#i love me some selasi

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

hii brainrot i love your work :}}}

i was wonder if maybe you could do a lil drabble of muriel having to deal with his and mc's kid being an absolute wild card like constantly going to the woods or town to explore without telling, climbing things they aren't supposed and just generally giving muriel constant mini heart attacks

byee have a good rest of your dayy ^^

"What am I doing wrong?"

There's only one person in the world who can make your stoic partner emote like this, and it's the terror of a five-year-old peacefully dozing in their trundle on the other side of the hut. Muriel sits perched on the edge of your bed with his face in his hands.

"And I thought Asra was hard to deal with as a kid ..."

"What happened?"

You try not to chuckle as you sit next to him and lay a hand on his broad shoulder. It feels like touching a very warm boulder, the tension bunching the muscles there so tightly you'd think his back was made of knots. He turns to give you a wide-eyed stare of disbelief.

"They're not afraid of anything."

You suppress a snort.

"Isn't that a good thing? You always talked about wanting them to grow up knowing they're safe no matter what."

"I do -" He sinks his face back into his palms, taking slow, even breaths as the shoulder under your hand slowly starts to relax. "I do, but I-I can't. I can't keep them safe from everything. They're growing up so fast. I don't want them to lose their spark because I can't keep up."

You nod quietly. Muriel's right. Your child has a firmly rooted faith in a big, beautiful world full of love and wonder, and their own boundless curiosity calls them into all the places that would gladly shatter that dream. You want them to explore and learn and grow, but you dread watching a little of the light leave their eyes because you taught them wariness.

"I know." You start to rub your palm along his spine. He relaxes through another deep breath, eventually slumping over in the hard-won ease of years of closeness, laying his head on your lap so you can take out the day's braids. You card your fingers through his hair with a sigh. "I want them to hold onto that safety, too - I guess they're more ready to grow up than we are to watch it happen."

That earns you a fondly exasperated huff. "They chased a bee."

"They - what?" Your fingers pause in shock. You see the corner of his mouth twitch in a tired smile.

"I took them to check the charms. When I turned around, they were almost out of sight."

"Did you catch them?"

"Barely. They followed it to its hive in that old stump by the clover clearing and I caught them trying to climb in to visit."

"Good grief." You sit speechless for a moment, stunned into silence. Muriel's exhaustion finally catches up to him and his voice cracks on a hysterical giggle.

"They said the bee invited them to tea with its family and then they asked me to give them some treats to share with the hive."

You roll your lips in an attempt to fight your laughter. "And?"

"I told them we only have food for people, not bees. They came back to the hut with me after that, but then -" His voice breaks on a snort. You watch in sleepy awe as his eyes crinkle with amusement.

"But then?" You can hear laughter quivering in your own whisper.

"Then they put your shopping basket on their head and walked right back out the door. When I asked them where they were going they said Selasi the baker has food for bees so they were going to go buy some."

Muriel turns his head into your lap to stifle a wheeze. You clap your hand over your mouth and wait for him to recover. Eventually, he resurfaces with tears in his eyes, clearly at the breaking point of loving stress and pure exhaustion that renders everything hilarious.

"I asked them what they meant - they said - heehee - they were going to get - you remember those honey loaves?"

You gasp. "The ones he shaped like bees?"

Muriel nods, his weathered face crinkling up in new laugh lines. "They said Selasi would make them bee bread and they were going to go buy some."

You chuckle into your hand, watching Muriel's shoulders silently shake. "You know Selasi absolutely would if they asked him, though."

"I know," he pauses to clap his hand over another snort and continues, "I told them we'd have to wait until tomorrow to go, so they gave me their money for safe keeping."

You stare down at him in disbelief. "Where did they get money? They're five!"

Your partner lifts himself out of your lap, loose hair falling around his chin and jaw as he stands to rummage in his discarded cloak's pocket. He turns back to you with one large hand out, delicately cradling the small collection of treasures piled in it.

A pretty leaf. Some acorn caps. Two sparkly rocks. And one snow-white chicken feather with a tiny, blackberry-stained fingerprint smudged on the tip. You feel your heart melt at the earnest innocence and glance instinctively back to the trundle, dark tufts of fine hair and round, chubby cheeks happily snuggled into the drool-puddled pillow. You turn back to your partner.

"There has to be a way to let this tea party happen."

He hangs his head and sighs. "I'm open to ideas."

[aviesnapkindoodles]

Two things I wanna know! (feel free to ignore obviously ^^ )

What are your top 5 favorite characters and why are they your favorite? Could be current favorites, favorites over the years that you still like, favorites in general, etc. Also any media

And/or gimme 1-5 of your ocs - whether they're your favorite, most recent, the one you've been having fun with recently, etc. Tell me some fun facts about them, and why you picked them!

Hope you're having a great day/night - and remember to stay hydrated!

Hi Grace!!!

My first character I loved was Peter Pan, I had a Peter Pan birthday party even as a toddler, and he was top until I was almost 12 😅 Definitely also Laois from Dungeon Meshi, Asmodeus from Obey Me, Tim Drake from DC, and from Sanders Sides, Logan was my FAVORITE by far.

My top shows/media over the years starts OBVIOUSLY with The Batman (2022), which motivated me to get into film and the industry. Elementary starting Lucy Liu is amazing, the Illuminate Chronicles is my all time favorite series, and GBBO is my classic favorite (the season with Selasi is the best), and the Pixar series that follows different employees also was sooo interesting and also inspired me!

Funnily enough, I don't have any OC's! It's kinda weird because considering my major, almost everyone has one 😅 I'll probably get one eventually. I made some for my Mary Sue's self inserts on Wattpad when I was 11, but that's it. The most recent 'characters' I made were subjects for paintings, which was a zookeeper for a pack of wild hotdogs, and a subway rat that rides on people's shoes.

Ty for asking!! 🩷🫶

[impashableimagines]

Give me Bread Man or Give Me Death: Or, Selasi Romance Tale Headcanons

I'm sorry for this. I love me some Baker man and I want y'all to love him too. So here we go.

Ok, obviously Selasi is Vesuvia's favorite Baker man.

MC is Selasi's favorite Magician (it's canon y'all, I don't make the rules)

So, Selasi always has fresh hot pumpkin bread waiting for MC when they come around to his shop. ALWAYS. Even super late in the afternoon, it's always fresh and always hot and steamy.

(He may or may not have asked Asra to charm that basket he keeps for MC so it keeps the bread nice and warm and soft for when they can make it around to see him later in the day, mmmm.)

Selasi is an angel and nobody can tell me otherwise. Anyone who has so much affection for MC even though we haven't even gotten a sprite of him yet must be a pretty great dude.

Selasi is one sassy man. Come on, he sassed Consul Valerius (aka Wine Daddy) and called him out for letting the city's floating marketplace (and like half the city, tbh?) flood. You think this guy's playing around? Nah, he's out for bread-based justice all around. Anyway-

Everyone in the city loves the jovial Baker man, and if anyone ever said a word against him, half the city would be there to fuck that person up (MC leading the monstrous hoard of rioters, of course, followed closely by Asra, probably).

Selasi loves loves LOVES MC, and their familiar. Snake familiar? Cute. Canine familiar? Awww, here's a treat, little buddy. Feline? Great, here's some fresh cream for the wee friend. Literally any familiar, Selasi will find a special treat for them in his shop. Selasi loves the familiars, and they love him.

Selasi def slips MC extra pumpkin rolls with their daily purchase, and nobody's not sure how he hasn't gone out of business from giving away so many freebies to the person who is/should be his best paying customer with how often MC drops by??

Selasi would definitely invite MC to lunch one afternoon on his break, and MC would either A) gravely misunderstand and think he's cooking for them on the house, or B) misread the situation entirely (not realizing they were being asked on a date) and invite Asra along to lunch with them. Either way, hijinks ensue.

Asra is kind of sad at first that MC seems to like someone else, of course, but if it had to be anyone, they guess their favorite Baker would be high up on the list of choices? (*cough* at least it's not Lucio *cough*)

So he kind of gently nudges MC on the walk to lunch and goes "I just remembered I've actually got something to go take care of. Why don't you two go together, and I'll see you back at the shop later? You can bring something back for me and Faust."

Selasi is surprised but rolls with it, taking a mental note to gift Asra LOTS of bread and treats for Faust for helping him out there.

Selasi and MC go have lunch at a cute little shop not too far from his own, and enjoy some delicious curry (accompanied by bread he supplies to this shop, of course).

MC and Selasi walk back to his shop, where MC kisses him on the cheek, thanks him for lunch, and says "I'll be back to see you- I mean, the bread, again soon! Bye!!" Tripping over their words and blushing as they run off to finish their errands for Asra, leaving the food they'd bought for Asra and Faust at Selasi's stand. (On accident or on purpose?? The world may never know.)

So of course, Selasi has to bring the food to the shop, and.... See MC again!! Yay!!! What an excuse to see the person you like again, right??

MC answers the door with a half-surprised expression. "Oh! What brings you here?" They smile at Selasi coyly, so much so that he can't tell if they meant for this to happen or not, but either way, the cute blush on their cheeks is worth the extra trouble.

"I-You- I mean, Asra's dinner. You left Asra's dinner at my shop, I thought you might want it back." He hands MC the food, to which he, of course, added extra bread.

"Huh, feels a little heavier than when I set it down." They wink at him. "That couldn't be your doing, could it?"

Selasi blushes and smiles softly. "Always for my favorite Magician."

MC pouts. "Aw, I thought I was your favorite, not Asra!" Selasi grows flustered and backtracks, blushing in embarrassment. "I- well, yes!! That's what I meant, I always add something a little extra for you..."

MC chuckles. "I know, I just wanted to tease you, silly. Now, would you like to stay for dinner?"

Y'all, Selasi is a pure sassy man and we don't see anywhere near enough of him, devs. Give us more Selasi!!!!!!!!!!!!

[into-the-daniverse]

Exist For Love | Jamil x ??? (ft. Camia, Leon, Alec, Asra, & Nadia)

In which, Jamil celebrates another Heartsong Festival with his friends and family, and also prepares a gift for another special someone.

A day late for Valentine’s Day, but inspired by the most recent tale! Jamil, my biggest romantic, would never pass up an opportunity to shower his loved ones in gifts, so I just had to write something for him and this event.

(I was also able to make this into a bit of a split timeline series, so surprise to those tagged at the end. I hope you enjoy! 💖)

Title: Exist For Love by AURORA 2.3k words (total series count: 8.3k words)

Normally, Jamil was awake by the time dawn came, sitting in Camia’s rooftop garden with a cup of coffee or tea, or preparing breakfast downstairs. But today was different, and he slipped from the bed he shared with his friends long before the sky lost its quiet darkness, careful not to disturb either Camia or Leon. He had no spell to cast to keep his actions silent, but he was still able to tiptoe around the shop without waking them or Alec and Asra, and he put his plan into motion.

Out of all the holidays and celebrations he had grown up with or discovered during his travels, the Vesuvian Heartsong Festival had always been one of his absolute favorites. A day devoted to showering his loved ones with gifts and praises? He couldn’t think of a day better spent.

Before the sun’s first rays had even ghosted over the horizon, Jamil had decorated the interior of the shop from top to bottom with colorful streamers, heart-shaped pillows and fuzzy throws on the couch, heart-shaped garland wrapped around the railing of the stairs leading up to the next floor. He had started brewing coffee just as the sun peeked up and was able to turn and hand Camia her own cup just as she entered the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said, giving her a warm smile.

She laughed through her nose, taking the cup from him. “You know, every year I think I’ll beat you awake—”

Jamil laughed. “And every year I just get up earlier.”

Smiling, she rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand you.” Taking her cup with her, she started walking back towards the stairs. “I’m going to water my plants. Don’t you dare finish making breakfast without me.”

“I haven’t even started yet!”

She waved at him over her shoulder before disappearing, and he heard her walk towards the stairs to her garden. Once he was sure she was out of earshot, he hurried to pull out all of the ingredients he would need to start breakfast. He had picked up bread from Selasi yesterday to dip into eggs, fry, and cover with powdered sugar and berries. He had some spiced sausage and fish to roast, and eggs to cook, and just as he started boiling water for tea, Camia returned.

“Jamil.”

He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest, a pout on her face. “Hey, everything’s still cooking!” He gestured at the pans still sizzling around him. “You only said not to finish before you came back.”

Shaking her head, she bumped him with her hip at the stove, taking over the eggs from him as he started on the tea.

A few moments later, they both heard Alec’s door open upstairs, and she ran across the hallway into their room, where Leon was assumedly still sleeping. Not for long, Jamil thought with a quiet chuckle, and from the look on Camia’s face she was thinking the same. Neither of them could make out exactly what Alec was saying, but they could hear Leon’s dramatic moan of protest well enough.

While Alec wrestled with Leon to drag them out of bed, another set of feet came down the stairs, and Jamil turned to look as Asra entered the kitchen, white, curly hair going every possible direction, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Ah! Good morning,” Jamil said, holding out a cup to Asra, who took it with a grateful smile. “Surprised to see you up so early.”

“Well,” Asra interrupted himself with a yawn. “You know what Allie’s like today.”

Jamil did know, as they all did. While he considered himself to be the most romantic person he knew, Alec was probably a close second. Though she never managed to wake up as early as he did, she was just as excited about the day as he was. And judging by the growing sound of her arguing with Leon as they came down the stairs, this year was no different.

“I’m going to throw your gift in the garbage, you pest,” Leon grumbled, their hair loose and in their face as they were practically dragged into the kitchen by Alec.

Alec rolled her eyes, a wide grin on her face as she took in the dishes around them. “Oh, shut up—look! Breakfast is done!”

Before Leon could retort something about not being able to look, Jamil took their arm to lead them to the table, distracting them with a quick kiss on their cheek. They pouted slightly, but gave in, sitting down with Asra on their left, Jamil on their right. Camia and Alec helped bring the food to the table, Camia sitting next to Jamil, and Alec next to her, and then they all dug in.

The food was, of course, delicious, and Jamil tried not to look too proud when it was all cleared away. They all spent a few minutes chatting away and cleaning up, but once the kitchen was spotless, Alec pushed them all into the back room to exchange gifts. She claimed a spot on the floor, Asra next to her, and the other three sat on the couch.

This was probably Jamil’s favorite part. Not even seeing what his friends had gotten for him, but the looks on their faces when he handed them their gifts.

He gave Camia the newest book from a romance series she had been interested in for years—that he had been reading behind her back—and she laughed as she handed him the same book, both of them doubling over against each other on the couch.

“I think we’ve known each other for too long,” he said through tears, and she just continued to laugh, shaking her head at him.

Next, he gave Leon their gift—a new dress he had been working on for a while, a soft green that looked very nice with their skin and their dark eyes, and the fabric was something Leon had picked out themself one day at the market. Their eyes sparkled once they felt the dress and realized what it was.

“I almost completely forgot I picked this out!”

Jamil chuckled. “I thought you would, but better late than never.”

“It’s never late coming from you,” they said, and handed him their gift—small silver hoop earrings that he put on the second he opened the box they were in.

Alec was hard to get to sit still for her gift, but once she did, she almost screamed when he pulled out a new set of bangles, and she immediately put them on, giggling as they jangled around her wrists. She gave him some new colored charcoal, which he was immensely grateful for, as he had been out of his for quite some time.

Last, but not least, was Asra, and when Jamil pulled out a multicolored shawl, Asra and Alec yelled at the same time.

“I figured you needed something to match that, uh, colorful hat of yours,” Jamil explained, as Asra pulled the shawl from him excitedly. Alec groaned dramatically, covering her eyes.

“Jamil, you’re enabling him and his awful fashion sense!”

Asra stuck his tongue out at her, spinning around in his new shawl, a bright smile on his face. “He just likes me better.”

As the two of them started to bicker, Jamil laughed, standing from the couch. By now, the sun was steadily rising in the sky, and the sounds of the city outside were getting louder by the minute. He was still in his sleepwear, which was really just a pair of old pants, and he went back upstairs to change for the day.

Humming a waltz softly to himself, and listening absentmindedly to the noise from downstairs, he fished out a light pink sherwani with darker pink and green flowers woven over it, and matching pants and slippers. He ran some oil through his hair and his beard that smelled of jasmine, sandalwood, and vanilla, and pulled up half of his hair, a few strands falling out to frame his temples as the rest still sat on his shoulders.

When he came downstairs again, Camia whistled at him, Leon stretched across her lap. Alec and Asra were back in Alec’s room, judging from the sound of their voices, probably picking out their own outfits for the day.

“I haven’t seen that in a long time,” Camia said, and Jamil nodded.

“It’s hard to find an occasion for it, but today will do.”

Camia opened her mouth to say something else, but a knock at the front door stopped her. Jamil glanced out the front window, seeing the back of a palace carriage waiting in front of the shop.

“Ah, that’ll be for me.” Jamil smoothed down the front of his sherwani. Before walking to the door, he went over to Camia and Leon, pressing a quick kiss to each of their cheeks. “I love you both, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Say hi to Dia for me,” Leon said, and Jamil promised he would.

It was still early enough that the streets weren’t too busy as Jamil rode in the carriage to the palace. He smiled as he noticed the decorations in the square, the marketplace, streamers hung down alleyways and store fronts. He caught glimpses of lovers holding hands in the streets, of families heading to the market to celebrate, and his heart swelled.

He reached the palace in no time at all, and was led to a salon, where his cousin was waiting, though not without stopping a few times to say hello to people he knew throughout. Before even opening the doors to the salon, he could hear music drifting down the hall, Nadia’s graceful piano playing bringing a soft smile to his cheeks.

As soon as he pushed open the doors, she glanced up at him, looking radiant in the morning sun.

“Jamil, good morning.”

“Good morning, Nadia.” He closed the distance between them in a few strides, wrapping her in a warm hug. She let out a noise of surprise, but laughed, and hugged him back. When they let go, she shifted on the piano bench, gesturing for him to join her. He did, nudging her shoulder playfully, and she nudged him back. They both started to play a piece together, neither focusing too much on accuracy, and Nadia turned her head to him.

“How has your day been so far?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “It’s been great. I’m glad we’re able to spend some of it together.”

“I’m glad as well,” she said, smiling. “I know I am in quite high demand these days as Countess, but you’re no easier to get a hold of at times.”

Jamil laughed. “I wish I could disagree with you. But that’s what today is for, isn’t it? To spend time with those who matter most.”

“It is.”

They fell into conversation, still playing at the piano, until they finished their piece and moved to sit on the couches in the salon. Here Jamil was able to pull out the gift he had brought for her, tucked away in a small traveling bag—a few delicate tools for her machinery that she had been lamenting the loss of for months.

Nadia was thrilled, and she marveled over the quality of the tools for a long minute before remembering to give Jamil his own gift. With a clap of her hands, a few servants walked inside the salon, carrying an extremely large canvas.

“Dia, I won’t be able to carry this back to the shop,” Jamil said, shaking his head with a smile.

She waved her hand, and the servants began to flip the canvas so he could see what was on it. “I hardly expected you to. I will have it delivered to the shop. I just wanted you to be able to see it first, and for me to see your reaction.”

Jamil barely heard what she said and didn’t catch the satisfied look on her face as his jaw dropped open when the painting was revealed to him.

It was of him—him, Camia, Leon, and Alec. It looked like a memory, a snapshot of a moment, the four of them performing together in the town square. Sunlight filtered around them, faces artistically blurred as if they were in motion. Jamil could almost hear the song they could have been playing, the sound of the crowd around them.

“How…?”

“I had an artist at one of your more recent performances.” He could hear the smile in Nadia’s voice. “They were instructed to capture as much of the moment in the moment as they could, and then the rest was done from memory. I hope you, and the rest of your friends, enjoy it.”

“Oh, Dia, I love it,” Jamil whispered, swallowing back tears. “They’re all going to love it. Thank you.”

Nadia stood, gesturing to the servants to leave, and they did, but not before leaving the painting propped up for Jamil to stare at. “You’re welcome. It was very hard to keep this a secret.” She leaned gently against his arm, and he smiled, still looking at the painting.

“I can’t imagine.”

They heard a clock chime, and Jamil jumped slightly, wiping at his eyes.

“Gods, I hadn’t realized I had been here for so long already.” He glanced out the window at the sun already high in the sky.

“And here I thought I had managed to dodge the predisposition to engage in long-winded talks that runs in our family,” Nadia said, dryly, and Jamil laughed.

“No, unfortunately that’s impossible to get around, Countess,” he teased.

They hugged once more before he left, and he accepted her offer of taking another carriage back into the city, especially as it had only gotten more crowded since he arrived. As he told the driver his next destination, a warm feeling started to grow in his chest. Now, he only had one more gift left to give, and it was the most important one of the day.

✨Timeline Split✨

@atypicalacademic​‘s Haider — Everybody Needs A Home

@asras3rdeye​‘s Oz’mandias — Ocean In My Veins

@valhallanrose​‘s Tamryn — When I Take Your Hand

@sunrisenfool​‘s Valeriy — Everything Good In Life

[shadow--writer]

Fluff incoming! How about headcanons Julian and Muriel reacting to an MC who loves baking and is always giving them the "extra" treats (which were not-so-secretly made just for them)?

Lol I’m slowly working my way through these. I have over 30 in my inbox so it might be a bit.  But I am getting to them!

Yes my two favs! I’m being spoiled I love it lol. Went a bit wild since I bake and there are a few comments from me haha XD.

Thanks for sending the ask in! It means a lot that you guys hopped on the fluff train when I was having a rough go.

