Like a Journal only even less kept up with.

Cowboy🐝pbop: kay! you’re playing again!

the_loudest_mime: yeah. sorry to leave you hanging, there’s just been a lot of work stuff lately

the_loudest_mime: at least i got back in just as the new content dropped

Cowboy🐝pbop: yeah it’s been a lot of fun! one sec i’m fighting a boss.

the_loudest_mime: oh hey i got something in the mail

the_loudest_mime: from you even, nice

the_loudest_mime: …

the_loudest_mime: roger

the_loudest_mime: roger wtf 

the_loudest_mime: roger this is the new pet how the hell did you get it

Cowboy🐝pbop: oh yeah i was going through the new dungeon for dailies and i won the pet twice. I can’t claim two of them, so i sent one to you!!

Cowboy🐝pbop: kay?

Cowboy🐝pbop: you alright?

the_loudest_mime: sorry i had a whole face journey of emotion right then

the_loudest_mime: you’re so fucking nice thank you so much

Cowboy🐝pbop: :D no problem!

the_loudest_mime: i thought i was gonna have to spend weeks grinding for it

the_loudest_mime: omfg it’s so cute

Cowboy🐝pbop: i know right??

the_loudest_mime: i just wanna squish its little cheeks

Cowboy🐝pbop: i’ve been trying ot convince dad to buy one of those fanmade plushes but he keeps saying no. :( the company hasn’t made any official ones yet tho…

the_loudest_mime: listen if your dad doesn’t wanna buy you the fuzzy bear bee combo I’LL buy you the fuzzy bear bee combo for your birthday

Cowboy🐝pbop: !!!

Cowboy🐝pbop: You don’t have to!!!!

Cowboy🐝pbop: You work so much i don’t wanna make you do that for me!!!!

Cowboy🐝pbop: IT’s fine really!!!

the_loudest_mime: i’m already searching for it online, you can’t stop me

Cowboy🐝pbop: kay no!!!!!!

the_loudest_mime: if you were right next to me i’d be doing the evil scheme emote so you’re just gonna have to live with me saying that i’m doing it irl

the_loudest_mime: too late i found it

Cowboy🐝pbop: >_<

Cowboy🐝pbop: noooooo…

the_loudest_mime: haha it’sn ot tradition to TELL people what they’re getting for their birthdays but hey you know one thing your’e getting

Cowboy🐝pbop: not fair. >_> i got ambushed by your gift.

Cowboy🐝pbop: i’m gonna get you that band shirt you’ve been wanting for ages.

the_loudest_mime: hey now let’s not go NUTS here

Cowboy🐝pbop: Oooor…

Cowboy🐝pbop: heh, my turn for the evil scheme emote...

the_loudest_mime: wtf is that supposed to mean

the_loudest_mime: roger what are you planning

the_loudest_mime: just because my birthday’s closer doens’t mean you get to spend all your money on me

the_loudest_mime: roger?

<Cowboy🐝pbop has signed out>

Salliento folded her arms and glared at him. “You mean you’re totally innocent of stealing various trinkets from the market we just passed through?”

“Yep.”

“The one that had merchants shouting curses at each other as we left?”

“Must’ve been some kinda feud.” He shrugged. “Can’t say I blame them.”

“And why not?”

Without really looking at the mage, the thief produced an amulet out of thin air. Not real magic, of course, but just as good for the average viewer. “At least one of them was selling fakes.”

“Maro!”

“It’s not such a big deal, they’ll lose out on some coin but it’s not gonna put them out of business.” Before Salli could snatch the stolen good from his hand, he’d already tossed it to his other one and hid it away similar to how he took it out in the first place. “People like that always have other ways to make money.”

She had that familiar look on her face that Maro associated with someone wanting to strangle him once outside of the public eye. Since the two of them were walking along the semi-populated streets of the town that their group had stopped in, this counted as being in public. When she’d had her moment, Salliento took a deep breath before letting it go. “That’s not the real reason why I’m…”

“Angry. Furious. Willing to kill me.” He helpfully provided.

With another glare, she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Upset at you.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Every time I think we’ve gotten past your compulsion to steal, you end up with more things in your pockets and everyone around us mad.” Salli moved her hand to glare again. “Just why do you do these things?”

There were a number of reasons he could think of off the top of his head. He’s been stealing to survive since he was a child and something like that didn’t wear off with a few months on the road. He had been the King of Thieves’ protégé up until they’d had that “disagreement” about Maro going (even slightly) on the straight and narrow. Between Amara’s bold straightforwardness, Kerakan’s quiet judgement, and Salliento’s stubborn leadership, someone had to be having fun sometimes.

None of those answers really fit the question that he’d been given, though, so Maro answered in a vague way instead. “I just feel like it, that’s all.”

Again, the mage seemed close to actually trying to hurt him. Without magic, even. “You…feel like stealing.”

Marosen gave her his widest, most annoying smile. “You’ve heard the stories they tell about us already. What’s the Four without their Thief?”

This time she did hit him. A smack to the arm counted as a win in his book. “You’re just lucky that Amara and Kera weren’t there to witness you stealing merchandise again.”

“He what?” A boisterous and deep female voice reached the two long before the warrior slid into view. Kerakan, the archer, came onto the scene soon after, disapproval written all over his elven face.

As if on cue, Malena marched into the sitting room. She was very seriously carrying the faded but still colorful blanket she always slept with. Once she stood in front of her mother and stepfather, her young voice loudly declared. “Mama, Papa, I want the new baby to have my swaddle.” Malena held it in front of her. “She’s going to need something nice and warm to sleep in, and I’m always warm while I’m using it so…” Her formerly confident voice trailed off. 

The two adults looked at each other. Terrence wasn’t exactly sure what his wife was trying to communicate to him, but he was pretty sure that Malena would miss her blanket very much. The gesture was a nice touch, though. He gave a nod to Nora before moving his head towards the girl. Even disregarding the gender roles that he accepted when he married her, Terrence would always follow his wife’s lead regarding her daughter. 

“That’s so sweet of you, my little flower.” Nora sat up from her lounge and opened her arms. The seven-year-old rushed into the offered hug without hesitation. The girl’s long black hair was soon being combed through by patient and steady fingers. With a tease in her voice, Nora continued. “But what if you end up with a brother instead? Do you think he will enjoy your swaddle?”

For a moment, Malena looked up from her comfortable position against her mother’s chest. Her lower lip pouted adorably. Terrence just barely kept a chuckle to himself. “...I guess he’d also like it…” She grumbled before going back to her previous position. Even with his good ear, Terrence almost missed her final statement. “It’ll warm up boys too…” 

He sat down next to his wife and reached over to rub at the girl’s back. “That’s a very grown up thing to do, Malena. We’re very proud.” 

The parents waited while she very obviously struggled to put together the words she wanted to use. Finally, she pushed away from both of them. “A-and! If the baby doesn’t like the swaddle she--he--the baby can have something else of mine! I’ll give and give and give so that the baby isn’t sad ever! You’ll never hear crying! I promise!” Malena seemed close to tears, herself.

Terrence and Noramena looked at each other. This time, each of them had an identical worried expression. “Hey, it’s okay.” He kept his voice soft as he offered a hand to his daughter. “You don’t have to do so much for the baby right now. They’re not even here yet.”

