#a familiar story

[driftward]

Log Entries 113-140

Log Entry 113

She woke up late. She never wakes up late.

At least we still went for her morning run. Well, morning. Barely. It was lunch time when we got back. She washed up, changed outfit, went to the meeting room where the company usually has their lunch, and announced to everyone present that the courtship between her and the Chirurgeon had ended.

And then she retreated.

The Madam Commander is acting in paradox. Frantic, yet still. Bubbling full of emotion, silent as ice. Hands reaching for tasks, yet nothing accomplished.

I have seen her here before, and I am afraid. I cannot keep her safe this time.

I want her to take care of herself. I want to prepare. She is going to self isolate. We need food, water, books.

Stupid, stupid.

Log Entry 115

The Madam Commander’s brother is still at headquarters, which I did not fully appreciate. She went to him. The Leftenant was there as well, but whatever they were doing, they put it aside to let her stay.

Nothing happened. We’re well fed and there’s plenty of tea.

Log Entry 117

She sent the Mathye a fruit basket. I looked back through Lily and Foxglove’s notes. I’m pretty certain this is the wrong way to handle a break up. I referenced some stories from the archives.

They’re no help.

My own guidance recommends that, if opportunity presents itself, to send someone with relationship difficulties back from the field to sort it out so they are better able to focus on what’s right in front of them.

Guess we aren’t meant to be counselors.

Log Entry 118

I was so worried that I didn’t notice at first, but!

Something’s changed.

She wakes alone, but from that moment, she does not stay alone. If there is nobody where she intends to be, she seeks until she finds somebody.

Our friends accept us. She does not talk as much, but they seem happy to just have her there, and it’s a relief, I’m relieved, she’s not brooding, well she IS but she’s brooding with company, and most importantly, no running off to perform ill advised experiments with insufficient supervision.

I am not sufficient supervision. Noting that here should it come up again. She’s too big and too heavy for me to move by myself. That’s important to note. I’m noting it.

Log Entry 119

She could stand more variety in her diet.

Log Entry 124

She practically lives in the workshop, now. I think she’s determined that’s where her friends are likely to either be, or where they’ll look for her first. And she’s taken to machinery with enthusiasm.

Which is great! I can also access schematics! In theory. Fairies did lots of things back in ancient Nym. I am an Eos-class, so while I am specialized for helping my Scholar in field triage situations, fairies like me had other jobs, too!

And I am so much more than most fairies. I bet I could pick this up no sweat. Just me and her and her crew, working on these submersicraft and aerocraft.

Soon as I can interact with reality I’m going to bite everyone and everything. This is terrible has been terrible and continues to be terrible.

Log Entry 130

The Madam Commander is more worried about the Crystalficer as time goes on, and I think she’s right! Whatever has happened to the Crystalficer is eerily familiar to what happened to us. Everything was fine, right, until everything was very. Not fine.

The Marine seems to disagree. Where’s her fairy. Where’s Glitterdust. I want to talk to her instead.

A joke! I am hilarious. I still can’t talk to anyone.

Anyroad, worries about the Apple are on pause for now. It seems that someone else has recognized the Madam Commander’s excellence, and asked for her services.

An investigation. This is great, actually! It is well past time. The Madam Commander has recovered her strength well enough, if not her essence. She has been practicing with gunblade and chakram; so she is armed enough. She is smart, and clever, and even without me, she will be alright. The Marine and the Leftenant are never far from her side, and there are others she can call on.

And frankly this is better than her spending all her time in the workshop avoiding thinking about the Chirurgeon.

So, murder most grisly in the home of the land spirits! I wonder if they will be able to see me. We are off!

Log Entry 138

I have missed this.

Lily told me stories of their early adventures, and I have bits and pieces of Foxglove’s gestalt, to say nothing of my own memories.

Simply, my Scholar is an investigator.

And it is in an investigation that she is most in her element.

We’ve been directed to examine some bodies. I want to tell her what I can see! I want to help! I can see what’s wrong almost immediately. Their physical form may be whole, but their essence is depleted - further than even death would suggest, given how long they have been dead. If I was more here than not here, I could help perform the autopsy work.

But my Scholar is an investigator.

And while I have been helpful in the past, she doesn’t NEED need me for this.

Watching her work is a marvel. The way she notices every detail of a scene. The way she manages to see things nobody else does, not even me. The care with which she acts. The way she puts pieces of information together.