Julian and Muriel x MC baking

~~~~

Julian

He adores your baking and he loves helping out

Also you get lots of kisses from him. All over your face. Hugs too

Yeah it always turns into a giant mess with the two of you covered in flour and laughing but that’s part of the fun

When you bake alone and give him something it means so much

You thought of him while baking, and thought he’d like this enough to eat it!

You’re so talented he adores you

If you own a bakery and give him the extra (made for him) treats oh he’ll cry

He just....loves them and you so much

Of course he comes back with his own little presents, a new spoon, a bowl maybe even some new spices

He always loves your baking though. You make some of his favourite things

When you bake he can taste the love you poured into it

He always brings the little treats you give him to work 

Snacking on them reminds him that you’re at home waiting for him

And working hard yourself, of course

Each day is a little brighter and loves waking up to the sound and smell of you baking

He loves your cakes and just your sweets in general. No one can top Selasi’s bread but he loves yours anyways

When you give him the “extra” bread he always takes time to smell it

Freshly baked bread is a wonderful smell and yours always has a faint whiff of cinnamon

Gifts are always good for him. Homemade stuff is always the best

Of course he’s gonna eat himself silly on your baking

And sing your praises

Portia also loves that you bake and the two of you will bake together for special occasions 

Julian’s birthday for one. He’ll sob when he finds the two of you baking for him

Your baking has become another food group for him 

He loves it and you so so much and will always hop on baking with you

Muriel

He’s used to getting leftover treats. He gets them all the time from Asra

But once he figures you you’re making them on purpose for him 

He is both flustered, touched, and ready to throw you over his shoulder to thank you properly (the fandom discourse is getting to me like damn my dudes Julian more dom then Muriel? Really? Y’all smokin some weird crap lmao)

Your baking is so special for him 

Because it’s from you and it’s usually amazing (unless you’re experimenting. Once you made the cookies explode and he banned you from the kitchen for a week)

Yes he loves to help you bake 

Yes it goes poorly 

Yes it’s great bonding 

Yes it always ends with the two of you kissing and tasting like sugar

Yes he eats the sugar raw much to your horror

Everyone has food atrocious (name urs in comments or reblogs. For me it’s dipping French fries in milkshakes/ice cream but it’s so yummy)

Mmmm his favourite thing is when you bake at night

Staying up late talking and baking something for your friends is so...quiet calm and domestic. Gods he loves you

When you gift him something (totally the extra treats you made. Not something specificity for him) he falls in love with you all over again

You’re so talented, sweet and adorable (yes all of you)

He could get used to eating your baking for the rest of his life

He finds baking very domestic and calm, so of course he picks up on it to get back at you 

Commencing the great food war of Vesuvia 

You also make treats for Inanna because she is a good girl (more Shade notes: my mom bakes dog treats, look up some recipes for your puppers trust me it’s worth it and fun)

Moral of the story is he loves you and your baking. He loves when you make something for him because it means you were thinking of him

And yes he will want to bake with you. I don’t make the rules

[vesuvianmess]

Popsicles?

Art by @jilljoycearts Drexxel is @vesuvianmess Vell is @deathbyarcana

A short fic recounting how these two met, pulled (with some edits) directly from a currently running roleplay.

Quick Warning: Contains mentions of stalking and harassment

"You are very welcome, have a good rest of your day!" He waved the group off with a smile. "Hiya, what can I get you?" He asked another.

Flitting back and forth from group to group, he greeted every single person with a genuine smile. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing others light up with joy. He’d taken up working at the bakery part time to help with some expenses of running his own shop. And he had to admit, the smell of fresh baked bread may have influenced that choice. The job was never boring as the market was always flooded with people, locals and travelers alike, all looking for something. Still, he only worked with Selasi during the mornings and early afternoons. When he’d had his fill, he would return home to open the doors to his own little business.

But today, he had something a little different in mind. Instead of selling little animal pelts, herbs, bits, and bobbles, he was in and out again in a flash. Having changed into something much more comfortable for the heat, he pulled a wheeled cart behind him to the town square. Near the fountain, he’d found the perfect spot and pulled the cover off the cart. It would take him a little time to set everything up, but once it was done, he noticed people already beginning to gather around. Some faces he'd seen many, many times before. Others, much more new. Taking a seat on an overturned wooden bucket, he twirled a pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“Hello Vesuvia, I’m bringing you a special late afternoon show! Now then," he sat up a little, the line of his back straightening. "For those of you new to my show, we have fun here! Here's how this goes!" making a grand sweeping gesture to the gathered crowd, he continued on. "You may request a song but there is no guarantee I will play it. I will not tolerate pushing, shoving, or otherwise harmful activity during my shows. And, as always, tips are appreciated but not required, come stay for awhile and feel the beat of the sound! I'm Drexxel Volkov, and may luck be forever in your favor!" 

It started with a small metallic chime, a shortstop of little taps on the rims of the set. But before long the square was alight with the beating of drums. His whole body moved in time with each beat almost as if he were dancing along to his own song. Small children bounced and tugged at their parents' sleeves, urging them to get closer. New comers stood with delighted expressions, some even getting a little antsy standing in one place, others giving way to bouncing their bodies to the rhythm. 

There was nothing better than this, looking out into the crowd as he thrummed away the minutes, flipping the sticks and singing along even though nobody could hear him over the heartbeat he'd created. 

The crowd was thick as usual but new faces stuck out easy to him. Even with the prick of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, he was able to focus enough to make everyone feel included in his performance. One face in particular he stopped at for more than a split second. A taller man with vivid blue hair, dark skin, and a sort of shaken demeanor. He looked….out of place perhaps amid the crowd, like he could bolt at any moment. Drexel found himself stealing glances at the man throughout his show, a dizzying knot of butterflies in his gut as he saw the man start to meld into the hum around him. The thrill of the performance carried him through like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, his fiery passion shining through clear as day. Every movement felt natural, every breath felt like a whole new beginning. Drexxel never came from a background that favored this sort of thing, rather it was something he'd picked up on his own time. He had the extra energy to spare and needed an outlet to help with it. Besides, he always did like seeing people smile and what better way to do that then get them moving? 

Into the second song now and he felt a wave of static run through him. Someone in the crowd was a magician. He could feel it. Even through the loud beating of drums and the crashing of cymbals the low electrical humming filled his body. He was sure of it. But was this magician able to sense him as well? That he did not know. He wasn’t sure precisely where the feeling was coming from, but he was determined to draw it out. With it toying at his mind, he decided it was time to show off just a little more. After all, using magic was a good way to lure out another magician. 

Drexxel simply waited as he beat along in time to find the perfect moment to really show off his moves. Normally he would have saved this bit for later in the evening, but he just had to do it now. After feeling that little pang of magic, he knew he had to show whoever was producing it, that they weren't the only one with fancy magic at their fingertips. Just a moment longer....

When the final chorus of the song hit, he let it loose. His drumsticks sparked and crackled to life, enveloped in searing hot flames. With his sticks now burning with intense heat, he slammed away at his drums with more grandeur and energy than before. With each hit fire roared from the contact point, creating a dazzling display of towers of fire in varying sizes. If anything were to draw this other magician out, it would be this. 

By the end of the show, much to his dismay, this fellow kin had not revealed themselves. It was a bit of a shame really, he would have loved to have someone join in his performance. What a dazzling display that would have been. He could only imagine what kind of magic would have complimented his own.

"Thank you all for joining me this afternoon!" He gave a bow, his hair falling a bit loose from his bun. "It's a hot one out today so make sure to stay hydrated and get some good food in your belly!" 

 He stood and lifted his arms over his head in a long stretch before using the rad cloth tied to his side to wipe away the sweat that cling to his skin. The show was over, but people still lingered in the area, some tossing coins into an open bowl near the drum set, others approaching Drexxel with questions. He was small for his age of twenty-five, standing at mere chest (or just below) level with most other adult’s that spoke with him. He had a thin, but decently sturdy frame with most of his strength apparent in his legs. Most people would know him for a scar that ran along his right cheek. Whenever asked about it he would simply tell them he didn’t remember where it came from but knew he’d had it most of his life. 

The town square was still bustling with people as he began to pack up his things. Above it all though, he could hear footsteps approaching him. He paused a moment then spun on his heel to come face to face with a regular to his shows. The man was leagues taller than himself and had a strange look to his eyes. He was holding a piece of paper, crumpled and damp with sweat in his hands. Drexxel heard the man speak but didn’t quite catch the words. 

“I’m sorry?” He responded back, urging the man to repeat himself. When he did, a chill ran down his spine. “...Go out with me. Dinner.” He pushed the paper into Drexxel’s hands. “You’re so pretty.” 

The smaller pulled the note apart just enough to read it. In shaken scrawl it read:

‘Don’t make a scene. I’ve been planning this. You and I belong together.’

He’d seen this sort of thing before in books and screenplays. Some secret admirer gets too confident and goes after someone who isn’t interested and it becomes a problem. Problem being a kind way to put it. Harassment was a better word for it. Bold of him to make the attempt in broad daylight, let alone a busy square. In the kindest way possible, Drexel looked up at the man and spoke.

“I’d love to, but I have plans this evening. Another show I mean.” 

He felt the prickle of magic in the air again, but it wasn’t coming from the man in front of him. The magician was still in the area. 

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." the man's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I'll be picking you up this evening."

Drexxel's brow furrowed, the energy around him shifting like hissing smoke trying to catch on damp wood. 

"I'm really sorry, I mean it." He offered a sincerely looking apologetic smile. "But I really must be getting home." He made a move to leave but was stopped when the man caught his wrist. 

"You're not going anywhere short-stack." 

This....could be bad. As much as the crowd had dissipated, there were still people lingering about. Too much of a risk to cause a scene. But every fiber of Drexxel's being was telling him to flee. He needed an out. In the most...nonchalant way possible, he attempted to wriggle his wrist free. 

"Your performance really spoke to me Drexxy. It's like you were composing a symphony just for me." As he was caught in his own little moment, Drexxel pulled his wrist free. But it only lasted a second.

He felt a pull against his skin before he heard a small snap. The man had missed when reaching for Drexxel's wrist and instead caught the beaded double bracelet on his wrist. Beads had gone flying haphazardly in every direction, landing on the stones below like pellets. In that moment he felt the pull of magic much closer than before. This other magician was close. Very close. 

Drexxel was unfortunately used to people approaching him with much more....fervor than he anticipated. However, this particular instance was something else. He'd never had someone so adamant on taking him home. If this were to go on for a moment longer, he was sure to lose his composer. He may be a pretty upbeat guy but he also had a notoriously short fuse. 

That hissing aura was rapidly kindling itself from a crackling campfire to a firestorm. When his bracelet snapped, he felt something in him switch. Rage bubbled up under his skin like pot boiling over on a stove set too high. His fist clenched and a growl escaped him. 

But then, out of nowhere, everything around him stopped. He was about to throw a fiery punch but stopped short when he saw another man between him and his new 'friend'. It was the man he saw in the crowd! He said he was there to help just now. But what was he doing here and how did he…

"How--?" Then it hit him like a hard slap to the face. "So you're the magician I was picking up on!" His anger flickered back to amusement and joy. "I knew I wasn't imagining it! Oh! The helping thing, yes." 

Drexxel offered the newest stranger a warm, bright smile. Without hesitation, he grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drexxel! What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and get somewhere far away from this creep?"

The other man seemed to freeze up, like he expected a much worse response. His whole arm wobbled when Drexxel shook it. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in shock. It took him a minute to process what the smaller man had said to him. 

“Oh, I…that is….popcicles?” The man felt his face go hot, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was sure the smaller man would mistake him for a tomato. 

Drexxel watched him curiously. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, the way this man seemed to be having an inner monologue with himself about whether or not he’d made the right call to get involved. He could feel how shaken up the man was, his hand trembling. Not very good at keeping his cool was he? Finally he spoke again. 

“It’s localized. My….my magic…it…I mean I…no, it. It will wear off when we get a distance away. He could follow? I- who, well…popsicles?”

Drexxel had always been good at making new friends and getting people to laugh and smile. He was small, yes, but he made up for his size with seemingly boundless energy. It was nearly impossible to not like the guy. But, he could tell, he kind of took this one by surprise. But it wasn't the first time someone had responded this way. Not often he got to see someone turn that red before though!

Whoever this new guy was, Drexxel had never seen his face in Vesuvia before. And he’dbeen in the city for quite some time now. It'd been since he was about nineteen. He knew almost every face in Vesuvia, even if a good handful of them were only in passing. But this one, this one he wanted to know more about. Consider his interest piqued. 

When time came back and this new magician struggled to make a clear sentence, it was all Drexxel could do to hold in a laugh. Localized magic though, not sure he'd heard of that one before. He completely skipped over the popsicle schtick.

"Localized huh? Hey, think you could use your magic with mine? I'm thinking....a wall of fire!" He still hadn't let go of the stranger's hand. "I could put a wall of fire around him, just tall enough to trip him up of course. You could stop time around it until we get far enough away that your....localization wears off!" Mossy green eyes brimmed with excitement. He gave the hand in his a squeeze. 

"I bet we'll make a great team!"

He could see the man trying to process the words coming out of Drexxel’s mouth. He’ll admit, he was a bit of a fast talker when he was excited. 

“Wall of fire…” He repeated Drexxel’s words, more to himself than the other, considering the idea. Not terribly flawed, he thought. A quick fix but not long lasting. “Worth…worth a shot.” an unsteady voice. “Wait - a team?” Vell had barely gotten the words out before the air thrummed with magical energy and, just as promised, fire sprung to life around the note wielding creep. If the situation weren’t as it was, he might have taken time to admire the flames.

"That's what I said isn't it? A team!" He mused, giving this new friend a wink. 

When time did in fact stop around his flames, the passion in his eyes burned that much brighter. He beamed at this new stranger. 

"Talk about a cool party trick. Come on, let's get out of here." Still gripping that hand, he took off. Hopefully this new friend could keep up with him. 

They took off out of the square, rushing past pedestrians and shopping stalls in a race to escape the area. Drexxel had taken the lead, ducking and diving under obstacles like it was as easy as breathing. He felt his new found companion trip up a few times but he managed to keep up the pace. He was new to Vesuvia and hadn’t the slightest idea where the two of them were headed. Drexxel looked back to check on his new friend at just the wrong moment. The edge of his sandal caught on uneven stone, sending him tumbling into an unattended fruit cart, scattering oranges along the alley. He’d never let go of this new companion’s hand, and in turn, the two of them fell together. The other man now had him pinned, a leg on either side of him. 

“I-- We-- uh…” The stranger fought to find the right words, feeling like a tea kettle ready to whistle. “We fell.” 

Drexxel could feel his own face burning a bright shade. He would have been able to laugh it off if it weren’t for his immediate attraction to this man. Impulse guiding him, he offered the man a toying smirk. “You know, I think this might be fate.” He winked. “And I don’t even know your name.” 

“M-my name?” The other man stuttered.

He tried to stand, pulling on Drexxel’s hands to pull him up as well, only to lose his footing. He fell back onto the stone, the smaller of the two now sitting perched on his abdomen. The look in his eyes was….entrancing. Intoxicating even. He couldn’t look away. “I’m Vell.” 

“Vell…” Drexxel liked the way the name felt when he said it. He let his hands drift to the other man’s chest, watching him with bright eager eyes.

Now, what was that saying about playing with fire?

[vampiresuns]

Interlude 1: Do Not Stand Over My Grave And Weep, Part 2

⟡ PART 2: FRIENDS ARE THE FAMILY YOU CHOOSE ⟡

2.2k words. In which Anatole’s friends start uncovering the mystery of his death and sudden reappearance. 

CW: Death and discussions of it.

What to catch up with Anatole’s Apprentice series? You can do that here.

He had met him at University. He had been his friend since he was 18 years old. Anatole and Medea had been Leonore’s first lasting friends, the first people who outside of his family, had taught him permanence was not entrapment. They had filled his life with growth and laughter; he had suffered their woes, he had celebrated their triumphs, he had followed them into Vesuvia despite his original wish to travel the world. 

He still travelled, but he always came back to them. Medea and Anatole weren’t just friends: they were family now. When Leonore closed his eyes he could see them holding hands and jumping into the water one summer evening in Prakra. He could see Medea using his thigh as a pillow under a tree. He could see Anatole dancing. He could see Medea and Anatole dressed to the nines for their new Court jobs. 

He would know them anywhere. He would know them by the way their steps sounded alone.

It took Leonore some moments to remember where he was, Octavia gently nudging him. Sabine, who he didn’t realise had gone, announced themselves again, saying they had lost Anatole’s doppelgänger in the crowd. 

Only it hadn’t been a doppelgänger. Leonore knew his best friend, he knew Anatole when he saw him. 

“No,” he said at last. “No, that’s him. That’s him, Octavia. That was him, and I need to find him.” 

“Leonore, wait! Anatole’s dead.” 

They began bickering about it, Octavia trying to stop Leonore from head diving into a wild goose chase, not realising Selasi, the Baker, was listening to them. 

“Excuse me, forgive me for overhearing, but are you talking about Anatole Radošević? The magician from Moonstone and Jasmine?” 

“Yes! His aunt owned that shop,” Leonore said, jumping to talk to Selasi, who inspected him with a careful eye. 

“I don’t know what prank you’re playing, but he’s alive as can be. I opened a little after the plague subsided and he and Asra have been getting bread from me for three years, almost. They’re attached at the hip, so if you know Asra—“ 

Leonore leaped to shake his hand. “I do know, Asra! Thank you, thank you so much.” 

Selasi tried to tell him Asra wasn’t around, that he was on a journey, but that he could tell him where to find Anatole if he promised he was a friend, but Leonore sprinted towards the shop without letting him finish. Sabine set off to follow Leonore as Octavia called to both of them, which left her standing alone with Selasi. She made some apologies, and Selasi told her not to worry. 

“Where did you say you knew him?”

“Leonore went to University with him,” she said, thinking the least she could do was to assure the man they were Anatole’s friends, not some random people with weird motivations. “I know him through his cousin.”

The baker hummed. “I didn’t know Anatole had any family besides his late Aunt and Asra.”

Something about the way he said it, the casual certainty of it, gave Octavia a chill. She thanked him, and tried to catch up with Sabine and Leonore, not wanting to say anything Selasi might not know. She risked him stopping them, or worse, telling Anatole, which she didn’t think would be a good idea. Octavia just had a bad feeling about it: she didn’t expect people to just know who Anatole was, or had been, that could be conceited. Anatole himself hated being anticipated by his job, wanting to have the opportunity to present himself and do the best he could do. 

Yet from there to the sureness Selasi had had when he said he didn’t know Anatole had any family besides Paris and Asra? It was weird. The Radošević-Cassano weren’t meant to be separated; if Octavia knew anything about them from Milenko, it was that they were very close knit. The only people in their families that Octavia could think of as not being regarded ever, were Matilda and Krešmir, Vlad’s and Valerius’ late parents, who hadn’t even raised the siblings. All she knew about them was that they were neglectful and Matilda had the idle ennui of someone who was too used to having everything, and was used to using cruelty for fun. 

Milenko had only talked about them a couple of times, and she had never heard the Consul even mention them, let alone Vlad, Anatole’s father. One way or another, the Cassano didn’t detach themselves from their family, nor did the Radošević, and Anatole had only ever been extremely proud of the people who had raised him. That had been their way since the days of Cassano Arianamenzi, the first of them, and she could testify that legacy had not washed away with time. If anything, it had become stronger. So why would Anatole not speak of it?

Unless he didn’t remember them. She had read about such a thing once, doing research for one of her most early plays. A shiver went down her back, making her hug her arms around herself and walk faster.

When Octavia reached the Moonstone Leonore and Sabine were talking to a tall man who seemed to guard the shop. None of them had seen him before, but he seemed to know them; he called them ‘people from before’. 

“You used to give Anatole clementines, which he doesn’t like—” he said. He was tall, covered in a cloak, and had moss green eyes, though they were barely visible.

“He says they taste fake,” Leonore completed.

“So he gave them to me, before— it doesn’t matter. You won’t find him here.”

The only thing stranger than the stranger was that none of them could remember him as they tried to piece their afternoon together. However, Octavia had heard Selasi say Anatole was occupied in the Palace, and perhaps they could try their luck there. 

“Then let’s go,” Leonore said, already standing up. “Maybe Medea knows something we don’t.”

Medea Pryce was the daughter of two archaeologists and the granddaughter of another one. Both her father’s and her mother’s family had settled in Vesuvia some generations ago because its cultural diversity and rich history was good for the archaeological craft. Anatole wasn’t the first Radošević-Cassano she had met — her Grandmother was acquainted with Bastiste Cassano, one of the Cassano elders, and thus with Consul Valerius, whom Batiste called her spoiled grandnephew. Medea’s parents, on the other hand, were acquainted with Atanasie Radošević and Aurora Tesfaye, uncle and mother of Anatole’s cousin Milenko. 

So when she met him at University, which she had begun in Prakra, just as he had done, the surname called to her immediately. Discovering they would course the exact same program, even if they had different aspirations and goals, another pleasant surprise. It would be nice to have someone to know, as Medea liked making friends.

What a friend she had made of him and Leonore, who shared housing with them. Anatole was one of those people who had the energy of a handsome stranger one shared enlightening conversation with, yet then never saw again. Debonair and hopeful, he was passionate and inspiring, a devoted friend and nothing if not extraordinary. He had his shortcomings, like everyone, but that wasn’t the way one measured their friends. 

Seasons came and time passed. They both studied and apprenticed in Balkovia for six months, and then they moved on into Vesuvia, Leonore following them, to their surprise. They laughed and hurt, they fell in love with their own people, they held each other, and Medea and Anatole drafted their plans for the future. It would be a great future, they were sure of it. Anatole’s self-introductory speech for the Vesuvian Court was a gem, Medea believed it so. They liked to fantasise about one day becoming Consul and Head of Staff, with all the things they thought they could help with, working together for the people of their City. 

No matter the crashes and reality checks, the hardships or how many times Medea had seen Anatole stand up to the Count and the new Courtiers, they held hands through it and continued onwards: The World and it’s calling of completion met its perfect match in Anatole’s Ace of Swords coloured Strength.

Then the Plague came and Anatole died, and Medea was left with all their plans, and no one to implement them with. 

After his death, things only got worse. She could tell something was going on with the Consul, but she wasn’t close enough to him to know what. She was somewhat closer to Councilwoman Cassiopeia, but she didn’t seem to know what was going on with her cousin either. The Courtiers hadn’t done anything of value for the City in three years, and all that Valerius ever seemed to do was to keep it afloat. The Court was destroyed, and with the Countess as lost as they all were, Medea didn’t know where they would end.

When she heard the Countess had found a new advisor she was thrilled. Fresh air was what the Court needed, and by the first weeks of this advisor around the Countess, it was clear they were doing her good, even if she had heard the advisor had had a rocky introduction with the Court. It seemed like it, because she knew from first hand experience that the Consul had come in furious to his office, refusing to speak to anyone, except to Cassiopeia, whom Medea was sure forced him to speak rather than him wilfully giving her any information.

He had only said something about something in poor taste, and how had he let the Countess know he would not tolerate it, but he didn’t say anything else. 

Her turn to meet the advisor came the next morning. It happened by accident, when she was delivering some documents to the Council of Vesuvia. Meet was a lax word for it, ‘seeing’ him, was much more appropiate: with his light golden blond hair, and bespoke clothes. The same unmistakable black eyes and the scar across the bridge of his nose. The same stride, the same height, the same face, the same looks. 

Her friend, her own dearest Aelius Anatole had walked into the Consul’s office seeking for an explanation about the way he had been received in Court. From there on, the morning was mayhem, absolute mayhem, and only now that Medea was sitting alone she could finally process it. 

“Anatole” had introduced himself fully, his name the right name, but the Consul wouldn’t hear it, immediately throwing himself at the throat of the “second-rate witch” for daring to use that name. Anatole continued to insist that was his name. The more the argument extended, it was clear to everyone involved that that was Anatole, even to the headstrong Consul — his panicked eyes gave him away.

Medea knew her friend, her friend had always had a presence, even if he wasn’t always aware of it. He still had it, he still stood in the same way the Consul did, he still turned his eyebrows in the same way, and the way he spoke. 

What he spoke of, too. 