“B-but…” And now her dark eyes were dripping tears down her small face. “Some of the other girls kept talking about how their little sisters and brothers kept up their Mamas and Papas and how they’re always so tired and upset. A-and I just got Papa after my other one was so mean to Mama! I don’t want that to happen!” With a heaving sob she nearly tackled Terrence from the force of her embrace. “I love Papa so much!”

He didn’t really have the words that could help her. His parents died when he and his older brother were so young, Terrence didn’t have any real memories of them. Even with the Thieves’ Guild training the two of them in The Art, none of the people there were parents. Just outlaws and ruffians and goons doing what they wanted to while under the watchful eye of the King of Thieves. Instead, Maro was the one who really raised him. Who taught him how to be a person and not just a thug. If anyone would know what to say at this moment, it would be him.

Since his brother wasn’t around, Terrence had to improvise. “Shh, shh...it’ll be okay.” He went back to rubbing Malena’s back as she sobbed into his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, Lena.” His eyes locked with Nora’s as he continued to speak. “Babies need a lot of help. It’s a lot for some people! That’s why your friends see their parents so upset.” At the approving nod, he kept going. “But I’m not going anywhere. Even if we disagree sometimes, I made a promise to your Mama that I was here to stay. I mean to keep every word of that promise.” He gently patted the top of Malena’s head. 

Nora made a grunting sound and two pairs of eyes turned to look at her. She waved them off with a wince followed by a smile. “The baby kicked approval. Quite strongly!”

The ease of tension helped the other two giggle at the interruption. Terrence carefully put a finger under his daughter’s chin so that she would look up at him. “But since you’re already being a good big sister and worrying so much about the baby, I think we’ll be just fine.”

Malena blinked up at him before giving a relieved smile. “Okay…” She breathed.

“I think,” Noramena piped up. “That the two of you should make some lunch.” She grinned. “Baby wants me to have something interesting today. Do pickles and sweet cream sound good to you?”

Again, Terrence and Malena stared over at her. This time they shared similar expressions of disgust.

“Why, though…”

“Gross!”

“Did this happen when you were having Malena too??”

“Eeeeewww!”

Said assignment was busy giving him a wide-eyed stare in between bites of ratatouille. In the space of a few minutes, the five-year-old had managed to get food on what appeared to be everything except for his own mouth. Some vegetables had even gotten stuck in his bright hair in the process. It would have put him off of his own meal if he had any appetite. 

The comparison came to him unbidden: this boy was nothing like the fastidious Fortunato. The two may share a father, but neither of them were at all the same. Light where the other was dark. Energetic where the other was reserved. Dirty where the other was clean. Total opposites. Kiryak felt his heart become heavier with the thought. 

Lisa, the boy’s mother, clucked her tongue as she stood up from her place at the dinner table. “Amou! I know he’s new but that’s no excuse to keep staring. It’s rude!” She licked a cloth napkin and started cleaning Amou’s face. “And you can’t just watch him while you’re eating! Look at the mess you’ve made by doing that!”

Finally breaking the stare, the boy whined and tried to get away from the rough cloth. “But mama--!” 

“No buts.” She kept his skinny chin in her hand as she inspected her work. Letting go with apparent satisfaction, Lisa continued, “Eat your dinner without your eyes on our new friend and I’ll let you go play outside until the sun sets.” 

As if a switch had been flipped, Amou’s attention was fully on his meal. He ate with enough speed that Kiryak found himself wondering if the boy would just throw it all up soon after. Without bothering to ask to be excused, he sprang from his seat as soon as his bowl was empty. “Bye mama! Bye--” Amou paused before he reached the door, turning around to face Kir with a questioning pout. “What’s your name again?”

A stab of pain hit him in the chest at the expression. The boy was much younger than Fortunato had been when Kiryak first was assigned to him, but...he could see the resemblance now. He tried to keep smiling, although he wanted to do anything but. “Kiryak Ivanovitch,” He managed. 

Amou repeated the name several times to himself before beaming up at him. His small, blunt teeth were on display for all to see. They seemed to be slightly cleaner than the rest of his body. “Well then, bye Mister Kiryak!” With that out of the way, the five-year-old finally ran outside.

Quiet overtook the two adults as they finished their own meal at a much more sedate pace. Once his own plate was clear and he refused seconds, Lisa took the dishes and utensils back with her into the kitchen. He made to stand (despite his protesting heel) when she spoke up from the other room. “I know your job is really to look after Amou, but I need some help with the dishes.”

Kiryak’s voice was curt in his reply. “I should join him if he’s playing. A boy like that,” Important, impulsive, innocent, prone to accidents, any one of those excuses could be brought up to her. It wasn’t as if Lisa didn’t know how much of a handful her child was. “Should be looked after. Before peo--” He paused, then settled on, “Before he gets hurt.”

“You can just as easily watch him from this window as you can outside.” He could hear the eye roll in her voice. “But if you want to go out, I’m not going to stop you. Just don’t expect the door to always be unlocked if you’re gonna do that cat thing of wanting out or in every five minutes.”

He took a moment to think over the offer.

Then, the big man joined the much smaller woman in the kitchen. Lisa smiled--nothing nearly as blinding as Amou’s ones--and tucked a lock of her light brown hair behind an ear. “Start with those over there.” She pointed at some pots that were covered in a thick layer of filth, with rust starting to poke through the grime. He nodded and got to work.

It felt nice to be washing dishes again. The DeFleur manor had several cooks and waitstaff on hand, so it made it difficult to come down to the kitchens in his free time to offer to help. Simple, mindless work like dishwashing was already handled on a regular basis. It had made Kiryak mourn for the old days, even as he got more and more used to luxury. This was a nice return to form. And he hadn’t even needed to think about his emotions at all!

“So I’d like to know what’s up with you right now.” A pan slipped from his grip and banged on one of his fingers. He let loose a Russian swear on instinct. Lisa waited until he had recovered before she continued. “You’re so glum and depressed, even while you smile. That’s hardly going to be useful when you’re trying to chase around a five-year-old. Gautier assured me he was sending his best bodyguard.” She folded her arms and rested against a countertop with a hip. “So. Either he lied--which I wouldn’t put past him--or something big is on your mind. If you keep this up and whatever is going on gets in the way of you protecting my son, I won’t need Gautier to help me hide your body.”

Kiryak was speechless for a moment. “...Thought you were just in it for the money.” He knew his words were stupid the minute he spoke them. He was rewarded by a deserved slap to the back of his head.

“Please. I’m not sure what Joselin’s motivation was for marrying Gautier, but money’s not my only reason for doing all of this.” Lisa gestured out the window. “He is.”

He was still processing the idea of talking about Madame DeFleur so casually and by her given name, it took him a moment to see what she was getting at. Outside, Amou was hopping alongside a frog. His mouth was moving rapidly, potentially in song though Kir couldn’t hear it. When the boy got bored of hopping, he spun around in circles until he fell into a mud puddle. The loud laughter was clear, even through the closed window.

“I’m not going to ask you to spill your guts right away,” Lisa said directly into his right ear. “But if you’re just here out of obligation, you should leave. Sooner rather than later.” She pushed herself away from her spot to head to the dining room. 

That heaviness inside his chest still lingered. Kiryak doubted that the feeling would ever go away. Fortunato, towards the end of their time together, had been very much like a son to him. Did he have what it took to watch over another boy, to care and protect and teach him, and to potentially be separated from him at some point in the future…?

Outside, Amou had gotten back up and was searching around the yard. He perked up when he noticed the window and gave a large, two armed wave to Kiryak. Slowly, he raised a hand in return. The boy’s grin overtook his whole face and he shouted something before he ran off.