I thought I would try to help. And I think she managed to see the world I do, just for a moment, I’m… I’m not sure. But she saw the essence depletion, same as me.

A small puzzle piece! The Adept and the Marine are both here. She called on them both, and set them to work, and began to put the matter together.

It’s so good to be back in the field like this.

Log Entry 139

The Crystalficer was still on her mind, and so we went to their home. A small living craft, worthy of any proper Nymian. Her and the Marine disagreed on some matters, even as she examined the ship and noted it had been abandoned.

She wanted to go inside. The Marine disagreed.

It was a risk, but we took it. Just the slightest nudge, right? Just a brief touch, through, and I had her hand through the door and opening it from the other side.

I don’t think the Marine noticed. We examined the boat, and oh, my Scholar is so very very clever! I thought we were only working on the one case, but in fact, we were working on two! She determined that the Crystalficer was very probably the grisly murderer in the home of the land spirits!

Or… something infesting and controlling the Crystalficer.

A voidsent.

We are about to go investigate further.

Log Entry 139 addendum

IT WAS NOT A VOIDSENT HOLY SHITE IT WAS NOT A VOIDSENT THIS MAY BE MY FINAL LOG

Log Entry 140

The Crystalficer is back home, safe.

She had… summoned… a unique sort of egi. Now, I don’t know as much about egis as I would like. They are creatures of aether, like me. They are created via sophisticated geometry, like me. But while I tap into anima energies and am formed of symbolic logic, an egi… borrows… primal aether. Sort of like living aether, but elementally charged, and shaped by some kind of conceptual logic.

It was a terrible creature. I could call it a voidsent, I think, for it was full of the chaotic aether with which I am now all too familiar. It had many arms of dangerous blades. It was fast, and dangerous.

I was faster. I am still not sure how I did it, but at one point, I reached, and pulled myself and my Scholar through the in-between.

We avoided the worst of its strikes. We fought back.

It did not dissipate fully when defeated. A part of it is still part of the Apple. It will always be part of her, the Scholar opines.

I look upon it with a faint feeling of horror.

We may be different, but we are the same. Her egi… my Scholar’s fairy… me.

Our aether showing streaks of the strong mix of static and chaos. I know not where her egi got it from. I got the static from the Atelier, so long ago, pulled from the malfunctioning device, to protect my Scholar. And the chaos… again. That from the spaces we visited abyss. I took it to protect my Scholar.

But what if … I am the same as that thing?

A fairy is a symbolic construct that serves their Scholar.

But that thing defended the Crystalficer as viciously as I would defend my Scholar.

And I am clearly not a proper fairy anymore.

No. I won’t do it. And that’s that.

[random-xpressions]

Writes an entire paragraph and cancels it in a second...

Random Xpressions

[johnschneiderblog]

In my wheelhouse

Son Justin gave me the Kindle version of this book for Father's Day,

You can tell by the subtitle that the book tells a grim story - one that affects me personally. I can hardly put it down.

The calamity described by Carson Prichard is not exactly news to someone who has pursued the mighty chinook salmon for 30 years - from the peak of the Lake Huron salmon fishery to its present-day nadir.

Although the causes of the collapse are still being chewed over, most experts zero in on a disruption of the food chain caused by invasive species - plus the fact that salmon are, in truth, also an invasive species to the Great Lakes.

Although I miss the heyday of the salmon fishery, I'm grateful I was here to participate in it. Meanwhile, I'll continue to chase lake trout, the species that actually belongs here.

(The fish in the bottom photo, taken on July 25, 2018, was one of our last big ones.)

[quibbs]

just had SO much fun with the fallout tv show... i love you missus okey dokey

[nyctosaurid]

don bluth films occupy a weird space because he's both inarguably an auteur who directs very strange, earnest, often "ugly" films but also a guy who near exclusively made movies for 8 year olds in the home video era. so basically everything he's ever done is a grimy, dreamy rumination on death and spirituality and has a direct to video sequel called something like secret of nimh 2: mrs. brisby's holiday adventure

[proxycrit]

LINKTOBER DAY 8: GORON CITY

Not featured here: bludo’s off in akkala because he and bolson company’s getting paid to work on architecture.

Very featured here: yunobo’s crippling anxieties only exacerbated by well meaning neighbors.

