Second, AH ok ok ok so jkdfljskfjgdskjljkdjfsafd y'all I feel so giddy and over the moon about this. I never got around to showing it in the original version of Offline Valor (reboot coming Soon dw), but one of the things that's always been a factor since the beginning is that the OV Borrowers have towns and cities in what they call "the Tens." While there are scavengers and those who live in Human ("Titan") cities, I wanted them to have more space to breathe and thrive as their own magical society. And of COURSE Zelly would be so absolutely over the moon getting to explore and find out more about them. And this piece really helps capture her whimsy and awe, but also the fact she is just so big compared to the Borrowers that it's hard not to spook at least one or two of the locals. Especially those who might be afraid of Rowan's reputation. and now he's bringing his Titan girlfriend around? wild times

Food was the priority. Resources would be plentiful out here given the amount of titans; however, he lacked the equipment to properly ration out whatever food he found. He’d probably only waste whatever he’d take.

A part of him wondered if he should find the nearest Borrower town. He knew Clan Moss and Clan Silt had settled somewhere within the Titanlands, and he knew the Chantry of the Unsleeping Night lay within a two days journey–but to get there was treacherous, and Rowan doubted he could do it alone in his current condition. 

Alone.

He set his jaw and studied the backs of his hands–the veins, the bruised knuckles, the faint scars…the memory of his father’s blood.

Rowan was no stranger to death. Mourning was an old friend he’d carried since he was a child. But the gravity of this felt so much deeper. It wasn’t just mourning or loneliness…it was isolation. It felt like someone had taken a knife and carved out every worthwhile thing inside of him, and Rowan could only sit and watch as hope ran free from the yawning hole in his chest. 

It was a helpless, bleeding feeling–his hands could do nothing to stop the flow. 

He looked up and was reminded of the vastness of the space around him. He was in her kitchen, yet Rowan had never felt this way in a kitchen before. There was no quiet charm nor organized cacophony–it was daunting like a cathedral. The chrome cliffs, the porcelain plains, the towering, lacquered mountains…it was hard not to feel utterly alone in a place that was meant for someone so much grander than himself. This was not a place for a Borrower to stay.

He knew he was free to go whenever he wanted, of course. Zelly had made that clear. But his direction was uncertain, and the emotional bloodloss left him numb and faint.

Rowan set his bag to the side and moved to stand–as he did so, his vision darkened and his knees buckled beneath him. He staggered with a grunt, fighting to blink away the dark splotches of color. After a moment of stillness to catch his breath, he carefully moved towards the bright orange basin that Zelly had filled with fresh water. He slowly crouched and splashed some to his face before taking a sip from cupped hands. The calluses were rough against his peeled, sunburned lips. The water was soothing, but it did little to restore his strength. 

As he shook his hands free of droplets, the big, colorful woman slid into view beneath the kitchen’s arched threshold.

Rowan turned to regard Zelly with curiosity. While she had stepped out to give him privacy in his rest, she still occasionally had stuck in her head to quietly check on him. And whether they were of curiosity or concern, her peeks hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

“Food’s here!” she announced as she struck a dramatic pose with a laugh–a leg kicked up behind her. One arm was raised proudly to hold aloft a large paper bag while the other hand was placed securely beneath its bottom–lest the heavy contents ripped free.

Rowan was caught off guard by her enthusiasm. 

“That was…fast.” Rowan blinked. “How did-...?”

The question turned cold on his lips as his curiosity was swallowed up by exhaustion. He didn’t need to know how the food arrived. While he was certain Zelly would tell him how, he doubted he had the energy to wrap his head around the magical logistics. The most important thing he needed to worry about was staying conscious and not imposing upon his titanic hostess.

Perhaps not having heard the question, she dropped her foot back down and crossed the monolithic distance between them with ease. Rowan was still getting used to feeling the presence of a titan moving so close. It was a bit mesmerizing–if not terrifying–to see such a colossal creature move with such casual, immense speed. A single stride could outrun the fastest calvary.

Her excitement mellowed out as she approached the counter and stopped within arm’s reach. Whether conscious of it or not, she’d done so before as well–it put her close, but not in a way that was suffocating. After setting the church-sized paper bag on the plateau off to the side she squatted down, so her face was on-level with the surface of the counter.

“How are you feeling?” She smiled. Her fingers came up so they curled over and rested on the cliff’s edge.

Rowan couldn’t answer that honestly.

“I fare,” Rowan lied as he readjusted his pancho slightly. He made a mental note that he’d need to stitch a new shirt later. Perhaps she had some scraps of cloth he could use? “I appreciate your efforts, Miss Zelly…this is all much more than I could ever ask for.”

Zelly chuckled. “It’s not much, ‘just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’ve treated patients with heat exhaustion and blood loss before, so I know what to look out for. They just weren’t as, um, short as you. So this is a bit new for me too.”

Rowan snorted. Short. That was a rare thing to be called. 

“Well, I find myself in good hands,” Rowan reassured. His voice trailed off as he caught her staring at him, though he couldn’t be certain what those huge brown eyes were studying. Surely she was looking for symptoms, but he couldn’t shake the fact there was a hungry curiosity there.

“So,” Zelly finally broke the silence as she cleared her throat. “That counter probably isn’t all that comfy.”

Rowan furrowed his brow. It had felt fine to him. He had slept on concrete, after all–but even as he opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head.

“Yeah, no, let’s get you moved to somewhere softer so we can eat,” Zelly decided. “Would it be okay if I moved you?”

“Yes, I believe so,” he replied. “But only if that would not be a both-”

“Dude,” she cut him off with a snort and grin. She rolled her eyes and turned one of her hands so it was an extended platform off the edge of the counter. “You weigh like a couple of grapes–it’s not a bother, c’mon.”

While that sort of flippancy might’ve rubbed him the wrong way in the past, now he found it oddly disarming. 

Rowan couldn’t remember what he said while he took the first few steps, but after the third or fourth is when he noticed how much his knees tingled. He took that next step, and one of his knees completely gave out from beneath him.

His foot twisted, his vision darkened as he tumbled forward…

…and right off the side of the counter.

Through the miasma of fainting, he could softly make out Zelly’s swearing as the air around him whistled. Through the spots of vision, he made out two hands the size of wagons shooting out for him at terrifying speeds.

Something about that image was enough to trigger his fight or flight, and while his brain couldn’t fully comprehend the columns of flesh and muscle that surrounded him–he fought and kicked against them as they closed in around him…

But when he realized he’d stopped falling, he paused. He slowly came to his senses, he noticed his hands and feet gently sinking against the muscle of Zelly’s fingers. While her skin was soft–almost unnaturally so–against his palms and soles, they kept him secure as he dangled hundreds of leagues in the air. If she hadn’t been fast enough…

He focused instead on the mysterious, sudden smell of berries and not on what would have been a fatal fall.

With fingers as steady as an archer’s, she carefully readjusted them around Rowan until he was gently guided down into her cupped hands. He gazed up at her with wide eyes, his chest heaving with adrenaline-rich breath. The muscles in her palm were warm against his bare back and the sweet smell overwhelmed him. Rowan swallowed and fought the urge to dig his fingers into her palm.  

The titan stared back at him through disheveled pink hair that fell like rosy vines before her face. Her lips slightly parted as she panted as well.

She looked just as scared as he was.

Zelly studied him for a moment long before sighing with relief–it gently rolled over him like a summer’s breeze. 

“You okay?” she asked with a surprisingly tender amount of gentleness.