Indeed, Vic and Gibby were also whispering to each other in the not-actually-quiet way that young children have. From the gestures that he could see out of the corner of his eye, they were play-acting as warriors of some sort. They even had their wooden practice weapons in hand. Bodyguards for him, perhaps? It was hard to determine without actually paying attention to what they were saying.

“Shall I perform the part of the bad guy?” The scar on Historé’s face wrinkled under the older man’s amused smirk. 

“If you’d like.” Telan waved him away. “Not like I’m going anywhere with all of this paperwork waiting for me.” If anyone had told him that owning land and making sure his section of the world ran smoothly involved so much paperwork…

Well, he still would have used the money he’d made in his dual career of Wandering Knight and Author to buy up the land. In hindsight he probably could have hired someone else to look after things, but he was well aware of how that tended to work out. So. It was up to him to watch over and protect everyone. Even if it didn’t involve a sword and shield these days.

Telan’s musing was interrupted by the shrieks of his children. He very casually turned around and raised an eyebrow at the scene. Historé was making growling noises while Vic and Gibby valiantly raised their wooden weapons against him. While he was not only in armor but also much older than the two, the captain of the guard dodged their wild swings fairly easily. With a far deeper voice than his already low one, he declared, “You’re going to have to do better than that if you wish to save Lord Bedevere!”

“Go away! Shoo!” Gibby brandished his practice sword as if to keep Historé away. He then kept it up in a defensive position.

Vic piped up with, “We’ll keep dad safe from the monster papers! We’ve gotta!” She swung her wooden axe down at the captain’s feet, just barely missing him. 

Both men paused at that. Telan could see his captain mouthing the words “monster papers” to himself before he shook off the shock and got back into character. “Indeed! I will bury your father so deep in papers, you’ll never see him again!”

“NOOOO!” Both children cried at the same time before attacking as one. With both children working together, it was much harder for Historé to avoid being hit. Eventually one of them (it was difficult to tell who, what with the giddy laughter that Telan suddenly had to fight back) hit the man’s armor with a small clang, followed by a much louder one. 

True to the nature of play, the captain gave a strangled noise as he “fell” to one knee. “You...have beaten me…” Before either of them could celebrate, he continued. “But...my death...only gives way to...a greater threat.”

The children eyed each other warily. Vic was the one who responded to him. “What threat?”

Historé gave a wide grin and reached forward. “The tickle monster, of course!” With the accuracy of long practice (and gloves with the fingers cut off) the captain started tickling Gibby and Vic under their armpits. Even louder screaming ensued as the two laughed and tried to get away.

“Dad, help!” Gibby had fallen over, laughing helplessly from the tickling. 

“He’s got us!” Tears were starting to run down Vic’s face from her own giggling.

With a smile, Telan got up from his chair and scooped up the squirming children in his arms. “Never fear, Lord Dad’s here!” 

“You were muttering in your sleep. I couldn’t concentrate on my notes because of it.” Roven explained.

Gwion suspected that he was only telling half the truth, but he was too awake to try to turn over and try again at slumber. Still, he didn’t hide his eye roll. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to disturb your *ever so important* writing. I’ll try to keep my unconscious ramblings to myself in the future.” His voice dripped of sarcasm.

“So we have an accord.” The other man nodded before going back to his writing. Gwion *could* have pointed out that the entire idea of keeping watch was to pay attention to their *surroundings*, but on top of his own wards were finely crafted ones that had Roven’s magical signature all over them. Even if something *were* to try to disturb them, one of the two mages would take care of it in a heartbeat.

For a while, the only sounds that were made in the campsite were from the fire. Gwion tossed another log in and watched the shapes the flames made as it started to consume the fresh wood. Images from the dreams he’d had that night played out in miniature among the embers. 

It wasn’t until Roven coughed that Gwion realized that he had been far too drawn into his own mind. His hands ached and he released his elbows from them. He stretched and curled them over and over until the pain settled down. “*Dare* I ask what’s consuming your thoughts?” The other man’s green eyes glittered oddly in the fire’s light. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight.”

“Most people, myself included, tend to be *asleep* at this hour.” It was a legitimate excuse, for sure, but from the narrowing of Roven’s eyes he could see that his own bullshit wasn’t going to be enough to waylay the man. Gwion tried a different tactic. “I may not know you all that well *personally*, but those of us who sleep on a more regular basis have these unconscious hallucinations called *dreams*.” He wiggled his fingers to emphasise the word. “And the one I woke up from required further examination.”

For a moment, it seemed like this was sufficient. They both went back to being quiet for long enough that he felt safe in returning to his own thoughts.

“So I *shouldn’t* ask about why you were muttering about *giants* in your sleep?” The words cut ribbons through his cool and collected exterior. He normally had a better poker face, but in the face of this verbal attack Gwion couldn’t help but grimace. “I’ve remembered where I heard the name Gwion before.” Roven leaned forward, letting the fire give him an infernal appearance. “The stories of Gwion Giantkiller are juvenile, but old enough to provide an interesting insight into this world’s history. That the hero of such stories is still *alive*, so long after they were first told…”

“If you’re looking for immortality, only the gods have that.” He barked back. Folding his arms again, he looked away from the glittering green stare. “What *I* have is a cursed existence.”

“Many would say that having such a long life is a blessing.”

“Those fools don’t know the cost of living far past when one should have died.”

Roven gave another narrow-eyed stare. “Other fools would use their extended time to perform unnecessary heroics.”

“Saving people is *always* necessary.”

“Yes, because interfering in the affairs of a few people at a time does *so* much in the long term. If your goal is truly to help others and not just to provide yourself suicide opportunities, there are much better options available to you.”

Gwion finally faced the other man. “Oh really? And what, pray tell, are you proposing?”

Here Roven stood, finally having the opportunity to tower over Gwion for once. “Join me in my research of this world. You’ve had a century to travel the whole of Carégarn, surely spending a few more years travelling it again to crack open its secrets isn’t too much to ask.” Those glittering green eyes seemed dark against the fire that reflected from them. “And once all is said and done, I will ensure that you reach the end you’re looking for.”

The two stared each other in the eye for a long while. Then, slowly, Gwion stood up. He didn’t break his gaze as he spoke. “Swear on what’s most important to you if you mean what you say. I’ll not agree to anything otherwise.”

Without hesitation, Roven stated, “I swear on my life.”

After another moment of hesitation, he held his hand across the fire. “Then I agree. I’ll stay with you until either your life ends or you end mine.”

The smooth skin of Roven’s hand wasn’t a surprise, but the strength of his handshake was. “So it shall be,” He responded with a mad grin. There was finality in that statement, but it was too late.

It was when the door to one of the classrooms opened and a skeleton flung itself through the opening that any of them had a reaction. Cat screamed and punched in its direction. Nick and Hancock pulled out their guns and took aim within a couple of seconds. When no noises other than the creaking of a fraying rope happened, all three of them realized what was going on. 

Hancock let out a relieved chuckle as he holstered his gun. “Some asshole must’ve set this up.” He commented while poking the bones. On closer inspection, it was clear that the skeleton was fake. While it was held together with some sort of metal, the smaller, more delicate, bones of the hands and feet all molded to one shape each. Not to mention that the skull was the flat texture of slightly melted plastic, with no accurate holes in it whatsoever. Even the eye sockets were just painted on.