Definitely now my headcannon: bludo taught yunobo welding, and by the goddesses he's going to use that power for great evils (or goods)

This is an au of totk where time travel doesn’t happen! If you want to see more here’s my crimes:

And here’s my patreon!

[lotus-pear]

HIII SORRY FOR NO NEW ART have some concept sketches for the fic i'm working on instead

[canisalbus]

machete is like a delicate looking white flower, one where the petals turn transparent when it rains. vasco is a marigold for many reasons.

Ooo I like that! It never even crossed my mind to assign marigolds to Vasco, but it makes perfect sense. I had to look it up but the flower that turns transparent in the rain is called skeleton flower, and yeah, I can see how that would fit Machete.

I tend to associate irises, damask roses, and forget-me-nots with Vasco

And red carnations and poppies with Machete

[purpleelephantsocks]

Oh god, oh fuck, oh no; the parallels between Jean at the beginning of tsc panicking and telling Wymack "I want to go home" and Jean at the end of tsc falling apart after finding out his baby sister has died, telling Neil the same thing.

"I want to go home."

He is only nineteen

[choochooboss]

Emmet heading off for the holidays - first time alone. [Festival of Family 1/8] Some WIPs under the cut!

I'm so tired of looking at this - the composition and colors were a massive struggle and I still don't know if I made good choices or not.. Welp, I've been holding onto this well over a year now so it's time to move on! And it's not the only piece I've been holding onto; next one will be the biggest of the set of 8 pieces!

[starry-bi-sky]

yall ever think Shen Yuan went through like, internet withdrawal after being transmigrated into Shen Qingqiu? Like, he's canonically a NEET shut-in who did nothing but spend his time online, you can't tell me that for the first week or first few weeks of being SQQ he wasn't twitchy.

Like, reaching instinctively to his pockets for a phone that wasn't there, having an obsessive itch in the back of his mind that he should check and see if X or Y novel or webcomic has updated -- only to realize he can't anymore and being irritated by it. Wanting to go and see if there's new posts about this or that, but again realizing that he can't.

When he's bored or uncomfortable or just feels like wanting to escape he tries to go for his phone to distract himself, but oops! Not there anymore, and now he has to find a new and different way to distract himself from his feelings. And going through system notifications, quests, etc only does so much.

And there's that Tetris Effect too. SQQ makes a mistake while writing and instinctively goes to backspace on it except hey-ho that's not a keyboard and now he just dipped his pinkie into a bottle of ink or on a still-drying letter.

With him scrambling to fix his reputation and learn how to be a peak lord, I think his abrupt cold-turkey from all things internet would just be another straw on the camel's back that he promptly Ignores until it goes away on its own after he acclimates to his new surroundings.

[driftward]

Log Entries 59-112

Log Entry 59

The Madam Commander has a social calendar once more. This is good.

I cannot help her with that, and that is bad. I am so annoyed!

I am a fairy construct! My Scholar’s extra hand! I used to handle her appointments, set alarums, take notes, help organize her schedule, pop reminders, push updates, and otherwise free her up to do important work! We are a team, and I was her able partner, and now, and NOW, all I can do is look over her shoulder and try to nudge her hand every once in a while when she is writing!

It never works.

She complains about feeling useless, but I actually AM useless! Where is Lav? Maybe I can get her to do the work on my behalf.

She does not even have her glasses. How is she going to keep track of any of this.

Log Entry 59 Addendum

With arcanima. She will keep track with arcanima, of course, she still has her codex. I still wish I could help.

Also she still has the bad habit of setting entirely too many alarums.

Log Entry 61

Madam Archon has looked her over once more. The Chirurgeon has performed tests. The Adept has tried more hands-on techniques. There are still no answers, but they cleared the Madam Commander for more strenuous activity. The Adept has suggested perhaps they can alter their outing to try a few things out, which Madam Commander has agreed to.

I have decided to perform my own investigations. I am a Nymian Fairy construct. We are intelligent beings, and have the knowledge of an entire civilization we can call upon to aid our Scholars.

First, the data. The Madam Commander’s essence yet remains thin. I myself am more than stable. I have a surfeit of aether, but cannot seem to interact meaningfully with the material plane.

I still try to talk to her. And I can sometimes experience what she is experiencing. It is an interesting sensation. She is so large! I do not know how she is not clumsy. And heavy. And big.

Further investigation is needed, I feel.

