#but like. eh I guess goblin camp was enough for it

[the-weeping-dawn]

well I'm already here might as well vibe in this scene a minute ....

[astarab1aze]

"i cannot say i indulge in the gesture of pinching another's cheeks, however ... " there would be a hand extending towards loux, gale providing with a reassuring pat on top of clothed frame, very much praising him for the effort with the passing ... well, they weren't quite merchants, but something of a far more ruthless and wicked kind. while some blood might have been shed, their hides had once again remained safe and unscathed; "... i do believe thanks are in order. as per usual you prove to be quite the excellent ... well, potato ?"

potato?

" hear me out, hear me out," gale would quickly deflect, hand pulled back with a correcting finger. " potatoes are excellent, for they can be used in several ways that prove beneficial - like you, loux. you are beneficial in quite the ways ... and while it might have sounded offensive, i do mean it as praise. you make an excellent potato and travelling companion."

potato? of all the words in the world that the wise wizard, he whose interest was deeply tied to literature and ancients scrolls, stood here and compared the other to a ... potato.

About all Loux had really learned of Gale was that he tended to talk a lot, and sometimes suffered a bit of the old 'Foot in Mouth' disease. Par for the course with wizards, in his experience; The last time he was in Baldur's Gate had proven as much - that Lorroakan and his spectral, magic clone running Sorcerous Sundries gave him the eccentric lecture of a lifetime before throwing him out (the circumstances were less than savory; Loux was no stranger to casting invisibility and making off with just about everything he could carry, and thieving from other Weave-bound fools was quite the passtime of his).

This, well, it didn't seem all that different. A lecture of a sort, on the value and uses of a tuber. Potatoes were tubers, right? Regardless, his efforts in alchemical brewing had been thwarted by a clap on the shoulder and potato, potahto, poteeto, and, now, Loux was questioning whether he'd left a truly bad enough impression on Gale as to be compared to one. A compliment, sure, or it was supposed to be - praise in an unlikely place, at camp hidden away, far from the others and by the riverside. He liked it there best, the babbling of the steadily rushing water soothing where utmost care and precision were required. Focus.

Still, while he had the opportunity, he set his alchemical pursuits aside - he wasn't brewing anything too important anyway, merely potions to boost their arcane capabilities, albeit temprarily. He could be a team player...sometimes.

"A potato? Ye think of me as a vegetable?" In all honesty, he wanted to laugh. He could think of worse and better things for Gale to have come up with - many had made it plainly obvious they thought he'd be better off as a corpse left to dangle on a pike. A road-side attraction for the vengeful and foolish, he supposed. "S'pose there's worse things ye could say... I like potatoes anyway. Better ye call me that than a goblin, eh? Filthy buggers."

"Potatoes can be used fer just about anythin', and maybe that's all 'm really good for." Using. He had his uses, and he would not be important for any other reason - not to anyone; He made his peace with that a long time ago, but, even so, amused as he was in the moment, it wasn't exactly comforting when that got hammered in. Gale's intent wasn't to insult him, however. If his due was to be a means to an end, well, Loux guessed that was just how it had to be anyway. Oh well.

"Do ye talk to all the ladies like this? Or am I jus special?"

[thessalian]

Astrid vs Rescues and Celebrations

Still in the Shattered Sanctum, looking for people

Astrid: *quietly* Look. Volo.

Astarion: Also guard. So perhaps you should let me--

Astrid: *notches a fire arrow; fires*

Goblin guard: *is extremely dead*

Astarion: Or ... perhaps you're better at this than I give you credit for.

Volo: Oh, thank you! Now, if you'd kindly let me out of this cage...

Astrid: This ... is barely a lock. I can pick this lock. Why couldn't you pick this lock?

Volo: They ... took my lockpicking equipment?

Astarion: If this idiot is going to be sneaking through the place with us--

Volo: Oh, no! No no no! I'll just turn myself invisible and meet you at your camp later, if that's alright!