“A *recent* asshole,” Nick had dodged the swinging skeleton to stare up where it had been attached to the ceiling. “Unless that rope happens to be 200 years old and we got pranked by a smartass pre-war kid.”

“Geez, what kinda person would *do* that.” Cat muttered, giving the plastic prank a dirty look. “I didn’t hear any laughing, so they just set it up to scare *whatever* came by next. How stupid.” She hit the skeleton again, then jumped back as the rope finally snapped from the use of force. After a moment, Cat raised her arms and let out a whoop.

“Congrats, you beat up a skeleton.” Nick rolled his eyes as he moved on to inspect the rest of the room. “If we’re lucky, there’ll be a radroach for you to squish.”

“Nah, radroaches are child’s play,” Hancock grinned as he sauntered to the opposite side of the room. “After *that* punch, she’s ready for Deathclaws.” 

She sniffed and folded her arms. “You two just don’t *appreciate* my raw strength.” Cat flexed her skinny arm. A very minor bulge of muscle could be seen through the sleeve of her jacket. Hancock snorted from his side of the room.

“‘Raw strength,’” Nick repeated flatly. He overturned a drawer onto the desk it was attached to while giving the teen a side-eye. “This coming from the girl who tried and failed to open that jar of pickles we found last week.”

Cat flinched, then continued to showcase her lack of muscle. “I have to keep it under wraps! If I unleash my full power, both of you would be blown apart in the backlash!” She dramatically indicated the plastic skeleton on the floor. “All that would be left of you two would be bones and I’d be very upset by it.”

“Don’t think you need to worry about *Nick* leaving bones behind.” Hancock rasped through his laughter. 

“Nick kinda has bones! His pointier hand kinda looks like hand bones, right?” 

“Point made.”

The synth ignored those two in favor of continuing the search for remotely useful things. All of the talk of bones had dug up a tune from the depths of his memory. Music, but no words. Instead of being frustrated, he hummed a few bars to himself. Maybe that would trigger his memory of the lyrics.

“What’s that song?” Cat, finally deciding to join her companions in the search, tilted her head at Nick.

“Some old song I got reminded of. Can’t for the life of me remember how the words go.”

“The tune sounds familiar…” Hancock scratched at his leather-like face and hummed it to himself too. After a moment, he started muttering, “The foot bone’s connected to the leg bone...The leg bone’s connected to the knee bone…” Since the ghoul had almost no skill in singing, he just spoke the words in the approximate rhythm of the tune.

Snapping the fingers of “normal” hand to the beat, Nick finished, “The knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone, doing the skeleton dance.” He was only slightly better at singing.

Hancock grinned and kept providing words to the nonsense song. Cat’s eyebrows were rising higher and higher on her forehead as it went on. Once the two seemed to have run out of lyrics, she butted in with a very important question. “What about the other bones?? There’s *way* more of them and the song doesn’t even go into arm stuff!” She balanced on one foot to lift her other one up for emphasis. “Also I’m pretty fucking sure that there’s more than just one bone in the foot!”

Nick and Hancock only had to look at each other for a moment before devolving into chuckles together.

She didn’t even know why she agreed to this again. (Golden apples are still golden apples, even if you’re getting them from a specialty store! Who cares if they’re more potent fresh!) Well, okay, Shiloh knew exactly why she was going out of her way to get spell ingredients. Bel had asked her, and she was always so nice and pointed out the cool things that popped up in her family’s store and was also just the COOLEST.

Anyway, the worst part of the ordeal was getting the golden apples. So. Shiloh was trying a workaround to not have to go through that. Hence how she found herself in this position of standing on her tiptoes while on the shoulders of her golem Elliot. Next to an anti-magic wall that kept Elliot at his standard walking-around-outside height of 5’7” instead of letting him be taller temporarily. Combined with her 5’3 self, they had almost 11 feet to scale together. And a wall that was just over that height.

One of the branches of the tree was hanging right over the edge. The apples themselves were right there all Shiloh needed to do was just...get...closer...

“No, seriously, I don’t think that’s such a good plan.” The speaker hadn’t left even after being shooed away. Shiloh made a quick prayer that whoever it was didn’t work for the Extranatural Parks Service. “You’re gonna fall if you keep that up.”

“I’m…fine...” Shiloh insisted through gritted teeth. She was going to have to gain some height nonmagically somehow. That was the only way she was going to be able to reach. Looking down at Elliot’s face, she offered an apologetic smile as she lowered her voice to speak to him. “Sorry El, your head might get a little squished. Your face should be fine, but I’ll reshape things after we get back home. You’ll catch me if I fall, right?”

Elliot’s mouth opened the slightest amount. Otherwise, his face held no expression. “This is ill advised.” 

“I know it is, but we promised and I really don’t want to deal with Spot. I know you don’t want to, either. So what’s it gonna be?” She didn’t bother putting any magic behind her words. Not that Shiloh could order him to do something while they were so close to the anti-magic wall.

He hesitated.

And while he hesitated, someone vaulted up his back, used Shiloh’s shoulders to help with their momentum, and leapt up into the air. There was a flash of light, and the branch that had been hanging over the wall started falling to the ground at the same time that the figure did. Shiloh gave a cry, reaching out to grab the magical fruit but was just too slow. Thankfully Elliot had the same idea, for the branch landed safely in a large misshapen hand. The other one had held onto his master even more tightly, though not enough to hurt. 

The figure landed in a crouch, a silver sword by their side. Shiloh could see a zigzag pattern in the metal from her position up high. With a swift motion, they rose and sheathed the weapon in what looked a hell of a lot like an umbrella. “Sorry about that, I just thought it was better to help than to risk you falling.” The person scratched at the back of their head as they turned around. “I hope I’m not being rude, but it looked like your balance was a little off.” 

Shiloh carefully climbed down from Elliot’s shoulders, making sure that her feet were on the ground before she addressed the person (Savior? Knight? Random Good Samaritan?) directly. They were about as tall as Elliot’s default, with a muscular build that could be seen thanks to their outfit choice of tight jeans and a long sleeved shirt (it had the words Knights of the Bench Press printed on it). Whatever hairstyle they had before, their dark hair had been severely messed up thanks to the leap into the air and potential flips they had to do to make sure they landed on their feet. Their eyes were a gorgeous sky blue.

It was at that point she realized that she was being rude and not responding so Shiloh cleared her throat to answer. “I mean, I still had it but thanks for the help anyway.” She held out her hand to them. “I’m Shiloh. She/her.”

“Charin. And same.” Charin looked all the way up at Elliot’s face. “Uh…and this one is…?”

“OH! Right. This is Elliot.” Shiloh patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry if he doesn’t answer you, he generally doesn’t. He’s a golem, after all.” 

There was some expression that flashed on Charin’s face that left before Shiloh could examine it further. “Huh. Don’t see those every day. How come he didn’t deactivate while he was near the wall?”

At least this lady was asking about golems and not about why Shiloh needed golden apples in the first place. “There’s a lot of layers to how golems are made. I can’t talk about all of them, but let’s just say that the most important layer is very very protected. All the other stuff towards the surface…? Not so much. Though those come back very soon after we’re away.”

“How interesting.” Charin put a hand to her chin. “Do any of the layers need golden apples to work, or…?”

Well so much for that. “That’s uh, totally unrelated.” Shiloh smiled sheepishly. “Speaking of which, I need to deliver these ASAP. You can come with if you’d like, the shop’s not that far.”