Long Entry 68

I don’t know how I didn’t notice earlier. But I think… I think the Madam Commander is my new soul well. We are almost like unto one. Which may be why I cannot inhabit the soul armature, nor even the original Scholar stone. She is my anchor, now, and where I go when I rest.

I have always been able to feel what the Madam Commander feels. I am a construct, a familiar, based on an anima spirit. We have always had that connection. But it is changing, somehow. It’s almost like I have special insight now. More than just an impression of her thoughts. More frequently, I can experience her senses.

We are almost like unto one. I … don’t know what this means. For either of us.

Log Entry 72

A ‘spa day’ with the Adept. It was nice! She was nice. The Madam Commander always is brighter, lighter around the Adept. And I got to share those experiences. The smells were so wonderful! And the varieties of soaps. The Adept has long left little care baskets for the Madam Commander, but she went above and beyond today. People who painted, and made her nails and face colorful in new and interesting ways. People who touched, and where they touched, muscles relaxed. Warm baths. Contrasts! A room so hot I was concerned it may be too much, a pool actually at zero celtius.

It was nice. And the Adept gave so much of her attention and time and care. I knew Adepts could be kind people, often helpful to a fault, but the way she paid attention, helped the Madam Commander relax, listened to her babble and smiled and laughed, it was a genuine brightness to the day.

I like her. The Madam Commander likes her as well. Though, weirdly, she also gets a little nervous around her. Increased heart rate, body temperature, tenseness. But it faded as the day went on.

Oh and the smells of being in this city. The patterns of the colors forming a harmonious whole. I am getting increasingly used to being part of the Madam Commander, and if there was a good day for us to integrate more, this was it.

Mind, I have no idea how to do that, but it felt like a good day for it.

Log Entry 75

Alright, we’re starting to get back into it. Picked up a few leves. People are being delicate but encouraging about this, I’ve noticed. The Madam Commander is never allowed alone, which is great. Perfect, actually. A Scholar is at their best when they have people on the field with them. The Leftenent, in particular, is really showing up now.

Log Entry 78

I continue my experimentation, with the Madam Commander’s senses and physical being. With some focus, I think I can bring her closer to me, but this is not useful. I tried to direct her hand to pick up a tea cup today, and instead of picking it up, I think her hand went straight through it.

We both found ourselves looking oddly at our hand. What was that? This warrants further investigation.

Log entry 84

I think I understand. It is difficult to control, but I can, in fact, bring parts of the Madam Commander to me, though I cannot quite get to her. When I do, it is as though neither of us are there for a brief moment.

I do not know what to do with this. I am not sure I trust myself, or her, enough to try to do something useful, like, say, walk through a solid object.

I should let it go. She has expressed concerns about being increasingly clumsy to the Chirurgeon. He almost took her off duty, which neither of us want.

She likes him. I know she is courting him. But there is also a distance there, and some sort of light confusion. I usually stay out of her relationships. I guess I am staying out of this one too, due to my situation.

I hope she figures this one out or something.

Log Entry 102

The Madam Commander is visiting a place known as Aloalo Island and we are doing research into arcanima and I refuse to finish this log entry I would like to note I have been very patiently making my observations and waiting for something to change for some time now but this is not what I am for I am supposed to be DOING THINGS

WE ARE VISITING THE HOME OF A PRECURSOR CIVILISATION TO ARCANIMA AND I AM USELESS

I VERY MUCH AM TIRED OF THIS AND WANT TO DO SOMETHING.

Log Entry 102 Addendum

I did not mean to put our foot through the dock and send us into the water. But, uh, I can shift parts of her even if I do not intend to, so… that is good to know, I guess?

Almost lost the codex on this one. I must be more careful.

Log Entry 107

New armaments. Replacement chakrams. The Savant thinks she is ready for more strenuous training. And something else as well. A gunblade. An ingenious device, it is a sword with energy capacitance reservoirs that can be triggered by a clever fuse mechanism. The charges can be varied to have different effects. Many of hers have ceruleum - apparently those are easy to find - and others have aether with arcanima or spellworks from other disciplines.

The Madam Archon and the Scout came by to help her with it. The Marine was present as well. Some of the Crystalficer’s work was referred to to help make components for the gunblade, as well as some of its charges. That she has been gone so long is now starting to be worrisome to the Madam Commander.

