#Labrusca seeing Phi again later: What's up milk boy?

[shardclan]

The way the imperial carried himself along the bustling footpaths of Noon Point, it wasn't a wonder the merchants who saw him coming scrambled to put out their finest wares. They needn't have bothered; he wasn’t there to shop. In spite of his clear youth, his gaze was straightforward and had all the nobility of a young king. And much more importantly, an emanating glow that proclaimed he was a child of Lightweaver's first imperials.

Even if he had come as a buyer, his silks were as golden as morning light and finer than any they could have produced, and the sapphires around his neck would have made any jewels held up to it them look tawdry by comparison.

Labrusca and Verbena watched him pass over the edges of steaming pints of fresh milk from the Happy Harpy Creamery. From between them, Trathail piped up.

"A relative of Eos, yes?"

"Maybe," Verbena mused. "There's not much family resemblance."

Labrusca chuckled and licked foam from her lip. "You mean he doesn't look like he'd apologize to you if you poured your drink on him."

Verbena drew her brows together. "Are you still mad about the scroll?"

"You're adorable when you try to scowl," Labrusca teased. "But nah. It was the best thing for me. I didn't need to be a pearlcatcher. Eos did."

"Then why are you so hard on them? The debt's been repaid a long time."

Labrusca shrugged. "It's not meant to be harsh, but stealing that breed change is probably the most gutsy thing I've ever seen them do. Have you ever seen them walk around with half that guy's self-assurance?"

Verbena pressed a finger thoughtfully under her bottom lip. "Yes...? But just once."

A crash and several surprised shouts erupted from further down the lane. Verbena and Labrusca craned forward, more curious than startled. Trathail's wings pushed both back off the street and under the safety of the awning, and a sizzling bolt of light magic shot by them like a comet before crashing into the cobblestones.

Eos landed shortly after. The sword they always carried but never seemed to use was unsheathed and steady in their right hand. Runes lit along the blade and a copy appeared in their left--a muted ghost of itself shining with the sort of flat, off-putting light only seen in the Hewn City. When the imperial winked into existence with a bronze flash, they met the swing without hesitation. In the flash of sparks, the imperial winked out and back in, but again failed to surprise Eos.

"Just! Come! Home!" the imperial grunted, punctuating his shouts with hard strikes.

"I am home!" Eos shouted back, pushing the imperial backward and kneeing him hard in the diaphragm. Their chest rose and fell rapidly as they stood over their wheezing opponent. "Just... just leave, Phi."

Phi stabbed his saber down, steadying himself as he sputtered. "Coward."

Eos grimaced and waved away the illusory copy of their sword. "Offensive magic is illegal in most of Aphaster City. I don't want to see you in prison. So for Elevens' sake, will you please just go before Penitence gets here?"

"You know that's not what I meant." He glowered up from under  from under his disheveled hair. "All of us...Parhelion Imperials in life, and death, and all that comes after in the Hewn City. And then you fuck off and decide you want to be the only Parhelion Pearlcatcher."

"So what?!" Eos cried, feeling old anxiety raise bile in their gut. "I couldn't live like that!"

"But we did. And we will. And by Weaver's Light, you will too even if it takes the rest of the Age to restore you."

"Restore me...?" The remaining sword slipped from Eos' hand and clattered on the stone. A sickly beading of sweat prickled over their whole body. They shook their head, first dismissively, then with rapid panic. "You can't."

"It's not impossible."

"Even if you find one, you won't ever be able to afford it."

"We're willing to steal if it undoes what you've done." Phi rose to his feet. He was still nursing his mid-section, but his eyes were firm. "It's not just about you, Eos. Do you know how our family looks to other Parhelia now? Do you know how embarrassing it is, being the little brother of the Parhelion who deserted their cause and even their species?!"

With a final cough, he lifted his saber again. "If you don't have the discipline to do the right thing, I will damn well do it for you."

"I don't want to!" Eos shrieked. "I will never be an imperial again! Not ever, not ever again! Just leave me alone!"

The hysterical shrillness of Eos' voice freed Verbena from the shock of the fight. She rushed to them, throwing their arms around them defensively and shielding them from Phi. Labrusca shouted something that neither of them heard over a thunderous metallic thud.

"Bully imperial!!!"  Trathail  yelled, her feathers rising with her onslaught of reproach. "Do not make Eos cry! No fights in the street! No throwing magic! it is morning; drink milk and be peaceful!!!"

Phi looked at the harpy with more confusion than anything. Her mask was unreadable, but given she had swung an aluminum canister at him, she clearly did not fear him. It had crashed harmlessly against a hastily formed magic shield, but while he was still deciding what his next move should be, the canister cracked.

Trathail's cries of anger gave way to horrified squawking. 

"MY MILK!"

While Phi had been spared the impact, the shield did not do anything for the gush of steaming milk that drenched him before he could begin to flinch out of the way. He froze on the spot instead, wide-eyed and mentally blank while Trathail mourned the canister like a wounded hatchling. His hair...his clothes...

A faint snicker snapped him out of it.

Labrusca was still standing under the awning of the Happy Harpy Creamery, busily pretending to drink the rest of her milk. The act wouldn't have fooled anyone--her eyes were clenched shut and her entire body was jiggling with the effort to not laugh.

Every atom of Phi's being went hot, and he blushed right up to his antlers. He whirled on the lamenting harpy. "How dare--!"

A sword, a dagger, and a spade all appeared at his neck seemingly out of the ether. Behind them each, a massive male guardian with a face like a glacier, a harpy with plumage that could have blinded the Windsinger, and an imperial woman with the thick arms of a long-time farmer.

"I have the situation under control, Koki'o," Penitence rumbled.

"Mmm, so ya do." The imperial recalled her spade peaceably. "Thanks for your service."

He grunted, and turned his attention to the harpy. "Ma'am, if you would."

"I would not," she hissed. "He was going to attack our sister!"

Koki'o gave a deep hawing laugh and patted Phi's milk-soaked head with a menacingly heavy hand. "Ya needn't get in a ruffle. Ain't a soul in Aphaster that would let Trathail come to no harm."

"Ffion," a second, more grizzled harpy harpy barked. "Stand down."

"But--!"

"We are guests. Leave the male to Aphaster’s law."

Labrusca sipped the last of her milk and watched order re-assert itself. Penitence led Phi away in a decidedly milky pair of ice cuffs, and the two harpy 'guests' tried to comfort Trathail. Or at least the more brightly colored one was--the older one was staring at the sign for the Happy Harpy Creamery like she couldn't decide whether she hated it or thought it was funny, or maybe both. 

With the fight over, Eos--bless their gentle soul--was crying in Verbena’s arms. Labrusca regarded their stocky arms and shoulders with new respect. She'd always thought it was an oddly beefy shape for such a shrinking violent but it certainly made more sense now.

“So,” she called, setting her empty pint down on an empty display table. “Which one of us is going to tell Stellaria about this? Not it.”