“Y-Yes…thank you.” Rowan had to force himself to relax, but he managed a nervous chuckle. “You have quick hands–steady too. You really are a master physician, aren’t you?”

“Something like that, but let’s not make a habit out of this,” Zelly quipped. After a moment more of catching their breath, she finally rose to her full height.

“Normally, I don’t eat in the kitchen.” She lowered him to just beneath the sternum. “How ‘bout we move to the living room? Couch’ll be way softer than the counter.”

While Rowan found the room’s name a bit peculiar, nothing seemed untoward about the suggestion. He shrugged. “Whatever works best for you.”

With a nod, she shifted him to one hand and grabbed the bag’s handles as she made their way out. As she walked, she made sure to tilt her hand slightly towards her–so in the event of him passing out, he’d fall against her instead of plummeting towards the floor. He was grateful for that thoughtfulness, since his vertigo as she walked was quite real. Every footstep of hers he could feel through her hand–in a way it felt like he was a titan, walking with such casual ease through the towering halls of giants. He couldn’t even begin to process if he’d been born in such a world. 

Zelly took a left into what Rowan assumed was the “living room” (though he still could not be sure why it was called that.) Thankfully it was much smaller and more intimate compared to the grandeur of the kitchen. Three of the walls formed the beginnings of a square, while the fourth bowed outwards into three additional walls–all lined with windows. Light poured in through partially drawn, slightly transparent curtains which billowed with the breeze from the partially open window. Rowan could hear the laughter of titan children playing outside. In front of the window was a long couch and armchair that was positioned off in the corner. A low, glass-top table stretched in front of the couch.

“Alright, how are we gonna do this?” Zelly murmured–more to herself than to Rowan. First, she set the bag down on the table before moving to sit on one end of the vast couch. She leaned across and gently tilted her hand so Rowan could step down onto the opposite end. As he gingerly placed a foot down on the immense cushion, he noted how strange the fabric felt against his skin and how it sank slightly as he put his weight down. Rowan eased himself down into a sitting position, and watched as her massive fingers pulled away. He doubted he’d ever get used to interactions like this.

“There.” She pulled herself back and crossed one leg beneath her. “Better?”

“Much better,” Rowan admitted. 

“Oh! Onnnnnne more thing.” Zelly pursed her lips and pulled out the magical rectangle from her short’s pocket. She reached back over and placed the slab behind him, so that the colorful side was facing up.

“Perfect,” Zelly beamed as she sat up. “That way I don’t accidentally sit on you! I’ll notice my phone case. Plus, it kinda serves as a bit of a backrest!”

He looked back over his shoulder to examine the device. It wasn’t a perfect rectangle, as it did have a soft plastic pink shell that gave it a bit of shape along its length. The top was covered with a mosaic of stickers of all shapes and sizes: some were stylized designs of things Rowan recognized like sparkling fruit or animals; others were of more wild designs reminiscent of the eclectic Faofolk and their art–robots, beasts, creatures with strange edges and exaggerated proportions.

“I appreciate your concern, thank you.” Rowan rested his elbows on the rubbery shell. She flashed a smile, then began pulling out styrofoam containers out of the bag. He’d seen plenty of containers of similar kind in Port Cattail. They made a rather unpleasant squeaking noise as the containers rubbed up against one another.

“So, this is…Greek?” the Crownbreaker asked in an attempt to start some sort of conversation that wasn’t centered around him. 

“Yup!” Zelly chirped. “Greek food is simple, healthy, and it has a nice flavor that’s never too much–ya know? So I figured it’d be an okay meal for us to share…”

She paused, then gave him a serious look–Rowan had seen Lea give it to him on more than a few occasions, complete with the raised eyebrow and insistent frown. “And if there’s anything you don’t like, I won’t be offended. I ordered plenty just in case, so you just eat whatever tastes good.”

Her tone was surprising, yet so familiar. Despite their vast differences, it perplexed Rowan to see Zelly treat him so…normal. Just like a Borrower woman would if she had a guest of equal size at the dinner table.

“I will, thank you.” Rowan nodded, still lost in thought. After a bit more rearranging, Zelly set the emptied bag on the floor and placed a hand on one of the containers.

“So, I have two options for gyros: lamb and falafel.” Seeing Rowan’s blank stare, she promptly smacked the palm of her free hand to her forehead. “RIGHT, you don’t know what those are. Okay, so, gyros have lettuce, tomatoes, onion, and are served on this sorta…soft, bready stuff. It comes with a special Greek sauce that is creamy and has a nice zest to it. Lamb is a type of meat, and falafel is made of fried chickpeas which are-”

She scrunched up her face as her voice trailed off. “...actually, I don’t know what chickpeas are. But! It’s vegetarian, so no meat if you have any dietary restrictions.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“I do love falafel,” Zelly admitted with a shrug. “But the lamb from this place is to die for–so I’d honestly recommend that, if it’s your first time. But you’re welcome to try some falafel later if you’d like!”

“I will take your word for it,” Rowan hummed. “Lamb it is.”

Zelly grinned from ear to ear as she picked up one of the containers with one hand and set it in the cushion between the two of them. Carefully she opened up the styrofoam container to reveal a steaming hill of vibrant veggies of red and green dotted with white squared chunks the size of his fist, overlayed with slabs of dark brown meat with the blackened edges and a drizzle of creamy sauce speckled with black. The aroma was breathtaking, and the sheer quantity was…overwhelming. It was hard to imagine he was worthy of such a feast. And to think this might be a single meal for a titan like Zelly…

Rowan’s eyes widened and his stomach roared–hunger gripped his insides with dull teeth and growled eagerly. 

“I-Impressive!” he noted, trying to hide the fact he was beginning to salivate and the welling guilt that accompanied it. “I can see why you picked this.”

Zelly looked rather proud of herself at the praise. She hummed a little laugh and bounced with excitement. She reached over towards the side of the container nearest to Rowan and broke down the styrofoam wall so the edge of the container lay flat against the cushion…Spirits, there was more food in the box? The “hill” laid on a beige, toasted material that Rowan really couldn’t identify. Was that the supposed bread that she mentioned before? But she didn’t stop there. Zelly ripped off an edge of styrofoam and offered it to Rowan between a pinched thumb and finger. 

“Sorry I can’t getchu, like…an actual plate,” she apologized with a chuckle when she noticed his quizzical look. “I hope this’ll work?”

Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle at both her thoughtfulness and creativity. He accepted the impromptu plate and stood up. “This works just fine, thank you.”

“I just realized you don’t have utensils,” she hissed, then flashed an apologetic look. “Um…I can try to look to see if I can find something? Maybe like a toothpick, or-”

Rowan held up a hand and tried not to laugh. “Tis fine, really. You act as though I have never had to eat with my hands before.”

Zelly blinked in surprise. “A-Ah! Cool, right–my bad, um…here, let’s do this…”

She rummaged around in the bag then withdrew a pair of titan-sized utensils wrapped in plastic. She tore off the utensil’s sheath then divided up a sizable portion from the hill. “There. That’ll get you started. Just lemme know if you need any more, okay?”

Rowan nodded, though he had somewhat tuned out what she was saying. His stomach screamed… When was the last time he ate? He couldn’t recall. With a bit of effort, he rose and slowly approached the intoxicating vista. The styrofoam felt odd beneath his feet as he stepped up to awkwardly gather up a bit of portion for his meal… He did somewhat wish he had his dagger to spear his food, but he wasn’t above getting his hands messy. He tore off a chunk of meat ladened with sauce, grabbed a bit of the lettuce which gave a satisfying crunch as he tore it free, and one of the hand-sized chunks of white vegetable–though as he brought it close, he was a bit overwhelmed by its particular scent.

