#mirric

i saw the words 'mirror mimic' and blacked out, when i came to this thing was staring back at me

"Don't ships have specific terms for front, back, left, et cetera?"

"Hm?" Alric looked up from reading the ship's schematics. "Yes."

"So why is this 'End One' and 'Side B' instead of port and bow?" 

It was a good question; it took him a few minutes to sort it out but once he'd gotten a handle on the ferry map it was also easily answered: "The boat doesn't turn at any point. So terms relating to directionality won't work. It goes back and forth. The sides are identical. There is no front, no back, so if anyone needs to give internal directions --"

"You're too smart for me," Miranda teased, and boldly kissed him.

Right in public.

***

That might have already made it one of the Best Vacations Ever, but the result when they actually got to their destination was even more impressive. She'd gone all-out for this "anniversary" thing; it wasn't just that they were on an island or that they had a beautiful sea view in a hotel where the air was cool and carried the scent of the sea but wasn't so cold Miranda wasn't uncomfortable -- their rented cottage also came with its own boat.

"I told you it wasn't just the ferry, that there'd be more," she said with a grin, and it was his turn to kiss her, and it was actually a while before they got off the dock and actually onto the day yacht that Miranda had rented.

***

"We could just stay on here all the time."

"It hasn't got beds or anything."

"I can be your bed. You're tiny."

"Shut up. Don't make me Eril you into the water again."

"Always happy to help!" Eril's voice wafted through the air, then fizzled out again. Alric just rolled his eyes, and then picked her up, ignoring the flailing and intentionally muffled scream (on a nearby sailboat, an older-looking couple shook their heads) in order to drop her onto one of the lounge chairs and pin her down. "Don't make me pick you up again and throw you in the water."

"I'd bring you down with me."

"I have no doubt of that," he said, and that's why he didn't do it.

***

Alric fell in love with the boat.

"We have four at home already," Miranda pointed out.

"I got you a dress and a dinner set and about nineteen thousand notebooks and a few elaborate hairpieces and you haven't gotten me anyth--"

"I got you a vacation!"

"There wasn't any marshmallow pie. I'm disappointed." Put upon, fake pout. "Coddle me a little here."

"I have been attached to your side for four days. I even shared the shower with you. Do you not feel coddled enough?" At least she was laughing.

"Never."

They were relaxing in the pool that day, Miranda sitting on the steps with Alric's head in her lap, the rest of him stretched out and floating in the water. She liked to play with his hair, and he (secretly) liked it when she did, so he was perfectly content to let her. They talked a little while she ran her fingers through his hair, but mostly the two of them just enjoyed the quiet and the coolness and the time spent not working for a change.

Miranda was, of course, the one to break the silence again. 

"You know, I'm getting better at this 'relaxing' thing," she said. "I don't like sitting and doing nothing, but this-- isn't so bad."

Alric looked up at her and laughed. "Really, Miranda, thank you. I think my ego was about due for another hit. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"That wasn't what I meant!" she said, flushing a little. "It wasn't. I like being with you."

"I know what you meant," he told her. He closed his eyes and waved his hand. "For the record, I like doing nothing with you, too." And the scalp stroking was nice. Soothing, even.

"Your hair is getting long."

Abrupt change of subject, but-- "I know. Thinking about cutting it soon."

"I sort of like it."

"You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Miranda huffed. "It's not nothing."

"Yes it is."

"Alric."

"Wha?"

"Tell me?"

He sighed, more of a drowsy sigh than one of frustration. "S'really nothing. If you want me to leave it, I'll leave it."

Well, he'd given in easily. "Really?"

"Mmhm. Satisfied?"

"Not really. But I'll take it."

"Mm, good."

"Are you just saying that to please me or do you mean it."

"Both?"

"Well, at least you're honest."

"Mmhm."

Miranda paused for a moment. 

"Alric, are you falling asleep?"

"If you'd stop talking, I might get there."

Well, that did it. But instead of being cross, Miranda took a leaf from his book and allowed herself a small, delightfully evil smile.

"Hey, Alric?"

"Hm."

"Take a deep breath."

"What?"