As is the absence of the Assistant, which I had wondered at myself, but the Madam Archon suggested that he was fine. I’m not sure I agree. The Assistant, as I recall, seemed to need to be regularly rescued or retrieved from some trouble or another. Good at artifact identification and proofing! Lousy at adventuring! That is why the Madam Archon worries after him.

Hmph. I’d tell her to go look for him anyroad, if I could.

Log Entry 107 addendum

After they were done in the workshop the Madam Commander and the Madam Archon went for a walk and I just can NOT with them anymore oh just DROWN me in the depths of the Azure they are so STUPID for one another!

As though it could not be more obvious!

I know, I know, I’m biased since they both made me and I’m connected to them both so of course I think they are both connected to each other but even though I am a FAMILIAR, I am just a construct, I can TELL. How can anyone not tell!? The feelings! THE DEPTHS OF THESE FEELINGS my thread always gets SATURATED when the Madam Commander lets herself ACTUALLY FEEL THINGS and I want it on the record that THESE FEELINGS ARE TOO MUCH I am going to die my essence is going to get blown out like a tiny mote of fire in front of the gale of THESE LOOKS THEY GIVE ONE ANOTHER and CAN YOU NOT SEE WHAT I SEE MADAM COMMANDER LOOK AT HER SHE IS PRACTICALLY GLOWING THE LIGHT OF THE AZURE IS SHINING AND ALL THE LIGHTS ARE ON HER PLEASE JUST DO SOMETHING.

this is not my place this is not my place fairies do not interfere with relationships were are assistants we plan meetings and execute strategies and keep our Scholars safe and we heal them and we heal their charges and none of this is my problem and why can nothing be simple or easy around here

Log 107 addendum addendum

OH I THINK SHE FINALLY NOTICED ALL HAIL

Log 107 addendum addendum addendum

Oh shit the Chrirugeon please do not think about the Chirurgeon no no no no no I can feel that guilt welling up shit okay alright I can get you through this I have a strategy for the Chirurgeon it will be alright.

I do not have a strategy for the Chirurgeon

I am suddenly extremely grateful I cannot get involved in any of this shit.

Alright. I trust the Madam Commander. She will handle this with poise, grace, and her usual excellence.

~*~

Mathye was in the company library, gathering the research materials he wanted to prepare for Gage’s next big idea of trying to expand company operations to new continents. Now that things had calmed down at home, it was time to explore, but before anyone could go anywhere, Mathye was going to personally see to it they were all medically prepared.

That meant workups for vaccines, and that meant research into diseases.

He grumbled, picking up another book to consider. He was going to be busy for a while. He heard the door to the library open, but paid it little mind.

“Mathye! What brings you here?”

He snapped his gaze over at the newcomer, taking a step back.

“Oh - Zoi!” he said.

“I, ah, I did not expect to see you down here,” Zoissette said, stammering as she spoke. “Up here? Over here. Right.”

Mathye felt more than a bit sheepish. He’d been so wrapped up in his work that he had not been checking in on Zoissette, not as a patient, but as a girlfriend.

He set his book down on the already considerable pile. Fully reviewing it could wait until later. "I saw on the roster you took on more missions. Are you feeling stronger, then?" he asked.

Zoissette’s face seemed unable to decide what to settle on. He ignored that. She’d been through a lot.

"Uhm. Yes. Probably. No, wait. Sorry. Yes. Nothing too strenuous I assure you, and never alone,” said Zoissette.

He smiled. "That's good.  And…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks for the legal paperwork getting me out. Though I just found out I'm stuck with community service."

“Of course. Literally the least I could do. Actually literally. It - well, I would rather handle that than the new counsel. At least for a little while longer. As for the community service, well, you -did- sedate a scientist, Mathye.”

"She was practically manic!" he protested. "I did a public service!"

"The public,” said Zoissette, her tone dry as Thanalan,  “apparently disagreed. Maybe ask next time."

"I couldn't help myself. It was instinct. Do you know how many morons I've had to send off to dreamland because they were just one egg away from completely cracking?"

"Dragoons are -different-, Mathye!"

"I've done it to Riven and the others too!"

"People you know are dif- wait. Lady Fortemps?"

"She's a Limsan arcanist.  Do you know how many of that lot like to test how long they can stay awake for and not eat while they're researching? I had to jump to Radz-at-Han the other day and drag her away from that bloody island they're all losing their minds over,” he continued, rapidly letting his frustrations at his friends out. "And no, I do not hit her upside the head. The Sleep spell does that for me. All bets are off on the others though."