“Oh grab a bit of the pita too!” Zelly suggested excitedly. Rowan gave her a look, which prompted her to point towards the bready layer beneath. “That stuff! That’s what really makes a gyro a gyro. Just wrap it all up in that and take a bite!”

When in Fao, do as the Faofolk do, Rowan thought as he reached down and peeled off a chunk of the soft pita. There was a part of him that wanted to just scarf down what he had, but there was a certain respect he wished to show towards his hostess’ recommendations. Taking his food back towards the phone case, he sat down next to it and awkwardly placed the acquired ingredients onto the pita then wrapped it up as best as he could. He held it up for confirmation: “Like this?” 

Zelly nodded eagerly.

Rowan’s heart raced as he finally took a bite.

The taste made him…well, melt, for lack of a better term. His whole body shivered as he savored seasoning of the meat and the way the pita soaked up the sauce. The crispness of the lettuce and the odd-smelling white vegetable added not only brilliant texture, but a zip that he wasn’t quite expecting. 

It was a single bite, but Rowan couldn’t hold back after that. He scarfed down the rest, and had to remind himself to breathe. His unbridled ravenousness beckoned a wave of guilt.

He nearly jumped when he noticed Zelly still looking at him expectantly. 

“Welllllll?” She grinned.

“Very good.” His overwhelming exuberance left him sheepish, but Spirits Around he couldn’t help himself. 

“GOOD!!!” 

As starving as he was, Rowan had to restrain from scrambling up to grab more–he knew his stomach had shrunken within the last few days, so he’d need to pace himself. He licked the sauce off his fingers and still tasted the lingering lamb on his lips.

“I…did promise you some answers.” He set the styrofoam plate to the side. “I-”

Rowan jumped as Zelly clapped eagerly and leaned forward over the mountain of good, her eyes wide with excitement. “OKAY YES, please! What are Borrowers? Where do you come from, why are you called that? You mentioned royalty, so are there, like, tiny monarchies and governments and stuff? What are your people like? Why haven’t I noticed you before? How are there-”

Zelly paused as she studied Rowan, then excitement melted to embarrassment as she pulled back suddenly and held up her hands.

“S-Sorry, I got excited. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, I just…sorry.”

It dawned on him how naked he felt without his daggers–not that he believed he needed them nor that Zelly had done anything beyond startle him, but they were comforting to have. He did however have his cloak–and that was enough to ground him for a bit. He reached up and rubbed a thumb across the familiar fabric and sighed through his nostrils. As his heart still raced at the volume of her outburst, he cleared his throat and raised a hand of reassurance. 

“I-I understand. This is all brand new to you, and I do want to repay your generosity somehow–even if it is merely satisfying curiosity.”

The question was, how much should he divulge? He thought of Lazuli’s calculating look and the cautioning words of his uncle Oleander… Both had prompted him to exercise caution in the past, yet neither were here now to make sure the Crownbreaker didn’t blunder. 

Rowan had to be incredibly careful with his words. 

“Okay, cool.” Zelly seemed to relax a bit, though the awkwardness lingered. She picked up her fork and stabbed the top of the mountain of veggies and meat to gather up a bite. “So, like…let’s just start with Borrower. What…are you, exactly? Just like tiny people? Or are you Fairies?”

“Not fairies,” Rowan shook his head. Fairies weren’t real, though Pixies had been; they’d been extinct for some time now, however, and without knowing if Zelly was aware of their atrocities he held his tongue. “You say ‘tiny people,’ but…to me, we are just people…because to us, it is the titans who are giants. So I confess, I’m not quite sure how to properly explain it.”

Zelly excavated a section of the hill, then took a thoughtful bite. That bite was…so much compared to his. The phrase I am so hungry I could eat a lizard was probably quite literal for titans. Rowan tried focusing on her face, and not how the fork passed her lips.

“Huh…” She slowly nodded as she chewed. She covered up her mouth with her free hand. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” 

Then, after she swallowed, she asked: “Okay, so…magic. Is that a thing?”

“Yes, magic is real.” Rowan felt safe to confirm that–it wasn’t an uncommon thing after all.

“And you guys are…around town? Or outside of Santa Almita?” 

“We call your ‘town’ the Titanlands,” Rowan explained. “Anything within what you call ‘Santa Almita’ or outside of it that is occupied by Borrowers is called ‘the Tens.’ So…yes, we are around.”

“The Tens…got it,” Zelly noted. “So how come I’ve never seen you before, though? There have to have been times I would’ve noticed tiny people.”

Rowan went to answer, but found he lacked the words. He furrowed his brow, recollecting a time when he had listened to Lazuli pontificate by candlelight as the two of them sat alone in their study while the princeps penned the Pax Minimus. There WAS a reason for that, and Rowan knew it…but the reason was so foggy in his mind. 

“I cannot say,” he admitted, more perplexed than anything. “All I know is that something protects my kind from being seen.”

“So…some kinda magic?” Zelly ventured

“Some kinda magic,” Rowan echoed, though the word ‘kinda’ felt odd in his mouth.

“And why are you called Borrowers?” She frowned. “Do you…borrow stuff?”

Rowan huffed–he didn’t know the answer to that either. “I am not quite sure. I know there are different scholars and priests who have theories about why we are called that, and how it comes from some…’cycle of Borrowing’...but I confess, I do not know. Some call titans Givers, so maybe it has something to do with that?”

Rowan studied Zelly’s face, then sighed. “I apologize, I know this does not really give you any of the answers you were looking for…”

“No, it’s okay!” Zelly replied quickly. “It’s actually kinda nice knowing that you don’t have all the answers either–is that weird?”

“I guess not,” Rowan hummed. He paused, then added: “You seem to be taking all of this considerably well…”

Zelly raised her eyebrows and scoffed. “Oh no dude, this is nuts–I literally can’t believe any of this is happening.” While not the answer he’d been expecting, the frankness was rather refreshing–the titan wasn’t perfect either.

“Not in, like…a bad way,” she clarified quickly as if detecting some sort of worry. “Just in a I don’t know how anyone is supposed to react, so I’m just trying my best sort of a way.”

“I understand,” he reassured.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay,” Zelly continued. “And after you’re feeling better, I can always help take you wherever you need to go.”

She smiled as she set her fork aside to gather up the slightly decreased hill of veggies and meat so she could wrap it up in the pita–much like Rowan had before–and added: “Just relax, and rest–you’re safe with me. ”

He was puzzled by the sentiment, though he didn’t try and brush it off. The notion was charming, but it did little to absolve his grief—he knew he needed to be on the road as soon as possible, lest he overstayed his welcome. Still, for the moment Rowan was willing to put his trust in Zelly.

“Thank you again, Zelly,” he hummed. “Do you mind if I have seconds?”

Through the chewing of her gargantuan bite of gyro, she replied with a muffled go for it.

—

After a few minutes of eating in relative silence, the anxiety got to be a bit too much–so Zelly quietly excused herself and hurried off to her room. 

Fingers flew across the keyboard as she messaged her manager Emmett in order to get the next few days cleared. She needed that much time off at least, if Rowan truly had heat exhaustion, just to make sure he’d be okay. The next few days had been lined up with quite a bit: a collab with Team CaliBurn, the meeting with Tanma’s friend about the Vtuber avatar commission, and several other streams she’d planned for weeks in advance. All of that seemed so miniscule now compared to the weight of responsibility she now felt.