The other woman went quiet for a moment, staring into space. Then she nodded and put the umbrella into a more secure position under her armpit. “Sure, why not. I don’t have anything better to do today.”

“Could you stop that?” Her words came out as a growl, for all that she intended on sounding calm and collected.

“Stop what?” He asked with that fake innocent tone. It made his accent sound a dumb kind of babyish. “I’m just sitting here watching my dear partner have a mental breakdown over giving gifts to her girlfriend, that’s all.” 

The gifts in question were arranged on Barb’s desk. There was a vase full of flowers (a mix of roses, mums and lilies), seated far enough away from the secretary’s computer and keyboard that even accidentally knocking it over wouldn’t cause any problems. Propped up on the monitor was a rectangular box of chocolates wrapped in shiny paper. In front of that was a jewelry box that held a necklace with a heart shaped charm. And on top of that was a folded over card with Barb’s full name written in cursive. Even from her desk, Sefané could see her tiny, cramped handwriting that had filled the inside of the previously blank stationary. 

She may have gone a little overboard. Not that she’d ever admit that to Amou. “Oh like you wouldn’t go even more all out on your girlfriend for your first anniversary.” Sef’s grin back at him was more predatory than shit-eating. “Oh wait, you don’t have one.”

“Oooh, shots fired!” Called Kayden from the peanut gallery, aka her brother’s desk. 

Amou threw an eraser at her. The teen dodged it with a chuckle. “What are you even doing here so early?!” He called out to her. “I get why Hopeless Romantic here got to the station at the asscrack of dawn, but you don’t even have anything important to do!”

Kay rolled her eyes. “There was a robbery that got taken care of while Sean was in our neighborhood and I was already awake when he called and asked if I wanted a ride to work. So! I get to watch the fireworks before I even get to clock in!”

“I’m pretty sure child labor laws would have something to say about that.” Sef grumbled. 

“Child labor laws don’t apply to people over eighteen.” The teen stuck her tongue out. 

“I dunno, you’re still acting like a child.”

“You’re all acting like children.” The harsh, no-nonsense voice of Frederick Polinski called from his office door. He leaned against the doorframe, cell phone held to his ear in one hand. The speaker end was directed away from his mouth. “Barb’s gonna get here when she gets here. While you’re all gabbing, you could be doing some work.”

Raising a hand, Kay responded. “I’m not clocked in yet.”

“Yeah but the two so-called “adults” are.”

“You’re no fun.” Amou pouted at Fred. 

“It’s not my job to be fun.”

“It could be, though!”

“You’re lucky I’m on hold or you’d be--” Fred held up a finger from his unoccupied hand. “Yes, this is him. Yeah, I was calling because--” He walked right back into the office and shut the door behind him.

There was a beat between the three of them. Sefané took the opportunity to relax by taking in the rumble of Fred’s voice through the door. It was comforting, even when she couldn’t pick out what he was actually saying.

“Wow, I must have missed something.” A voice came from behind her that instantly put her on edge. She slowly turned in her seat until she faced Barbara Pryce, her girlfriend. She had on that smile that meant she was confused but trying not to make it obvious. “You’re all quiet. And here early. What’s up?”

Sef realized her throat was too dry to speak at that very moment. Amou leaned against his desk with his shit-eating grin plastered on his face again. “Oh, nothing. Just felt like being early, that’s all.”

Barb rolled her eyes and went to her desk. “The day you’re here early on your own volition is the day the world ends.” She was just about to plop her purse on the surface when she spotted the gifts. Her brow furrowed. “What the…?”

“Go on, open them up! Someone’s been dying about it all morning.” 

With a glare in her partner’s direction, Sefané cleared her throat. “H-happy anniversary, babe.” The grin she had was forced and awkward.

There was a moment of silence. “...Holy shit you’re right.” Anyone who didn’t know her any better couldn’t see it, but Barb was definitely blushing. “I almost forgot, I’m so sorry--”

“No, that’s okay! I thought you’d be too busy to remember so I just got you gifts! I hope you like them.”

“You didn’t have to--”

“Yes I did!”

“No you didn’t! I don’t even have anything yet!”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“Well now I do!!”

While they were distracted by mutual babbling, Kay moved next to Amou to talk to him quietly. “So, is this normal for couples who have been together for only a year, or is this just a them thing?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Not everyone overcompensates in one direction and undercompensates in the other one. They’re unique that way.”

“Okay cool.”

“That being said, I wouldn’t go looking in office closets today, just in case.”

“Why--Oh. Oh, ew! EW! AMOU!”

“Definitely a child.” He mused with a grin. 

One day, when his parents had both gone out to run an errand, Gibby managed to open up a cabinet enough to slip inside and hide among the pots and pans. He took a brief nap and woke up when he heard the front door open and close. Jules’ voice sounded muffled from his spot. “Gibby! We’re home!” 

His first instinct was to jump out and greet them like usual, but he suppressed it in order to wait. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to show up, it took more concentration to hear Tel’s deep rumble say, “Looks like he’s taking a nap. Probably best to keep him sleeping.”

“But...what if he’s done something he knows is wrong and he’s hiding so that he doesn’t get punished?” Gibby huffed a hot breath of air. Getting accused before the two had even noticed anything annoyed him. Even if he was at fault.

“Then we’ll find out about it later.” Tel’s voice got louder as he entered the kitchen. “We need the time to prepare, anyway.”

The two were making thumping noises on the countertops and kitchen table. That and the smell of different kinds of foods combined made it seem like Jules and Tel had left only to get food. “Yeah, I know...he’s been so insistent on seeing what we’re doing. One of these days I feel like he’s gonna fall out of the air vent or something.” 

Shoot! He should’ve thought of that!

“You’ve been watching too many spy movies. We’d hear his scales scraping the inside of the vent long before we saw him.”

Well so much for that idea. There were more thumps and Gibby held perfectly still as footsteps got too close to his hiding place. He let out a breath when neither of his parents had knelt to retrieve a pot or pan.

“But it’s his birthday coming up. I don’t want him to feel like we’re ignoring him in the days leading up to it.” While her voice was still muffled due to his position, it was further quieted by Jules biting her lip. Gibby didn’t need to see her to realize that’s what she was doing. He had other things to think about, though. He’d seen enough TV to know what a birthday was. He was almost a year old? He hadn’t even realized.

“Jules, Gibby’s a smart dragon.” He felt his chest puff out with pride as Tel said the words. “If he hasn’t figured out a way to find out what we’re doing, he’ll realize that we’re hiding something to surprise him more than anything. We don’t hide anything else, after all.” Now he felt all of his proud hot air leave him. He tried to curl in on himself without making any noise.

Of course, that was when the door to his hiding place just had to open. His bright yellow eyes stared right into his dad’s warm brown ones. They held eye contact for a solid moment. 

“Something wrong, Tel?” Gibby could only just see her from around the man’s much larger form. 

Slowly, without breaking the stare, Tel picked up a large pot and took it out of the cabinet. Then he shut the doors tightly afterwards. “I think I’m gonna have to set out traps again. I thought I saw a huge bug in there.”

Immediately, Jules started screeching about the house and how bug-prone it was. Gibby couldn’t help but snort his laughter while he couldn’t be easily heard. 

