of an answer, but it was the honest one. "I inherited a mess. Best I can do is try not to leave it worse than I found it." The corner of his mouth twitched again. "That's about as far ahead as I've thought."

she just had to be content that logan had the self-awareness that power was not mean to be used to extort people. this way, logan won't be as easily seduced by the promise of even more power. she just had to have faith in him that he won't make snake eyes worse than its current state.

"power is..." agnes trailed off. "it's tempting, i guess. people need a lot of willpower to resist it. or, they need to have clarity on their purpose and what they were supposed to do."

"you're a good man, logan." she wondered if that was even what he wanted to hear. "you're honest, you have a good heart. don't lose it when you run this place."

on a summer day like this, paradise pier is bustling with people. clouds adorn the sky as if they were painted against a backdrop of cerulean blue, with the sun shining brightly on the crowds. despite being above open water, they’re boxed in: by seaside food stands, bright attractions, and carnival game vendors — many of whom stand to benefit and have upgraded their prizes accordingly.

dipper knows well enough the tricks and trappings for these games, how most are rigged against the player from the start. but it’s a pair of sound-isolating headphones that catch his eye, which he desperately needs after leaving his only pair at the shack. first, he wonders what the stand’s budget is, if it can afford to stake studio-level gear.

and next, the gears in his brain begin to spin.

wind pressure, launch angle, the low and sagging canvas roof — dipper’s never been the most athletically inclined, but there’s a workaround. the brain is just as much of a muscle as biceps, and the work he’s put into the former can surely close the distance. not to mention, it’s been years since his last disaster at a carnival; he’s gained enough experience now to hopefully not give someone a black eye.

she's just walking along the pier, taking in the sights, the atmosphere when a ball comes crashing right against agnes' head. she yelps, "ow!" and rubs the side of her head to get her bearings once more.

"looks like the warning came a bit too late." she chuckles to herself. it must be an accident. no one actively aims a ball at someone's head in these places.