It made her sick, really. 

Rowan seemed to be doing well enough. He had enough strength to talk and move–though the fact he nearly blacked out and fell off the counter was a bit disconcerting. Not to mention the way he’d scarfed down his food too…

Still, he seemed to be doing better. He wasn’t much of a talker–something Zelly couldn’t really relate to–but she didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions, no matter how much her curiosity begged her. She knew how much she could be for people her size and taller, she could only imagine what it was like for someone smaller.

After she sent the last of the messages to Emmett, she leaned back in her chair…and like a magnet, her eyes fell on the black and red USB sitting on the corner of her desk. Her once bubbling anxiety now burned like bile in her throat. She carefully reached over and picked up the thumb drive like a vivisected organ and turned it over carefully. The once bright initials written in silver Sharpie were mostly faded now–either from the oils in her fingers or just by her idly rubbing it in contemplation. It felt sacrilege that she’d treated one of her only gifts left from Oakley with such thoughtlessness.  

Was Zelly just going to screw up Rowan too? 

She chewed her lip as she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes riveted on the Discord chat, waiting for her manager’s reply–Oakley’s old USB turning over and over again in her fingers. She prayed Emmett would be understanding; she knew how stressful it might be to have to reschedule so much at the last minute.

i’ll see what i can do, came Emmett’s reply. She felt her shoulders relax a bit, but the weight in her chest didn’t lighten. A second message: everything ok?

There was no way she could answer that honestly. This was CRAZY and Zelly still wasn’t 100% sure if she was dreaming or sober. Finding a tiny man bleeding in her driveway who’d nearly been eaten by her neighbor’s cat was not on her 2023 bingo card.

But resisting the impulsive honesty, she simply replied: yea IRL stuff came up // needing a few days off 

She sent the message then leaned back on her chair to study the ceiling. She did some quick mental math in an attempt to figure out a timeline for Rowan’s recovery…

Heat exhaustion recovery took about 48 hours at a max, but Zelly wasn’t quite sure if Borrower physiology changed things… Were they technically magical? Would that play into anything? Would recovery differ because he is so much smaller and closer to the ground?

Then there was the chest wound. She’d cleaned it as best as she could, but there was only so much she could do at her size. There was a possibility of infection, so she’d just have to wait and see…depending on how long Rowan would decide to stick around, that is. He could leave in the middle of the night, for all she knew—and it wasn’t like she was going to lock the windows and force him to stay.

As she planned she idly spun in her chair, she noticed a bit of color out in the driveway that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier when she stepped into her room.

Zelly frowned. She stood up and made her way over to the window to get a better look. Parked behind her car was a familiar, dark hatchback.

It was Nikol’s car–but she was nowhere to be seen.

Zelly couldn’t breathe. When had Nikol pulled in? She went for her phone to check her messages, then realized Rowan had it. Before she had any time to question further, she heard the front door open downstairs and Nikol’s voice calling out through the halls: “Hey babe! I got somethin’ for you!”

Horror set in and Zelly couldn’t hold back her scream.

She bolted out of her room as fast as she could–only stopping briefly as she ran right into her computer chair. With a swear and shove, she pushed past it and practically threw herself down the steps as she ran. Panic clouded all sensibility as only one thought was able to form:

Zelly pursed her lips as she turned over the coffin-shaped box in her hand. The print on the lid–the melted skull with scorpions crawling over the cranium–was a perfect caricature of just how awful this was going to be. Zelly squinted as she read the warnings. There wasn’t much to say other than ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO EAT THIS CHIP. 

The Hot Chip Challenge was the infamous, unholy love child of the Carolina Reaper Pepper and the Scorpion Pepper–two of the hottest peppers in the world–into a single chip. Streamers far braver and far more popular than Zelly had taken this challenge with far less persuasion needed, and they had utterly crumpled under the heat of this Scoville scale-breaking abomination. 

Zelly was TERRIFIED, but she was a woman of her word. Her livestream audience had crushed the ridiculously high donation goal she had set for them in a matter of days, and their reward was watching their favorite livestreamer eat this chip and surely perish. Suddenly Zelly wished she had a will written out. She cursed under her breath as she worked to pry off the lid. Her fingers trembled as she struggled.

“I don’t LOVE the branding,” Zelly admitted as she finally popped off the lid. “I dunno about you, but I personally try to avoid eating things that say hi! I want to kill you.”

Zelly’s gaze flitted off to the side to read the scrolling chat while she prolonged her eventual agony. They were eating this up. She couldn’t keep up reading any of the comments beyond seeing streams of emojis, laughter, and glimpses of inside jokes.

Despite how much trepidation she felt, Zelly smiled.

Zelly set the sealed chip off to the side and slipped on some latex gloves. She shook her head in disbelief as she stared at the thing as if it was a coiled viper. “Look, I didn’t think this was actually possible! I set that donation reward ridiculously high NOT THINKING you would actually hit it!”

Zelly swallowed and picked up the chip once more. “I guess I underestimated how much pain you guys wanna see me in, ya’ buncha sickos…”

She cracked a crooked smile to mask some of her fear before ripping off the corner of the chip’s container. Zelly went to make a witty comment…then gagged as she caught a whiff of the contents. The Hot Chip smelled like rancid vinegar, feet, and mildew all wrapped up in a single, triangular snack of death. Her sinuses were scorched and shriveled in an instant, and she had only just opened it.

Zelly coughed and sputtered through pained laughter as she slowly reached in and pulled out the jet black chip. Her eyes widened as she regarded this monstrosity.

“Oh noooooooo…” Zelly lamented quietly, the fear feeling far more genuine now that she was holding it between her fingers and could actually smell Suffering. The chat was going wild. “No no no, you…you can’t be seriou-...it’s CAKED on there! What the hellllll…”

Zelly puffed out her cheeks and slowly exhaled as she tried to summon what courage she could. She gave a wistful look towards the camera before raising the chip.

“Well, Chat,” Zelly said, as if raising a toast at her own funeral. “This is for you. Cheers.”

And with that, Zelly tipped the chip towards the camera as if clinking a champagne flute. She then closed her eyes, tossed it onto her tongue…

…and bit down.

Zelly frowned as she started to chew. She cracked open one eye. Huh. Maybe it was a dud? Sure there was a bit of heat, but nothing terrible.

“Oh, that wasn’t so ba-” Zelly choked on her words as pain gripped her taste buds.

She immediately screamed and fell out of her chair in a panic before scrambling to her feet and running for the door. Chat silently howled with glee as they could hear her yelling all the way down the hall as she bolted for the kitchen.

What a way to start the day.

—

Everyone agreed that the Hot Chip Challenge had been the highlight of the stream. And while Zelly had fun the rest of the time and she’d been able to play a few rounds of Apex Legends with Takua and Cybertooth, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sad.

Zelly screwed up her face as she mulled over that feeling. Nothing prompted it, nothing triggered it, it was just…there. It had been there for a couple of days now, though the feeling ebbed and flowed. It wasn’t hard for her to know why she was sad, but it wasn’t something she was willing to admit it still bothered her.

A lack of closure does screwy things to the heart, that’s all.

Zelly sighed as she finally finished up the backend work of her post-stream. She typed out a quick message to one of her mods before pushing away from her desk and making her way to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help take her mind off of things? 

Unfortunately for Zelly, the shower proved to be dreadfully mediocre.