He noticed a flicker of guilt cross her face at the mention of arcanists and their habits, and he stopped ranting long enough to take an inhale, go over, and give her a gentle peck on the cheek.

"However,” he said, somewhat calmer, “I will apologize - I've been an ass and not asked you to do anything."

Zoissette was mumbling to herself. “I mean, to be fair, someone trained in the Nymian arts should know the Expedient-class of stimulants…. oh!" she said, surprised at the peck.

Mathye looked over at his books, then back to Zoissette. "Do you want to get a late supper somewhere?  Everyone's busy so we wouldn't have eavesdroppers."

She seemed to be lost again, her eyebrows knitting themselves as she leaned close, her eyes studying his face intently, and nodding to herself. Mathye tilted his head at her.

“Is everything alright?”

“I have no idea!” she said cheerfully.

Even for her, that was unusual. Mathye found himself blinking at her, feeling a bit confused. “You… have no idea?”

Zoissette shook her head. "Sorry. That was - I have been doing that a lot lately. Just - uhm. What would you say…? Right. Not thinking before I speak. Dinner, you said?"

He nodded at her a bit. “Aye, dinner. “Maybe…” he could feel a tension in his gut, threatening to pull his courage down before he could fully muster it. He fought past it, reaching out to take one of Zoissette’s hands and holding it gently between his own. “Could catch a late theater showing somewhere…”

She was still looking at him, quizzically. Or perhaps thoughtfully. She closed one eye, and he watched as the other danced the direction of its gaze around the room. And then she reached out towards his face.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

He let go of her hand in surprise.

“Sorry. If that was too forward, slap me,” he replied.

Zoissette took a step back. “What? No! I am asking if I am being too forward. I - I do not slap people, Mathye!”

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “I mean, unless you wanted me to.”

He shook his head. This conversation was getting increasingly perplexing. “You’re not being forward. If anything - you seem nervous. Do you just want to eat in? I can get takeout.”

“Takeout might be nice. Am I nervous?”

“I have never seen one eyeball dance around the room while the other eye’s shut.”

At that, she closed the other eye, and he watched as she repeated her performance from earlier, just with the opposite eyes.

“Oh. Maybe I am nervous,” she said.

Now Mathye was concerned.

"…What's wrong?” he asked. “Did something happen today? Or on a mission?"

She shook her head again. "No, nothing like that. I just - here. I want to try something."

He blinked at her. “Okay.”

"Just  - pull back if this is too much - or slap me, I guess, if that is where we are at. Okay? You ready?"

Mathye took a deep breath in, having no idea what she could possibly have in mind. But, well.

“Ready,” he said.

Zoissette’s hands were mere ilms from his face. He watched as she balled them up into fists, biting her lower lip, and glancing off to either side. He tensed, wondering if this was how he was going to get punched. But then, slowly, carefully, as though he was made of delicate glass, she took his face into her hands, warm fingers just gently touching his skin. And then she leaned in, and gave him a kiss. It was as pleasant as it was unexpected, her lips pressing in, a deeper kiss than he could have possibly guessed at.

He startled, but did not pull away, and instead fought to remain steady. It took long seconds for him to respond as his brain caught up to the current reality, but he did respond, returning the kiss as sweetly as he knew how. He was rusty at this sort of thing, but despite that, he put his feeling into it, even as he kept his hands to himself. A true gentleman for a true lady.

They stayed there for some time, before Zoissette pulled back, keeping his face held gently in her hands. She was doing that thing again with her eyes, gaze darting all over as she seemed to be trying to memorize every little detail of his face, a frown creasing her forehead.

Mathye just blinked at her, unsure of where to take things next.

Her frown deepened, and she seemed to perhaps be searching for something. And not finding it.

Mathye contented himself with just watching and waiting.

Finally, however, she let go of his face. As she did so, she looked up to the ceiling, and made a frustrated noise.

He felt tension rising up within him. “What’s wrong?”

"Me, as usual,” she said. “Halone, I hope you are not watching just now."

He looked at her quizzically as she continued, her face shifting rapidly through expressions as she fretted her hands.

"I do not know how to explain. Or maybe I do and I do not want to. There was… nothing there. It was warm. You are nice. There is supposed to be - what? Sparks and flash, levin and flesh and warmth and - “

Mathye reached out and took her hands in his again. “Zoissette."  He said, gently, but firmly.