Astrid: *having picked the lock* But ... why didn't you do that in the first place?

Shadowheart: And why are you travelling with us, again?

Volo: Well, because you are clearly adventurers of renown, needing immortalisation in story and song by a legendary bard!

Astrid: *looks slightly hurt*

Gale; Shadowheart: Excuse you?!?

Astarion: Oh, you've done it now. Hurt the feelings of the precious cinnamon roll. Honestly, I'm not thrilled about it either but I'm far less rash about it.

Volo: Oh! Well! I mean ... a bard can't tell their own tales!

Astrid: You tell yours all the time! Also you still haven't answered about 'if you could turn invisible and walk away, why didn't you long before this?', so...

Volo: Well, I am clearly harshing your vibe, so I'll see you back at your camp! *turns invisible; wanders away probably*

Shadowheart: Are you sure you want him in our camp?

Astrid: I need an object lesson. Someone I can look at and go ... well, 'be better'.

Astarion: And you're sure I can't bite him just a little?

Gale: Remember what she said. Cheerful is clearly a blood-borne pathogen; perhaps stupidity is, as well.

Astrid: Eh, he's had enough goblins by now that it's probably not the case ... but best to be careful anyway.

Astarion: You never let me have any fun.

Shadowheart: She lets you drain goblins.

Astarion: We're generally killing them anyway, but fine.

And, down in the warg pens

Astarion: Please tell me we're not rescuing a bear.

Gale; Shadowheart: *look at Astarion as if he's deeply, deeply stupid*

Astrid: *attempting tact* We're rescuing a druid who's currently in a nicely combat-ready shape, I think. Or we're rescuing a bear that doesn't deserve. Either way, goblin splat.

Goblin warg trainer: *summons wolf companion*

Astrid: PUPPY!

Gale: Um ... 'puppy' wants to eat my face.

Bear: *slaps warg trainer into a wall andmakes him a smear*

Wolf Companion: *poofs out of existence*

Astrid: ...Ah. I guess I couldn't have talked that one around.

Bear: *becomes druid* Hello. I'm Halsin. And I'm also surprised you were willing to rescue a bear.

Astrid: Thought so. Hi, I'm Astrid. I was in the neighbourhood clearing out goblin commanders and thought I'd pick you up on the way. And I figured you were a druid because the Shadow Druids that nearly took over your grove because Kagha got scared turned into one and that was a whole thing and--

Halsin: Wait. Kagha did what with who? All right, I'm going over there and if you need me for ... healing reasons or whatever, meet me there. *becomes rat; scurries away*

Astrid: Again, why couldn't he just have done that and got out of his cage? I don't get it.

Gale: People are like that, apparently. Now, shall we take one of those waypoint portals back, so we don't have to get into too many more fights?

Astrid: Works for me. If they're anything like the ones we saw at Moonhaven, they won't be a threat without their leaders and I'm a little tired of hearing the squelch noises.

Back at the Emerald Grove

Zevlor: You rescued Halsin, you rescued the Grove, and you killed all the generals? We're heading to Baldur's Gate while the heading is good but you must let us feast you as best we can before we go.

Astrid: Okay, but I just wanted to talk to Halsin about--

Halsin: Oh. Right. You've got those parasites. I can't help just now but I have an idea but it can wait until morning; you really do deserve a good feasting.

Astrid: Not entirely sure on the "wait until morning" thing, but we've been okay so far, so... I guess? It's been awhile since I had a party.

Partying at camp

Volo: You're lying to me; you should be a mind flayer by now.

Astrid: *gets right up in his face* Take. A. Look.

Volo: *looks*

Volo: *is horrified*

Volo: All right ... all right ... this is ... new ... I need to have a think about this... If I rack my brain I'm sure I'll come up with some old legend that will help...

Gale: I thought he was going to run screaming.

Astrid: ...So did I.

Gale: Was ... was that the plan?

Astrid: Either he was going to run screaming, or he was going to show he was made of the sterner stuff he has to be made of to take this trip. We win either way.