Despite it being the height of summer, Zelly cranked up the water as high as she could and just…sat there. She gently pressed her eyes against her knees as she pulled herself into a ball, her lips still stinging from lingering pain. The shower water cascaded off her and crashed around her rhythmically; her deep, wistful breaths invited plentiful steam into her lungs with hopes of granting some degree of peace.

But it never came. The once-comforting heat did little to ease the gnawing of her heart.

“Alright, leeeeeet’s go…” Zelly murmured to herself as she raised her head. She spat a quiet curse as some of her soaked locks slapped her in the face like strands of wet bubblegum. She let out the longest groan she could muster before combing her hair back and carefully rising to step out of the shower. 

As Zelly dried off and wrapped her hair in a towel, she felt her heart start to wander a bit. It wasn’t like she was thinking about what happened with Oakley; it was the feelings that still lingered. The good, the bad, the blissful, the painful…it was a hungry feeling that demanded not just mere offerings of acknowledgment, but craved absolute attention. 

It honestly was exhausting how much it still hurt.

Zelly lost track of time as she got ready. Apparently somewhere along the way she decided that Starbucks was going to be “dinner” tonight. Man could not live on caramel cookie bar frap alone, but Zelly always knew that bit of ambrosia helped her to at least have a bit of a joy in her heart between now and her next therapy session. But Zelly didn’t necessarily want to be alone, so she sent Nikol a text to see if she wanted to tag along.

She got her reply from Nikol right after she had slipped into a new tank top and her favorite pair of denim shorts. The text was straight forward: oh hell yeah. Zelly smiled and tapped out a response of her own before doing a little bit of makeup. Nothing too crazy, but just enough for a bit of a confidence boost.

After striking a silly pose in the mirror, she headed out of the bathroom. She slid into some sandals, threw on a pair of cute sunglasses, and grabbed her purse making her way down the stairs and out the front door.

Zelly poked around on her phone a bit as she bounced down the steps and moved down the driveway. The only movement she saw was her pink hair bobbing out of the corners of her eyes, and some subtle movement by her car.

Zelly looked up curiously, then beamed as she spied the neighbor’s cat Chu Chu out by the driver’s side of her car. 

“Oh hiiiii, Chu Chu,” Zelly cooed sweetly to the neighbor’s cat as she approached. Chu Chu didn’t respond at first. She bowed her head down, made a low yowl, then picked something up in her teeth and shook it about violently. 

Zelly’s stomach flipped as she realized what the cat was doing. Chu Chu was prone to eating poor baby animals, and she really liked dropping off whatever she wanted to “share” with Zelly. 

“CHU CHU, NO!!!” Zelly screamed. Chu Chu started and shot across the lawn like a bullet. 

“Dumb cat…” Zelly murmured with the shake of her head as she watched Chu Chu run. She loved that cat, but the last thing Zelly needed today was seeing some poor bird getting eaten right in front of her.

For better or worse, the cat didn’t take her dinner with and had unceremoniously dropped the small dark form on the driveway right next to the car door. Thankfully she saw no blood, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still hurt or possibly dead.

“God…” Zelly whispered sadly. Her heart broke as she considered what to do for the injured animal. 

She crept a little closer. From her distance, it was a bit hard to make out what it was at first… All she could really see was blacks and browns. Maybe it was some sort of crow chick? No, the proportions didn’t look right and it didn’t seem to have wings. Zelly squinted behind her tinted lenses. 

She stopped when she saw the animal had a hand sticking out. Was it a mouse? Or was it just a toy, and Zelly had been overreacting?

“Weirrrrd…what the hell is this?” Zelly murmured as she pulled off her glasses and leaned down to get a bit of a better look, her shadow falling over the prone form.

Then, without warning, the tiny form pushed itself up onto an elbow–their head snapping up to stare at her through strands of dark hair that fell over their face.

Definitely not a mouse or a toy then.

This was a man.

Zelly screamed instinctively as she threw a hand up over her mouth. She took a panicked step back and braced herself against her car with her free hand.

“What the hell what the hell what the hell…” she whimpered to herself as she just stared down at him. Her mind was reeling. What was she looking at exactly?

The miniature man had 3-day scruff, sunken eyes, and sunburnt skin that was glistening with sweat and slightly peeling. His chest heaved as he swallowed deep gulps of air, his entire frame just shuddering with each labored breath. Was it from adrenaline? Fear? Pain?

And he was small. He was so incomprehensibly small that Zelly could barely wrap her mind around it. He was 2, maybe 3 inches tall? It was hard to tell. No Human being should be that tiny…but then again, maybe he wasn’t Human. Who's to say?

Zelly was not a tall girl by any means, but she felt utterly enormous at this moment. To him, she probably looked terrifying. Without really thinking, she quickly squatted down to seem less intimidating, but the movement only seemed to startle the man further–he scooted back, his lips curling into a snarl as he pulled something from his boot with his free hand…

It was a yellow thumbtack. Though at his size, it looked like it could easily be a dagger. And with the way he held it in front of him, it seemed to imply that was its intended use.

It dawned on Zelly how a “colossal creature” moving suddenly and without warning might have looked to the man. She mentally chastised herself for acting without thinking. Zelly slowly raised her hands to indicate she meant no ill intent…though she wasn’t quite sure that kind of gesture would translate for him.

“H-Hey, easy,” Zelly stammered. She tried to keep her voice soft and calm, but that was incredibly difficult. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The man stared up at her. He propped himself up a bit more, as if trying to get ready to run if Zelly proved hostile. This was a standoff, with Zelly wanting him to make the next move lest she startle him again. 

While she wasn’t sure what he was exactly, she could tell he was perhaps some kind of elf in his mid-20’s. And despite the blistering weather he was wrapped in a mishmash of black and burgundy leathers and had a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. The cloak had a familiar frill along the edges–it almost reminded her of one of those soft cloths you use to clean glasses.

He had long dark hair that looked like it had been done up in a bun once, but now it was partially down thanks to the tangle with Chu Chu.

Zelly searched his face. It was bizarre how many details she could make out, despite the size of his face and the distance there was between them. She could see pain…and fear…but was that fear because of Chu Chu? Or because of Zelly? The thought that anyone could be afraid of her was shocking, and perhaps even a little unnerving.

But there was a third thing Zelly could pick out as well: defiance.

This miniature man was looking defiantly up at her, despite the obvious pain and fear. She noticed the way his jaw was set and his nostrils flared as he blinked through the pain. He looked like he was willing to stare Death in the eye.

Did…did this man think that she was going to hurt him? Or worse?

Zelly realized how dry her throat felt. She swallowed and licked her lips before carefully and quietly asking, “Are you okay?”

A new emotion flickered across his face…confusion. He hesitated as he slightly furrowed his brow.

Then he spoke.

“I…never thought a Titan would care about the well-being of a Borrower,” the man admitted. His voice was rich, and ever so slightly clipped with the faintest of accents. He also sounded exhausted.

By all accounts, his voice should have been so small that Zelly wouldn’t have been able to hear him speak…and yet she did. She almost felt his words. She wasn’t sure if it was magic (god, was magic actually real?) or her own misunderstanding of how this being’s physiology might work compared to a person of her size. Regardless, Zelly could absolutely hear this man’s somber reply.

“Borrower? Titan?” Zelly made a face at the terminology. “You think I’m a-” 

She cut herself off and shook her head. 

“…not important,” Zelly told herself, then looked back down at the little man. “Are you okay?”

Zelly stopped as realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She felt sick to her stomach.

“Wait, oh my GOD,” Zelly yelled as she grabbed fistfuls of hair. Her eyes widening as reality started to sink in. “Chu Chu nearly ate you alive! Th-...That was YOU!! In her mouth!! Holy shi-”

“A terrifying creature indeed.” The man nodded in solemn agreement. 