The surprise visit from Cathal, announcing his sudden engagement, was just that-- sudden, unexpected, and a bit of a nuisance. Not that Alric wasn't happy for his son; on the contrary, he was more than happy to share the moment and express his congratulations. But it was so soon. And Miranda had planned to visit that day-- which, of course, meant that according to Alric's hundred-year-old streak of bad luck, she would choose to show up while Cathal was still there.

Unsurprisingly, that was exactly what happened, a few hours later. Cathal was in the middle of a story when in walked Rector Lyonette, her red curls bouncing as she poked her head in the open door. "Well, hello there stran--" But she stopped short when she saw Cathal; the rest of her appeared in the doorway and her smile became amused. "Oh. Hello again."

"Rector," Cathal replied, inclining his head with a grin. "Hello. Fancy meeting you here."

"I should say the same. Am I interrupting something?" This was addressed to Alric, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

"No, not really," answered the League man, shrugging. "We were just talking. I didn't expect you so soon." Really, damn his luck.

"I moved some things around; thought I would surprise you." She entered the room then, taking the chair Alric offered her. "You two know each other, then?"

Cathal's eyebrows went up at that. He looked at Alric, incredulous. "You mean you haven't told her?"

Alric could have killed him. Miranda just seemed confused.

"Told me what?"

"Well--"

Cathal stood and bowed with a flourish. "I'm Nara's son," he said with a grin.

"I didn't know she had a son," said Miranda. She looked to Alric for confirmation; he just gave a small, tight-lipped nod.

"I'm not surprised he didn't mention it, or that he knew me. It's a bit of a long story; perhaps the Deputy Commander will tell it to you, sometime. Afraid I must be going, though-- paperwork never sleeps. Well-- sometimes ours does. You know what I mean." 

"Afraid I do," Miranda answered, returning his smile. 

"Perhaps we shall have time to talk again in the future," Cathal continued. "If you ever find yourself in the Empire, do look me up. I shall see you later then, Alric?"

The other man gave him a flat look. 'Don't push your luck,' it said. "Suppose I will. Congratulations, again."

"Why, thank you. I'll keep you posted on the goings-on as much as I can. Not that you care so much about the particulars; Mother's all fussed about it, though. Keeps crying and everything-- you didn't hear that from me."

With a small salute, Cathal slipped out the door and closed it behind him. Miranda laughed.

"He is very-- charming, isn't he?" she said. "Congratulations for what?"

"Got engaged," Alric answered, taking a seat on the bed. He looked worn out and slightly pensive. "Ista's heir, actually. Nice girl; he's head-over-heels."

"Well, congratulations indeed," said Miranda, sounding impressed. Then she leaned forward, laying a hand on his knee. "Alric, are you alright? You look upset."

"Oh, just tired," he told her, not bothering with a smile. 

"Mm, no. Something's wrong. I know you well enough to know when you're upset." 

Alric ran his hands across his forehead, trying to massage away the headache he could feel forming beneath his skin. "I didn't want to do this now, but I suppose it's as good a time as any."

"...What is it." Miranda looked a little frightened. He wrapped her hand in his and took a deep breath.

"Look, about Cathal..."

----------

There was nothing about this trip that Alric wasn’t enjoying. That, actually, was not quite true, but at the moment he could not think of a thing. The lake was gorgeous, the weather was perfect (and the Lord of Storms hadn’t had to lift a finger); it was the perfect day. Soaking wet and a little chilled, the Deputy Commander of the League of Stormes flopped onto the towel next to his Spiritualist girlfriend and laughed. She looked at him over the edge of her sunglasses, and it was easy to catch the glint of amusement in her eyes.

  “You’re a little breathless, Alric,” she said. “Are you aren’t cold?”

  “Are you kidding?” he asked, sitting up for a moment to pull his wet shirt over his head. He’d lay it out to dry in a moment, but right now he wanted to feel the sun on his skin. His very pale, sunshine-deprived Imperial skin. “I haven’t felt like this since it snowed.”

  “I don’t know how you stand it,” Miranda said, shuddering. She buried her feet deeper in the sand, as if to protect them from the painfully cold water lapping at the shore several yards away.

  “It’s not that cold.”

  “It is.”  She knew because she had waded out into it after he’d gone splashing through the waves like a four-year-old and had promptly decided that any body of water that made her toes instantaneously ache from cold was far too cold for swimming in. And then he had tried—tried—to pull her in.

  “It’s not.”