Gale: I ... keep forgetting how devious you are.

That was about it with Gale, but...

Shadowheart: I don't suppose ... you'd want to share some wine and a bedroll?

Astrid: I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. I think ... you need a friend before you need a lover. It could be both, but the friend has to come first.

Shadowheart: That only actually makes me like you more and I suppose you're not just a bit of entertainment, so ... some parts of me are very insistently angry at me, though.

Astarion: I want sex!

Everyone in earshot: *raises eyebrows*

Astarion: Not with the cinnamon roll, though.

Wyll: So you don't ... *ahem* play with your food?

Astarion: Do you shag your food?

Shadowheart: Are you saying you don't go down on your sexual partners, that you're so discerning about the difference between eating and ... well, eating?

Astarion: ...You've all spoiled my appetite all the way around, you cruel people.

Dreamscape, later, with Controller Person wondering what happened to the illusory sex scenes from early access

Guardian: Oh. Hi. Look, you are changing but I won't let you. It's okay. Still, you need to start using the powers that parasite gives you because you're going to need those powers to save the worlds.

Astrid: Worlds ... plural?

Guardian: ...That's your first question?

Astrid: I like to know the full scope of a situation. It's nice to know exactly how hard epic narrative is going to fuck me, and how spiky the strap-on is going to be.

Guardian: .........

Astrid: Astarion got ... look, it doesn't matter. I don't want to be a mind flayer!

Guardian: And you won't be! Not while I'm around! Except I have to go for a bit because we're losing a big battle. But you'll be alright for awhile. Also you're going to have to find the source of the magic that's keeping those things in there if you want them out ever. Trying to pry them out without disabling the magic first would have killed you or worse.

Astrid: ...wut.

Guardian: Gotta go; bye!

Morning happens and:

Astrid: Okay, hands up who got the dream bulletin about the parasites.

Gale; Astarion; Wyll; Shadowheart: *raise hands*

Astrid: Who reckons I'm owed a massive "I Told You So" for rejecting every goblin, hag, and demon's offers to pry it out?

Wyll; Shadowheart; Gale: *put their hands down*

Astarion: ...All right, fine, consider me ... "told so". Now. How do we find the source of this magic?

Halsin: Moonrise Towers, I think. That's about as far as I got before I was taken hostage, anyway. And if you don't mind, I'll come with; I have some research to do, I've appointed a non-Kagha leader for the Grove, and I owe you for the rescue.

Astrid: Okay, how do we get there?

Halsin: Two options. One - we go up a mountain pass and through land that'll kill us at best just by our presence there. Two - we cut through the Underdark. Questionably safer, but there are Shar-worshipping Dark Justiciar down there and--

Shadowheart: *very tiny hero-worship squee*

Astrid: It makes Shadowheart happy and it avoids being driven crazy by the landscape itself? Sold; Underdark it is! Now, where's the nearest entrance!

Halsin: In the Shattered Sanctum somewhere.

Astrid: ...................So ... I ported out of that camp after killing as few goblins as possible ... and now I have to go back through there ... after having killed their generals? Well ... maybe they'll have vacated by now?

And, later:

The Goblins: *have not vacated*

Astrid: Well ... nuts.

[tedturneriscrazy]

Another Saturday, another episode! Let's take a look at Keeping Up A-fear-ances!

(Good lord I'm starting to make myself sound like some sort of content creator)

Oh, okay, we're just starting at that level of intensity, huh?

Chest gem origins

Gwendolyn not being satisfied with managing the curse and determined to cure it? I'm sure this won't be a real world allegory in the slightest.

Oh, so Eda literally just stumbles upon the portal? I could call that contrived, but honestly it's not dissimilar to how Dipper found Journal 3. For that matter, the entirety of Lord of the Rings is predicated on an accidental discovery like this and nobody gave Tolkien shit about it.

Was the eye on the portal cracked in previous episodes? I don't remember.