The breaking point came when the Consul grabbed him from the shoulders, demanding to know what he wanted from him. Then, Medea saw him do something he hadn’t done in years: she heard the Consul speak Balkovian in public. Medea’s grasp with the language was enough to know he asked two things, two crucial things, that anyone who wasn’t Anatole couldn’t answer. 

Anatole answered the first one, something about a sword’s name, in his perfectly native Balkovian, looking pale and sickly-greenish. Cassiopeia tried to interject, but the Consul wouldn’t listen to anyone. Then the Consul asked his second question, something about ‘what was the tree’, or ‘what was the name of the tree’, and nothing else. Medea wasn’t sure. 

Anatole replied both of the questions: His first reply being ‘grapevine’, followed by a choked up ‘cult of Dionysus’; the second reply was ‘a beech tree’, looking like he was about to vomit after the words left his mouth. 

“Valeriy?” He said, as the Consul looked at him in horror, still holding him by the shoulders. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Anatole did pass out, and the Consul, blushing cherry red as he realised the whole scene had been in front of half the Court office at his care, yelled at them to know what the hell were they doing, if not call for someone to take this boy to a bed. After it, the Consul stormed off, Cassiopeia power-walking behind him as she demanded an explanation from her cousin, an explanation the Consul refused to give, waving dismissively at her.

“Don’t you wave like that at me, Valeriy, unlike you, I know my own damn nephew when I see him.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“Valeriy Radošević, I will call you however I damn please! Come back here!”

Medea didn’t stay to watch the rest. The Court was in unrest, it was so much that it had stirred the four other weirdos into watching and making the oddest commentary for anyone to hear. Medea didn’t need an in with them to know they knew something they all didn’t, and simply thought of the Court Staff too inconsequential for them to spare them half a thought.  

As if possessed by a thunderbolt, Medea stood up from where she was sitting as she ruminated. She needed answers, and she needed to talk about this to someone. She had an idea: if anyone she was close enough knew a considerable amount of death and ghosts, it was Amparo Cassano, but first she needed to talk to Leonore. They had supported each other in these 4 years Anatole had been dead, or presumed as much. Anything she did, it would be with Leonore. 

As she turned around after grabbing her coat, Leonore was calling her name. 

“Sabine is waiting for us at our place, they wanted to ask some questions first so I ran here. Octavia is trying to find Amparo, or anyone really. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Good,” she said, as she grabbed his arm and began walking out of the Palace, “so do I, but not here. The Courtiers are around, and they cannot be trusted.”

[sisi-halloway]

You and Asra at the Supermarket HC

Imagine this heartthrob shopping with you? I fall in love just thinking about it.

___________________________________________________________

Asra is wearing:

 a tanktop/oversized sweater(depending on the weather)

sweatpants/hemp sweatpants (they’re sweatpants all right)

Crocs/Birkenstocks (You painted his toenails the night before)

Oversize sunglasses or a beanie (depending on the weather)

He’s cozy and he’s not trying to impress anybody. He’s there to spend time with you while shopping. That’s what matters to him.

 I don’t make the freakin deakin rules

 He gets the buggy for you and you two walk side by side in the store.

Faust is hanging out as Asra’s necklace and people are so scared of her for some reason? 

We’re on a budget here, so of course he has a list

If you ask for anything that’s not on the list, he’ll throw it in the buggy anyway

Spends most of the time in the home goods section even though none of that shit is on the list

CANDLES AND RUGS ARE HIS WEAKNESS

You leave the section with 5 candles because rugs are too expensive

Apple pumpkin

Midnight stargaze

Fresh rain

Mulled cider

Rich hazelnut sugar 

You bypass the bakery completely because you go to a completely separate bread shop on a whole other day. Y’all like to make a date outta that

Spices are very important. VERY IMPORTANT. So there’s a ton of dried herbs and salts in the basket. 

One thing Asra does splurge on is the spices. He doesn’t get the cheap 75 cent ones. He gets brand name, like the ones in the glass containers because:

“it really does affect the quality of the food, I promise”

After that, you buy everything else in the general shopping area, and for the most part, you stick to the list

PRODUCE TIME (Since you two cook a lot this is real important)

Asra spends a million years on each piece of produce, inspecting it for bruises, scratches and bumps

Needless to say, all the fruits and veggies are perfectly picked out

You end up in the essential oil section and you really don’t know how it happened. 

Y’all were doing so well.

Asra complains of the poor quality of the oils while tossing the lavender bottle in the basket anyway. 

He knows that they are for aromatherapy use only. You ask him if he knows. 

“What? Yes, I know. We’re not going to get stock for a while anyway and you’re having trouble sleeping. We can buy it just this once.”

Finally you two are at checkout. 

The line is super long but y’all don’t mind. You stand in front of Asra while he has both arms around you in a little protective embrace. He just likes touching you.

Asra realizes something:

“We didn’t get ice cream”

You shake your head and tell him that you two don’t need any.

“You’re right. All my sweetness is right here”

FAT SMOOCH ON THE LIPS

Only Asra can make grocery shopping romantic

Pays in cash because I feel like Asra does that?

He literally doesn’t want you lifting a finger, but you manage to let you help him load the groceries into the car

The drive home is very nice and very pleasant and y’all hold hands while he drives

 Since you two are responsible shoppers, y’all not back for another two weeks!

But tomorrow y’all end up going to Earthbound and Selasi’s bakery anyway 

All done! Tell me who y’all want done next!

[ragingbookdragon]

Just A Scratch

Asra x M!Apprentice

Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: Slight Angst

Author’s Note: In this house we stan lip scars because they’re enticing and hot. Enjoy! -Thorne

           It had been a long three months for Asra. A long and tiring three months away from the man he loved more than the world itself, and even if he didn’t remember Asra’s love, it still hurt to be away from him. By the time he’d reached the outskirts of Vesuvia, his heart was aching to see his face, to hold him again. And while Asra’s trips were usually to get away from his feelings, though he could never outrun them, even if he ran to the ends of the earth, this time, he’d actually had a legitimate reason for leaving: adventuring to find a book that he had specifically requested of Asra, the Grand Arcane Tome of Elemental Magic.

           The tome was huge and bound with thick, sapphire colored leather, and buckled with a silver fastening. Its pages were old and weathered, and Asra could feel the deep ingrained remnants of magic from where it sat in his bag. He worried a bit over giving the book to (Y/N). Not that he was worried that (Y/N) couldn’t handle it, but Asra knew well that magic was the husband of chaos, and every spell had a chance to go awry, all it took was one simple miscalculation and it could blow up in your face. The last thing that Asra wanted was to come home to the shop destroyed and (Y/N) seriously injured. Or worse dead, again.

           He shook the dark thoughts from his mind as he entered the Marketplace of the Center City district. It was a familiar sight that relaxed him from the distressing feelings he’d conflicted himself with, and took a moment to look around, eyes falling on Selasi’s bakery. The intoxicating scent of fresh pumpkin bread reached him, and his stomach gave an obnoxiously loud gurgle. His cheeks flushed as he started to glance around, hoping no one heard it, but before he could make a move, a wriggling lavender serpent popped out of his shirt.

           Hungry!

           Asra chuckled and reached up, scratching underneath the snake’s chin. “I bet you’re hungry too, huh Faust?”

           Want a fuzzy rat!

           He laughed again and headed for Selasi’s shop. “Well, knowing (Y/N), he’s probably caught one and has it waiting for you.”

           Excited to see friend!

           Asra had barely made it within ten feet of Selasi’s bakery when the baker himself stepped out and waved, a grin growing on his face.

           “Asra! You’re back!”

           He waved in return. “Just got back into town actually. (Y/N)’s book took longer to track down than I thought it would.” He pulled out his coin purse. “Can I get two loaves? I’d like to surprise him when I get home.”

           Something flashed in Selasi’s expression. “About (Y/N)…”

           Asra’s heart dropped to his feet, fingers numbing on the spot as his voice raised just a bit from concern. “Is he okay?” he asked, taking a step forward. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

           He was almost downright hysterical and Selasi gestured with his hands for Asra to relax. “Calm down, Asra,” he advised, explaining, “It’s nothing serious, but a couple days ago, he stopped a few hooligans from extorting me.” He smiled. “Saved my life, if I’m honest.”

           Asra’s brows furrowed. “What happened?”

           “Oh, fickle thing,” Selasi waved off. “Every now and then we’ll get a few ‘visitors’ from Goldgrave who think they can bully the lot of us around.” He gave Asra a knowing look. “You know how it is.”

           “And (Y/N)?”

           “Oh, right! Well, he was here delivering some supplies I had from the docks. Told him he didn’t have to, but you know how he is, always looking out for everyone.” Asra’s heart swelled, knowing (Y/N)’s heart of gold all too well.

           “Well, he was leaving when the three of them came in, demanding coin and goods. The ringleader had a knife.” He sighed. “I was just going to hand it over, no sense making a fuss, but (Y/N), bless him, stepped in and told them they needed to leave.”

           While (Y/N) was always there to help someone in need, he hadn’t put himself in harms way since before he di—since before Asra left. While he was the same person he’d always been when he came back, quiet, reserved, and always kind, Asra had noticed that he walked away from trouble when he could, only involving himself if he had no choice. So, to hear that (Y/N) willingly put himself between a knife-wielding ruffian and an innocent civilian, was surprising, but not unexpected.

           “What happened when he told them to leave?” Asra inquired.

           Selasi inhaled and started fixing two loaves to go. “They started laughing and mocking him, asking him what he was going to do about it. The ringleader waved the knife in his face, but (Y/N) didn’t even flinch, he just said, ‘Get out or I’ll make you.’.” He looked at Asra. “I’ve never seen (Y/N) look so serious in all the time I’ve known him.”

           Handing over the packaged bread, he added, “They all tried to take him on, but he held his own and sent them packing. Didn’t even use his magic either! Just took ‘em on barehanded! Got banged up a bit, but he was okay afterwards.” Selasi smiled at Asra. “(Y/N)’s a fine young man.”

           Asra let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and took the bread, returning it with coin. “That he is,” he answered softly and nodded before making his way down the street just a little faster.

***

           He frowned as his eyes flit between the little box in front of him and the list in his hand. His fingers trailed over every little bottle, mumbling the names as he went down the line.

           Two bottles of Sphinx’s Extract, four pinches of Fairy Wing Dust, seven Daydream Blossoms, one pinch of Mound Bindweed, two vials of Werewolf Blood, eight Aromatic Belladonna bulbs, two stalks of Goldho—

           The little bell above the door rang, and though his back was to the door, he tipped his head, calling, “Give me just a moment to finish this order and I’ll be right with you!”

           A familiar chuckle made his heart thump. “I’m gone for three months and an order takes priority over me, (Y/N)?”

           He spun around, a smile crossing his lips as he caught sight of Asra, and Faust sticking out of his shirt. Just as fast as the grin had come across his face, it dropped and he let out a hiss, bringing a hand up to his mouth. Asra set down his bag and the wrapped loaves on the counter, hurrying over. He raised his hands to (Y/N)’s face, worry etched into his expression.

           “Are you alright?” he worried, and (Y/N) lowered his hands, nodding with a frown.

           “Yeah, just a little scratch.”

           He let Asra take his face in his hands and gently examine him. “It looks a little more than just a scratch.” Before (Y/N) could say anything, he added, “This must be what Selasi was talking about.”

           “You know about that?” (Y/N) doubted, disbelief in his tone.

           Asra snorted. “Please, the entire market is talking about it.” He ran his thumb softly over the scabbing cut that went through the left side of (Y/N)’s top lip. Something flickered in his eyes as he met (Y/N)’s gaze. “Did it hurt?”

           He shrugged. “Meh, didn’t even notice I was really injured until Selasi was frantically throwing a towel at me and yelling for a doctor.”

           Asra huffed a laugh. “Lemme heal it—”

           “Wait!” (Y/N) recoiled from his grasp as if he’d been burned and covered his mouth. It took everything that Asra had in him to not let the pain show. For a moment they stared at one another, not really knowing how to follow through.

           It pained him to speak, but Asra did, barely holding it together. “(Y/N)?” He responded, but Asra didn’t catch it. “What did you say?”

           Sighing, (Y/N) lowered his hand and mumbled, “I want it to scar.”

           Asra’s brows furrowed, and he questioned, “What? Why?”

           (Y/N) cleared his throat and shifted on his feet as the heat climbed up his neck and ears. “I want it to scar because it’ll make me look rugged and handsome.” He finished quickly, cheeks hot to the touch and turned around.

           “Anyway, I have to finish this up. You should go and unpack. I’ll have dinner ready soon.”

           Asra watched him for a moment, a fond smile coming across his lips as he moved back to his bag and gathered it in his arms. He passed (Y/N) who was going between the list and box again, but a closer inspection told Asra that he was so embarrassed that he wasn’t really doing  much of anything.

           As he reached the steps and took the first one, a devious though crossed his mind. He turned and called, “(Y/N)?”

           Looking up, he caught mirthful eyes. “Mhm?”

           Asra smirked. “It does make you look rugged and handsome.”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: Asra and Faust's Birthday

~ it's June 13, so here's how MC might celebrate Asra and Faust's birthday with them. Enjoy! - brainrot ~

You let them sleep in until they're ready to get up

You, on the other hand, sneak out early to collect supplies. For what, some might ask? Well, he's not the only one good at keeping secrets ~

Faust is happy to accompany you while her master snoozes, especially as you promised her unlimited chin scritches and she is determined to get as much out of that as she can

You want them to enjoy a slow morning, so you leave any plans for the afternoon and work on breakfast while the golden morning sun lights up the kitchen

Faust keeps watch so you can focus, and you know Asra's opening his eyes when you hear her excited little voice shouting Awake! Awake! into your mind

This is your cue to climb back in bed to snuggle with them. Breakfast can wait ...

When he is ready to get up, you'll be able to bring him breakfast. One of your errands involved swinging by Selasi's stall, and the lovely baker has given you samples of all his test recipes because he knows how much Asra adores new and unusual things

Selasi also helped you fashion a mini paper party hat for Faust

Now the three of you are piled on the overstuffed, rumpled bed, eating and giggling and watching Faust pose with her hat

You also have to keep coming up with excuses for why Asra isn't allowed to look around certain parts of the shop - pieces of your surprise are stashed in several different corners

"MC -" they're giggling at the edge of the bed, only pretending to struggle against where you have your hands pressed over their eyes to keep them from getting up or peeking. "Tell me what it is!"

Never tell! Faust is wriggling along his shoulders in her own intimidation game, trying her best not to be dislodged by Asra's happy laughter. Friend surprise!

"A surprise, hm?" They get suspiciously still. "How about this?" And the cushion they swing at you is the start of a pillow fight that turns the whole bedroom into a mess

You're trying to figure out how to keep things hidden while cleaning up at the same time when you hear a knock at the door

Right on cue, Aisha and Salim are standing in your shop with beaming smiles on their faces. You bundle Asra out the door to spend lunch with them and spend the next hour or so tidying and closing up

The next stage of your surprise begins when Muriel arrives at your doorstep to help you carry several things up to the palace. Most of what you bring gets whisked away to the gardens under Nadia's watchful eye, and Portia takes the last few bundles with a wink

You stick around for a few hours, helping to set up the majority of the more magical items and finalizing the evening plans. As it nears tea time, you collect a new bundle from Nadia and set off for Aisha and Salim's house

So far things seem to be progressing even more smoothly than you expected. Asra opens the door for you, confused because their parents told them to wait here for you while they went to "run some errands"

"MC?" He eyes the bundle under your arm curiously, a bemused smile on his face. "Is it time for the next part of your mysterious plan?"

"Not yet." You drag them to the couch and pull them down next to you. "Now we take a nap."

He's not arguing with that. You doze with him, knowing that the coming night is going to be longer than he can guess. You shake him gently awake as the sun begins to set, brewing him a quick cup of tea before you hand him the first bundle

"I can open this now?" They smile teasingly and purposefully fumble with the wrappings

Inside is a lovely new set of clothes, Nadia's gift. They're styled and tailored perfectly enough to be suitable for any party, and yet as durable and practical as the best traveling gear

It's twilight when you walk across the palace bridge hand in hand. You can hear and smell the festivities wafting from the palace gardens, and even better is the thrill of curiosity and excitement in Asra's fingertips when he squeezes your hand

They're prepared to be dazzled by whatever delights you and Nadia have clearly conspired to create, but they don't expect the number of people present when the two of you enter the grounds

All of them people he knows, all of them people he's friends with, but so many he assumed he didn't mean anything to. He was expecting to see under ten people, but this number is easily over thirty

They can't remember a time when they were considered a part of a community. For as long as they can remember, they've been a wanderer who found home with the two people they felt most connected to, with no permanent place or support system

This is different. Seeing all these recognizable Vesuvian faces in one place is the proof that there is a community around him, and that this community has a spot for them in it

The evening is magical. There's all kinds of food laid out with puzzles to solve to unlock different dishes, there's floating magical bubbles which play out different comical scenes in whorls of colorful light when they're popped, and there's a game of riddles that lead him on the silliest scavenger hunt Vesuvia's ever seen

Eventually it becomes late enough that even the night owls are beginning to get tired. Muriel disappears briefly and returns with two traveling packs, which he trades with you wordlessly for the shop key

Asra watches in delighted confusion. "MC, there's more? Where are you taking me?"

"Where do you think?" You bid everyone your goodbyes together, Aisha and Salim adding their own mysterious "see you soon"s, and then you're taking their hand and walking through the silvery moonlit fields to meet with a familiar beast

A very sleepy Faust curls herself up under Asra's shirt as the two of you take off. His head turns so he can speak in your ear over the rush of the wind

"We're going to Nopal?"

"Nopal first," you murmur back, "and Zadith after. Your parents say they want to show us where they learned alchemy - and where you got your name from. We'll meet them on the coast in a few day's time."

You won't always be able to plan elaborate garden parties or a month away from the shop for Asra's birthday. But for the dimples that keep appearing and the contented love and joy in their eyes? You'll do it as often as you can

[sweetalnazar]

After an eternity, I updated!

CHAPTER 2: A HOUSE, A SHOP AND A HOME

Summary: After the defeat of the Devil, Aisha and Salim catch up on all they’ve missed, including the fate of the home once shared with Asra

4.3k words. Family Fluff/Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Tw for discussions of trauma and abandonment

Lowkey Mine/Asra/Muriel.

Other Notes:

- Mine uses she/they, but only ‘they’ in this setting. Asra alternates between ‘he’ and ‘they’

- 'Foreign' words are generally not italicized, to reflect the multilingual nature of the characters

––––

Chapter 1 || Read on AO3 || Tip Jar 🌟

Their home was no more.

In Aisha’s memory, on her street by the heart of Center City, was the little two-storey house squished between a bathhouse and an apothecary, the place she called home. 

The kebab stall down the street, the scent of smoked lamb drifting through the air as she passed it by on the way to the palace. The neighbour opposite her, who grew a rich garden on her balcony with her wife, and gave Aisha a flower each time they met. The sound of the neighbourhood children kicking balls in the streets and chasing each other in the evenings.

The creak of the door hinges that never agreed with Salim’s oils, no matter what formula he used. The colorful tapestries from their families, a parting gift, that decorated the walls, as well as the numerous paintings, from Salim’s hand, from Aisha’s, and of course, Asra’s. The music echoing through their house in the evenings, the strumming of her qanun and Asra’s little hand beating on the riq, Salim’s beautiful voice accompanying.

All of it, every single bit of the house that held all these memories, had been reduced to rubble and broken brick, just like the rest of their neighbourhood.

There was a year of powerful lightning storms in Vesuvia that had led to fire, and the crowded buildings smooshed together, unprepared for such a hazard, was like kindling in a fireplace. Flames engulfed everything in their path, and when they couldn’t, the burning buildings and structures collapsed on their neighbours, leading to almost their entire neighbourhood being destroyed. 

According to Asra, he and Muriel––one of his partners––had run away to the east docks during the blaze, closer to water where it was safer. When they returned, there was barely anything left of the neighbourhood, much less the house.

Salim gulped his tea down, to the point he started coughing. Aisha thumped him, once, before switching to alternating between patting and rubbing his back.

“T-that’s something, Asra,” he said, the shock still clear on his face.

“Haha, yeah…” Asra stared awkwardly at his own teacup.

“Revani anyone?” Mine interrupted, holding a plate of brown squares, topped with crushed walnuts and pistachios. “I got a really good recipe from Selasi, so me, Asra and Muriel tried making some.” 

Grateful for the interruption, all three at the table took a piece each.

It had been a month or so since the defeat of the Devil, the triumphant return of Asra and Mine, and at long last, Aisha and Salim were catching up on what they had missed since their disappearance almost two decades ago. 

The two of them had asked Asra to see their old home, the very first house they had moved in as young newly-weds ready to start their new life.

Instead, he had brought them to the magic shop.

He had gestured for them to sit in a corner of the shop, where a couch and armchairs surrounded a rickety table opposite the counter. While Salim and Aisha took the couch, he had taken an armchair, the one closer to his mother’s side.

With Mine perching on the armrest by his side, and Muriel––quiet as always––sitting by the counter, Asra began regaling the tale of the house’s fate; from the landlord kicking him out, to new tenants, to its demise.

While the palace had remained constant, almost assuring in how little it had changed, much of the city had transformed. 

The Coliseum cast shadows across Goldgrave, obstructing the view of the arts district and its colorful antics. Red Street, once the pride of the Heart District and the Count, had been abandoned. Meanwhile, the bustling Shopping District had turned sullen and gloomy, the overflowing waterways mirroring its new name of the Flooded District. 

Then there was the little island far off-shore that loomed on the edge of the city, a reminder of darker times. Even the land itself had not stayed the same, the ebony, almost black sands of Ash Beach now bleached gray by the remains of the deceased.

Everywhere she looked, there was nothing but change. 

Old stores and restaurants Aisha and Salim had frequented were long gone, the shops now on their fourth or fifth newest venture.There was almost no trace of the Vesuvia Aisha had come to love, the city she had stepped into for her first big project away from home; when she and Salim had been young, newly married and determined to prove their skill away from their families. 

Or at least away from Aisha’s family, the renowned Alnazar name. 

“Basbousa,” Salim spoke, breaking her train of thought. 

She stared down at the cake in hand. Below the brown crust was a familiar buttery yellow. 

“I thought I recognized the smell!” Salim went on, holding his piece up enthusiastically. 

“It’s a little burnt, sorry,” Mine apologized. “We weren’t sure how hot the oven needed to be, since well, none of us usually bake.”

As Salim and Mine continued making small talk, Aisha took a bite, and her eyes widened. 

“Orange blossom syrup,” she said, surprised.

“Just like you made it,” Asra said. He gestured to the cup of orange blossom syrup to the side. “Pour half the syrup while it’s hot––”

“And leave the rest for serving,” she finished. Her chest tightened, a little, and she smiled down at the small square cake.

“I––I didn’t actually remember the name,” Asra confessed. “People in Vesuvia call it ‘revani’, but I always called it the orange blossom cake. Or the cake with semolina butter.”

Aisha laughed. “I remember! You were always trying to eat the entire butter slab while we were baking.”

“What do you mean ‘trying’? They were halfway through their second slab when we caught them that one time,” Salim pointed out.

“Asra!” Mine exclaimed, staring at them with wide eyes. “You didn’t .”

“It tasted nice when I was little,” Asra shrugged. “I liked how the texture felt when I gnashed the butter between my teeth.”

From the counter, there was a snort, and Aisha could have sworn Muriel mumbled, “...typical” under his breath.

Meanwhile, Mine rose to their feet, taking a couple of cakes on their plate, and went over to the counter, squeezing Asra’s hand before they left.

Salim took a few more pieces, munching happily, and Aisha did the same, placing another square on her plate.

“Back to our original topic,” Aisha said, “what happened to the house after that?”

“Oh.” Asra stopped, putting down his plate and taking a quick gulp of tea. “Well, it was kind of abandoned for a long time. Until Melaka––that’s Mine’s aunt––came along.”

“Then…”

Asra nodded. “That’s right. She built the shop right over where the house was.” He leaned back in his chair, and pulled the shimmery curtains behind him away to reveal the view from the large open window.

At the back of the shop, hidden by the tall storefront and the surrounding walls, was a courtyard. Garments flapped gently in the breeze from the clotheslines in the center, the clothing all different sizes. To one side, there was a collection of beakers and jars, as well as larger rectangular containers. They were all filled with dirt, plants of various sizes and types sprouting from them.

“Is that––” Salim squinted, “––another building back there?”

“That’s the kitchen,” Mine said. 

“Our main kitchen,” Asra clarified. “It’s where we put the ice box and the big stove and everything. There’s a sitting room too, to eat together.”

Aisha blinked, playing over Asra’s last sentence in her mind.

Had that been an invitation?

“Oh, that’s where Lucia and Hayrünnisa used to live,” Salim said. “Nisa would always give you seeds when she saw you, Asra.” 

“Seeds?” Aisha said. “Didn’t she usually give them those little flower crowns and rings?”

Asra’s eyes darted down, looking sheepish.

“Oops, sorry, Asra. It was supposed to be a secret.”

“What was?” Mine said, leaning over the counter, their elbows almost at the edge. Muriel pulled them back, but they stayed standing, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

“I think we’ve heard enough about my childhood,” Asra said, red dusting his cheeks.

“No, we haven’t!” Mine said. “Right, Muriel?”

Muriel nodded. If Aisha hadn’t known any better, she would have said his smile was almost teasing.

“It’s not as embarrassing as you think it was, Asra,” Salim said. “It was very sweet in fact.”

Asra pursed his lips, looking conflicted.

Aisha reached out, slowly taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. Asra snapped his head to look at her, startled.