Zoissette made a frustrated noise, but she looked at him again. Her facial expressions calmed down, seeming to settle into something that may have been a smile if it had stopped at some point. Instead she overshot into some kind of pained rictus expression, teeth all exposed and eyes too wide to be comfortable.

He was going to try to say something comforting, but “what the fuck” is what came out instead at that particular display.

Her face fell, and she began to fret her hands around his. He tried to recover.

“Zoi? What is it?” he said, pulling his hands free and lifting one to her cheek.

She stilled. And when she spoke next, her voice was quiet, and he had to strain to hear.

"I think I -want- to love you,” she said. “I think I -might- love someone else.”

He felt his heart plummet, and his mind scattered as his stomach grew cold.

“I think I have no idea what love actually is though,” she said. “And I think I am somewhat past pattern at trying and failing at it. And - and I want to say you deserve better.“

There was a heat building in her voice. Anger. She seemed to be talking to herself, but Mathye was not sure he was still listening, not really. He suddenly felt distant. Away. “But that makes it seem like it is your fault. The fault is mine. I know not where. I think I wanted our relationship to work. Love grows where the work happens, right? So why is it not working."

He blinked. He blinked, again. Trying to get some kind of bearing on the situation.

“Wait. What?” he said, just barely controlling his voice.

“I am not making sense, am I?” said Zoissette. “I can tell.”

He swallowed down his feelings. Just for a moment. He needed to make sure he was certain of this moment. "You said you might… love someone else."

She tilted her head at him, and looked upwards again, frowning, thinking.

"Yes? Maybe?” she said. “I… think so? Fury forfend, it has never -happened- before."

He felt his whole world go still, and he fell quiet. From a million malms away, he could hear her voice.

"…you still want to get takeout?" she was asking.

He inhaled. Just a little bit of life. Just enough to get him through the next minute or so. He shook his head at her, gently taking her hands.

“No takeout,” he said. “Don’t worry about me… or us, anymore. This other person. Do they make you happy?”

Just the next minute or so.

And then, truth. He could see it, plain on her face. A small, little smile dancing across it before she had time to shake her head and take a palm to wipe it away, shaking it off, but it was there.

"Yes, but that hardly seems relevant,” she said. “No, what am I saying, that is very relevant. No, what am I - how do you people DO this."

He had to let go. Or else he was going to drag them both down. He had to let go.

"It's fine, Zoissette.  You don't have to see me anymore,” he said.

Zoissette pouted. A pitiable display. If only…

His voice was quiet. Too quiet, as he put a smile on his face. "Go be happy with that other person."

He had to let go. And so, squeezing her hands one last time, he did, releasing her hands even as he released his heart. He looked at her face just long enough to see her studying him again, perplexed.

Well, that was no problem of his anymore. He turned, going back to his book pile. He would need to take them with him.

"…I do not know if the feeling is reciprocated,” she said from behind him.

"Haven't you spent enough of your life forcing yourself to do things?" he said. Keeping his voice quiet kept any venom out of it, kept it from being a jab. He would be kind, at this juncture. It was all he had for her now. “I would suggest you go and find out.”

He put some few books back.

“…Mathye?”

He did not turn. “Yes?”

"…you deserve the world. I wish I - I wish I might have been the one to give it to you. I … am going to link Riven and ask her to bring you some food."

The rest of the books would come with him, then. “No need to do that. I'm leaving,” he said, still quiet, still small. "There's some more research I need to pick up by the Conjurer's Guild."

"Well… if you say so,” she said. Her voice was no louder than his.  “… good night, Mathye."

Mathye swept a hand up to put his bangs in his face. There was no need for her to see him. He was not certain he could face her.

“Good night, Zoissette,” he said, taking his books and sweeping past her, out of the library, and into the rest of his life. As he left, he felt himself turn to ice inside.

~*~

Log Entry 112

Oh. Oh, Madam Commander, no.

[astranauticus]

Director of the False Last Act

[weirdlookindog]

"She was an eerie, yet lovely, creature of unnamed regions"

Virgil Finlay (1914-1971) - Illustration for Lee Francis' 'Witch of the Blackfern Moor'

(Fantastic Adventures Vol.5 #10, December, 1943)

[karmicpunishment]

atsushi starts taking some college classes and meets some friends and one turns out to be one of kunikidas former students

[thatdragonzeek]

Blorbos acquired

Thank you @bamsara