He could sense the watchful eyes of Caleb and Jerran boring holes into the back of his head as he attempted to type out his intended lesson plan for when university classes would resume. Very recent experience had taught him that merely ignoring the boys would have the same result as indulging in their antics. Still, Robert pretended not to notice them until they had taken places on each side of him. The grey eyes of his 12-year-old brother and the blue eyes of his 10-year-old nephew went wide with identical pleading expressions. He sighed through his nose, already giving up on having a productive day. The tone of his voice was flat as he said, “You have my attention. What is it, you two?”

“Brother, can you play with us?” Caleb started to pout, predicting Robert’s typical answer. There was a reason why their sister was his primary caregiver.

“Yeah, Uncle Robert, can you play with us?” Jerran, less used to his uncle’s behavior, smiled sweetly as he begged.

Robert called up a new tab on his browser and searched for the local weather. Once the page loaded, he pointed at the screen as if the boys couldn’t see it for themselves. “It’s already in the negatives out there, I can’t think of any game that would be worth the potential frostbite.”

Rolling his eyes, Caleb responded, “We didn’t ask for you to play with us outside, we just asked for you to play with us.”

“I’ll concede to that particular point, but I still wish to know what it is that the two of you want me to join you in playing before I agree to anything.” 

Caleb opened his mouth, then closed it with a frown. He was deep in thought when Jerran piped up, “Hide and seek, duh!”

Resisting the urge to mention that the younger boy’s suggestion was not the most obvious choice, Robert asked, “And I take it I would be “it” first?”

The boys looked at each other before turning back to him with faux-innocent expressions. “Well...we were *hoping* you would be…” Caleb gave a sheepish grin.

That left him with two options with similar unfavorable results. Either he declined and the boys bothered him until either his sister or her husband could distract them away or he agreed and got caught up in the children’s game for far too long. After a moment or two of deliberating (and realizing that he’d lose approximately the same amount of time working for both options), he sighed and covered his eyes. “I will count to 50. Neither of you can hide outside or in the bedrooms. Starting now.” Robert heard the boys scramble away as he started to count.

“That was nice of you,” Matilda commented. He took his hands away from his eyes to find that she had been standing just out of sight until that moment. “Usually you wait until the begging stage to give in and play. What gives?” 

Without looking, Robert carefully moved a hand so that it was pointing in the direction of the bedrooms upstairs without anyone being able to see him doing so from behind. “In the past four games of hide and seek, one or both of them have hidden behind a set of curtains in one of the bedrooms. I’m attempting to teach them how to be more creative.”

“Ohh, I see.” She grinned at him. “You’re actually giving yourself time to work some more while they find places to hide.”

Swinging open the door revealed none other than his best friend, Ryvren Browman, who gave a yelp and stepped back even though the angle went inside instead of out. Rennis felt a pang of regret, but he was too tired to make a face about it. "Oh uh, hey Ren. I was..." The human's eyes darted down to the pinned up sleeve of where his left arm used to be before going back up to meet his eyes. "...in the area. Figured I'd visit. Sorry to bother you, but do you think you can pause what you're doing and talk?"

Clearly he was here for more than just a visit. Everyone who had come by to see Ren lately had been there to either offer condolences or show some level of pity. Useless words and empty gestures, for the most part. He needed to be useful again, not talked to like a fucking child.

Ryv though...sure he was awkward about the situation but he still talked to Ren as if things were some level of normal. And not like the goblin was all of a sudden made of glass or even cursed after nearly dying to Giotto. All things considered, the relationship between the two of them could be miles worse than it actually was. With a deep sigh, he turned away but left the door open wide enough for Ryvren to come inside. “Sure. Since yer here an’ all,” he answered. 

The workshop was more or less the same level of apparent disorganization that it always was. Parts were scattered around in a manner that usually made sense to Rennis, though right now there was even less care to where his tools and such were being placed. Some metal plates surrounded by tangles of wires took center stage on the biggest of his work benches. A few of the plates seemed to be connected by a series of uneven and misaligned rivets. Ink and oil stained papers were held down by the more twisted or broken pieces. As if to add the cherry on top of this disaster sundae, the cot that had been set up to remind Ren to sleep occasionally was covered in dust.

He sat himself back on the stool he was on before there had been a knock on his door and lifted his arm up and wide to take in the workshop. “Well, let’s hear it. Some new threat comin’ up an’ yer gonna go fight it?”

Instead of finding a place in all the mess to sit, Ryvren continued to stand. “Uh, not this time at least. I’m more here for...this whole thing here.” He gestured vaguely in Ren’s direction.

Immediately, the goblin gripped at the table. He didn’t feel as secure as he really wanted to be. “What d’ya mean.” 

“Look, I don’t want to be the one to do this but you’re also shutting everyone else out so it’s gotta be me.” Without warning, Ryv picked up his best friend and walked him over to the cot. 

“TH’ FUCK’RE YOU DOIN’, PUT ME DOWN!” 

“Okay.” As ordered, Ryvren dropped Ren onto the cover. Dust rose up in a cloud around the both of them, and the goblin was too busy coughing to try to stop the human from wrapping him up in a warm, clean blanket. “You haven’t slept in like four days. If you had a project I could deal with that, but you don’t because you don’t have an arm so drastic times call for drastic measures. You can’t keep this up without hurting yourself.”

“Gonna fuckin’--Bailey put you up ta this didn’t she? She told ya I was weak an’ made you come over here.” Rennis tried to unravel himself from his soft trap.

“She did talk to me,” Ryvren admitted. He was actively putting the blanket back onto his best friend before he could fully escape. “But I was the one who decided to come over here. No one had to convince me of anything because I knew you were pushing yourself too hard.” After about the fourth time of Ren almost fully escaping the blanket, the human sighed and pulled him into a bear hug. “You’re having nightmares, aren’t you?”

Rennis froze in place before getting back to struggling. “Why should I tell you? You’re doin’ just like all th’ others are! You think I’m weak!” 

“Even Hass? Really?” Ryv’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

That got Ren to calm down, a little. “Well...no…”

“Or Bailey? Or Vel? Or Wen? Would any of them really kick you while you’re this down?”

“N-no, but…”

“Look, you’re exhausted and you’re getting paranoid because of it. Get some shut eye so that you can actually think about what you need to do.” 

Ren was quiet for a long moment. “...what’m I gonna do about th’ nightmares, tho?”

“I’m gonna beat them up for you.” Ryvren said matter-of-factly.

That was the funniest shit Ren had ever heard of. He couldn’t help the snort that came from him. “All th’ nightmares.” 

“Yeah, duh.”

“An’ how’re ya gonna do that?” 

Ryv had an immediate answer. “You just let me worry about that. You worry about actually sleeping.”

The most annoying part of that statement was that Rennis was already nodding off. The combination of the blanket and the familiarity of Ryvren’s voice was comforting enough that his eyes were having a hard time staying open. “Can’t...always be here ta beat’m up all th’ time. Ya got more important shit ta do.”

“Well you can’t always stay awake all night trying to avoid them. Plus…” Here, Ryv patted Ren on the top of his head. “There’s nothing more important than being here for my best friend. So that’s what I’m gonna do.”

The last thing Rennis thought of before drifting off into unconsciousness was that once he found a way to get a new arm, he was going to do something to pay back the kindness he was being shown.

She looked around the kitchen, taking in the paper and plastic bags strewn about the counters and dining table. Fruits of various shapes and sizes could be seen from where they were stored. A few of the rounder varieties had even fallen to the floor. Darsus, having the guiltiest expression that she’d ever seen on him, was crouched in front of the fridge. He was frozen in place from his desperate attempt to stuff some of the more perishable berries into the already full appliance. All around his hooves were the splattered remains of the fruit that hadn’t made it. 