“Habibi, we don’t have to talk about it if you truly don’t want to,” she told him gently. “But I must admit...I would very much love to hear this little secret of yours.” 

Asra chuckled, squeezing her hand back before she released him. “OK, mom. I guess...it has been long enough.” 

“Tell us!” Mine said, bouncing faster now, the pink-tipped dark curls resting on their shoulders bouncing higher.

“..calm down,” Muriel muttered, almost fondly, as he placed a hand on their rotund hip and attempted to get them to sit.

“Now for the story,” Asra clapped his hands, his face still a little red as he began. “I saw er, Nisa––”

“Aunty Nisa,” Salim corrected.

“Yeah, Aunty Nisa was always giving you flowers, mom, and I, I wanted to do that too. A whole bouquet of flowers that I grew on my own.”

“You wanted to make a big balcony garden just like hers.” Salim shook his head. “It took a while to talk you down too.”

“It’s true,” Asra laughed. “Dad convinced me to start small. He would let me borrow the beakers and jars from your lab. We’d get some dirt and I’d put them on the ledge under my window where you couldn’t see.”

“So that’s where all our equipment went!” Aisha said, smiling at her husband. She placed an arm around his shoulder, pressing herself closer. “And here I was, half-convinced you were melting them down for some explosive new experiment.”

“Aisha, I would never.”

She gave him a knowing look.

“...without telling you first, that is.”

“That is true. I do dislike not being privy to the workings of your beautiful mind, ya qalbi.”

“Of course, ya a’youni. How could I ever do anything without my eyes to guide me so?”

For a while, there was silence, as Aisha and Salim gazed lovingly at each other, lost in the other’s eyes.

Up until Muriel cleared his throat, mumbling, “...Getting mushy must run in the family.”

“Shh, Muriel,” Mine whispered loudly, elbowing him. “It’s romantic . Let them be!”

“Anyway,” Asra said, “So that’s my little secret, mom. I hope you, er, liked it?”

“I loved it, habibi. Thank you, it was very sweet.”

“We should try that again.” Mine bounded up to the chair, settling on the armrest again. “Growing a flower garden. We could get a few more beakers––oh, a proper plant bed maybe? Portia has a great garden, we could ask her for tips and stuff!”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Um, I mean, if you’d like, mom and dad.”

Aisha blinked, confused for a moment, until the meaning clicked. “You want us to garden...together?”

“Only if you want to,” Asra quickly clarified. “It’s fine if you don’t, it really is.”

“Not at all, Asra,” Salim said. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

Aisha nodded firmly.

Asra smiled, then faltered, looking down. Before either Salim or Aisha could ask him what was the matter, he had pulled Mine close, whispering into their ear.

They bobbed their head, before their attention turned to Aisha and Salim. “We were also wondering if the two of you wouldn’t mind joining us for dinner sometime. Yknow, once in a while, we could sit down around the table and um, just enjoy a family meal.”

“A little get-together sort of thing,” Asra added. “Nothing special.”

“Oh, but habibi, that is something special,” Aisha said. “We, we haven’t really had anything like that in a long time.”

“Y-you don’t have to––”

“We want to,” Aisha and Salim said simultaneously.

“Asra,” Aisha began, “We have missed so much, too much, of your life. Every moment we can share with you, even in the littlest ways, they are precious.”

“We can’t make up all that lost time,” Salim said. “But we are going to try and make the most of our present. We can only spend so long lamenting our losses. We want to move forward...with you, Asra, if possible.”

Asra’s eyes glistened in the soft sunlight filtering through the curtain, and Mine put an arm around him, a reassurance.

“There’s no rush, of course,” Aisha said. “We can go at your pace, as you like.”

“N-no, it’s not, it’s not that.”

He cleared his throat, wiping at the corner of his eye with his thumb. Mine undid one of the clothknots from their fingers and offered it, which Asra accepted and dabbed at his eyes.

“Muri, come over here,” Asra waved. “I want you to be closer for this.”

“...fine.” 

Muriel shuffled over, chair in hand, before placing it down next to Asra and taking a seat. There was another empty armchair, across from Asra, but it seemed both his partners wanted to stay close to him right now.

Asra took a deep breath, his thumb running over Mine’s knuckles, before he started speaking.

“Mom, dad, I, I spent a long time alone. It was...it wasn’t easy. I had Muri, but we barely got by, especially when we were younger.”

Aisha swallowed, one hand gripping the edges of her hijab as she braced her heart. Neither she nor Salim were not technically at fault, but nonetheless, how could she not feel pain or guilt or grief over what her child, her precious little one, had been forced to go through in the absence of his parents? 

How could she not feel responsible for the pain Asra had gone through?

“We had good times, Muri and I, but––but there were a lot of days that hurt. There were a lot of days that were painful and scary.” Another inhale, Mine squeezing his hand. “...But what hurt most of all was wondering if, if you had left me alone on purpose.”

“Asra,” Salim breathed, the shock in his tone mirroring Aisha’s own. “We would never.”

“I know. I know that now. But when I was little and afraid, I had no idea. You just suddenly never came home, and sometimes––sometimes I wondered if it was me. That I had done something wrong, or if there was something wrong with me that made you want to leave.”

Salim opened his mouth to speak, but Aisha raised a hand, wordlessly gesturing for him to wait. Asra still had more to say.

“For the longest time, I believed no one would stay for me.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, dropping into his lap like little pearls, and his lips quivered as he said, “Because you two didn’t stay.”

Asra closed his eyes, exhaling, while more tears dripped down. Muriel passed a handkerchief to Mine, who promptly wiped at Asra’s cheeks.

“T-thanks, Mine, Muri,” he mumbled.

After wiping away most of his tears, Asra raised his head, meeting Aisha and Salim’s gazes. 

“Mom, dad, it’s not your fault, but it took me a long time to let people in again. To actually let people love all of me, instead of keeping a part of myself out of their reach so I wouldn’t get hurt. I––I’m actually still afraid, of letting people in. What if they get tired of me? What if they don’t want me anymore? What then?”

Asra had every right to be angry, to be upset, but to Aisha’s astonishment, a smile spread across his face, his expression growing brighter with each word.

“But I don’t want to be held back by my fears anymore. Even if I am afraid, I––I still want to try. Mom, dad, I want to try at us being a family again. I know it won’t be easy, and I know there will be a lot of times where things don’t go the way we planned. Despite that...would you still want to try with me?”

“Of course,” Aisha and Salim answered immediately.

“Asra...you’ve been through so much,” Salim said. “I am so, so sorry for what we put you through. I know the situation was out of our control, but not a day goes by that we don’t regret leaving you alone. You were so young, we should have been there to protect you, to help you.”

“But we weren’t,” Aisha said, unballing her fist and letting her hijab fall back into place. “Habibi, your scars run deep, and neither our apologies or efforts are enough to heal each and every past hurt. You can be angry or bitter towards us, we both understand. Regardless, we will always love you.”

Salim nodded. “No matter what. We might disagree with each other, or argue until our voices go hoarse, or even hate each other for a time, but no matter what happens, our love will never change.”

“To put it simply,” Aisha said, “nothing would make us happier than to try together with you, Asra, to be a family again.”

Asra’s hands flew to his face and he doubled over in the chair, white curls touching his knees. 

“Asra?!” Mine and Muriel exclaimed, Muriel jumping to his feet to come closer.

Then, Asra lifted his head, and Aisha understood his reaction.

His cheeks were completely damp, tears flowing freely, along with snot running from his nose. His body quivered with soft sobs he was barely holding in, both his partners hugging him on either side. 

He had been such a messy crier as a child, and some things didn’t change. 

“I––I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m f––feeling a lot of things right now,” he managed to choke out, attempting a wobbly smile.  

“There, there,” Mine said, rubbing his back, while Muriel poured water into his teacup. 

Once he had calmed down, though his eyes were still watery, he continued.

“Thanks, mom, dad. Thank you….for everything. I, I never thought I would hear you say that and I just…”

Mine patted his shoulder. “There, there, sayang. We get it. Go at your own pace.”

He rested his head on their chest. “Thank you, dearheart. And you, Muri, love.”

Muriel grunted. He had gone back to sit down, but his chair had been moved closer, in case Asra needed quick comforting once more.

Aisha smiled. “Seems to me like you’ve certainly found many who love you dearly.”

“And I’m lucky for each and every one.”

“As we’re lucky to have you, Asra,” Salim said. “Thank you, habibi, for being the sweetest, kindest and loveliest child there ever was.”

He laughed weakly. “Dad, stop.”

“It is true though,” Aisha said. “Take my word for it, I’m never wrong.”

Asra chuckled and shook his head, affection clear in the gesture. “Mom, dad...I love you. So much.”

Aisha blinked, her vision becoming watery now. She leaned over, grasping Asra’s hand. 

Together, she and Salim said, “We love you too.”

The hours seemed to fly by as the conversation carried on, the edges of the blue sky starting to bleed orange soon enough. When Aisha pointed it out, Asra stammered out an invitation to stay for dinner tonight, and Mine jumped to their feet in excitement, suggesting all of them could even cook together.

Naturally, Aisha and Salim happily accepted.

When Asra asked what they would like to eat, Aisha took one look at her husband, and in unison, they answered, “Lamb fatteh!” 

In Zadithi tradition, fatteh was a celebratory dish of rice and toasted pita bread, piles of mutton crowning the top and accompanied by savory sauces. Around many parts of the country, it was the Mahrajan dish, for the Mahrajan Qurban, or the Mahrajan Saum. 

Aisha had many a happy memory of breaking her fast to a plate piled high with falafel and fatteh and roasted eggplant, family and friends and loved ones all around her, and she could not help but wish her child could also have such wonderful memories too, even if it was a little late.

By sunset, the shop’s kitchen was a mess of splatters and ingredients strewn about, rice sticking to Aisha's hijab while the dark curls of Salim's fringe had stains of tomato paste. Yet at the same time, there was laughter and chatter resounding throughout the whole building, never quiet for a single moment.

And despite the mess, the fatteh turned out beautifully, looking gorgeous as Salim and Muriel brought it out on its large dish, almost dominating the entire coffee table.

Asra closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Quietly, he said, “I haven’t smelled this in years. It’s just as wonderful as I remember.” He opened his eyes, turning to his parents. “I could never find the recipe to make it just like yours.”

“It’s the eggplant,” Salim said, brushing the last of the rice off her hijab. “Your mother loves them.”

Aisha laughed. “It’s the best part. My abi would make it like that.”

“My...grandfather?"

She nodded, her gaze becoming wistful. “It’s been such a while since we’ve seen my family. Your family, Asra. We are planning to reconnect soon...if you would want to.”

Asra bit his lip.

“You don’t have to, habibi,” Salim quickly said. “They are your family regardless, but you don’t have to force yourself into anything.”

“I’ll think about it….but maybe, I would like to meet them. Someday.”

Beside Asra, Mine bumped his shoulder, done with tying Muriel's hair back into a ponytail. “Baby steps, love. Take your time,” they said.

On Asra's other side, Muriel nodded in agreement. With his bangs out of his face, Aisha could see the softness beneath his gruff exterior, the love reflected in the green of his irises as he gazed at his partners. Truly, her child was surrounded by such wonderful people.

“Mine’s right,” Aisha spoke. “You can take your time, Asra. Whether it’s finding your roots in Zadithi, or connecting with us here in Vesuvia, your family isn’t going anywhere.”

Asra’s smile was soft and small, but radiant. “Thanks, mom.”

“Speaking of, can we start digging in yet?” Mine piped up. “I’m starving, and this fatteh smells wayyy too good for just staring at it.”

The rest of the table guffawed, even Muriel chuckling under his breath.

“Dig in, everyone!” Salim said

After reciting a tasmiya, they all began their meal, scooping up piles of rice and bread and lamb and eggplant, drizzling their dishes with ladles of tomato sauce and garlic sauce. 

As Aisha was halfway through her plate, Muriel told Asra, “You never did finish the story about the house.”

Asra put down his fork, surprise clear on his face. “Huh? What did I leave out?”

“Why it took so long for this place to be built.”

Asra’s cheeks flushed at this, in a way Aisha was starting to recognize.

“Asra Alnazar,” she said, “what did you do this time?”

“ Nothing ,” he said, though his expression was sheepish. “Things just...took a while. No one wanted this palace until Melaka came along. Once she did, she bought this lot and the one behind, and well, she rebuilt.”

“Despite Asra’s best efforts,” Mine whispered to Muriel, grinning.

“What do you mean?” Aisha asked, ears sharp as ever, before turning to Asra. “Habibi, what do they mean?

The blush grew deeper, his cheeks aflame, and he looked away. 

“Go on, Asra,” Muriel said, a little quiet, but a small, teasing smile tugging on his usually downturned mouth. “Tell them all about the hauntings.”

“The what ?” Salim exclaimed.

Asra covered the lower half of his face with his hands, his cheeks aflame now. 

Mine cackled. “Go on, Asra. I’m sure your parents will love this.”

With a sigh, he relented. “So, dad, mom, after the landlord kicked me out, I may have been, well, scaring all the new tenants away.”

“With an actual ghost?” Salim said.

“N–no, that was just me, doing some magic. Playing some pranks.”

“Scaring every single resident half to death,” Mine said.

“And sending them scurrying out in the middle of the night,” Muriel added.

“Yes, that.” Asra cleared his throat, continuing in a quieter voice, “And I may have also...committed property damage after Melaka first moved in.”

“ What?! ” Aisha said, her voice going shrill, trying to keep the grin from spreading across her face. “Asra!”

“Don’t forget breaking and entering,” Muriel chimed in.

“Trespassing too~” Mine sang. “I’m surprised auntie didn’t curse you into a toad or something.”

Asra glanced from one partner to the other. “Tonight is just about dredging up my entire embarrassing history, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Mine and Muriel replied.

“And we’re enjoying every bit of it,” Mine said, Muriel bobbing his head as well.

“So what happened next?” Aisha interjected. “Were you caught by Miss Melaka?”

“Yep,” Muriel said.

“I was,” Asra admitted. “And then…”

The night passed with stories of past memories, both the ones Aisha and Salim knew, and those they didn’t. And while a part of Aisha’s heart still panged at how much she had missed, she couldn’t help the joy and delight blossoming in her chest.

Perhaps they could not take back the past.

But to be allowed to be a part of Asra’s present, to be able to learn about the sort of person her child used to be and the person he was now, it was a gift beyond measure. 

And to know that they were still a family, that he still had a place in his life for them after all these years?

It was beyond her wildest dreams.

––––

 Notes Disclaimer: I'm not Middle Eastern or Arab, and much of this is pulled from the internet as well as some of my own basic knowledge as a Malaysian Muslim. Please feel free to correct anything.

Qanun: A type of stringed instrument found across the Middle East, Asia, Africa and southeastern Europe. Riq: A type of tambourine and a traditional instrument in Arab music. It's the national musical instrument of Pakistan Revani/Basbousa: A type of sweet cake popular in the Middle East, and has many names Fatteh: A type of dish that is served differently depending on region. In Egypt, it is a type of feast meal

Abi (ابي): Arabic, from abu (أب)/father, meaning 'my father' Habibi (حبيبي): Arabic, from huub (حب)/love, meaning 'my love' Ya Qalbi (قلبي): Arabic, from qalb (قلب)/heart, meaning 'my heart' Ya A'youni (عيونى): Arabic, from a'in (عين)/eye, meaning 'my eyes', an affectionate petname. *Ya is a word often placed before names/nouns, ie 'Ya Aisha' or 'Ya Habibi'. The closest translation I understand is akin to saying "O Aisha", but not quite accurate

Mahrajan (مهرجان) : Arabic, meaning festival. Eid, the biggest celebrations of the Muslim world, can also translate to festival and in this story, Mahrajan is essentially fantasy!Eid. Mahrajan Qurban refers to Eid ul Adha, while Mahrajan Saum refers to Eid ul Fitri Tasmiya (تَسْمِيَّة): Arabic, a fantasy equivalent to the Basmala. In Muslim tradition, it is common to utter a Basmala before carrying out a task such as before eating

Clothknots: Mine has ADHD and to help with their forgetfulness, they often tie clothknots around their fingers to serve as reminders Sayang: Malay, meaning 'love'. Here, it's used as a petname

[stardustincarnate]

TOGETHER FOREVER // Asra x Reader

ASRA + A NON-BINARY MC

WORD COUNT: 2541

GENRE: Fluff

Water.

Flowing water, molded into ballerinas, swaying to the slow, dreamy rhythm of a harp, by a skilled magician, surrounded me as I stood in the middle of a vast, colorful oasis. It took me a while before I realized that I was in Asra's gate. How did I end up being there?

The plants sprung to life, engulfing me, filling my vision with a dancing of warm colors that reminded me of him as I closed my eyes. I could feel the phantom of warmth embrace me, and when I opened my eyes, I was greeted with those deep and sincere purple eyes of his.

The world seemed to have slowed down, every action taking some time as if it was to savor the moment. I found myself loosely wrapping my arms around his neck as he caressed my other cheek, and I leaned to the feeling.

I could see Asra's magnificent aura combining with mine, making a beacon of blinding light that went up to the sky.

His tender touch never fails to send me flying over to the moon, both our magic combined as if speaking to one another, my heart reacting to his own.

He pressed his forehead against mine, a blush creeping up his face.

"I love you."

-

With that, I had unfortunately awoken. I yawned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, soon realizing that Asra was not beside me anymore. The smell of my favorite soup wafted out from the kitchen to the bedroom, causing me to blearily walk towards it. The sleepiness soon ebbed my system once the smell got stronger. Asra wasn't aware that I already woke up, so I sneakily went on to hug him from behind, earning an adorable gasp from him and making me chuckle.

"[MC]? You're awake. Did you have a good sleep?"

I nuzzled his fluffy hair. "Mhm I suppose. I had a really good dream."

"Oh? Why don't you tell me about it."

"We were in your gate. But it didn't look like before.. it was more magical that time. Well, just us doing some romantic things.. Involving magic too!"

Asra let out a chuckle, "Why don't we make it real then?" He turned around, giving me that playful look of his. I grinned. "Ooh, I love the sound of that."

Soon, I found myself being fed by him as we ate our breakfast. Faust kept on squeezing us alternatively. She seemed excited about something.

"[MC], what do you say we go out for a trip today?" Asra asked, wiping off some remaining soup droplets on my chin which I hadn't noticed.

"Where will we go?"

"I thought about bringing you to the magical realms, but then I thought of something better." He casted a wistful look on me. "Let's forget about the realms for the mean time. Let's just explore the city. What do you think?"

"You know I'm up for it! But you'll have to let me take a bath first!" I chuckled.

"Take your time. I won't mind." He playfully winked at me as I headed towards the bathroom.

Some time later, we arrived at the city market. Vesuvians were partially rowdy and quiet. Though some even came stumbling near the two of us, but it was alright. Asra held my hand tightly as I saw him grinning at something— or someone. The market seemed a bit more playful today. Maybe that's why he decided to take me here? The fun in the atmosphere was tangible, especially when I heard the strumming of guitars— and the next moment, all I knew was that Asra and I were dancing in the middle of the street, accompanied by some other couples until the beat had stopped.

It was fun while it lasted. It's as if my body had a mind of its own when I let myself dance to the rhythm. I didn't care about anything else other than the joyous music. I knew what felt right, and it felt right to let myself sway to the rhythm with Asra. Abstract magic bubbled around the two of us. How I love feeling that way.

However, right after the dancing session, the world suddenly dissipated into nothingmess. I was left all alone in a dark, fathomless land where no one seemed to hear me. No Asra... no Faust. I tried to connect to them using my magic, but something was intercepting it. No no, I didn't feel something ominous despite the situation. So what, exactly, was stopping me? I called out to my magic once more, and there I felt a recognizable aura somewhere. Asra's. He was nearby, I could tell, but it's as if he was hiding behind a veil which I didn't know where to find. I was in distress, but then something dawned me.

Asra must've been playing tricks with me. I should've known from the beginning. Ugh, I am so going to get that rascal! I let my magic surround me, and then I was back at the market— but I was alone. If he was pulling a prank on me, I'd give him credits for the effort of making  the crowd disappear too. I clicked my tongue but later on grinned. What kind of prank was it? I got a little excited to know what to see at the end of the tunnel.

"Asraaaaaa!"

I called out for the nth time. I was aimlessly walking that I didn't realize I already bumped to a hulking figure. The smell of Myrrh...

"Muriel! Have you seen my sneaky magician?" 

He looked away as soon as I met his eyes. He didn't reply. He just walked away. I followed him with my eyes but then he stopped his tracks, reluctantly beckoning me to join him. And I did. And I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing. Asra really did execute a massive prank for me because the whole Vesuvia seemed empty of people. I was beginning to get confused when I still didn't see anyone, but when we turned to a corner, leading to which I presume is the docks, an enthralling scenery surprised me.

My fellow Vesuvians were scattered on the side. The middle was empty and I supposed I would be walking there, and I was right. I let out a confused noise when they suddenly started singing all together. Their voices were harmonious that it somehow made my heart feel lighter than it already was. I could spot a few familiar faces.

Selasi, our favorite baker, then came up to me, handing me something. I was surprised that it wasn't bread but a bouquet of my favorite flowers. I thanked him, but before I could ask furthermore, he hastily ran back to the crowd.

"Muriel, what's going on?"

What did I expect? He didn't even turn around. I guessed I wouldn't be having any answers until I see the mastermind behind all of this.

I spotted Aisha and Salim in the crowd. They gave me a meaningful smile, a sly look on their faces. I smiled back and proceeded to walk down the center even if I had no idea what was happening. Their attentions were all on me. It made me feel overwhelmed, as if I was the star of Vesuvia. And jeez, was the Countess and all the other courtiers somewhere in the crowd?

Speaking of, I soon found Nadia standing in a corner. Her elegant figure stood out the most. I was taken aback when she walked to me, and I received a bouquet of flowers once again. She gave me a playful look and then weaved herself through the crowd. I soon spotted Portia, and she did the same thing to me, winking afterwards. 

And by the time I had reached Julian standing in the middle of the docks, my arms were already full of bouquets, but he gave a blind eye to that and proceeded to put another bouquet on top of the rest that I could barely see what's in front of me. And as I expected, the strain in my arms made the bouquets fall to the ground. I regretfully looked at them. But just as I was about to pick them up, Julian intercepted, swaying his long, lanky arms that almost hit my face.

"Whoops! No no no no. We can't have our main star doing the work here, can we?"

He flashed a shameless grin and started picking up the bouquets. I didn't argue and instead chuckled. Then as I lifted my gaze, I finally saw Asra, standing at the edge and giving me a look as if to tell "I'm expecting you."

He smiled at me as I ran into him, completely forgetting the fact that he's at the edge. One slight move and he would fall into the water. But something unusual happened. 'Asra' bursted into fizzy bubbles and tiny butterflies that soon engulfed me, making me giggle. And once they gave way, I was greeted by a bunch of tiny ballerinas which emerged from the water. They were careful not to get too close and drench my clothes. My smile grew even wider as I recalled my dream. There were also dancing ballerinas surrounding me, but bigger. Asra must had taken note of that to pull the trick off.

I pivoted, seeing 'Asra' give me another bouquet of flowers. But they were much larger than the ones my friends had given to me. The other half was drenched though since it was given to me by the water in which Asra shaped himself to.

"[MC]." I heard a boisterous call, making me turn around for the nth time, and that time I finally saw the real Asra. Solid and radiating an immense aura of magic. Joyous but somehow perplexed. I threw myself at him, and we bursted into giggles.

"My, my.. You really know how to pull a trick off your sleeves. Is this really the real you, or are you just another one of his illusions?"

"I'm the real one you know," His airy voice tickled my ears. There was a playful tone in his voice. "Want me to prove it?"

"N-Not in front of everyone!" I flushed but eventually cleared my throat. "Uhm, mind explaining yourself? Please tell me what's gotten into your mind to do this."

He only gave me a smug look, but later on evaded my gaze as a blush crept on his face. The crowd had already stopped singing. They were silent and watching us as if expecting something huge to happen. I looked at my friends, who were only giving me playful looks. I frowned, but then it hit me. 

Or I might just be assuming things. It was just a massive prank, right? Asra didn't do it because of...

"[MC]."

"Yeees?"

"I.. You know how much I care for you.. Right?"

I heard someone in the crowd squeal.

"Yes. You told me about it when.. when we were at the fountain... during the most recent masquerade." I blushed as I reminisced the scene. It made my heart flutter when he told me that he loves me. It filled me with joy. We've been through a lot...

"We've been through a lot of adventures ever since we defeated the Devil. And I treasure the memories that we keep on making... I find it better to go on adventures with you by my side rather than going alone," He looked at me and smiled. It was my turn to look away due to our faces' proximity. "You showed me a different perspective of the world, [MC], and I can't imagine living a life without you anymore. I feel like as long as we're together, we'll be able to overcome anything." 

My heart erratically beated as he said those words. A mixture of Aww's and other complements came from the crowd, but Asra didn't seem to mind. He was staring at me. And only at me.

"I love you, [MC]. And I'll keep on loving you.." He widened the distance between us a little, kneeling down and as if searching for something in his pocket. I didn't know how red my face was at the time. I felt like exploding.

He really was doing it.

He was proposing to me.

Asra stopped his search and shyly looked around, but he was somehow distressed. 

"Now where did I put it...." He looked down, facepalming. "Faust, where are you? I told you not to play with it."

At the mention of her name, Faust slithered towards him, something shiny in her mouth. Asra chuckled and scolded her as she took refuge in his sleeve. Then, he averted his gaze back to me, his eyes gleaming with hope and love.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, [MC]. And I hope you do too... Will you marry me?"

He showed me the ring that flashed the colors of the rainbow before my very eyes. Milliseconds after he said that the crowd started cheering and squealing, and I didn't even utter my answer yet, and I couldn't due to all the noise. Portia took care of it though.

"HEY! Did we actually hear what [MC] said? QUIET!" And the noise dissipated. 

The more I looked at Asra, the more I realized how nervous he actually was. Even with a brave facade, I could still see through him. We were blushing so bad as he waited for my answer. But I felt like I couldn't speak at the time. I was overwhelmed with euphoria that I couldn't bring myself to utter a single word or even move. It took me a few seconds to calm myself, responding to his question with a smile.

"D-Do you even have to ask?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course it is! Yes! I'll marry you!"

Asra stood up with a wide, genuine smile as he put the ring on my finger. It was filled with an intricate design, the pattern carved meticulously. I was so amazed at how detailed it was. I looked at it with awe. I couldn't believe what was hapenning. I might've swooned.

