The roughest part of being a maid to someone like Patchouli isn't the taste testing, the feeding, or the way she has to get the living marshmallow mountain out of doorways.
It's actually getting her to go outside to the lake to take a break.
Her beloved mistress is testing her. Not by assigning her to care for Patchouli, of course, she likes Patchouli a lot. Even when the librarian innocently comments on how fat they both are like it won't make Sakuya drool internally (and externally if she isn't careful enough), and shakes her gut with a flabby hand to prove the point.
Those sorts of things are...stressing, let's say, but they're still good. And Patchy's soft demeanor makes her easier to get along with than someone like her mistress in a bad mood.
The problem, though...
"Lady Patchouli, I believe the library has seen enough tending in the last 20 hours, and while I would love to serve you this roasted chicken right NOW...would it not be more fun to eat out in the dining room? Where the sun is?"
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listen. i love el and i think she's a fascinating character. we all know this. i am very clear about this. but like. it really is SO crazy how she really came in and, like... fucked will's life up so fucking bad lmao. i know that it wasn't her fault, and i'm not saying it is, but that's just... such an excruciating writing choice.
it was a choice to have her be the one that opened the gate & essentially sliced will's life into an ugly before and after. it was a choice to have her replace him as mike's number one as soon as she came back into their lives. it was a choice to make her the party's mage and then "change" will from being their wizard to their cleric. it was a choice to make her his sister. it was a choice to purposely have her wear his clothes and have the same bangs. it was a choice to have her ignore him on mike's first day in lenora, despite the fact that he was mike's friend, too, and first. it was a choice to make her oblivious to his feelings.
it was a choice to make them love and genuinely care about each other. it was a choice to make her feel like a monster for everything that'd happened and kept happening. it was a choice to make will not resent her. it was a choice to make him support her enough that he's willing to uphold her lies to mike (!!!) of all people with his inaction.
it was a choice to have him spill his heart out to mike and gift him his painting all in her name. to have him be the one to unknowingly make mike finally say "i love you" to her in response to his confession. to have him realize too late that he's been needlessly pushing mike towards her this whole time.
it was a choice to place will right beside mike, his first ever friend and keeper of his heart, when he told el that his life started just as will's ended.
it was... a bold fucking choice to replace will with el in mike's eyes due to outside influence. it throws them into chaos and disarray because el and will are not interchangeable, and it shows in how...
mike seeks from el everything that will already gives him.
mike readily gives will everything that el begs him for.
el cannot read or understand mike in the innate, wordless, and familiar way that will does.
mike cannot be vulnerable with el, but he opens up to will without even needing to be asked.
mike always heeds, trusts, and listens to will, even when they're arguing or going through a rough patch.
mike always knows just how to mend things with will, because he knows exactly what he needs and he doesn't ever hesitate to do and give it. nor does he need anyone to help him with their conflicts either. he just knows.
el is always left waiting for him to do things for her that he's currently doing for will.
will visibly hates and feels uncomfortable lying to mike, but el can do it consistently with ease.
will is the one that loves mike how he truly wants (and needs) to be loved.
will hasn't been able to move on in full, because he was cast out of his own story and demoted to a supporting role behind the new lead.
el hasn't been able to find out who she really is, because she's been thrust into roles that were never meant for her to begin with. she has always been contorted into the shape of whatever others need or want her to be, but they don't fit because they aren't her.
and, like... there are so many things in this story, which is to say the show as a whole, that would not have happened had the men in el's life not done that. had they allowed her to just be, it's highly likely that the dominoes would've never fallen the way they have.
thankfully, the narrative is set up in such a way that it appears this disorder will rectify itself, but it's still so... upsetting to think about lol.
it all boils down to choices: who gets to make them, what choices they have, why they made those choices, and what happens after. that's all the show is: a series of choices, or a lack thereof, and their consequences with some monster mumbo-jumbo sprinkled on top.
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Aylin curls her fingers around Isobel’s hand, draws it towards her cheek with a tender regard set upon her; Isobel nearly flinches for a moment, that same fear pounding beneath her chest, until her fingers find the soft, porcelain skin of Aylin’s cheek, and that dark fear subsides.
“Tell me you do not see the brilliance your touch grants my soul,” she says. It’s a challenge, but spoken like a prayer. “Tell me you do not feel your chest aflutter in its presence.”
“I do, but—“
Aylin cracks the faintest smile, so distant from the radiant bluster she exhibits in the everyday and far closer to the intimate grins they once shared in private moments of reverence and selfish prayer.
“Then your heart is all your own, my darling.” Insistence, assurance, and — yes, even relief colour her words, soak them in the soothing balm of her presence and esteem. “Ketheric’s had rotted long before he had ever known the grave. Yours is your own even long after. You are my Isobel, and you could never harm me.”
The grip on her hand tightens faintly, and a small trickle of gold leaks from the corner of Aylin’s closing eyes before meeting the edge of Isobel’s thumb; an old but nigh-forgotten impulse tightens her chest, sets a warmth beneath her cheeks, and she wipes the tear away with a feather-light flit of her thumb, wondering how many of those Aylin had to shed in the years she’d been gone.
How many she wishes she could have wiped away in that time.
“Have I not hurt you enough?” Isobel whispers, though the words ring hollow. She never intended to leave the greatest joy in her life, the most brilliant beacon in her faith. Still, it’s hard not to wonder how deep that loneliness struck, how far that heartbreak had settled beneath the ancient scars she wears.
Aylin shakes her head as her eyes drift open, and the adoration she sets within Isobel’s own longing gaze steals her breath for but a moment. “After all the hurt I’d endured, being with you again heals me. No matter the years.”
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