“How are you so calm about this?!” Zelly gawked in disbelief. Why was she the one that seemed more freaked out by this than the man who nearly been eaten?

The Borrower went to reply as he readjusted his positioning, but was cut off as his face twisted in pain. Zelly’s anxiety melted into concern as she watched him raise an inquisitive hand to his chest. He pressed against the leather and winced slightly at the contact. When he drew back his band, Zelly noticed it glistened with fresh blood.

Zelly’s hand went out instinctively, but when she saw the way the man braced himself at the approach of her fingers, she stopped immediately.

Maybe it was old Hippocractic embers rekindling in her heart, or maybe it was the “Oakley Situation” feelings being so raw and present…but regardless of the reasoning, she knew she couldn’t just let this man bleed out.

“You’re hurt,” Zelly pointed out with a certain firmness that belied her utter bewilderment. She wanted to scoop him up and run him inside, but a part of her cringed inwardly at the thought. She needed his consent. Zelly wasn’t just going to pick up a random stranger–little or not–without making sure that was even remotely okay for her to do. 

“It is j-just a little blood,” the man replied weakly. Zelly watched as the man started to fade, his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep his head up. “Nothing…mmph…new…”

As his words came out sluggish and belabored, it also dawned on Zelly how unbearably hot it had been. This man had clearly been out in the sun, but for how long? Dehydration alone was a very real risk, and along with that came heatstroke. If the blood loss didn’t get him, Zelly was terrified that the heatwave would. 

Suddenly Zelly’s desire for a silly, sad Starbucks run seemed so incredibly trivial as she crouched above this bloodied, heatstricken, thumb-sized man.  

She couldn’t just leave him, but her head was spinning with the implications of what she was looking at…this wasn’t just saving a baby bird that had fallen from its nest, this was a full-grown man. Zelly had no idea what he was or where he came from. Did she really understand what she was getting into? Zelly felt a pang of panic. What if she couldn’t do this? There was a reason she dropped out. There was a reason Oakley had-

One thing at a time. She needed to get him inside, stop the bleeding, get him cooled off, and get some water in him. Then she could try and piece together what was going on.

Zelly drew back her outstretched fingers and instead twisted her wrist so her hand was resting on the driveway with the palm up. The miniature man groggily regarded the hand, then looked up at her. 

Zelly held his gaze for a long moment. He didn’t move to climb up into her hand, but she also didn’t move to try and grab him without permission. Finally, Zelly ventured, “You can trust me. You’re hurt, and I can help.”

Did Zelly really mean it? Could she be trusted?

Despite how much uncertainty she felt, Zelly smiled softly. 

Then she reassured him quietly, “I promise.”

The Borrower’s hesitation was palpable. The man’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to maintain consciousness. He regarded her words…her fingers…her eyes.

He looked at her eyes for a long time. Zelly wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for

Then after what felt like an eternity, the man sheathed his thumbtack back into his boot and wiped off the blood of his hand onto his cloak. He reached up with his cleaner hand and gripped into the flesh of her fingertip and pulled himself up. Zelly could feel the individual fingers digging into her skin and muscle, she could feel the way his body shook as he struggled to stand. Zelly’s head was swimming with questions, but she knew there was a time and place for that.

Zelly was breathless as she waited for him to say something–anything. She was on the balls of her feet, ready to spring and catch him with her free hand if he looked like he was ready to pass out. 

After hauling himself up to his feet, the man took a few deep breaths before looking up. The Borrower met her gaze. He didn’t move further and he didn’t speak. No smile graced his lips.

Then, finally, he weakly nodded and replied with a quiet, almost hesitant, reply:

Wonder and worry mingled caustically as Zelly hurried Rowan in. And while she couldn’t deny the quiet marveling she had carrying this finger-tall man in her hands, there was also a certain degree of horror and concern. He felt so frail. His breathing was shallow and his muscles faintly trembled as he spent the last of his energy just staying awake. And when he slipped into unconsciousness and nearly fell out of her hands, she was run through with a fresh spike of anxiety. She couldn’t ignore how delicate this life she held in her hands was—like flickering embers of a dying flame.

She made a mental checklist of what to do: first, she’d need to stop the bleeding; second, she’d need to get his core body temperature down; third, water. Rowan was bound to be dehydrated, so she’d need to make sure to get him a bottle cap full and make sure he sipped.

As she got the kitchen sink going, she noticed something. It was a little thing–literally–but she noticed his hand. The palm was upturned and the fingers were slightly curled…

His hand looked just like hers.

After staring for perhaps a beat too long, she shook herself from her stupor and gingerly laid the Borrower out on the countertop. Carefully pinching the front of Rowan’s shirt between her nails, she ripped it twain with an effortless tug. The sight of a red-slick chest was all too familiar to her as she peeled back the halves. With lips pursed, she tugged the ruined tunic and microfiber cloth-turned-cloak off and set them to the side before gathering him up once more to examine the man closer.

Zelly’s eyes widened slightly as she examined him. Not because of the blood, but rather because of how much more worn and strong his body was than she first thought. Rowan had been covered up before, but now she saw the pale scars marbled into surprisingly lean muscles.

And that burn. Not the sunburn (that thankfully was contained to everything above the neck), but rather the second degree scar tissue that went up from his waist to armpit—it covered a huge chunk of his right side. What had done something like that? If that was on someone her size, that would’ve been an utterly massive injury that would’ve called for immediate hospitalization. But for someone like Rowan, it could’ve been anything she might’ve considered mundane…a grill? A firework? Had it been an accident, or something more cruel? She couldn’t consider the possibilities—she had to focus.

Step one, stop the bleeding. She briefly tested the faucet’s flow before gently bringing his body over so the tap water would flow over him like a cool waterfall. Zelly examined Rowan as she carefully washed him, her eyes scanning every detail of his chest for any signs of injury. And as the light refracted off of the glistening skin as she cradled his body in her fingers, she couldn’t help but wonder what life was going to be like after she turned off the sink.

She found the source of the bleeding after getting him washed off. It was a diagonal cut roughly the size of Rowan’s hand that ran across his breast.

Thankfully, it was largely stitched up with the bleeding only coming from the sternum-ward side. It looked like a few stitches had popped. And while she couldn’t be sure what caused that in the first place (Chu Chu maybe?), her mind was caught up with who did the stitches in the first place. Rowan? Or someone else?

Thankfully the treatment was easy enough. His blood coagulated fairly quickly after she applied pressure on the wound with the tip of a clean kitchen towel for about five minutes. From there she applied some Vaseline, then—with the smallest band-aid she could find, which was still huge in comparison—she wrapped the band-aid as best as she could, then got him settled into a shot glass filled with cool water to get him started.

And yes, the shot glass was a stupid idea. But hey, it worked.

Wood turned to carpet as she reached the living room. She fumbled with the pull tab on her soda as her hands uncharacteristically shook. After a few moments of losing the fight to her Baja Blast, she finally cracked it open on the third anxious lap around her living room. She took a drawn out swig and savored the fizzing lime as she allowed the last ten minutes to sink in.

God, what the actual hell, Zell, she silently lamented. She still felt the imprint of Rowan—the sensation was burned into her memory: a full-grown man breathing shallow, ragged breaths as he lay unconscious in her pal-

“Okay, so tiny men just-” Zelly exhaled through her teeth. She tried violently shaking the feeling from her hand, as if it was covered in fire ants. “-EXIST now? Great, cool, good!!! Nothing insane about THAT, right?!”