"Good. I was beginning to think you wouldn't.."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know." Asra laughed, pulling me into a kiss. His magic surged into me and when he pulled away, he immediately took me in his embrace. The crowd started cheering once again that I could barely hear myself over it.

"Did you make the ring?"

"Yes. Did you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" I flushed against his chest.

"The ring only?"

"Psh, of course you too! I love you, Asra!"

He chuckled and intertwined our fingers. I blushed even more. If I could explode, I already would've.

"I love you too. I loved you ever since."

"Asra! Stop making me blush.."

"But I was just stating facts! Right Faust?"

"Right!"

He really couldn't fail to make me blush, to create butterflies and grow flowers inside me, and to make my heart feel light and filled with pure bliss.

We were engaged, and I couldn't wait to see what the future stores for us.

The future that includes him and I, completely contented with each other's presence.

[vesuviannights]

♛   ♛   ♛   ♛   ♛   ♛   ♛   ♛   ♛

        “Scandalous! Absolutely scandalous. I must have more.”          - Princess Navmira of Prakra.

        “I love The Bread Boys. Best read I’ve had in a while!”          - Selasi Gbormittah, famed baker.

        “What is this filth? Did you write a sex novel about my mother?!”          - Count Lucio of Vesuvia.

        “Please don’t speak to me ever again.”          - Consul Valerius.

        “Needs more worms.”          - Some Creep We Didn’t Even Ask.

⋯⋯♛⋯⋯

You’ve heard about them - now it’s time to see them up close!

Firent’s top bookseller, The Royal Publishing House, brings you 10 brand new collector’s editions of your favourite Firentian Firebrand novels. Each novel has been resized, recovered, and printed on thick 80gsm paper to ensure maximum quality that will last a lifetime. No longer do you have to be embarassed to be seen reading your favorite filth in public⁺. Be seen with these stylish and elegant copies instead!

Every day for the next 10 days (starting 20th January), The Royal Publishing Houseᶞ will bring you a preview of these new covers, including brand new blurbs and never-before-seen character summaries of your favorite damoiseaus, damsels, and them-sels!

Keep an eye out for your favorite titles, including...

♔ The Princess’s Bodyguard, a tale of pining and forbidden love.  

✄ Bane’s Boon, with foreword from Count Lucio of Vesuvia (NOT based on his mother).

☠ Firentian Nights, the enemies-to-lovers tale with twists at every turn.

♥ Bread Boys: Firent’s Most Wanted, the polyamorous morons-slash-detectives adventure.

✯ Batten Down the Hatches, a story about a virginal trans boy and his newfound pirate wives!

⚜ Liars in D’Fert, the gayest Aladdin story you ever did read.

☾ 365 Nights, featuring a man who loves to get pegged and a mobster who loves to peg.

❀ Hothouse Flower, where an asexual and demiromantic flowershop owner finds himself.

♕ Seven Sirens, the scandalous (and banned in Sirenia!) novel based on the Prakran siblings.

☁ Into the Woods, for all you monsterfuckers out there (there’s a single dad AND a vampire!).

⋯⋯♛⋯⋯

⁺ We know none of you are embarassed to be seen with raunchy bookcovers featuring shirtless lady pirates and fainting himbos, but boy do you sluts love a good collector’s edition!

ᶞ Me. It’s me. Claire. This project started from that one line in the Winter tale about the Firentian Firebrand romance novels. I’ve created a title, summary and character ideas for books I imagine would be in the series. These aren’t too specific, are designed to be easily built upon, and have been created in hopes that people will love them and create art, fic or HC to keep the fandom active! Stay tuned, and if you have any questions, hit up my ask box.

[into-the-daniverse]

NEW Arcana Update: Alec Romance Tale

Alec’s back in Vesuvia after a long time away and meets up with the apprentice for a day on the town. 

I’ve been planning this for quite a while, and today I finally finished it! Alec’s very own romance tale!

Huge thank you to @jilljoycearts​ for the CG art for this tale! I am in love with how it turned out—it fits the mood of the story perfectly ☺️

I’ll post the CG by itself tomorrow, but for now, read on to see the full version!

Note: There’s a few dialogue options within the story. They will look like the following example— Option A Option B Then *Option A* followed by the content for that choice, and *Option B* followed by the content for that choice. This *** means that you’re back on the general storyline!

Romance Tale under the cut!

The late morning sun dips behind clouds as I make my way through the city, to the town square. I’m supposed to meet my friend, Alec, the musician, at the fountain. She just got back to Vesuvia after a few months away traveling and wanted to catch up.

I’m excited to see her again. I read over the letters she sent me dozens of times—talking about her adventures, the new places she’s been and people she’s met. In the last one she sent, she asked me to meet her here, around noon, so we could spend the day together. As I watch the sun climb higher in the sky, I hope I’m not late, and pick up my pace a little.

Finally, the square comes into view, and after a little searching, so does Alec.

She’s sitting by the fountain, talking to a few people I don’t recognize. As I make my way over to her, she catches sight of me, and her eyes light up. She politely bids the people around her goodbye before standing and running over to me. Before I have time to prepare, she hugs me, lifting me slightly off the ground in the process.

“A-Alec!”

Laughing, she sets me back down, but gives me another quick hug before pulling away to look at me, her blue eyes sparkling. “Sorry—I missed you!”

I grin, adjusting my clothes. “I missed you too!”

With no real plans, we turn towards the marketplace. We fall into old conversations easily, catching up on everything we’ve missed that hasn’t been said in letters. As we talk, almost every stall in the marketplace has someone that knows Alec, and every once in a while, she stops to say hello.

Occasionally, her hand knocks into mine as we walk, and eventually she takes it, giving me a wink as we continue to talk. Maybe noticing that her attention is elsewhere, it seems like less people interrupt us, which I’m grateful for.

This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, walking hand-in-hand, greeting familiar faces. But today feels different. It feels… more like a date.

Maybe it’s the way I keep seeing her glance at me out of the corner of my eye, when she thinks I’m not looking. Maybe it’s the way her thumb strokes the back of my hand as we walk. Or maybe it’s the way she seems to glow brighter when she laughs at a joke I make.

Maybe it’s all of that put together.

But whatever it is, it leaves a pleasantly warm feeling in my stomach that only grows as the day goes on.

Instinctively, Alec pulls us towards Selasi’s bakery, and when she walks up, a bright smile spreads across his face.

“Alec!”

“How’s the best baker in Vesuvia—no, this side of the map—doing today?”

He lets out a loud, booming laugh, and shakes his head. “Still trying to sweet-talk me?” Looking at me, he leans away from her, like he’s sharing a secret. “She says this every time; hope I’ll give her free food.”

Alec pushes him lightly. “I can pay!”

Selasi waves her off, reaching behind him. “You’re lucky I just finished this morning’s batch.” He holds out a fresh loaf of pumpkin bread, and Alec practically melts.

“Oh, I love you, ‘lasi!”

He laughs again as she takes it from him. “It’s good to see you again. Tell me, what have you been up to?”

As we start to eat, Alec launches into a story about pirates. The band had to cross the Sea of Persephia this time around, and apparently some famous pirate, Captain Rodrigo, intercepted their ship.

“—Rodrigo sent six of his men after me, but thanks to Meredith, I knew how to catch them off guard.” Alec wields the loaf of bread like a sword, jabbing at imaginary foes. “All I had to do was—” She slices the air. “—and—” She pretends to kick in my direction. “—and then they turned tail and left us alone!”

“Is that true?”

“Oh, how brave!”

*“Is that true?”*

Alec grins. “What, you don’t believe I could take on six pirates by myself?”

I shrug, and exchange a glance with Selasi. “I just think it seems like a bit of an… exaggeration.”

She studies me for a moment before letting out a loud sigh. “Fine. You’re right. It was only four.”

That still seems a bit high, and I raise an eyebrow at her.

Pouting, she crosses her arms. “Ugh. Three!”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Yes,” she grumbles, looking away from me. “But I still won.”

I pat her arm, grinning. “I know.”

*“Oh, how brave!”*

“It was, wasn’t it?” Alec has a smug smile on her face. “Jamil said I was being reckless.”

Selasi’s voice cuts in. “I bet you were!”

Alec frowns. “You say that like I always am!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I remember when you first came to Vesuvia, and you used to challenge people left and right to fights—you and that magician, Asra. You were both little terrors.”

“Hey!” Alec exclaims, her face bright red.

Selasi just winks at me, and I try to hide my laugh behind my hand.

***

“Anyway,” Alec takes my hand again, pulling us away. “Thanks for the food, but we’re going to continue on.”

We wave goodbye to Selasi and walk through the rest of the marketplace, finishing the rest of the pumpkin bread between us. The sun is starting to set, and Alec looks up, studying it for a moment.

“How do you feel about watching the stars tonight?”

“I’d love to!” I squeeze her hand and feel my heart skip at the smile she gives me.

“Let’s go!”

I let her pull me through the city, bobbing and weaving down alleys I don’t even think I’ve gone, until finally, we make it to the fields outside of the city.

There’s hundreds of lights in the sky, stars, constellations—I’m not sure where to look first. To my right, my eye catches on a set of four stars. Three of them are in a triangle shape, and one sits in the middle, the smallest. Then, to my left, I notice a cluster of stars that look like a heart, weaving together. And in front of us, is the moon, big and bright. I can still see us clearly, a cool light washing over both of us.

“I bet I have a story for every star pattern in the sky,” Alec says, her eyes twinkling.

“Do you?”

She nods. “Yup. Go on, pick one!”

The set of four stars.

The cluster that looks like a heart.

The moon.

*The set of four stars.*

Alec’s face softens. “When I was younger, and we were staying in Venterre, Camia used to say we were like those stars. She said the biggest one was Jamil, the one that glows almost blue was her, the brightest one was Leon, and the smallest—” she points to each of them in turn, her finger landing on the one in the middle of the other three. “—was me.”

She laughs. “Of course, back then, I didn’t like being referred to as the smallest, but Cami explained that it was more than that. She would say that the three stars on the outside may have thought they were good on their own, but they were missing something. That the picture wasn’t complete until the smallest star showed up.”

Blushing, Alec clears her throat, bringing her hand back to her chest. “It’s, uh, definitely kind of cheesy, but it helped me a lot.”

I shake my head, putting my hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s nice.”

*The cluster that looks like a heart.*

“You think it looks like a heart?” Alec tilts her head, pursing her lips. “Hm, I guess it does. In Prakra we’d say it looks more like a cake that we would eat during our spring festivals.” She mimics the shape with her hands. “It would be pink and covered in a light, white sugar.”

“Were they good?”

Alec wrinkles her nose. “They are good, but when I was nine I stole—uh, bought, a whole tray full from a street vendor. I ate them all in one sitting, which I would definitely not recommend doing.” She grimaces, rubbing her stomach. “That sugar taste haunts my dreams.”

I try to picture a much younger Alec, eating a tray piled high with sweets. I can see her face covered in sugar, regretting her life choices. It’s definitely a funny picture, and when I laugh, she joins me.

“I wasn’t the smartest kid back then.”

*The moon.*

“The moon?” Alec laughs, but taps her chin, thinking. “Well, once I heard in Hjalle that they used to think the moon was a woman, and she wove the stars into the sky by hand, like embroidering a blanket. When the sun left the sky, she would throw the blanket of stars over the world, tucking it into bed until it was time for morning again.”

“That’s… beautiful.” I look up at the moon, trying to imagine the woman embroidering each star into the dark.

Alec hums. “I could make you a blanket of stars.”

I look at her, tilting my head. “You could?”

She nods, glancing back up at the sky. “It might take me a while, since we’re still traveling so much, but I’d do it. We’d find some nice fabric you like at the market, and then I could work on it little by little.”

“I’d like that.”

***

Alec elbows me as she sits down in the grass, gesturing at the sky. “Do you have any stories about the stars?”

I sit down next to her, thinking. Hm. I look up and spot a familiar constellation. As I share my own stories with her, Alec hangs on every word, asking me questions and reacting to the stories like they’re the best ones she’s ever heard. It’s sweet, and I can feel myself opening up more as we go on.

A few stories later, I point at the next set of stars, turning my head to look at Alec. “And that one is…” My voice trails off as I realize her blue eyes aren’t even on the stars; they’re on me instead.

She looks… peaceful. Slowly, her hand reaches out to cup my cheek, and she gives me a soft smile. “Thank you,” she says, her voice quiet, rumbling slightly in her chest.

I answer back just as quietly. “What for?”

Her cheeks are dusted pink, even under the light of the moon I can see them, and her gaze flickers over my face. “Today. This. All of this.” She shifts closer to me, and my heart skips. “I had a lot of fun.”

“I had fun too.”

She smiles, her thumb stroking my cheek once. Her eyes seem to be focused lower on my face, and then I realize what she’s looking at.

Kiss her.

Tease her.

*Kiss her.*

Alec’s eyes flutter shut as I take her face in my hands and press our lips together. Hers are soft, and she tastes like pumpkin and cinnamon. She props herself up on one hand, using the other to pull me closer, deepening the kiss. I can feel her pushing against me, and let her, rolling onto my back as she leans over me.

She sneaks a few more kisses before I start to laugh, peppering them over my cheeks, my nose, my forehead. When I squirm, she stops, and shifts back. The moon creates a silvery halo around her head, glowing ethereally.

“I have to confess something,” she says. Her voice is serious, but the quirk of her lips says otherwise.

“What?”

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you this morning.”

I can feel my cheeks warm and reach up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Really?”

She nods, lying back down next to me, her hand taking mine again. “I’m glad I waited, though.” She brings my hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You look beautiful out here, under the stars.”

I thank her by kissing her again.

*Tease her.*

“See something you like?”

Alec’s blush deepens, and she rolls her eyes, a giggle escaping her lips. “Maybe.”

I move closer, propping myself up on my arm. “Then, what are you waiting for?”

She bites her lip, but grins, and closes the distance between us. I can feel her smile against my lips as we kiss, tasting the pumpkin bread we shared earlier. I move slowly until I’m leaning over her, and can feel her hands rest on my back, holding me close.

When we finally part, she looks a little dazed, and runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “I should have done that sooner, I think.”

“That good?”

She snorts, pushing against my shoulders. “Don’t get too full of yourself. But, yes.” She presses her lips to mine one more time before settling back into the grass. “Good.”

“Good,” I echo, and lie back down next to her, our hands finding each other, fingers lacing together.

***

We spend a while sitting under the stars, sharing more stories (and a few more kisses) until we decide to leave. Alec walks me home, and we keep our arms looped together, holding each other close. When we finally reach my home, she hugs me tightly before we part.

“Thank you, again.” She squeezes my hand, face illuminated by the few streetlamps around us. “I know I said it already, but I missed you.” She laughs, looking around us. “And Vesuvia, but mostly you.”

“I missed you too.” When she doesn’t make a move to leave, I press a quick kiss to her cheek. “How long will you be here this time?”

“Not long enough,” she sighs. “Only a week or so.”

“Well, I’ll be here, if you want to come by before you leave.”

Smiling, she gives my hand one last squeeze before letting go. “I promise I will.”

And with that promise, I watch her go. She waves before she turns out of sight, blowing a kiss my direction. As I head inside to process the night, my face still feels warm. The week isn’t even over yet, but I miss her already.

[madllamamomma]

The Visitor~ Part 4

Rhemi x Muriel fanfic. [Warning: the following contains graphic language and mentions blood.]

Part 4~

Père~

Nearly fully sprinting at this point, Rhemi tries her best to make it on time to the palace gates to meet her father. The time really got away from her this morning, despite her waking up before the crack of dawn. Luckily, it’s not raining today, the sky is nice and clear and there’s even a light breeze, but it’s still rather chilly. At least the sun is there to keep her warm today, a good day for walking around.

As she hurries through the busy streets inching closer and closer to the palace, she can’t help but feel so nervous, yet rather excited at the same time. An entire morning with her father! Oh how excited she was to have someone else to talk to about advance spells, incantations, and all other sorts of magic! Her friends were always there to talk to her, but she doesn’t remember having someone this groomed and experienced before.

Not to mention, she couldn’t wait to show him around the city that she is so proud of and loved. Countess Nadia, Consul Valerius, Portia (who is now a chamberlain) and the citizens have been so busy building and improving the city in the last year. Where there were once slums, sinking, underwater neighborhoods, or rough and sketchy places are now where new homes, restaurants, and shops are thriving. Vesuvia has honestly never been better. It seems like everyday Nadia and the citizens have been improving it more and more each and every day.

Turning the final corner to the central part of the city reveals the palace and all its marvelous splendor. Rhemi can feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she sees Martin just exiting the gates by two guards. Dressed in fancy foreign clothes like the day before but different colors and the same silk blue cape and jeweled cane… Except there was no hat on his head, and no badger draped across his shoulders. Martin peers down at his pocket watch with a sore expression, before he notices his daughter jogging towards him. A bright smile takes over his lips, that icy exterior partially melts away yet again.

Nearly out of breath, slowing down her stride as she prances towards him giddily. “Good morning!” She huffs with a tired grin and a little sweat on her brow.

“Well, good morning to you too, Rhemielia.” Martin replies, blindly putting away his pocket watch. “Running a wee bit behind are we?”

With a nervous smile, she scratches the back of her head. “Sorry, I was practicing a new spell. Lost track of time—You know how it is…. I-I hope? Or maybe it’s just me.”

Thinking he’d be interested, and ask what kind of spell she’s working on, she prepares herself to gush about it. But instead, he offers her arm not seeming to have really listened to what she had just said. “Mmm—Shall we?”

Rhemi shakes herself out of her mindset, her grin wide, happily taking his arm. “Oh—We shall.” There are plenty of other things to talk about other than magic.

As soon as the two start walking down the street an awkward dead quiet suddenly takes over. Never has silence been so loud, even when Rhemi started getting to know Muriel, it wouldn’t feel this awkward. After a couple of minutes, it becomes unbearable for both of them as they continue to walk aimlessly down the street.

“...So—”

“Did you—”

Both of them try to break the silence at the same time. But as soon as the other one started to speak, they hushed up quickly again thinking one of them would continue.

“... My apolo—”

“... Sorry—”

Blush starts to take over both of their cheekbones as they both fumble terribly for a proper foot hole to start a conversation.

“After you—”

“Go aheaaa—Ahhhhh.”

Finally the two stop in their tracks and look at one another a bit embarrassed. Unable to contain herself anymore, Rhemi snorts through her nose at this complete ridiculous awkwardness, breaking all the exhausting tension. After breaking down this unneeded discomfort, Martin then lets out a soft startled chuckle along with her, making his laughter lines next to his temples come out for once.

“Go ahead.” Rhemi says with a cheery smile, giving him a small nudge with her elbow.

But he shakes his head, patting her hand still loop through his other arm, a smile remaining on his face. “No, No—Please, ladies first.”

“Alrighty then…” She replies and they both proceed to stroll down the street again. “Did you sleep well?”

He sighs and thinks about that question with a shrug rolling off his shoulders. “Well enough, I suppose. However, I discovered it difficult to fall asleep after finding out your long lost daughter is still alive and well after all these years”

She laughs through her nose giving him a knowing look. “Yeah—I can relate to that… Except finding out about having a father.”

A fond grin faintly spreads on his lips as they stand there for a moment. Finally, Rhemi had to ask. “So where’s Beatrix today?”

“Oh—I left her behind today so she could get some rest. The damn badger never sleeps on the ship… She’s always hunting for filthy rodents on the deck at night.”

“I hope she’s get some rest then….. Is your hat resting too?”

“.... Beg your pardon??” He quickly replies, tilting his head rather confused.

“You’re not wearing your hat today. So is it resting too?” She kids.

“Oh….” Realizing what she is asking, Martin grins a little wider making the wrinkles in his cheeks visible, and a faint flash of cold in his glance. “... You can say that…”

“I think you look better without it anyways.”

Warmth in his eyes returns, and he looks at her rather flattered. “..... Really?”

“Tee-hee~ I like your hair… I wish I inherited your color. It’s different.” Rhemi says with a smile.  

“Ha! I don’t remember the last time someone complimented this overly ripe hair of mine.” Her father instinctinky slicks his thick plum and gray mane back with the other hand. “Thank you….”

“You’re welcome.”

“.... So, my Pigeon—” He says taking back his cane with his free hand. “What part of this…. lovely…. quaint little city… are you going to show me?” He sounds half sarcastic when he says lovely and quaint, but Rhemi doesn’t seem to even pay any attention to that, too distracted with her own thoughts.

Ooooooh no—I haven’t thought that far… she thinks to herself, tapping her pointer finger on her chin, pondering hard.

She looks left and right still thinking of the best place to start. Then she finally has an idea. “Hmmmm…. Well, have you had breakfast yet?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I have not.”

“Perfect. I know just the place!” She says excitedly as she tugs him along with a wide silly smile on her face. “Hope you're hungry!”

“We’ll see…” He mumbles to himself not convinced in the slightest.

It isn’t too long before the two come across the heart district where the marketplace is. Even though it’s early on a weekend day, the market is still bustling with people, buying, selling, haggling and negotiating goods.  

Of course the apprentice first took her father to one of her favorite bakers named Selasi in town to get some fresh pumpkin bread to start the day.

The poor Selasi’s stall was left in ruin just like everything else in the market after Lucio’s and his army of mercenaries took over the city after the Masquerade. But every since then, he had gotten recognized by the countess when everyone was refugees in the forest next to the hut. All the Parkain royals along with Nadia were impressed with the baker's delicious food, even with what little he had, it was amazing. After everyone returned and started rebuilding, he turned his simple stall into a full on shop and cafe and named it, ‘Selasi’s Bakery’.

He even picked up an apprentice of his own named Agrippa. A very tall and handsome person with powdery white skin, long light-grayish hair styled in pigtails tied and a loop at the ends, blue eyes and a smooth mid-ranged voice. They made Rhemi’s favorite cakes and sweets, and even somehow improved the baker’s pumpkin bread recipe. They even recently started dating Portia after she finally asked them out and the two have been going steady since the fall.

“Well—This is the market!” Rhemi introduces to her father, still leading him towards the bakers.

Her father scans the bustling market with an unimpressed look on his face. “Doesn’t seem like this part has changed.” He mutters to himself forcing himself not to sneer.  

“What was that?” Rhemi asks, unable to catch his muttering with all the loud noises from the market goers.

“I asked, ‘where are you taking me to’, Pigeon? ”

“Oh! To one of my very favorite places to get pumpkin bread~” She says as they arrive at the baker’s shop, the air is filled with sweet, buttery and savory aromas and Rhemi opens the door making the bell chime.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t trouble~” Agrippa teases with their charming smirk.

“Oh yeah, you should talk!” Rhemi giggles back, coaxing her father inside with her hand. He enters unenthusiastically looking at all of the food as Rhemi continues with their small talk. “How are you, Ippa?”

“Good, thank you, Bean! Business has been steady like always.”

“Where’s Selasi today?”

“Getting some more flour. I told him I’d go, but he insists that he has to ‘let the flour speak to him’ or whatever. How’s the wedding planning going? Portia told me you’ve been stressed out a little.” They say as they lean into the counter that they normally tower over.

“Things are coming together finally.” She says with an exhausted, but relieved sigh. “With Julian and Portia taking care of the little things, I could focus on the bigger things. All that is left is my last fitting for my dress now. So I think it’s safe to say it’ll be all smooth sailing from here!”

“Muriel dropped off the toppers yesterday. They look amazing! Your bow has some amazing talent. I can’t wait for everyone to see it.”

Rhemi’s eyes brighten up and her lips twist up even more. “Oooo! Let me see!”

“Nooooope~ I have very specific instructions to not let the bride see. It is supposed to be a surprise.” Agrippa says while straightening up their long trunk and folding their arms across their chest. “Sorry~”

Rhemi gives them a smile, pouts, then gives them a quick raspberry like a ten year old. She then rolls her eyes knowing they wouldn’t let her see them, and turns to her father and walks over to him.“OH! There is someone I’d like you to meet!”

“Oh? Who?”

Taking his arm once again, she leads her father to the counter. “Père, this is Agrippa, the baker’s apprentice.”

With one look at the nobleman, Agrippa's eyes widened. “Père? Doesn’t that mean…?” They trail off slowly connecting the dots. “I didn’t know you had a father!”

“Well neither did I!” She says with a giddy smile. “Not till yesterday.”

“Well… How do you do? I’m Agri—”

“Agrippa… yes I heard.” Martin replies a bit snootily. “I am Sir Remington Martin Alarie III, the Archmagister and head chamberlain of his Royal majesty of the Great Charlès.”

Realizing rather quickly what kind of man Martin was, Agrippa puts on a smirk and stops themself from sputtering. “Well, ‘Sir Remington Martin Alarie III, the Archmagister and head chamberlain of his Royal majesty of the Great Charlès’.” They double over the counter in a long bow deepening their voice playfully to mimic him. “I am but a humble baker who is blessed to be a friend of your lovely daughter.” They say bringing their body back up. “How do you do, Sir? ”

“I was told by my daughter that this was where her favorite pumpkin bread was made.”

“You’ve come to the right place! In fact—” Agrippa replies with a smile dashing off to the brick ovens for a moment donning oven mitts on their hands. “Got a fresh batch right here!”  

Rhemi eyes light up with joy and hunger and she wiggles her hips in sheer happiness. “You are going to love it!” She sings to her father and he gives her a half smile.

The baker’s apprentice cuts them both a generous piece wrapped up in a bit of parchment paper. “Here ya’ go!”

Just as Rhemi digs into her coin purse, her father stops her. “No, no. Do keep your money.” And digs into his vest. “A gentleman should always pay for a lady.”

But Agrippa stops him sticking out their hand and waving. “It’s on the house.”

“Really? You won’t get into trouble will you, Ippa?”

“Nahhhh~ Besides, gods know you and your friends keep this place in business!” They laugh.

“Thank you so much!” She says with a big happy smile then looks to her father expecting him to say thank you as well.

He blinks blankly, for a moment then opens his mouth with a click of his tongue. “Oh—Yes… ah, thank you, Agrippa… Although if you're giving this away for free... I’m not sure if I should be concerned or not.... could this be a poorer batch you messed up on?”

Rhemi laughs thinking he’s joking, and Agrippa joins in to not make things awkward, but knowing that he wasn’t kidding.

“Well we’ll get out of your hair before the weekend rush comes! See ya later, Ippa! Tell Selasi I said hello!”