When her eyes settled on him, he attempted to smile. It made him look like he was in the process of swallowing nails. “H-hey...Lara…” Darsus cleared his throat and tried to close the door of the fridge. Juice started to drip onto the floor, joining the pulp that was already there. “I was just…um. Doing...things...” His voice trailed off as his singular red eye avoided her gaze. 

Lara closed her eyes,  took a breath, then held it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out. She repeated this process a few times while she thought. Oh she was definitely upset. Even a little angry. The kitchen was shared by the both of them, but it was primarily her space and Darsus had created an absolute disaster inside of it. However. She also knew that there must be some sort of explanation for it. Some reason why her boyfriend felt it was necessary to bring home a huge supply of fruit.

At the very least she hoped there was one, otherwise Lara might actually have to give him the cold shoulder for a little while.

“I just…want to know why.” Her eyes opened to watch Darsus’ reaction. “Just...why.”

“W-well…” He carefully stood up from his crouch. The refrigerator door still hadn’t been closed all the way, so he kept a three-fingered hand against it. Probably to keep it from swinging open. Dar gestured with his other one, pointing at a half-made pyramid of oranges. “I went to get stuff from the market that we needed, but I was hungry so I picked those up.” His finger moved to several large watermelons that had made their home on the floor. “Then a merchant shouted about a two-for-one sale on those and so I got those too, plus some apples and those round tan things that are orange inside.” 

It took Lara a moment to realize what he meant. “Cantaloupe?” She guessed.

“Yeah, that. But then another one asked if I’d tried honeydew before and I hadn’t so he gave me a deal on those.” He indicated the other set of round fruits that had green rinds this time. 

She could see where this was going, but she still nodded and responded. “Right…”

Darsus hesitated, then gestured at the fridge. “And while I was carrying the stuff back, there was this one lady who hadn’t sold anything all day and I felt bad so I bought up some of all of her berries. And uh.” He tried a smile again and this time managed to land a sheepish expression instead of looking sick to his stomach. “F-forgot. To uh. See if we had room for any of them.” He waited for a beat before he continued, “I’m sorry. I’ll help clean up.”

She took another couple of measured breaths. Dar looked about ready to fully retreat into his hood. Making sure her tone was even and stern, she said, “I think we’ve talked about how you really shouldn’t go to the market hungry, Dar.”

The gulp he made was very audible. “Y-yeah. We did. I uh, forgot. I’m sorry.”

With a deep sigh through her nose, Lara turned away from him. She sensed more than saw him flinch, and she spoke up before he could worry too much. “I’m just going to put on something I won’t mind getting juice stains all over.”

“Really?” His voice nearly squeaked with his palpable relief.

“Yes, really.” She turned her head to cast a squinty-eyed frown at him. “I’m not happy that you made a huge mess of my kitchen,” Dar’s shoulders, which had relaxed a little, shot back up to where his ears would be if he were human. “BUT...you promised to help me clean up and I know you meant it so I’m less mad than I could be. I accept your apology.” 

The tension in his body left all at once. “Okay...okay. I get that. Yeah.” This time, Darsus’ smile was genuine. “Thank you.”

Lara felt a flutter of affection stir in her chest before she turned away to head to the bedroom. “You don’t need to thank me every time I accept your apology! It’s implied!”

She just barely caught the words he mumbled to himself as she went to change. “But I do, though. You forgive me for my faults so easily.”

With no way to know how to react to that statement, Lara acted like she hadn’t heard him as she walked away. Still, warm affection mixed with concern while she rummaged through her clothes. How can I prove that I love him for the whole package and not just for his good side? She thought as she examined a paint-stained t-shirt. Sure it can get annoying to try to deal with how distracted he can get, but he always means well. There must be something I can do…

The answer came to her as she pulled out a bakery themed skirt from the bottom of one of her drawers. It had seen better days, with the hem being worn out and the body having a couple of holes, but the pattern was still very clear. It was a pattern of static images of a shop front with baked goods followed by various other dishes that looked yummy despite the pattern clearly having come from a drawing. Lara stared at the fruit tarts in particular as a smile spread across her face.

Absently, he ran a hand through his hair and was once again surprised when his fingers found air after only a moment. Cutting his blonde locks hadn’t been necessary, or so he was assured by his brother and cousin, but Cevo had wanted to be sure that his desires would be taken seriously. Whether or not he’d be accepted as a Queensman. Non-islander boys tended to keep their hair short. So, he’d look a little like them until he felt it was safe to grow his hair out again. Whenever that would be.

He’d just have to get used to the odd feeling of the wind on the back of his neck more often. That’s all. He could do that.

“Feelin’ homesick already, boy?” A voice called from just behind him. He started and whipped around to face the speaker in a panic. His reaction brought a hearty chuckle to the crew member that Cevo identified as Jolly. They were a stout, sturdy foreigner with a wild set of black curls and a wide mouth that was often in a gap-toothed smile. The sleeves of their blue-and-orange striped shirt and the legs of their patchwork trousers were rolled up and tied in place, revealing the uneven tan on their naturally pale skin. 

More importantly, the showing of their skin revealed the location of the prominent tattoo on their left forearm. His eyes locked onto the symbol, following the braided rope with passing glances at the flowers surrounding all sides but the top of the crown in the center. An urge to touch it filled him, and it took everything Cevo had to turn his gaze back to Jolly’s face and reply. “I’m not quite so lily-livered as all that.” Feeling a swell of emotion, he turned back towards the horizon. “I’m making sure that this is real. That I’m actually leaving.”

A sudden elbow to his right set of ribs was the only indication that Jolly had moved to join him at the railing. Somehow, Cevo hadn’t been able to hear them walking over. Maybe it was because they weren’t wearing shoes? They did stay up in the Crow’s Nest more often than the rest of the crew, after all. His observations were interrupted again by the crew member talking. “Oh aye, ‘twas a tease. Leavin’ home ain’t easy fer anyone, no matter the whys of it.” Without turning from the ocean themself, they looked at him with a gray eye and a gentle smile. “Time makes it easier t’ sort things out.”

“If you say so.” Cevo’s own eyes were back on the tattoo, now that it was so close to him. “Being a Queensman should help, right?”

Jolly laughed and held their arm towards him. “Touch it if’n ya like. Jus’ don’t go askin’ if it’s real or th’ cap’n might keelhaul ya. Can’t tell ya how many board th’ ship an’ ask stupid questions like if we’re actual Queensmen.” 

“Then those people deserve to be keelhauled. Your sails have the Queen’s symbol as well as your bodies.” He responded as he gently pressed the tips of two of his fingers against the ink. This close, he could observe details such as the braided rope’s fibers and the veins of the flower petals. It shimmered under his touch as if it were made of gold, but all he felt was leathery skin. “Can I ask how long ago you joined? Would that trigger anything?”

They blinked for a moment before chuckling again. “Smart. Not many think t’question what questions to ask b’fore they’re askin’ them. Yes yeh can ask that. Direct, even. ‘Twil be eight years next month.”

Eight years...that was more than half of his life that this person had been out at sea in the Queen’s name. Cevo felt both wonder and envy at once. “You look good for it, Jolly” came out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Hah! And here I’d thought I’d gone crusty with age.” They reached over with their other hand and mussed with his hair. “Always knew you were a good kid.”