With no one to respond to her exasperated query, she took another defeated swig. She silently wished for a stronger drink, but she knew better than to consider that when she was dealing with a patient. She chugged the rest of her drink, set it on the nightstand, then threw herself onto the couch. She buried her palms into her eyes as she just groaned.

Before stepping out of the kitchen, Zelly had left Rowan with a Gatorade cap filled with water. It had been comically large in comparison, but it was clean water that he could drink and that’s what mattered. Food would be next, despite his insistence. 

But what came after that? 

A familiar, useless feeling percolated at the corners of her heart, and she had to be careful not to let it overwhelm her again. But thinking realistically, she was just some idiot streamer right? What was she going to do to help this weathered warrior, aside from putting a band-aid on his chest and getting him a bowl of ramen? 

God, her eyes were just…Opened now, weren’t they? That terrified Zelly. As an EMT she saw a lot of gruesome things that she could never unsee, but she eventually grew desensitized to it. But Rowan and these Borrower (she still had no idea what that meant) had been living right under her nose this whole time…how many were there? Were there other things like fairies that were real too? And all of those scars on his body…were those by accident? Or did someone inflict those upon him?

“You’re spiraling, babe,” Zelly noted quietly to herself as she felt the anxiety rising. She needed something to keep her busy. And while she sorely doubted there was a WikiHow that would help her reconcile her new reality, she still wanted to give it a shot.

So she fished out her phone and frantically typed with it held above her face at arm’s length. First she searched for Borrowers—that’s what Rowan called himself after all, so it seemed appropriate to start there. Nothing came up, though she wasn’t really surprised. She screwed up her lips and tried Little Men next, but only an old-as-dirt book from the 1800’s that apparently was the sequel to Little Women. Interesting! But still useless.

No matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find anything that matched Rowan’s description. She tried Googling fairies, leprechauns, Pikmin, tiny-little-elf-men…

Nothing.

And while she got close, everything she found missed the mark (though it didn’t help that she would find herself aimlessly scrolling through Instagram without realizing it at times). Her anxiety now mixed with frustration. Surely she couldn’t really be the first person to meet a Borrower before right? The weight of that implication was too much for her to really consider–she never asked for that burden of responsibility.

Zelly racked her brain for more possibilities. She hadn’t tried pixies yet, right? She was three letters in, and a migraine began to blossom right behind her eyes. A string of colorful swears tumbled past tired lips as she stopped typing. 

“This is pointless,” she murmured to herself. She kept her phone lifted as she closed her eyes to just try and focus on her breathing. She could hear the distant squawking of a mediocre marching band, the splashing of unseen cannonballs, and the laughter of children amidst the anxious yells of fretting parents.

Why did it have to be her?

Before Zelly could bemoan her fate further, her phone vibrated and slipped through her fingers. It dropped and smacked her square in the face—a nonsensical cocktail of profanity and anatomical slang was her only response after a brief yelp of surprise. She sat up with a humiliated huff before answering the phone.

“S-Sup?” Zelly ran her fingers through her hair and prayed she could keep the nervousness out of her voice. She hadn’t even checked who’d called her anyways…

//Hey babe!// It was Nikol. //Sup? You okay?//

“Yup,” Zelly lied with a smile. She knew she couldn’t be honest with how she was really feeling, but her reality was too insane to admit at the moment, “Toooooooooootally fine. What about you?"

There was a pause. //Oh, cool! I was worried. Are you still comin’? I thought we were grabbing Starbucks?//

Realization hit Zelly like a truck. Nikol was the whole reason she found Rowan in the first place—her silly little “mental illness Starbucks trip.” It was the reason why she was able to save him from the jaws of her neighbor’s cat.

“Oh shit, I-” Zelly gasped. “Dude, I TOTALLY spaced! I’m so sorry!”

She chewed her lip as she entertained the notion of telling Nikol.

On the one hand, Nikol was her best friend—Nikol knew EVERYTHING about Zelly. But on the other hand, she couldn’t violate Rowan’s privacy. That poor man had clearly been through a lot. And while she did trust Nikol to keep a secret, it didn’t feel right to talk about Rowan without his consent.

“Something came up,” Zelly replied as guilt gripped her gut. “S-Sorry baby girl. I hate to bail on you like this, I just…have to take care of something. Rain check?”

//For sure, no worries. Do what you gotta do. Just let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?//

Zelly licked her lips, her heart beat heavily in her throat. “Y-Yeah, for sure. Thanks dude. I’ll, um…I’ll text you when I can, alright?”

//Sounds good. Mwuah.//

Zelly echoed the affection before hanging up. She let the phone drop to the floor before ruffling her hair with a restrained groan.

Now what?

—

Zelly held her breath as she peered around the corner back into the kitchen. There was a 50% chance the guy just bolted while she was away (wouldn’t be the first time), but to her surprise Rowan hadn’t left.

Since she’d been gone, he’d climbed out of the shot glass and hung his boots to dry along the rim of the glass. Meanwhile, the man knelt quietly on the countertop with his head bowed and eyes closed. Unlike Zelly, Rowan was remarkably calm–which was shocking, given how much worse his day had been in comparison. Sunlight poured through the kitchen window and washed over him as he held his microfiber cloak reverently in his hands.

She caught herself staring again. 

Zelly tried to keep her approach deft as she crept into the kitchen, lest she startle him. She spied his ruined shirt and a teeny satchel over by the obnoxiously bright orange Gatorade cap she had filled with some water for him to drink while she was away.

The closer she got to him, the more she found herself marveling again. And she wasn’t sure why.

“H-Hey,” Zelly croaked as she finally got within arm’s reach. She jumped as Rowan scooted back with a start, his eyes snapped open with wild surprise—he dropped a hand and went for one of his thumb tack daggers. When he saw it was Zelly however, his demeanor shifted. He took the cloak in his lap and in a single, fluid motion threw it around his shoulders and wrapped it in such a way that it fell like an impromptu poncho to cover his scarred chest.

“S-Sorry!” Zelly took a step back in reply, her hands raised. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“N-No no,” Rowan murmured bashfully. “The apology is mine, I would have covered up had I known you were there. I was just, ah…”

His voice trailed off before he cleared his throat. “Never mind. Forgive me.”

“You’re fine dude,” Zelly chuckled softly. “It’s not like you’re the first guy I’ve seen shirtless, so…”

Rowan didn’t reply. She wasn’t quite sure if he was spacing out or still feeling the fatigue of the heat exhaustion, but he still didn’t look great. When was the last time he ate? Originally she came in ready to learn all about him and his world, but now…that didn’t seem nearly as important.

“How hungry are you?”

Rowan looked up with bleary eyes. “Sorry?”

“How hungry are you?” Zelly repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Rowan looked somewhere between confused and conflicted. After a pregnant moment of hesitation, he shook his head. “‘Twill be alright. I-“

“Yeah that’s bull,” she teased. She realized that might’ve come off a bit harshly, but she didn’t back down—she knew she was right. “Do you have any allergies?”

Rowan looked bewildered. “No, but I-“

That was all she needed. With a nod, Zelly grabbed her phone and pulled up GrubHub. She leaned up against the counter, but kept Rowan visible right in her periphery. “Swag, I’m ordering Greek then.”