“See ya!” Agrippa says with a smile as the two head out the door hiding a middle finger behind their back as they glare at the Archmagister and his unnecessary dickish comment.

As soon as they leave the bakery and walk around the market, Rhemi digs into her hot pumpkin bread. “Mmmmm! Sooooo goood.” She happily moans, tearing up the moist and tasty bread; but as she looks over to her father, he hasn’t even touched his food.

“Smmthin’ woong?” She asks covering her mouth, her voice muffled with bread still in her mouth.

The Archmagister just shrugs, taking a very small piece and forcing it down his throat. “....Hmmmm.”

“I’m sorry, do you not like pumpkin bread? I should have asked—”

“Oh no, it’s just…. I don’t take handouts.” Martin replies, his face stone cold and serious.

“Hand out?” She blurts out. “It’s a gift! Ippa was being nice.”

“Well… whatever you call it. I don’t take gifts unless I know what people want…” He says with a sneer. Rhemi’s happy smile then drops into a frown and Martin starts to feel an unfamiliar pull in his heart as he nearly tosses the bread to the ground for the birds to eat. “...I ah…. I also don’t care for pastries for breakfast.”  He says adjusting his tone while wrapping up the pumpkin bread into the parchment paper and handing it to his daughter. “... Nor do I typically have breakfast now that I mention it. Perhaps you’ll save it for later.”

“O—Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry you don’t like it.”

“Not your fault, Pigeon. I don’t expect you to know everything.” He reassures her. “Well where else in this pathe—I mean… petite city of yours are you going to show me?”

With a determined grin, Rhemi takes a deep breath knowing another place to go to.

“Follow me!”

——————————

As Rhemi shows Sir Martin around the city, the Temple district, the Heart, South end, and even the now newly rebuilt shopping district (previously known as the flooded district). But still, Rhemi couldn’t shake the agonizing feeling like the Archmagister was rather unimpressed with everything she threw at him. Even after all the renovations completed in the past year—Even when Rhemi told her father the story about the Devil converging with the ex-count—The battles with Lucio and his mercenary-ghost army— The competition to keep the world out of chaos.

Nothing—truly, nothing seems to impress him at all.

He still sneered, and scowled at the city, like he made up his own mind about it long long ago. Strangely, when the two were traveling around, it seemed like her father was familiar with the streets. He even knew many of the alleyways and short cuts that she didn’t even know about. But that hardly seemed to matter to Rhemi— the man wasn’t impressed with her beloved home… and she wanted to change that.

Persistently, she continued to show him Vesuvia, gushing her heart out, and even showed him the best places to eat and shop. Yet still, all her attempts to impress himself still left him with a sour expression on his face or a yawn.

As noon slowly approaches, Rhemi works back their way back to the palace. Feeling the morning wearing her down they approach the city center next to the large fountain where an old tacky statue of Lucio on a horse used to be. Now it’s only a lone cheetah holding a spear. For once. the Archmagistor seemed to have noticed it and stopped staring at this slightly perplexed.

“Say, Mileia…” (Another pet name for her apparently.) “...... Didn’t that used to be a gold statue of the Count riding a horse?”

Rhemi peers over to the top of the roaring fountain. “Oh yeah…. that was destroyed when Lucio attacked the city a year ago.”

Suddenly, the tangy scent of freshly smoked eel engulfs the plaza. She wasn't the only one who noticed either. Martin's teal eyes light up as if he sees an old long lost friend.

“Fresh eel!! Come and get your fresh eel heeeerreeeee!!!” The stand keeper shouts waving the delicious food in the air for everyone to see and smell.

Without another word, Rhemi hurries over with her coin purse before her father could stop her. “I’ll take two, please.”

The cheery venter takes her coins and gives her two kabobs. With food in hand, she runs back over to her father, she gives him one eel with a joyful smile. “This is a gift from your daughter. Not a hand out.” Half expecting him to refuse it, he surprisingly takes the food then stares at it almost nostalgically sniffing the tasty treat.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asks, stopping herself from shoving the food down her throat.

“Hmm??” Martin shakes his head, but still stares at the kabob oddly.  “Oh, nothing… I just haven't had a smoked eel in a very long time.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you had it in Charles too.”

He gives her a small annoyed glance from her mispronunciation. “It’s Charlès, darling….  And we don’t. The capital doesn’t have any seas or ocean around it. It’s surrounded by treacherous mountains. The only fish we have is salmon, bass, and trout from the icy rivers...”

“O.. oh… So… where have you had it before?”

“I….—” Martin sharply stops himself and his eyes grow colder again and he seems to shake himself out of his nostalgic trace. “... M-my father, your grandfather, Remington II used to bring me and my siblings some when he traveled to the coast. He placed a spell on them so they wouldn’t spoil.”

“Oh… Neat!” Rhemi says with a smile. So far he’s mentioned her grandparents once the day before. Apparently that's where she gets her dark reddish-brown hair from her grandmother.

Unable to resist the sweet, salty smoky flavor, he actually takes a bite out of the eel and seems to rather enjoy it. “Still even tastes the same…” He chuckles before scarfing the eel down.

Finally. Something he likes. Feeling a bit accomplished she feels the tension in her shoulders relax. This man wasn’t like any of her friends. Gods know he was much harder to read as well. It’s like he has this invisible wall around himself. Trying to get to know him was proving to be difficult. But Rhemi liked a challenge and wasn’t one to give up easily.

“So, I suppose they had a reason why did they replace Luico with this… cheetah?” Her father asks after making it half through his eel looking at the piece of art of the new fountain.

“Lucio nearly tore this city and the world apart… He killed a lot of people to gain power. People that Muriel and I really cared about… He even killed his father years ago. Then killed his own mother in the Scourge Lands… Her name was Morga…” With sad somber expression, she stares up at the bronze sculpture and all its power and beauty. “If it wasn’t for Morga… I don’t think we’d be here right now… Muriel and I probably wouldn’t have gone to the south together… Lucio might have even won.”

“.... So I presume that cheetah is supposed to represent her?”

Sadly, Rhemi slowly nods her head, still gazing at the fountain statue.

“Interesting…. Excuse me for slightly changing the subject… but you mentioned that Lucio became merged with the…. devil? From the Arcana realm?”

Taken a little by surprise, she glances over to her father realizing that he did in fact listen to her earlier while she was showing him the other parts of the city. “Yeah… I’m not sure exactly how. But I think he made a lot of deals with various demons— I mean that literally…. And like I said… kill a lot of people... including his own mother.”

“... Just so he could live forever?”

“.... I think it was for power and to live forever??... Or it was so he could regain a physical form…. or maybe he wanted to dominate the world too—Or that was the devil influencing him? I honestly have no idea. And if you ask me, it was too heavy of a price to pay. The Arcana realms must be occupied by someone… if not, our world is thrown into chaos and ruin. In the end, he was forced back.”

“Hmmm…”

After making quick work of his eel, Martin throws the bare stick into the water of the fountain. Poor Rhemi’s eyes widen in silent dismay and hastily fishes it out with her magic when he isn’t looking. She’d have half a mind to tell him not to litter… But it didn’t feel like the time or place to lecture her own father.

“It is strange to hear about a dead man coming back to life… When rumors came that Count Lucio of Vesuvia was murder in his own bed, it came to many courtiers a shock. Even the king was appalled….Personally, I always saw him as a bumbling fool.”

“So you've been here before?”

“A handful of times, yes.”

“And you knew the ex-Count?”

“Unfortunately. King Francis rather enjoyed his company much to my dismay….. His Majesty thought he was and I quote, ‘The best kind of host, charmingly idiotic and stupidly generous’.... He did know how to throw some entertaining parties, I suppose. So the King seemed to have taken a liking to him… but I never cared for him.”

“Good!! He was a freakin’ asshole is what he was.” Rhemi snarly adds before taking the last bite of her smoked eel, stewing on all the things he’s done to everyone, especially Muriel. “That stupid humanoid-goat could go fuck himself in the devil’s realm for all of eternity for all I care! Good riddance!” She sneers under her breath.

With an shocked and appalled expression, Martin glances at her mildly scolding. “Well, that’s some colorful language for a lady such as yourself.”

Pssssh! I’m no lady… She laughs to herself and she pulls on her lips to stop from spilling them out. “... So you disagree with me?” She asks with a smirk and an eyebrow raised, throwing the two bare sticks into a nearby rubbish bin, still chewing a half mouth full of eel.

Despite his distaste for her language, he’s unable to control his snickering. For now he lets it go and he shrugs. “I never said that.” Martin chuckles. “.. You are right in that regard... that man was an encompident ass.”

“—Miss Rhemi!!!” A childish voice all of a sudden calls from a far.

Rhemi and Sir Martin whip their heads around to where the young voice was calling from. Low and behold, they see three children all under the ages of twelve barreling towards them, the youngest in full sprint. Really at second look, it looks like the other two were chasing after the younger one.

“Hold onto your coin purse, Rhemielia.” Martin whispers with a vicious sneer, standing in front of her with his cane at the ready.

“Huh?” She mumbles looking over his shoulder, not getting a few view of the children.

As soon as her voice escapes from her lips, Rhemi can sense her father conjuring his magic into the jeweled handle of his cane. The gem starts to glow brightly giving off a sort of metallic smelling aura... He is conjuring a spell?? To use on these kids???

Now getting a full glimpse over her father’s shoulder, she realizes she knows the children running up to them both and a large bead of sweat forms on her brow unsure what her father was intending to do.As soon as Martin brings up his cane to let loose the spell, she gently places her hand on the top of his jeweled handle, scooting him out of the way and forcing him to set down his weapon.

“—Ohhh! Lilly! Zachary! Nathan! How are you silly kids??” She says with a ginger smile. Martin face twists as he realizes that she knows these little peasants, but he keeps quiet, observing her as the three snot nosed brats approach them, two boys and one girl.

Rhemi kneels down and the children all embrace her with a tight hug nearly knocking her over to the cobble street. “Rhemiiiiii!!!”

“Sorry! I couldn’t stop him.” The girl apologized.

“That’s alright! Well—Hello, hello, and hello! What are you three rascals doing here?” Rhemi greets cheerily.

“Getting some eggs.” The young girl says lifting up an empty basket. She was the tallest and the oldest. If you couldn’t immediately, she was the responsible one in the trio, the ‘mother hen’ of the group. Her hair was a bright blonde with tight curls styled in two puffy pigtails. Her skin is a beautiful dark black, like a fresh brewed coffee, and eyes a bright hazel.

“Where’s Mr. Tall Man today?” The youngest boy asks looking all around making his wild and curly brown toffee colored hair, bounce all around. He has pale ivory skin with flecks everywhere, and dark brown eyes, and couldn’t be no older than six or seven, about one of Muriel’s cousins named Ida’s age, and just as cute. However he wasn’t the faintest bit shy like Ida is.

“Oh—I’m sorry, Nathan. Muriel isn’t with me today. He’s busy doing other errands.” Rhemi answers him tilting her head feeling rather guilty.

“Awwww.” The little boy whines looking at the ground disappointedly, holding the eldest child and the girl's hand and pouts. “I wanted to show him my newt. I found him in a pond.” He opens his pocket and out comes a little sticking looking bright orange creature with various sized brown and gray spots covering his head to his tail (freckles, just like Nathan).

Martin makes a revolted little noise and looks away for a moment, a hard sneer twisting his features, Rhemi doesn’t see him cringing behind. To his surprise, his daughter isn’t disgusted or afraid at all, she actually seems to think it’s cute, and pets his little head with her pointer finger. “Ooooh~ What’s their name, Nathan?”

“Wart! He’s a boy newt.” He says as he turns his neck and sticks his tongue out at Lillian and she just shakes her head, with a long-suffering look on her face.

“Well isn’t he just lovely. He has a wonderful color, orange is one of my favorite colors. I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Muriel about him! I’m sure he’d love to see him.” Her eyes glance behind to her father, still looking rather prudish and she smiles realizing she hadn’t introduced anyone yet. “OH! Right!…. Sooo, everyone, this is my father, his name is Sir Remington Martin Alarie III. He’s a King’s magician.”

The young girl lets out a shallow quick gasp as she looks up at Martin and he half turns his nose up at her. “I didn’t know you had a father.” She whispers to Rhemim shielding her mouth with her hand.

Rhemi plays along and whispers back the same way, “Neither did I… We just met yesterday.”

Little Nathan clings onto the Archmagister’s pant leg and Martin furrows his brow and somehow manages to frown even more. “You’re a neat magician too, like Miss Rhemi, Mister??”

Martin rolls his eyes scoffs. “....What gave that away? The cape or the cane, Oh-Child with a newt named ‘Wart’ ?” He sassily remarks, slowly unhinged the child’s arms off his leg.

Realizing that her father was confused about how she knew these children, she stands up and loops her arm around his. “Père, these are some children that were on the streets before the battle with Lucio…” Rhemi then points to each of the kids one at a time. “This is Lillian, Lilly for short. That strapping young lad is Zachary. And last but not least, little Nathan.”

The youngest child excitedly waves his hand at the old grumpy magician adorably despite Martin's lack of caring. “You look like a fancy magician!!” Nathan giggles cutely, finally letting go of the Archmagister’s leg.

“..... Mmmmm hmmmm….” The old gentleman grumbles. “... Nathan… was it??” The boy nods his head not noticing the nobleman’s disgust as he continues to sluggishly push him away, now gently using the butt end of his cane. “Pleasure to make your…. acquaintance…” He mutters trying to sound kind as he quickly brushes off his pant leg he touched.

Zachary, the older boy, notices the man’s dislike for Nathan touching him and stares at him shamelessly and the two start to have a silent scowling staring contest all unbeknownst to Rhemi who is still looking away. But Lilly catches and just stands there shaking her head unimpressed with either of them.

But then Nathan just rambled on adorably blabbing and now clinging onto Rhemi’s right leg and she ruffles his messy hair untamed hair that she admired. “Miss Rhemi and Mr. Muriel and Ms. Countess lady and—*achoo*—and all of her other friends helped made us all a home.”

A little bit of pink quickly stains Rhemi’s face as her father's eyes fall on her. “Well it was all Muriel, Asra, and Nadia’s idea to build an orphanage. All I did was help.”

“The Countess lady comes and reads to us eeeevery Wednesdays.” Nathan continues to rant. “And—And Miss Rhemi and Mr. Muriel comes by and sometimes they bring us arts n’ crafts and-and-and teach us magic!!”

“Is that so?” Marin fakely smiles. “Magic is so freely taught here I see…”

“Yeah! We each have our own beds! Mr. Muriel helped make them for us!”

“—And get three square meals a day. We don’t have to fight or steal food anymore….” Zachary finally chims in, scratching the back of his head. “Which is…. okay I guess…” His skin is olive-ish brown and his hair is a dark umber color, but has bright crystal blueish gray eyes that stand out.

Zachary was always normally very quiet. He used to be a part of a group of kids that were terrible bullies and even thugs. But ever since he saw Muriel, a hero and champion to the city, who was an orphan who grew up on the docks just like him, something changed in him. Perhaps knowing that someone like him could be a hero someday, strong and brave, he left that life behind and started a fresh path at the orphanage. He was still very young, no older than eleven, but really looked up to Muriel and Rhemi and saw them both as his role models. Even now, he tries to act all tough and aloof, but he’s really a little sweetheart and cared about the orphanage as much as the other two did.

“Well isn’t that ….nice.” Martin says with a bit of surprise in his face glancing at Rhemi. “Very appropriate for a young lady such as yourself to get involved in.”

“How’s Mrs. Edilen doing??” Rhemi asks, turning her attention back to the children.

“Old…”  Zachary mutters blankly. Without warning, Lilly smacks him across the back of his head with such a scoldingly look on her face. “—OW! WHAAAAT??” He grumbles just above a whisper, his bright eyes angrily beaming at her as he holds his head.

“Shut your mouth, Zach!!! That woman is good to us and you know it!” Lilly snaps before answering Rhemi. “She’s fine, but her back has been bothering her lately.”

Lillian has been the little mother figure for these kids at the orphanage. She was always scolding and ensuring everyone minded their manners even though she was half their strength. You could tell she was in charge, but she was a very good kid with a heart of gold. She reminds Rhemi of herself in a way.

Rhemi stifles a laugh to spare poor Zachary’s pride and just continues with the conversation. “She’s actually coming by later for her potion, I hope that’ll help her.”

“Me too, I guess….” Zachary grumbles with his arms folded. “I’m sick of reading bedtime stories to the younger kids...”

“Oh stop acting like you don’t like it! You’re the one who does it without anyone asking you too!” Lilly rolls her eyes.

“...T—They whine if I don’t!” He quickly retaliates, blushing crazily.

Lilly just stares at him with a knowing smirk. “Oh yeah, I’m sure they whine when you don’t do the voices either!” She teases.

Poor Zachary’s face looks like it's going to explode and he gently shoves her, covering his burning face with the neck of his shirt like a turtle. “Shut. Up. LILLIAN!!” He grouches, words muffled by his shirt.

Kneeling back down with a giggle, Rhemi can’t help but love to see these two banter like they do. I can see these two getting married in ten years. She thinks to herself. “Well, I better get going, kiddos. I’m showing my father around the city and are expected for tea.”

In unison all of the kids sink their shoulders disappointedly.

“Are you both gonna come to see us soon?” Nathan asks with the biggest puppy dog eyes, holding onto her shaw.

“Awwwww!! Of course we will! It’s just all this wedding has just been keeping us busy. But I promise Muriel and I will come soon. Ok?”

All three kids excitedly say, hooray in unison and give her one last group hug before they all head on their merry way, waving her goodbye as they’d end towards the market.

“Bye, Fancy Mister Magician Man!” Nathan calls with a big goofy smile while holding onto Lilly’s hand.

As the kids wander off, Martin just looks at Rhemi with such fondness as he takes a seat next to the water fountain ledge.

“What?” Rhemi asks with a grin.

Martin just shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’re just like your mother….. even just now… you are just the spit of her… She loved working with children. She wanted to become a governess before she met me.”

Rhemi smiles a little wider and sits next to her father on the fountain’s edge. “.... I wish I could remember her face….”

The water fountain behind the two keeps endlessly roaring with the water and the two sit then content for a moment, watching as people go by, happy to take a seat for the time being. As they both sit there enjoying the warmth of the sun, Rhemi’s mind wanders to yesterday to her unanswered questions the other day. It kills her to want to know, but it’s terrifying to ask.

Finally, she swallows her fears, and tightens her fists as she summons the courage. “....Père?”

“Yes, my Pigeon?”

“I… I wanted to ask you this yesterday, but it didn’t necessarily come up in the conversation… But…. ummm…  What exactly….. happened?....” Her father's smile fades as soon as she utters that question, and he turns his head away from her. His reaction just makes her want to know even more. “...W-Why hadn’t I seen you for so many years?”

Martin’s cold eyes shimmer with a glimpse of pain with that question and swallows hard. “..... I…. I think that's for another day, dear child…”

She sits there for a moment, considering to let it go, but her mouth moves before she can really stop herself. “…. Could… could you at least tell me something? P-Perhaps? It’s been killing me to know what happened….”

Martin still keeps his eyes averts from hers, hoping she’d stop being so persistent.

“... If I could remember any of it myself, I wouldn’t have asked.” She adds sheepishly twiddling with thumbs in her lap.

The old magician stews on her words for a while, still very hesitant to speak of what happened and she thinks he’ll just ignore her plea. But then he sighs very deeply before muttering unenthusiastically, “.... Very well….”

Taking out a pipe out of his vest pocket along with a little tobacco from a fancy tiny metal tin. Conjuring his magic to his finger, he lights up the pipe, and takes in three short puffs followed by one big one. Pondering his words, he holds it in his mouth peering at the crowd, then finally blows out all the smelly smoke slowly. “...You and your mother…. were stolen from me around fifteen years ago.”

Rhemi quickly whips her head towards him with her eyes wide, staring at her father completely dumbfounded.

S-Stolen? She shouts to herself in her mind, her poor heart starting to beat a little faster by the second. By—by who?? What does this all mean??

He draws in another larger puff before continuing this obviously painful story, apparently being soothed by the tobacco. “You both were kidnapped.... By a terrible evil witch named Phara….”

Phara… he mentioned her before the other day. Why doesn’t that name sound familiar to me?? Why can’t I remember that name???

Squinting her eyes as if that would somehow help her remember as she follows with another question. “...W-Who was Phara? I don’t remember that name at all.”

“I was afraid of that. But I also could only assume that was the case as well.” He takes in a quick puff and nods solemnly before beginning again, bellowing out the smoke as he spoke.. “.....I ….I hired her to be your tutor. You were about…. ohhhh I believe it was seven or eight at the time?—It was shortly after I was promoted to head chamberlain to his Majesty's court and I became increasingly busy with my new duties. Anyways…. One day, you scared your governess half to death… She was teaching you handwriting. You apparently threw a tantrum and lit your parchment paper ablaze with your magic. According to some servants, she came out of the library screaming.”

Rhemi’s cheeks start to feel like they are burning, that sounds about right knowing herself and how angry she can get even now. Sometimes she still wants to destroy things now when she is pissed off…. Apparently some things never change.

“... And so...You needed to learn how to control your magic.” He continues, “... And mother suggested someone she grew up with.”

“.... Phara?” Rhemi knowingly asks, placing her hands on the cold marble stone she’s sitting on.

Martin nods slowly, waving his pipe around as he spoke. “Yes…. Phara….. She was a Throthian woman, a professor for some intellectuals. For a time, she taught foreign dukes, duchesses, and even a few princesses in Parka and she was highly regarded, even for a woman.”

Throthian… Now that sounds familiar… Where do I know that word from?

“... She even taught many commoners and the poor to read and write so they can make better lives for themselves… which didn’t make the king very happy…. But most importantly, she was also a witch. Apparently a skilled one at that, which is what you needed at the time. Your mother swore that she trusted this woman with her life, and that Phara was bound to secrecy and confidentiality.”

…. Wait—Secrecy??....Why secrecy??

He pauses for a second, and draws in another deep puff on his pipe, then lets it out. Quietly Rhemi covers her mouth and lightly coughs, the smell of the tobacco burning her lungs. “....Despite my better judgement—I felt at the time that we had no better alternative. So, I hired her to be your tutor. She didn’t know the basics of aristocratic life, such as playing classical music on the piano, needle point, edict, or anything like your previous governess, but she was what we desperately needed at the time… And I’ll admit she was much more intelligent. Years went by, your magic was under control and you were being properly educated…. or so I thought.”

“.... So you thought? What do you mean??”

“.... Well… it came to my attention that she was teaching you things no young girl of nobility should know.” He pauses once again and looks his daughter in the eyes very seriously and sincerely and Rhemi feels her heart tug down. “...Phara was teaching you terrible things... evil things, Rhemielia.”

Rhemi’s eyes fall down to the cobblestone street as she tries to swallow all of this information. ….I… I was taught… evil things?... Perhaps that’s why I didn’t bat an eyelash at the blood magic, yet Muriel was so bothered by it…. am I… evil at heart?? Rhemi wonders to herself, her heart tugging even more. Is that why I was such a jerk before I died?

“.... One night about a week after your twelfth birthday.... I came home a day early after going on a diplomatic trip with the king. I was bringing you a late birthday present… But to my surprise, no one greeted me at the gates, nor the door. Soon I realized that all the servants were gone, the chateau was dark and empty and something sinister was afoot.” Rhemi’s nails started to dig into her thighs unconsciously as she hung onto every word… This part was starting to sound almost familiar. “.... I made my way to the parlor, and I saw Phara shoving you and your poor mother out the veranda and was planning on throwing you both out off the balcony for god knows what reason.”

Rhemi swallows the lump in her throat hearing all of this for some reason its starting to feel a little more familiar. “.... We fought. It was her magic against mine…. Soon, the fourier was in shambles, the furniture and decor littered the floor, and I had her nearly beat… Then the next thing I see out of the corner of my eye that your poor little head was cracked open…. You were bleeding everywhere, barely standing straight in the corner of the room...”

Vision starts to become dizzy, Rhemi closes her eyes to stop her head from spinning. But as soon as Rhemi closes her eyes, the short glimpse of her small childish hands trembling and covered in blood come into her mind. It’s too vivid to have been her imagination. Her right hand instinctively goes to her forehead to the right side of her frontal skull where there are two stubborn cowlicks that never grew much hair. She couldn’t part her hair any other way because of them. It’s only at this very moment she can feel a slight dip in her bone that she realizes why that hair never grew past an inch or two… it was a hidden scar, it was small, no bigger than an inch now, however it felt like it went rather deep.

A quick twinge of pain returns to Rhemi’s temples for a split second and she shuts her eyes yet again and stifles her groan. Flames of the burning mansion in her dreams illuminates behind her eyelids—the other Rhemi, the dying phoenix, faint muffled screams and yells they all start to rush into her mind and ears, making her almost sick to her stomach. Focusing on her breathing, she diverts her thought away from her nausea not wanting to see the eel or pumpkin bread a second time. She dare not make a scene in the middle of the city and she stays silent, quietly suffering as her father continues on.

“I… I underestimated that witch, she was more craftier than I had originally thought. Somehow I found myself with a knife in my back. You were just standing there, looking paler by the second… So I ignored my pain and staggered straight over to you. I knew you needed a healer immediately with the amount of blood you were losing and—” Martin stops mid word, you can hear him choking back some tears with his voice cracking. “... I reached out to save you…. to pull you into my arms—but….” He softly trails off.

Rhemi closes her eyes again, and for a moment, she sees a large eerie hand slowly coming at her from the dark—As she opens her eyes it disappears once again.

In the corner of eyes, she can see as Martin pulls off his right leather glove for the first time, and she notices that he pulls up part of his long sleeve of his fancy shirt. Underneath them both hid a terrible looking old burn that started from the top of this hand, ran up his forearm, and wrapped all around his bicep. It was awful to look at, it must have been so incredibly painful. “... Phara proved to be craftier than I expected… she always was… I just wish I saw it sooner… That damn witch used the last bit of her magic to start a terrible fire, even put you in harm's way to do it.”

The fire…. Is that what the other me was trying to tell me about? The fire?? Is Phara that monster?.... I don’t know if I still want to know...

The nausea and dizziness subsiding as quickly as it came, she stared at her poor father’s arm a burning in her nose. “I’m…. I’m so sorry, Père.” She softly says with tears in her eyes as she gazes at the terrible scar seared into her father’s flesh. “Does it still hurt?”