Ignoring the odd feeling of having shorter hair for others to ruin, some things were starting to piece together in his mind. The quiet way that Jolly moved. The laughter at practically everything he said. The fact that Jolly should have been up in the crow’s nest to look out for newly arisen islands…

Jolly also had gray eyes. He knew this. The person with their hand on his head sported only one gray eye. The other was a deep, dark green. 

“You’re...not Jolly.” It was almost as if his words were weighed down by lead as realization overtook him.

Magic was abundant in Carégarn, but only one set of stories involved someone with unnaturally mismatched eyes.

The voice that now came out of the imposter held a higher pitch and a quick pace. “An appropriate name, all things considered, but it’s true that your crewmate and I, alas, do not share it.” They grinned. “You’re allowed to take a guess at my true one, though I can see you already know it.”

“Kitchren,” Cevo spoke in a whisper that somehow could be heard over the waves.

The person’s smile widened impossibly further than Jolly’s ever did and they winked their gray eye at him. Before him, the familiar round shape of the Spotter’s body lengthened into a tall, lithe figure. Blonde overtook the black curls until their hair was the color of straw. The clothes didn’t change, only shaped themselves to have a more snug fit. The uneven tan seemed to vanish in favor of a more olive shade. “Smart indeed.” The God/dess of Trickery mused as they leaned into Cevo’s personal space. “I’ve already had my eye on you, but it’s good to know that it’s started to pay off.”

He had no words. He could have blamed it on them cursing him into silence, but it was his own body that betrayed him here. Kitchren tutted as he continued to say nothing, and gently tugged on a lock of his hair. “What a shame. I do so enjoy seeing you with long hair.” 

“What are you doing here?” Again, his mouth moved before he could stop himself. He instantly regretted saying anything. Out of all of the gods, Kitchren’s whims could never be predicted. He could just as easily walk away unharmed as he could leave this interaction only speaking in riddles for the rest of his life.

They paused for a moment. Then, they took their hand away from his hair and gave a wide, unnerving grin. “Coincidentally, I was here to visit the captain. It just so happens that you boarded at just the right time.”

He didn’t want to believe Kitchren. They were known to be the origin of lying. And yet, Cevo could detect no untruth in their words. He wasn’t sure if he could, even if he somehow got to know them for years. “‘Just so happens’ that someone you blessed from a young age found this ship you ‘so happened’ to want to visit.”

They laughed a jolly belly laugh that would have made him want to join if he wasn’t so anxious. “Oh I’m so going to enjoy seeing you act on all of that potential of yours.” Kitchren mussed with his hair one more time. “Dream well, live well, learn as much as you can, and show those who doubt you how wrong they are. Be who you’ve always wished to be, and I will be nearby when you need me.”

Cevo wasn’t sure he really wanted to have the God/dess of Trickery near him at all times. “I-if you say so…”

“It’s about time to wake up. I hope you’ll remember some of this later. Teren says that it’s for the best that dreams such as this one fade, though, so perhaps we’ll have another introduction later.” 

“Wait, what--” Before he could say anything else, a bell appeared in Kitchren’s unoccupied hand. As they rang it, Cevo became more and more aware of netting around him, as well as movement and shouting. 

His eyes opened to the inside of the ship as his shift awoke for duty. He rubbed at his eyes before attempting to safely extract himself from his hammock. There wasn’t any time to muse on dreams and what they meant. Cevonnis Torrent had a long day ahead of him.

Once he’d realized that it was just Squirrel and not anyone else, he relaxed and showed off what he had been messing with. “It’s just a pretty bit of glass I picked up during my last job. Forgot I had it til I searched my pockets.” 

She held out a hand and Chronai gently placed the piece in her palm. It was the size of a couple of almonds, though its shape was hardly symmetrical. It was pockmarked unevenly throughout, but the surface of the glass was smooth to the touch. What really made it special, Squirrel discovered, was what happened when the light touched it. Each side of the piece of glass produced a new color or funny shape to the sunlight from around them. Holding it with just the tips of her fingers, she illuminated different leaves and small creatures with the miniature prism. “It is very pretty! I can see why you picked it up! I would have too, if we had glass here and not just flint. Or water. Oh, or ice sometimes!”

Chronai had been watching her as she happy-chattered on. She could tell from her own peripheral vision. It was just one of those things that he did when he thought she wasn’t noticing. He had one of those rare, small smiles on his face. Before Squirrel could wonder what it was he had been smiling about, he suddenly said, “Well then, you keep it.”

Her teeth made a clicking sound from how fast she shut her mouth. Did he really mean it…? She turned her head to face him directly. “But…Crow, this is yours. I can’t just take it…” 

“You’re having way more fun with the glass than I ever will. Plus, I don’t need to have extra stuff in my pockets so…” He gave a dismissive wave. “Go ahead, keep it.”

For a moment it was like the world around her had frozen. Over the years of their friendship, Chronai had been very gracious in finding things in his travels that Squirrel asked for. She even had the bits and bobs of the world outside of the forest safely secured in her home. This was the first time he’d given her something unprompted. A gesture that would, in other circumstances, would have a very specific meaning. One of wanting to be a mated pair.

Except, there was no way that he was aware of such a meaning. Absolutely none. He was human, for one. He probably meant to let her have it purely because she liked it, that’s all. They were friends and didn’t Crow say that friends gave each other gifts, before? There was no other reason. None.

Squirrel ignored the strange, fluttery feeling in her chest as the world unfroze and she smiled at him. “Well...alright then! Thank you!”

If he noticed that her voice had pitched itself higher than usual, Chronai didn’t say anything.

She kept the bit of glass in a much more hidden space than just with her knicknacks. 

---

Crow’s visits continued to happen about once every couple of months. The amount of unprompted gifts, however, had steadily increased since that first instance.

He called them souvenirs. When asked, he explained that in human culture it was common to purchase or pick up bits of places one travels to. The purpose was to bring them back and admire them as reminders of where you had been. 

She hadn’t really understood (“Is such a ritual part of how humans cast magic? Or are most humans’ memories so unreliable that reminders are a must?” Chronai’s answers only helped her curiosity so much) but Squirrel continued to store the gifts as she received them. It was only when a previously undiscovered rip spilled out the contents of the bag onto the floor that a kernel of understanding bloomed inside her. Each item was a piece of him. A physical representation of a time that he’d thought about her and decided to take that reminder with him.

Even if Chronai was ignorant of Elven customs...in his own way, he was still following them. For her. No one else. Just her.

That realization unleashed a flood of a new feeling through Squirrel’s whole body. Her face grew warm and her chest and stomach fluttered almost unpleasantly. It was almost as if she’d suddenly caught a disease, but as a Scout she was very familiar with certain symptoms and this was not indicative of any that she was aware of. On top of that, there was a desperate desire to see Chronai and…

Well, first find out if it all wasn’t just in her head. There was no way to know for sure if he actually wanted to be with her as a mate or stay as friends or some other odd human thing.

That particular thought cut a sharp sadness through the warm feeling, which helped her focus on the present. Squirrel gathered the little odds and ends together and tightly wrapped the whole of them in a cloth. One piece still managed to squeeze itself out, despite her work. 

It was the little bit of glass. Chronai’s first unprompted gift to her. She bent down and gently cradled it in the palm of her hand. A warm smile started to grow as she allowed that feeling to fill her up again as she thought about how he thought of her. Even if he, somehow, wasn’t aware of the why, he went out of his way to bring them here.