“W-What do you...?” Exasperation crept into Rowan’s voice as he moved to stand. He couldn’t even finish his question, he seemed too tired to bother, “But please, Miss Zelly, you do not have to worry about me. If this is too much of a hassle, rest assured I am fi-“

“It’s not a hassle.” She flashed him a smile as she got their order put together: two Deluxe Gyros (one lamb, one falafel. She wasn’t sure if Rowan was a vegetarian or not), some fried pita served with a couple sides of tzatziki sauce, and some sweet potato fries. Most of this stuff would be MASSIVE compared to him, but she hoped it would be a nice spread of some mild food that Rowan could pick at while also making sure he didn’t eat himself sick.

“Besides—” Zelly dropped down slightly so she could be at eye-level with Rowan. He took an instinctual step back, but he didn’t seem overly surprised by the sudden motion. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she hit the order button, “—the order’s been placed, they’ll be on their way!”

“I…do not understand,” Rowan furrowed his brow, looking from her to her phone. Borrowers probably didn’t have phones, huh? Well, that was a question for another time.

“Look dude,” Zelly huffed after noticing his conflicted expression. “I’m starving. And if I’m starving that means you sure as hell are. You can try and be big, tough, macho-man or whatever, but there’ll be plenty for both of us. And I’ll feel a lot better when I know you’ve eaten, okay?”

Rowan seemed to sense that this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. “Thank you, Miss Zelly. I appreciate your generosity. Though I do feel guilty…”

Zelly put a hand up on the counter and grinned. “Well don’t then, that’s stupid. I’m offering you food.”

“You wanted answers, correct?” Rowan asked. “And I promised not to leave before I gave them, but I did not mean to impose and force you to provide food.”

“First of all, I wasn’t forced,” she pointed out. “Second, I mean…yeah. I do have questions. But they can wait.”

Zelly pursed her lips. She could spy the burned tissue peeking out from what his cloak couldn’t cover on his chest.

“You’ve been through a helluva lot,” she breathed, her gaze returning to Rowan’s. “And I want to help—even if it means getting us some takeout. So yeah, don’t worry–I can wait.”

Rowan’s expression was conflicted. There was frustration, but the exhaustion seemed to outweigh it…and even for the briefest of moments, he looked grateful. Zelly smiled.

This she could do.

…

…

Basil was disgustingly sober.

Were it not for his fast, he would’ve been nursing his brewing frustration with a frothy pint. The day was blistering, and the prospects of good work were few. Clip had gathered some scavenging listings from the Carvers League in town, and the rest of their crew had split off for the afternoon. 

Wanting to get out of the sun, the pair ducked into The Lively Priest. And though Basil quietly hoped he could relish in the second-hand revelry of others, he was met with the sleepy, boring atmosphere of a handful of farmers and travelers just looking to grab some shade and water. They’d grabbed a corner table and he’d been forced to settle on iced water while Clip barely touched his ale. 

The Freewalker’s mind wandered as he tuned out the insistent rustling of leaflets as his companion did his research. He peered over the scrawny Borrower’s shoulder to see if he couldn’t find a little entertainment. There was a trio of merchants from the Cherrycliffs who had come in not too long ago who were just sitting at the counter silently signing to one another. Closer towards the entrance, the chef spoke with a baby faced courier who wore the colors of House Silver.

But what really caught his attention was the waitress.

She was a beautiful, ageless Faofolk with literal porcelain skin and curves chiseled in all the right places. She glided gracefully, her feet clinked against the wooden floor as she moved. She was a pretty little dancer, and Basil was confident he could get her spinning to his new tune.

The rustling stopped.

“No.”

Basil sneered, his eyes snapping back to Clip. His partner knew what was on his mind, and it made his blood boil. “Do your job.”

Clip sighed as he peeled back from his papers and splayed both hands. “I am–in fact, I believe I found myself doing BOTH of our jobs. Sometimes I feel like I should be in charge of the crew–you barely do jackdreg while I’m the one stuck doin’ all the REAL work.” 

Basil picked up his empty plastic mug and tipped it back. The teeny trickle of melted water did little to whet his appetite, so he took up a bit of ice and chewed it.

“Skies yer annoying,” was the best retort the giant of a Borrower could muster. “Just read the damn papers and get us somethin’ GOOD this time.”

“The last job was good,” Clip insisted with a pointed glare. “300 notes got us three meals, yeah?”

“The last job was sifting through bodies,” Basil’s lips curled back with a sneer. He leaned back till his chair groaned beneath him. His skin crawled as he remembered the stench of the dead and picking bloodsoaked pockets. “I want somethin’ with riches–not whatever skuggin’ cud Ash was suckin’ on.” 

“Careful for how you speak of the dead,” his companion warned him as he picked up his own mug for a careful sip–the ungrateful man didn’t even seem to enjoy his drink. “Clan Ash was snuffed out violently, I doubt their spirits are at peace…”

Basil ignored the superstitious warning. “Listen, I wanna snag a BIG job this time! I wanna rub shoulders with the ELITE like the Silvers and Blooms–not with the molderin’ dead and mumblin’ priests.”

He swirled around the crushed ice as he mused. “How ‘bout a job with arcana? Courtiers pay good for that junk, right?”

His companion’s expression turned grave. Clip took a longer sip on his spirits this time, “Nothing good ever comes from titanis arcana, boss–and you know it.”

Clip shot a careful glance at Basil’s empty mug of ice. “‘Sides, don’t your people have taboos on even touching it?”

Basil’s blood boiled as his stomach growled. He slammed the mug down–a faint crack spidered up the side. It caused enough noise to prompt the Faofolk waitress to jump and shoot him a glare. Despite his infatuation prior, the Freewalker now had little care for the brittle woman at the moment–Clip had poked the hornet’s nest.

“Like I care what the ‘Walkers think,” he spat. “Who cares about skuggin’ taboos when you could eat? Tell me bud, when was the last time you ate? Not crust, not rat–but ate REAL food?”

Clip hesitated.

“Exactly,” Basil replied with a huff, his syllables coated with crushed ice. “Harvests ain’t yieldin’ what the use’ta, and the Crown’s taxes are drainin’ us dry. …I say we go big. Just cuz arcana is a bitter dreg for some, don’t mean it hasta be for hardworkin’ guys like us–know what I’m sayin’? So how ‘bout we get on that cricket first, and snag a big payout while we can?”

The seconds ticked. Eventually, Clip sighed. “Well…there is one job we could try…” A crooked grin split across Basil’s face.

“Adda boy,” the Freewalker rumbled.

Clip carefully rummaged through the pile before drawing out a surprisingly clean piece of paper. He gave it a once over before pushing it towards Basil with his fingertips. It had pretty, useless filigree along the edges and a picture which Clip tapped.

It was an unremarkable piece of arcana: a thin, boring rectangle. And while the diagram indicated it had a sheath that could slide back to reveal yet another, smaller square hidden inside, he sneered at how shockingly simple Titans could be.

“‘S’all?” Basil demanded. “What the Sky’s shite is that suppose’ta be?”

“The Faofolk call it a Youesbee,” Clip shrugged. “Dunno much beyond that…only that some newly wedded noble wants one, and he is willin’ to pay a queen’s coffer for it.”

“How much we talkin’?” Basil huffed. “I know of some pretty poor queens…”

“Fifteen hundred notes.”

Basil balked. “Bullscrap.”

Clip shook his head. “Like I said…queen’s coffer. Dunno what is so important ‘bout it—but he wants one. Now the trick is finding one… ’s’not something you would find just anywhere.”

Basil tapped his finger against the mug. His mind swam with ideas of where to look, but one particularly colorful and bright domain stood out. He’d seen plenty of arcana there before…