“You mean…. This old scar?” He scowls with an eyebrow raised, appearing a bit puzzled.

Rhemi nods sheepishly, her large eyes beaming with such a somber empathetic expression.

Seeing this sincere look, he’s face softens and he even gives her a reassuring grin and shakes his head. “No… Not anymore, Pigeon.”

Gently she touches it with the tips of her fingers inspecting the shriveled tough pinkish skin. “Did you have a doctor's help? It looks like it healed rather well.”

“I did actually…” The Archmagister holds up his arm, opening and closing his fist, wiggles his fingers, and flexes his elbow to show that his range of motion was at least spared “... The doctors and healers had to use some unconventional methods to salvage all of my fingers and I regained feeling in my forearm… And it took quite a while to recover from all of it—I even had to learn how to write with my left hand... But honestly, I hardly remember it.”

He stops flexing his arm and hand and gently rests it back on top of his leg with the palm up. “... All the while I was healing, I was focused on finding you and your mother. I put a very high bounty on Phara’s head along with countless posters, fliers, and I sent letters to neighboring kingdoms everywhere. I hired men and the best bounty hunters all over the country to comb cities to the countryside in Charlès for you and your mother… But then, weeks turned into months, months into years, years into over a decade. Everyone all but gave up, the story of the Archmagister’s kidnapped wife and daughter became all but a tragic distant memory.... To some, it twisted into a bedtime story. About a demon witch who came in the night who lured beautiful mothers and their poor children out of their homes in the dead of night during the witching hour. The witch would kill them and drain all of their blood so she could bathe in it to restore her youth and power. Then she’d chopped the bodies all up into tiny pieces and cooked their flesh into a stew, serving it to the unsuspecting poor.”

Martin draws back his arm, rolling down his sleeve, donning his leather glove yet again. “But only few knew the truth.”

“That must have been just terrible for you…. You must have been so lonely.” Rhemi finally utters after sitting there quietly.

“... I never released how empty a house felt without you both in it.” He mumbles looking away into the crowd. He shrinks into himself as soon as those words leave his mouth as if he didn’t mean to admit that. But Rhemi could tell, that came directly from his heart.

Martin suddenly clears his throat quickly slicking back his hair, shaking himself out his thoughts and glances at his pocket watch. “Oh would you look at that. It’s nearly time for tea.” He straightens up and lightly pats her head and she tries her best to stop herself from sneering to be polite. “Come on then. Let’s get a move on, don’t want to be tardy now, do we?” He says standing to his feet and shaking out his cape.

“N-no… No we don’t.” Rhemi answers, sluggishly standing her feet as well brushing out the wrinkles in her shirt.

———————

The walk back to the palace was a bit more quiet, but Rhemi and Martin now seem to be comfortable with it and just enjoy each other’s company in comfortable silence. She’s somewhat used to it being with Muriel.

As the two made it back to the Palace, they were greeted by a handful of Nadia’s servants and an older man in dark green and blue that her father called Bartholomew. He must have been his servant; his uniform and disposition was very different from anyone else.

Judging from the lack of people around, Rhemi and Martin apparently had arrived a bit early and were both left in the common room for the Countess’ arrival. Bartholomew whispered a few things to Martin’s ear before very elegantly leaving the room.

Suddenly, Beatrix comes scurrying around the corner making a few of Nadia’s servants comically shriek in surprise. The grumpy badger quickly prances over to Martin and climbs up her over the armchair close by, then on to his shoulders.

“Making yourself a nuisance yet again I see, Beatrix.” Martin teases her and she chatters back.

“Good afternoon, Bea~.” Rhemi says with a smile as she puts her hand up to her to sniff. Surprisingly, the animal lets her scratch under her chin after giving her a few pumpkin seeds from her pocket. It’s unclear if she likes Rhemi or if she just likes the food she gives her. Either way, Rhemi likes her. She’s cute in a scruffy kind of way.

“Pardon me.” Says Pascal, a servant who took over Portia’s position after she was appointed to Chamberlain comes in with a bow. “The Countess wanted me to inform you both that she will be arriving shortly. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable.”

A sharp scoff ejects out of Martin’s mouth. “Of course she’s going to make us wait….” He grumbles, and Beatrix growls a little at the poor servant showing her teeth. “I was invited into her own palace, haven’t seen the damn woman since I arrived and now she’s gonna make us wait?”

“My apologies, Sir Martin… She’s just returning from a Heart District reconstruction meeting.”

Rhemi steps in front of her father and before he could mutter another word and feeds his badger another pumpkin seed and she ceases her aggressive noises. “Thank you, Pascal. How’s your father doing?”

The servant smiles sincerely and cups his hands together. “Oh, great after that sleeping remedy you gave him!”

“Good! Any more chronic night terrors about jellyfish?”

Pascal laughs as she mentions that and Martin has a perplexed scowl on his face looking towards his familiar as if she knew the answer to that. “No! None since Muriel gave him that dream catcher over his bed. My family can’t thank you both enough for that.”

“Ooooh please, it was nothing! I’m just glad to hear he’s doing better—”

Martin stands in front of his daughter before she can finish her sentence. “—Yes, yes. That’s very nice indeed. Now if you wouldn’t mind...” The Archmagister says, shamelessly shooing the poor thing away, waving his cane guestering towards the door. “I’m sure your Countess would like you to return to her without dallying.”

Rather taken off guard by his rudeness, Pascal blinks blankly for a moment before bowing out and leaving the room. “Y-yes, your Excellency.”

Just as shocked as Pascal, Rhemi shakes her head staring at the back of her father’s head. Finally she taps on his back and her father turns to face her. “... You could have been nicer…” She mumbles to him a bit pouting.

He sighs, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “You really shouldn’t make chummy conversation with the servants, Rhemielia… It’s distasteful.”

The Archmagister walks around Rhemi towards the other side of the room to a small table by the fireplace, Rhemi’s eyes following him. “..... But I like Pascal—”

“—Well, Rhemielia, how about we play a game of chess to pass the time?” He says rather jollily (for him) gesturing towards the small table where the game is set up.

“Chess?..” She repeats him tilting her head. She can’t remember the last time she ever played the damn game and she sheepishly scratches the back of her head. “...Oh… I don’t really like playing. I don’t think I remember all the rules anyw—”

“Very well. I’ll teach you the rules again.” He replied, taking a seat next to the white pieces and setting his cane on the outside of the chair. “... We used to play when you were younger. If I remember correctly, you were getting quite good too, but never could quite beat me.”

“S-... Sure… why not?..” Rhemi reluctantly gives in, taking a seat behind the black pieces in the armchair.

Quickly, but thoroughly, her father explains the basic rules, and part of it is starting to come back to her as she stares at the pieces a bit longer.

“Any questions?” He finally asks as he pets Beatrix and she leans into his touch.

The apprentice gazes at all the pieces studying them carefully. Rook, king, queen, bishop, knight and….. and…. hhhhmmm…

Forgetfully, she points to the smaller pieces in the front. “These small ones… they're called, pawns or fawns?”

“Pawns. You were right the first time….. Are you starting to remember the rules, my little Pigeon?”

“Maybe?... It all sounds rather familiar.” Her finger gently grazes the top of the small cold piece and she has a sad frown. “I think I remember how.... I didn’t like how people treat these little pieces.”

“What?” He softly scoffs, an entertained grin growing on his lips. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well….. T-These pieces represent people don’t they? This is a strategy game…. To represent a war or battle.”

Baffled at that assessment, Martin gazes back at the marble pieces and shrugs. “I…. I suppose you are correct in that regard… what is your point, child?”

Rhemi looks back down finding the right words to explain how she felt. “In this game… pawns are dispensable, their movements are limited, unlike the other pieces behind them. But because there are more of them, they are more expendable than the other taller pieces.” She pauses as she looks as she picks up one of the pawns with a few chips and cracks in it, reminding her of her poor Muriel for some reason and the way Lucio used him for so many years for his own entertainment. “People really shouldn’t treat others like that. Some…. object that can be used and taken out with little to no consequences. They are just some game piece to them, not another person…”

Martin stops himself from mid sputter trying his best not to laugh out loud. “Well…. now your spouting off nonsense.” He mumbles as he leans his back into the lounge chair, crossing his legs and resting his hand on his temple. “... This is just a game after all—”

“—I would happily agree with you, Rhemi.” Nadia’s silky smoothe voice interrupts and Martin and Rhemi stand quickly to their feet slightly taken by surprise. Stunning and beautiful as always, she strolls into the room, her heels clicking the floor, dressed in her white and green outfit and her hair half up and half down. Pascal trailing behind her with a grin on his face. “... If you think about it that way, the game is rather horrible that some pieces are labeled as not being as important as others. But in reality, the good leader should acknowledge that all of the pieces are important, no matter how small or limited they are.”

Martin bows very traditionally and elegantly, Beatrix hanging off his shoulders looking lifeless. “... Countess.”

However Rhemi just casually rushes to Nadia and wraps her arms around her and he raises an eyebrow at her informalness and lack of edict or manners.

“It’s so good to see you! Thank you so much for lending me your tailor again!” Martin’s child so boldly and informally converses making him stunned for words.

The Countess just smiles and hugs her back with a bright smile. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine. I hope you don’t mind, but Pierre let me get a sneak peak of it.”

“Ohh! Really???” Rhemi’s cheeks get all flushed and hot once again and she cups her face with her hands. “W-What do you think of it??”

“Oh, it’s just lovely, Rhemi. Just perfect for you. I can not wait to see you in it—Or Muriel seeing you in it for that matter.”

“Ooooo!! Realllly???? Thank you, Nadia!”

Suddenly, Martin clears his throat rather loudly, cutting through the two’s giddy laughter. “Countess Satrinava.”

The countess's eyes suddenly darken hearing the Archmagister’s voice and she forced back on a smile. “Ah yes… Monsieur Martin.” He approaches her with his chest puff out and she returns a polite curtsy. She then extends her hand out and he kisses to top of her knuckles, very diplomatic and traditional like. “...It has been ages, I haven't seen you since King Francis’ Spring ball six years ago… How have you been?” The Countess asks, fakely attempting to be interested.

“Quiet fine, thank you for asking.” Martin smirks back with a devious look. “... However I do fear that you haven’t been receiving my letters because I haven't gotten any back over the years. In fact, I have been around your city this morning, no flyers have been posted either.”

Nadia’s shoulder slightly tenses as if she knew and dreaded what he was about to say. Yet, she keeps a calm and composed face. “I do owe you my apologies. I have had other obligations this past year….. just a small war to save the world and clean up my city after pure evil attempted to rule our realm….”

“Ahhh…. yes… so I’ve heard... Most understandable. Things such as that are to be expected when a woman is in a position such as yourself… You really shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself, Nadia.”

“And what position would that be, Sir Martin?” Nadia remains poised and collected, but Rhemi could tell, she was getting irritated.

Martin smirks while placing both hands on his cane out in front of him. “One with great responsibility and little power, of course, Countess…. Ruling a city is a man’s job after all.”

An awkward tense silence takes hold for a moment and Nadia just flutters her eyes and fakely smiles a bit wider at his blunt rudeness. “... So nice to see you again, Archmagister. Do enjoy your stay.”

Eloquently, she turns her back to Martin tugging Rhemi along, giving her attention back to her champion, ignoring that rude and very sexist comment. “So, my dear champion. What brings you here? I do apologize for my tardiness. Especially when you had such ‘lovely’ company that also failed to show up for tea time yesterday.” She says that last part loud enough for him to hear.

“Well… ahhhhhh, we had tea scheduled for this afternoon—” Rhemi replies awkwardly.

The Countess shakes her head, instantly remembering. “Oh! Yes of course! How could I forget, I have sandwiches, biscuits, and tea being made as we speak—Oh, and your favorite~”

“Oooo—Agrippa’s strawberry lemon cake???” Rhemi says wiggling her hips excitedly.

Nadia nods with a bright smile, laughing at Rhemi’s pure overjoyed expression. “Portia was so kind to pick it up. Her and her brother should be here any minute, won’t they? Shall we have it on the balcony? It’s a lovely day.” She says looping her arm around Rhemi’s.

“Yes, but, ahhhh….” Suddenly, the apprentice stops her feet and politely pulls away. “Actually, I, ah, wanted to introduce someone to you, but I gather you’ve already met.”

Nadia interlaces her fingers together and rests her hands in front of her, wearing a rather confused expression. “...Oh?”

Her eyes follow Rhemi as she walks back over to Martin and loops her arm through his. “Nadia…. Sir Martin is my father….”

Nadia’s eyes widen, completely shocked. “Your…. father…?”

The Archmagister smiles at her with his nose high and stares at her condescendingly. “Ah yes…. Without any of your help I ended up finding my daughter myself—-But to my pleasant surprise she was alive. And in your city no doubt. What are the odds of the place that refused to comply with posting my wanted posters was the exact place where I found her.”

“Your…. His daughter?? The child who was stolen by an evil witch?”

Rhemi’s face suddenly flushes. Even Nadia knew about me?

“I…. I guess so.” She shrugs slightly embarrassed.

Nadia can’t help but flutter her eyelashes, gazing speechlessly to her champion. Finally she opens her mouth and looks toward Martin with a bit of guilt. “But…. you’ve been looking for her for—”

“—For fifteen years, seven months, a week, two days, and seven hours…. Yes…” Martin interjects with a sour and slightly angry, yet smug expression. “... But who’s counting?”

With Nadia completely gobsmacked and silent, Rhemi mutters. “I was hoping it would be alright if I invited him for tea time with Julian and Portia, so he could get to know my friends….. U-Unless of course that’s rude—”

“—No! No. It’s quite alright.” Nadia says shaking out of her stupor. “... Besides this afternoon was for you anyways, this may be the last tea you have as a single woman.”

“Oh you’re right. Didn’t think about that!... But it's better to ask right?”

“Of course.” Nadia looks towards Pascal as nods to cue him to lead them all towards the balcony.

“If you would follow me…” Pascal quickly says before whipping around to escort them all to the balcony.

Nadia hangs back staring at Rhemi and Sir Martin as they link arms having a terrible feeling about all of this and her temples start to twinge with slight pain.

—————————————

As soon as Portia and Julian arrive Rhemi greets them with a loving hug, but they immediately notice Sir Martin and a look of horror and confusion strikes their face. They only remember this man from the other day. But Rhemi explains the situation and they change their attitude quickly, happy for their friend for being reunited with her long lost father.

The Devoraks do their very best to be kind and friendly to the Archmagister, evening apologizing for their behavior (even though they did nothing wrong). Julian introduces himself with a small bow as he reaches his hand to offer to shake it. But Sir Martin slightly turns his nose up at the commoner and waits a grueling amount of seconds before finally taking his hand with only saying almost sarcastically, “Charmed…”.

Portia bows as well, and even puts donns her diplomatic hat being a chamberlain herself now, in attempts to easily converse with him on a relatable level. But the old magician just smirks and quietly chuckles at her attempt to presume that her position, a chamberlain to a mere Countess was anything like being a head chamberlain and Archmagister to a very wealthy and powerful monarch. Nevertheless Martin does at least take her hand and kisses the top of her knuckles and even says, “How do you do.”

As all four sit down and get settled and the tea is being brought out and being poured. The inescapable tension was relentlessly building with the silence. A servant pours the Archmagister’s tea and sets down a plate of biscuits in front of him and he mutters in an irritated manner, “Please, do wear gloves, girl. I don’t want to see your revolting cracked hands when you're handling my food.”

The poor servant’s face turns red with humiliation and she hasilty hides them behind her back. “Y-yes Sir… My apologies, Sir Alarie.”

Baffled at his rudeness, Rhemi, Julain and Portia stay quiet and glance over to Nadia, who stares at the old foreign diplomat with her head gracefully tilted with a fake, yet amused grin. “Oh, and how do you suppose her hands became cracked in the first place, Sir Martin? My servants shouldn’t have to be ashamed that they work diligently for a living. For you to judge her for it all the while you have a silver spoon in your mouth… Well… Should I just say that is rather ignorant of you.”

It appears that Martin was about to retaliate with a snide comment back to her but Rhemi awkwardly fake coughs. “Thank you Claudia. It looks amazing. Please tell the chef thank you.”

Her interjection to smooth things over seemed to have shut her father up for now and the terrible silence takes hold yet again. Rhemi stirs her tea, making it the way she likes and tries her best to fight the flush warming up her face from her father’s behavior. A wave of dread washes over her as she takes a small sip and thinking perhaps she made a mistake introducing everyone to him like this today. It was rather sudden and last minute after all, and she didn’t expect him to act this way. In her mind, this would have been more like a fairy tale or a book, a long lost father reuniting with the heroine’s life at the end of the story and they all lived happily ever after… But then again…. this is reality, and fairy tales and books are in the end, just that. A story. Things don’t anyway go the way you want them to….

Finally, the Countess decides to make some small talk asking Portia about the reconstruction progress of the Temple district and the tension starts to finally subside a bit. Martin even engaged in the conversation at least with the parts about Charlès’ part in supplying raw materials such as iron, bronze, and steel. The conversation then went to Rhemi with the wedding planning, then to Julian and how his clinic was going…

“Things have been keeping me busy, that’s for sure! Lately it's been a lot of springtime cold, but nothing too serious…” Julian goes on taking a long sip of his tea.

“Mmmm. Interesting.” Martin attempts to engage in the conversation for his daughter’s sake. “Tell me Doctor, are you married?”

“No, actually…” But perhaps one day I’ll marry the person I love.”

“Hmmm I’m sure she’s just lovely…. Hope she doesn’t mind having many late nights by the sound of your business.”

“...Err... ’He’ actually.” Julian corrects him with a faint bit of red on his face with a love stuck expression.

But the old nobleman really chokes on his sip of tea and he bats his eyelashes, perplexed. “....Sorry?”

Julian’s left eye darts back and forth to him and Rhemi, shrugging his shoulders. “Ummm- Errr…. About-?”

“You correct me… And said...?”

“Yes….” Rhemi jumps in thinking her father just didn’t hear him right. “Ilya said ‘he’. Asra, the one you met yesterday. White-ish hair, also a magician. That’s Julian’s partner.”

A snide and almost vicious scowl contorts the man’s face. “.....So….. You are having relations…. withhhhhhhh….. another man?” Martin inquires further as he gives Beatrix a few berries.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeesss.” Julian replies, not understanding the issue here starting to furrow his brow as well.

“So you have a….. male… bbbbooooyfriend?”

Nadia whispers to her servant rather quietly, helpless to watch as this all unfolds in front of her. “... Pascal, do bring us a bottle of wine.”

“....Asra actually prefers to use the term partner.” Rhemi adds bring her tea to her lips. “He doesn’t identify with gender specific roles. He’s male leaning, but he’s non-binary.”

“Oh, good god…” Martin grumbles rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Before Pascal gets too far, Nadia tugs his sleeve, and whispers again with her nostrils flared. “Better make that two….”

The Archmagister catches a glimpse of his daughter's saddened face. He adjusts his sitting and swallows his opinions… badly. “I ah, see….” He takes a sip of his tea slowly swallowing it. “So….. Which, ah, which one of you takes it in the ass then?” He quickly adds, unable to help himself.

“PPPPPPFFFFT—” Rhemi slightly sputters in her cup at that, her eyes wide.

Portia nearly drops her teacup speechless at this comment. If this was in a tavern she’d have thrown his ass down by now. But her brother just smiles, calmly placing his tea cup down with a hard clank and leans in closer to the Archmagister. Despite his smug smile, it’s clear that he’s deeply offended. “Well…. I guess that depends on the night. Because we use a schedule. At least we don’t have something constantly shoved up our—”

BOOM!! CHATTER CHATTER!--

“—Ooooooookayyyyyy!!” Rhemi loudly interjects slamming down both of her hands on the table making everything rumble and shake as she nearly jumps to a stand.

“—Well, Nadia, it has been loads of fun, thank you so much for having us—but would you look at the time!” She quickly rants, pulling her father’s chair out then tugging his arm and pulling him out of his chair. “My father and I wanted to check out the library for a few things together, isn’t that right?” She says slightly gritting her teeth. “Didn’t we??”

“Oh… yes of course… If you would excuse us.” He begrudgingly complies with her lie and he bows to Nadia. “Countess…”

Nadia nods her head with a forced grin. “Archmagister….”

With that, Rhemi waves her friends ta-ta for now and nearly drags her father into the palace and straight to the library feeling so terrible for her friend right now.

As soon as they approach their destination silently, Rhemi opens the doors with a wave of her magic and nearly sprints in and shuts the doors behind her. For a moment, she presses her back against the double doors and sighs feeling relieved that she managed to escape that terrible scenario with one of her best friends and her father. A stone cold silence washes over the large room while Martin casually strolls about talking in the splendor of the stained glass windows. Unable to think of a way to tell her father what he had said was unacceptable, she continues to stay silently and decides to walk over to a mountain of books she was actually borrowing about Parka.  

“So… that went well—” Martin murmurs and Beatrix jumps off his shoulders and sniffs the couches scouring for some old crumbs. “Well, I am sure you had a reason to carry me away from good tea—”

Martin turns to look at his daughter, but he realizes she's no longer behind him. “R-....Rhemielia?”

Rhemi awkwardly rushes up a ladder, rummages through some more books in the section she was in before, trying not to look at her father. She doesn’t mean to give him a cold shoulder, but she really thought tea would have gone better. How could he have asked such a rude and homophobic question to one of her dearest friends? She loves that Julian and Asra are together, they just make sense in an odd way. Now that she thought about it, Rhemi didn't remember the last time she heard anyone mock someone else’s sexuality. Here in Vesuvia, and in most places of the world for that matter, people are incredibly open-minded and don’t bat an eyelash when someone is attracted to the same sex or both—No one really cares! And neither should they. It’s no one else’s business honestly. 

Martin notices her silence and he walks over to where she is. “Well, Pigeon. Your er-ummm.….choices in friends are…. well… rather curious—”

“—Heads-up.” Rhemi knowingly interrupts, throwing down a book and Martin catches after a little fumble with a bit of shock.

With the room quiet yet again, he stares at her as she tries to ignore him for a while. The only sound being made is Beatrix’s sniffing and his daughter flipping through the pages then places a book back on the shelf.

Martin lets out a sigh, as he conjures his magic into his hand, making the book levitate in the air so he didn’t have to hold it. Feeling a little annoyed at the moment, he straightens his cravat on his neck and begrudgingly asks. “.... Something on your mind, Rhemielia?”

Rhemi then kicks the ladder making the wheels roll a few feet away to hunt for a few books in a different section.

Her father following her at the end of the ladder. “Rhemielia?” He repeats.

Finally she huffs heavily heartedly and replies. “... Père, you don’t ask those questions to people.”

Martin just looks up at his child and scoffs with a half grin. “.... And why not?”

“W-Well…. It’s just… ahhh— well....” Rhemi fumbles over her words as she continues to skim through the books looking for that particular subject about genetics. “...Despite his openness, Ilya might not want to converse to a stranger about his intimacy… No one ask you about your sex life. You shouldn’t just make assumptions about his—or any of my friends for that matter.”

Martin fidgets in his spot, unable to remember the last time someone talked to him like this. “Perhaps not, but my sex life didn’t involve another man, Rhemielia…. Forgive me for being intolerant, but it’s just not natural and disgusting-.”

“Disgusting to you perhaps! And how is it not natural?” Rhemi quickly responds with her nose in another book. “... Most herd animals spend their time with other males except for breeding season and engage in sexual activities. Nope… already read this one.” She quietly mutters that last part to herself as she returns the dud book back.

Martin’s brow starts to furrow as he stifles the rage in the pit of his stomach with the thought of that. He can’t believe his only child is defending such behaviors. But he keeps his feelings buried, but just barely. “Humans aren’t filthy animals, Rhemielia…. at least most aren’t... And I really don’t believe a conversation about copulation with my long lost daughter is appropriate—”

“Too late—” She adds, handing him another heavy book, and he makes it float in the air as she slides down the ladder and faces him very boldly. “If that's the case, then isn’t wearing shoes, or undergarments, or overly fancy capes made from dead worm cocoons also deemed ‘unnatural’?.”

“Rhemielia, I really do think this highly distasteful topi—” Martin suddenly stops, eyes wide in bewilderment realizing what she had just said. “I-.... I’m sorry, did you just say, ‘dead worm…. cocoons’?”

“Yes.” She says with a very as-matter-of-fact look on her face.

Martin just stares at her, completely confused and looks down at his expensive garment. “Wha—??”

Instantly, Rhemi grabs one of her books her father is floating in the air and quickly flips through the pages. “Do-too-doo…. Silkworms, silkwoooorms… Ah! Yes—Right here.” Rhemi then takes a hold of her father’s fancy cape and shakes it with one hand while handing her father an open book with the other. “... ‘Silk is made from inorganic fibers that are made from creatures called ‘silkworms’. They’re found in places such as Parka and Nopal and other northern places. Silk is harvested by the cocoon that the silkworm makes. The worms are boiled alive while incubating in a said cocoon, then the thread is extracted so it can be woven into fabric.’..” She points to the left page as she turns around. “It’s all on page 194, paragraph eight.”

Rhemi then pulls out a spare biscuit and gives it to the poor hungry badger. The happy little animal takes it and scarfs it down, she even allows Rhemi to pet her gently on the head some more, no hint of aggression or mistrust.

Bewildered and with squinting eyes, Martin hastily skims the paragraph then tilts his head. “Hmmm… Well… that’s ah, fascinating?... I…. I suppose—However…. I believe I fail to understand what this has to do with anything, my little Pigeon...”

His daughter turns back around dropping her shoulders, the look in her eyes are almost hurt. He can’t help but admire how much she looks like her mother right now. “....Those people you meet today are my friends, Père. Really good ones in fact. I see now that Charlès must not be as…open minded?—Like the rest of the world. But these are my friends. Asra and Julian are in love and I really do think they belong together. So, please, at least for my sake, be nice to them...”

“A rather steep request to ask when your friends have such terrible lifestyle choices. I don’t agree with, I don’t understand how you—”

“—That isn’t a choice, Father.” She interrupts, collecting the books out of the air and placing them onto the table next to Beatrix still licking her little claws clean. “... And you don’t have to understand it in order to respect it.”

“..... Rrrrrrrrrespect it?” He snootily sneer, both eyes half closed.

For one reason or another this expression on his face makes her uncomfortable. “Well… Yes… At least for me. They are all a huge part of my life.” She says. Then, rather dramatic and ominous pause starts to take residence in this tense conversation.

“.... Hmpf… My god what has that witch done to you?” Her father says as he shakes his head slowly.

The man’s icy teal eyes pierce Rhemi like a freshly sharpened blade and she feels it cut her to her core. Obviously what she said has upset him. The longer he stares the smaller and smaller she feels under his gaze. But this is about her friends after all. They are practically a part of her family and they have fought by her and Muriel’s side, the least thing she can do is stick up for them.

She pushes down her uneasiness and puffs out her chest like she always does when she needs the confidence. “I…. I think I’ve always been this way. Perhaps you just didn’t notice.”

Beatrix suddenly jumps off the table and hides underneath it abandoning her precious biscuit. And a strange, yet powerful tense energy fills the room. It feels like a low rumble almost like an earthquake, yet nothing in the room is shaking or rattling. But Martin’s cold eyes are fixed on his daughter, increasingly becoming more intimidating as he just glares, visually trying his best to keep himself from contorting his face in disgust.

At last his eyes leave his poor daughter and she can feel her body start to unclench as he glances to his gloved hands, clicking his tongue before speaking. “I fear that the sinful place has tainted you, my dear….” His face softens when his head lifts back up to look at her once again, a half fake smile on his face. “But, fear not, we’ll correct that in due time.”

Rhemi’s eyes flutter with that last comment almost afraid to ask. “....What do you—”

“—Oi! Rhemiiiiii!!” The large double doors creak open and Portia calls from the library entrance. “It’s four o’clock!”

“—OH! CRAP! I’m late again!” Suddenly Rhemi runs up to her father a quick hug and gives him a peck on the left cheek. She can feel his shoulder stiffen as she embraces him, taken back with her rather loving affection despite the tense conversation that was just had. But his face softens, icy glare deteriorates like snow melting away on a warm spring day as he hugs her back. “Sorry, I have to get back to the shop before five. I have a rheumatism potion I have to finish before a customer comes for it this afternoon.”

“Oh. I see. You’re a busy one I see...”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“.... Could I see you tomorrow then, perhaps for tea? I must attend a trading meeting after that, and I believe Portia… I believe it was?... She will be there too.”

“Oh…. umm, Y-yeah… Sure! That’s fine. That’ll be great.” Oddly, she’s unable to stop the feeling like she’s fibbing when she says that, her eyes avert towards the large stained glass windows.

Perhaps, tomorrow won’t be as bad as this afternoon… She thinks to herself. Yeah—He’s just not used to people who are different from him, that's all—Yeah!.... He just might need some more time, get to know them all. I’m sure he’ll come around... Realize that he’s wrong about them.

“See you tomorrow then.” As she turns to leave, Martin keeps a hold of her left wrist. She pulls it back instinctively, but her father squeezes even harder, almost too tightly.

“Rhemielia, my child?”

She cranks her head back around, that sincere and pleading expression returning to her father’s face. “...Aren’t you tired of brewing potions for mere pocket change?”

What? What kind of question is that? Puzzled at this question she tilts her head and asks, “.... I’m sorry?”

“Do you really want to be working all your life in that dusty little shop?”

For a moment she ponders on this thought. She never thought about it to be honest.

As Rhemi tugs her hand once again to take it back, thinking a little harder on what he asked. Yet, he doesn’t let go. In fact, his grip actually tightens around her wrist, and it starts to hurt her. Her face starts to bead sweat, her temples pulsate with twinges of pain yet again and she feels her stomach drop. “P-Père, you’re—you're hurting me.” She whimpers.

Blankly he slowly blinks, as if he didn’t hear her.

“P-Père?.... My wrist… You’re hurting it.”

Finally he glances to her small wrist before finally letting it go. “Ah… Ahem—My apologies, my sweet Pigeon.”

Once Rhemi's wrist is finally released, she stands there rubbing it a bit with her opposite hand. Her skin slightly stinging from his firm grip and the friction of the leather gloves. She didn’t like it when people held her too hard like that, it made her feel so uncomfortable, like she was vulnerable and weak. But she never felt her head ache like that before.

After the stinging dissipates, she places her hands to her side and she sheepishly replies, “.... Well… the shop me and Muriel’s livelihood. How else am I supposed to live?”

An entertained chuckle erupts from the Archmagister’s lips and Beatrix climbs his arm and rests across his shoulders. “Why, back home with me in Charlès of course. You’ll live much more comfortably there. I want you to rejoin the court… back with me.”

Lost for any words, Rhemi stands there feeling like an explosion had just gone off in her head. “Back home… to Charlès?” She repeats.

Her father adjusts his cane, making a faint clank while he straightens back up, puffing his chest out and nodding. “You’re conflicted I see. I half expected you would be. It is a rather bold question for me to ask when we’ve only been reunited for two short days….. Don’t worry, you don’t have to answer me now… just think about it, Rhemielia.”

“O-.... okay. I will.” Uncomfortably she replies, her head now spinning. Finally she shakes out of her own thoughts and smiles awkwardly. “Goodnight, Père… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, my little Pigeon…. Think about what I said.”

“I… I will….” She mumbles as she shuts the door leaving the Archmagister alone in the library with his familiar.

Beatrix sniffs the air cautiously. “Master angry at Pigeon?”

Martin takes a deep breath as he tries to stop his anger and magic from overflowing. “This is all Phara’s doing, Beatrix... That fucking cunt of a witch… Teaching my child such disgusting tolerance for filthy homosexual deviants. That’s precisely why the rest of the world is behind Charlès, Bea. They let perverted cock-sucking fools muck about and run things… this city was nearly all in ruins just a year ago. And that is all because of these fucking liberal fools...” 

Trying to calm his anger he takes one of the books Rhemi was reading through in his hands and it bursts into purple and green flames with his magic and he watches with gratification as it burns into dust.

“The world outside of Charlès is disgusting…..” He says picking up one of the books she was reading in disgust. “...It isn’t Rhemielia’s fault she doesn’t remember better… Surrounded by such books, people… and ideals about a backwards way of living. Deprived of morals or sensibility. I will just have to…. remind her of what the correct morals are.”

✨To be continued...

**April fools =P Sorry I had too! XD

Anyways! Thanks so much for reading my hot garbage! I hope you guys didn't mind the very very long chapter! 

For all you thirsty trash pandas, the smut will be next chapter *wink wink*

**Agrippa (the baker’s apprentice) belongs to @victorscribbles

[poetic-emptiness-fanfic]

Something There

The name of this fic is from a song Something There from Beauty and the Beast.

Characters: Hande Kuura, Reidunn & Lydik - Reidunn and Lydik belong to @vikinglumberjack

The first meeting of Hande and Lydik!

No content warnings.

Words: ~4 000

Hande enjoys spring: it's that time of year when nature comes back to life after months of slumber. A smile creeps across her face while she's walking towards the marketplace, not only because of the warmth or budding flowers and leaves, but because today she will meet her best friend after a long time. Reidunn has returned from her months-long journey to Longyearbyen, so of course they had to arrange a meeting.

It doesn't take long for Hande to spot the redhead from the crowd. She starts to wave at her friend whose face turns to meet Hande's eyes. They both smile to each other and Hande takes the huldra into a warm hug.

”Dunna, welcome back! I've missed you! How was your journey? Any news from your family?”

”Takkâ, Hande! I've missed you, too! It was fine, sometimes the weather was a little stormy on my way back home, but I was happy to see my family again. They're all fine, thank you for asking! They sent their love to you – they had hoped you would come with me again.”

”I'm glad you didn't experience anything too harsh on your way home! I would've loved to come with you, but you know how it is: Nadia needs me with this mental health clinic project,” Hande chuckles before she continues, ”That's what you get when you say an idea out loud and the Countess actually ends up liking it.”

Reidunn pats her friend on the shoulder, reassuring Hande it was great, that Vesuvia is going to have an important institution thanks to her. The magician quickly brushes it off, changing the subject to Longyearbyen. The huldra decides to indulge Hande this time, and tells about all the things she's done during her stay at her childhood home. They keep sauntering the marketplace until they stop at Selasi's bakery to grab some pumpkin bread. They're sitting on a table, enjoying the warm weather and each other's company.

”So, Dunna, it seems that you haven't just come back to Vesuvia. What have you been up to, or have you just rested after the journey?”

”I've tried to rest, yes, but I also had to make some arrangements. I need to make some space to my new roommate.”

”Oh, you have a roommate now? That's so nice! How did you end up with this situation?”

”He's a friend of mine. I haven't seen him a while, but when I was at Longyearbyen, he approached me and asked if he could come with me to Vesuvia.”

”How neat! What's his name? Is he a Fosna?”

”His name is Lydik. No, he is not a Fosna. He's a fae – a Nøkken, actually.”

Hande's eyes widen and her posture becomes stiff. Reidunn has a Nøkken as a friend? One of those scary, human-eating water creatures? For all of her life, Hande has been warned about them, how they lure their victims to the water to drown them. She also knows some people in Hjalle who have lost their loved one to a Nøkken. And now there's one living in Vesuvia...

Lost in her thoughts, Hande whispers, ”Näkki maalle, minä veteen...¹”

”What is it, Hande?”

Hande turns her gaze to Reidunn, still a little absentminded, ”Oh, it's a Forestian spell, to banish a  Nøkken from water if you're going to swim.You need to throw a stone into the water while saying those words and then a creature needs to go to the shore and can't go back unless you let it return with another spell. I... Why do you have a Nøkken as a friend? They're monsters, they've only caused harm in Hjalle – I've heard too many stories of disappeared people whose steps lead to water and not back. People didn't even find their bodies to bury...”

”Oh, I'm so sorry to startle you, Hande! I forgot how that could be upsetting for you. But it isn't what you think, Lydik isn't like that! Actually, he saved my, Guivi's and Bilzi's lives when we got lost as children.”

”Oh?” Hande looks surprised, but also intrigued, ”I didn't know that could be possible. How did it happen, may I ask?”

Reidunn starts to tell about her adventure with her siblings and how Lydik had taken them under his wing. How he had showed kindness to the children by entertaining and protecting them during the night. The huldra can see her friend relaxing a little, although the magician still looks astonished.

”Wow, that really is something else,” she says, ”I've never heard of a Nøkken who has saved human lives instead of taking them. Sorry, Dunna, it seems like I judged too harshly.”

Reidunn reaches for Hande's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, ”It's okay, Hande. I should have warned you first.” The huldra seems to think for a moment and then smiles to her friend, ”If you want, we can go to my place. Lydik's there so... I've told him about you and I think it would be nice for you to meet.”

”You have?” Hande sounds surprised. She gives a little smirk for Reidunn and adds, ”I hope you've told only good things, and haven't frightened him by telling that I'm a Nøkken discriminator.”

The huldra bursts into laughter at Hande's latest remark. Reidunn is also relieved – she doesn't want to upset Hande, and it could be troublesome for Lydik if her best friend would decide to dislike Lydik without actually getting to know him. The duo raise from their seats and head to Reidunn's home.

***

Reidunn lets Hande enter first to her herbalist shop-apartment. The magician is greeted by music – fiddle music, to be exact. Hande stops in her tracks, starting to listen the sound that comes from upstairs. A melody is swaying and gentle, and has lots of short glissandos in it. The magician can hear a tuning of an instrument differs from her own violin: it sounds warmer, raspier and more ”homemade”. A shy smile rises on her face and she closes her eyes, taking in the whole experience.

Hande's friend can hear the music, too, which fills her mind with worry. Oh no, it's Thursday! Reidunn approaches the magician quickly, fearing she'll be traumatised after this incident. Before she's reached Hande she becomes a little baffled: Hande isn't walking towards upstairs. The huldra slows down and circles to meet the face of her friend. The magician's eyes are still closed, taking in the pleasant melody. Reidunn can see how Hande picks out the tune with her fingers against her thumb, like it's the fingerboard of her violin. Reidunn relaxes immediately. Phew, Hande isn't in trance. The huldra decides to wait for the song to end before she'll speak, for she doesn't want to startle her friend.

When the song ends, Hande opens her eyes and smiles at Reidunn, ”That was beautiful. How did you do it?”

Reidunn thinks for a moment before she opens her mouth, ”It was... Hande, don't freak out, but it was Lydik.”

Realization hits Hande and she feels dumbfounded. It the Nøkken is playing the fiddle, then why...

”Why am I not in trance?” Hande places her hand on her forehead, as if to feel if she has fever. The magician had no idea about this ability of hers. Reidunn seems as much surprised as her but then answers, ”I am not sure what may be the reason of this, but it seems like you're immune to Nøkkens' music.”

The magician, still a little confused, ponders out loud, ”I guess quite a few can do that – maybe it's related to families that have had magicians in their bloodline? There's nothing special about me in addition to that...”

Reidunn looks at her friend, giving her a wistful smile, ”That is a rare ability, I've never heard of anyone who is able to resist Nøkkens' playing. Not any human, at least.”

Hande isn't sure what to say – this ability of hers has taken her completely off-guard. The magician decides she doesn't have the time to muse about it too much – she will have time to think about it and ask from her family later. Now she can see the humorous side of this incident and chuckles to Reidunn, ”That kind of hospitality, eh? Trying to trick unsuspecting guests with his beautiful playing! How rude.”

The huldra looks a little confused, not sure whether her friend is joking or not. Her tail swishes nervously before she answers, ”No, Hande, it isn't a trick. I just brought a friend home. I'm sorry, it's Thursday and for some reason Lydik plays instinctively on Thursdays, and I didn't realise to warn you.”

Hande approaches her friend, hugging her lightly, ”It's okay, Dunna. I was only joking. How could you know he's playing right now? Besides, this was spontaneous visit, so Lydik doesn't know I'm here, either.”

Reidunn relaxes, her tail calming down as well. The huldra can't help but admire Hande's abilty to see humorous side of situations even soon after she has been nervous or baffled because of them. ”Would you like to meet him?” Reidunn asks with a warm smile on her face.

Hande answers her friend's smile with a smirk, ”Weeell, maybe this once. And if something goes wrong, I can always incant him inside of a water orb!”

Reidunn lets out a giggle and leads Hande to upstairs. Lydik is still playing his fiddle, apparently unaware of the company he's going to get. Hande is still a little nervous, but her curiosity is taking over – it's not every day you get an opportunity to meet a fae, after all. She waits behind Reidunn when the huldra knocks on a door that apparently leads to Lydik's room. The fiddle playing ceases and Hande hears a low grunt behind the door. Reidunn turns to Hande, ”For your information: Lydik can't speak, but I can interpret his communication to you. He understands what we are saying.” Hande nods after which Reidunn opens the door.

Lydik has put his fiddle away and turned to see the comers. Whatever Hande has expected to see, it wasn't this: a thin creature almost twice of her height with green skin, only loose pants covering his body. The Nøkken has yellow-green, wavy hair with twigs poking out of it, straight nose, elf-like ears and green, glowing eyes that reminds Hande of alligators.

A yelp, ”Ei perkele, hän on pitkä!²” escapes from the magician's mouth while she instinctively takes a step back towards the door. Her back hits the door and her brain catches up with her reactions. Don't be stupid, startling because of his height! There's nothing he could drown me with, and besides, why would he try to kill me, Reidunn's friend.

Hande's body is filled with embarrassment. ”I... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I... I just got a little startled of how tall you are. I don't know why, but I get this stupid inferiority complex every time I am near someone who's much taller than me...” she stutters, trying to meet the Nøkken's eyes despite of their huge height difference.

Reidunn observes the situation a little worried: she can notice how Lydik has tensed a little, probably willing to hide, and now also Hande is nervous and starting a tangent in order to hide it.

”It's not because of you, it's completely on me... I've never met a Nøkken before and half of my family has always warned me about your kind... Reidunn told me how you helped her when she was a child, I really don't have anything against you, I'm so, so sorry...” Hande continues her rambling, unable to stop the flood of words. Her mind races, like she's on the back of a kelpie, unable to get off while the creature gallops towards the water. Great, now I'm thinking of horses...The last thing I need to do now... The magician starts to wringle her hands and she wants to do is to flee the scene, but she feels like her feet are glued on the floor.

Lydik is watching this new acquaintance in confusion. He isn't sure what he's supposed to do. He can sense the woman is nervous, even a little scared, but isn't sure if it's because of him, or like she claims, because of her. He glances at Reidunn pleadingly and the huldra goes to comfort the woman, who still hasn't stopped her nervous talking.

”Hande, it's okay. Just breathe,” Reidunn says calmly while rubbing her friend's back. Her best friend's voice helps Hande calm down – she feels safe, accepted. Reidunn has always had this skill of making Hande feel comfortable, since the beginning of their friendship. She is Hande's pillar of strength, always there for her, like Hande is for Reidunn. Little by little tha magician's breathing stabilizes and she's able to collect her thoughts. It doesn't make her feel any better about her messing up, but at least she's stopped rambling.

”Well, that was awkard... I'm so sorry, I don't know why I get this nervous in new situations... It seems like I'm socially rustier than I used to be,” Hande raises her gaze to meet Lydik's eyes once again, ”Please, let me try again: My name is Hande Kuura and I'm delighted to meet you.” Hande places her right hand above her heart and bows at the Nøkken in order to greet him.

Lydik is still a little confused, but his body relaxes. He glances at Reidunn who is still by Hande's side. The huldra gives him a nod – it's okay now, even Lydik himself can sense the woman next to Reidunn has calmed down. He cocks his head, but then he gives Hande a small smile while mimicking the magician's gesture. After his greeting he pews at Hande.

The magician looks questioningly at Reidunn, not sure what that sound means. ”I think Lydik is trying to say he's also delighted to meet you. Pew is a friendly sound,” Reidunn interprets.

Hande answers to Lydik's smile. ”I heard you playing, it was beautiful,” Hande says sincerely after a moment of silence. The Nøkken's smile turns into a friendly grin, revealing his sharp teeth. The magician doesn't get startled by that, ironically enough.

”You look different than I imagined,” Hande states looking pensive.

Lydik cocks his head again. This time Hande realises he's asking a question. She thinks for a moment, but then decides she can say her thought out loud, ”Well, to be honest, I expected to meet a huge pile of alga with scary eyes,” she gestures to his direction with her hand, giving the Nøkken a bashful grin, ”This... It is a positive surprise. My expectation would have been way too creepy for me to handle.”

Lydik looks at Hande for a moment, but then he starts to chuff. This yellow-haired woman is funny indeed. His chuffing increases which creates a confused look on Hande's face. The Nøkken notices that and approaches a shelf nearby. He starts to tap some kind of rhythm onto it with his finger. Reidunn follows him carefully while Hande's confusion seems to increase.

When Lydik stops, Reidunn nods and turns to face her friend, ”Lydik used Morse code. He said that he would've thought that sharp teeth would be more creepy than some algae with eyes. He found your remark funny, by the way: that chuffing noise means he's laughing.”

Hande chuckles, surprised by the fact Lydik is laughing at her sayings. ”Morse code, you say?” the magician asks creefully, ”I need to learn that, so I can understand what you're saying.”

A realisation hits Lydik who starts to look confused once more. Still by the shelf, he starts tapping, looking at Reidunn questioningly.

”Oh yes,” Reidunn exclaims, ”Lydik asked how you're fine although he played, Hande,” the huldra turns towards Lydik before she continues, ”Well, it seems like that Hande is immune to Nøkken music. It didn't affect her at all, and Hande didn't even realise at first it was you who was playing.”

Hande nods in affirmative, ”I don't know how, but it seems like Reidunn is right about my immunity”. Lydiks turns to meet Hande's eyes. He looks like he's impressed. Once again the Nøkken taps and Reidunn interprets, ”He says: Woah, I've never met someone who could do that.”

Hande lowers her gaze to the ground, feeling embarrassed for the attention she's getting. In the hopes that Reidunn will indulge her, she tries to slightly change the direction of the discussion. ”Well, your playing did affect me, though. Like I mentioned before, it was very beautiful. I just wanted to stay and listen for a while. I play a violin myself, so it's nice to meet someone who can also do that,” she says wholeheartedly with a friendly smile on her face.

Lydik's impression brightens and he gives Hande a wide smile with some cheerful pews. He places his hands in front of him and then he draws his hands to the opposite directions in the air: his left hand upwards and right hand downwards. The Nøkken's fiddle and bow appear in his hands from thin air.

Hande smiles at Lydik looking impressed, ”That's a neat trick! I have to settle for a case and then glare at anyone who almost kicks it.”

Lydik chuffs and then gestures to his instrument, asking if Hande wants him to play again. The magician's smile softens when she replies, ”Please.”

Lydik lifts his fiddle onto his shoulder. He doesn't need to think for long what he wants to play. The song is faster than the previous one, something one would dance to. Most of the time Lydik concentrates on playing, but from time to time he glances towards the women in his room. Reidunn is swaying with the music and Hande taps the rhythm with her foot. The Nøkken notices Hande's face is lit up with a pure delight, not an empty smile what those people in trance would have. He finds it fascinating, intriguing even, and he wants to play even better because of that. Lydik really likes seeing that look on Hande's face.

After the song ends Hande starts applauding, Reidunn following suit. Lydik is confused, because he isn't sure why the women are clapping, but judging by the smiles on their faces, it is something positive. He smiles a little sheepishly and makes his instrument disappear once again.

Hande notices Lydik's confused expression and hurries to explain, ”Oh sorry, I'm so used to doing this I didn't realise it might be new to you. People start to applaud to a person if they've enjoyed their performance, usually something related to music, but it can be dancing, a speech or something like that. You really are playing well, thank you for this performance.”

Pleased with himself, Lydik grins widely to Hande. A chuckle escapes Hande's mouth, but it's a kindhearted one, so neither Lydik or Reidunn thinks anything of it. The magician seems to think for a moment, before she opens her mouth again, ”Lydik, have you made your fiddle yourself?”

The Nøkken nods in affirmative and Hande's face lits up again, ”That's wonderful! Unfortunately I can't make violins, but my uncle Paavo – he's the brother of my mother – has made mine. From what wood are your fiddle made of?”

The room is filled with Hande's questions, Lydik's tapping and Reidunn's interpreting. The atmosphere is completely relaxed which fills Reidunn with relief – she has been a little nervous when she noticed that her friends were uncomfortable, but now that they have warmed to each other, both of them are able to show their best sides which the huldra enjoys to watch. Lydik's expression grows brighter and brighter, now that he's able to talk about one of his passions with someone who actually understands the details.

After Hande has learned that Lydik has used Nøkken magic to make his fiddle waterproof she starts to wonder about differences between Nøkken and humans in general. The magician keeps eyeing Lydik curiously, trying to determine what kind of skin does the Nøkken have. Only if she could touch it... No, it's not appropriate to touch others! But what if I ask permission first? No! Hande tries her best to listen Reidunn, but she's buzzing with curiosity and it gets harder and harder to contain herself. She must know.

Before Hande can decide whether to open her mouth or keep silent, Lydik's eyes lock on hers. Ugh, he must've sensed I was ogling... She gives him a bashful smile which the Nøkken answers. Feeling a little more courageous, the magician blurts, ”Can I touch you?”

Reidunn turns to watch Hande, looking extremely surprised. Lydik's smile turns into an expression of confusion once more which causes Hande to wince. ”Ugh, sorry... That came out wrong... I meant to ask, if I can touch your skin, to try how it feels like? It seems like the texture of your skin is different from human skin... Of course you don't need to let me if you don't want to, my curiosity just took the best of me...”

Before Hande can start another ramble, Lydik holds out his arm to her, smiling encouragingly to her. Hande holds her tongue and glances at his arm, a little hesitant. ”Are you sure?” the magician asks to which Lydik only nods. Slowly Hande reaches out her right hand towards Lydik's arm. She lightly strokes his hardel with her forefinger a few times. ”I didn't expect it to be this soft,” she states absentmindedly, ”It feels like a skin of a lizard... Interesting...”

Sensing Lydik's pretty intense gaze on her, Hande becomes extremely self-conscious and lets go of Lydik's arm. The magician clears her throat and thanks Lydik for letting her inspect his skin. Then she looks like she just rememberd something and exclaims, ”How rude of me! I kept touching you like a test subject, but didn't offer the same for you. If you want, you can touch my arm.” While saying the last sentence, Hande holds her arm to Lydik in turn.

Lydik isn't quite sure what Hande meant with ”test subject”, but he touches Hande's arm, mimicking her previous movements. The magician's skin feels smooth under his fingers and only soft arm hair offers some texture to it. Lydik notices how the hair on Hande's arm rises up and her muscles tense up a little, so he stops stroking, cocking his head once again.

”Oh, it's okay. I just am not used to new acquaintances touching me,” Hande says bashfully, ”To be honest, usually I don't like being touched at all, if the person is not a close friend of mine or a family member. I was ready to make an exception because of my intrusiveness.”

Lydik is still watching Hande, feeling a little puzzled about how to response to her latest remark. He didn't feel the woman had been intrusive, she has asked permission. This has been the first time someone has asked permission to touch him before doing that, except for Reidunn. Hande has been nervous, yes, but she's also been kind and friendly to him, even though she has learned to fear his kind, if rightfully so.

Lydiks smiles at Hande and gives a clumsy pat on her shoulder with some pews. Reidunn swallows up a giggle and states, ”I think Lydik tries to say he likes you, Hande.”

Hande answers Lydik's smile. ”Thank you, Lydik,” she says sincerely, but after that her smile turns into a mischievious grin, ”I think you're okay... for a Nøkken.”

Everyone stays silent for a moment, but then Lydik starts chuffing which causes Reidunn and Hande to burst into laughter, as well. The atmosphere is full of warmth, and it looks like a magician and a Nøkken have found a friend from each other.

TRANSLATIONS:

¹ ”A Nøkken onto the ground, I into the water...”

² ”Holy shit, he's tall!”