Seems like Gwen is the "well-meaning but ultimately misguided" flavor of mom.

As an aside, I am now quite curious about how Eda's first trip to the human realm went. Maybe a future episode will cover it? At any rate, I smell a new favorite fic prompt.

The screaming alarms in the Demon Realm will never not be funny to me.

Also, that is a worrying number of hearts. Eda is straight up murdering these poor creatures.

For some reason the gold fang being removable never occurred to me as a possibility, and now I feel like a kid who's discovered that Santa isn't real.

Oh hey, the new outfit! I'm also impressed how close to symmetrical that tearing was.

I need to get a screencap of Luz sleeping on that stack of books because she is adorable.

Also, staying up all night researching? This season seems determined to completely eradicate the notion of Luz being dumb, and I am here for it.

I have a feeling the Hexside mug will be making its way to The Mystery Shack in the near future.

Lilith's first experience with transformation and she seems understandably horrified.

The curse acting stronger when stressed? That seems...important.

Ah, so the dismemberment is from the curse! A surprisingly useful side effect from what we've seen so far.

Can I just say that I appreciate how Eda's reaction to Lilith's first taste of transformation is immediate remedy, explanation, and reassurance? And doesn't make any snarky comments along the lines of "now you know what it's like?" Whatever happened in that week and a half must have been cathartic as hell.

"Always. Always curious." Luz is the TOH fandom.

(Also, Eda, you know she is, considering how much she went on about your "mysterious past" at the Covention)

"Magic bird tornado?!" Luz has a way with words that's just *chef's kiss*.

"Gwendolyn." Eda is already just fucking done.

"MOM?!?!" Jeez, Lilith, you're just now hearing all this?

I was charmed by how motherly Gwen was acting toward Eda, but then she kinda just...dismissed Lilith, and now I'm somehwat less charmed.

(Sweet flea as a term of endearment is kinda cute, though might have some unfortunate implications depending on how you want to interpret it)

"Who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions?" OH WE GOING FOR THE ANTI-VAXXERS NOW YESSSS

Luz and Lilith's reaction to that whole exchange is priceless.

Everyone's perspective here makes perfect sense for who they are and what they've been through.

Poor Lilith. Her cursing Eda is beginning to make more sense.

Ah, thus begins the collaboration.

"We'll be consulting someone very special." Why does that seem so...ominous?

Is there anyone who watched this episode for the first time whose bullshit detector didn't go off immediately when Gwen mentioned finding someone who promised a cure?

Heh, Palm Stings.

Nonbelievers will be blinded by the power of the tome? I'm sure they will be, Wartlop.

I must say, as something of a scientist myself (okay that's not true, I'm a QA tech for a food manufacturer, but I do have a chemistry degree), I am 100% here for the swings being taken at faith healing/"miracle" cures/anti-vaxxers in this episode

Oh, we Wile E. Coyote now, huh?

Also, interesting how much apple blood is being played up in this episode.

Lilith please you're projecting your mommy issues on a literal child

OH WE REALLY JUST WILE E. COYOTE HUH?

You're right, Luz, Gwen's bicep game is goals.

(Somewhat disappointed the scars are from questing and not beastkeeping, but eh)

Why do I get the feeling there's gonna be a future episode where everybody stages an intervention for Eda's apple blood problem?

"Those feathers mean we're driving the beast out" Gwen no

Hooty is holding the brain cell? Oh no...

If that ice cream came from the Night Market it would explain why Lilith sounds drunk.

(Side note: I can't be the only one getting flashbacks to Mermista's ice cream binge, right? Different context, but still)

"Abomi-berry" "Franken fruit" "Key slime pie" These are A+ flavor names.

Oh, there's the transformation...

I must say that whole segment kinda rubbed me the wrong way. The way King's opinion on his dad was changed seemed...I don't know how to describe it. I get that they needed a trigger for Lilith's transformation, but honestly if any part of the episode is contrived it's this.

"¡It really is that good!" So that's what an accent slip in written form looks like. (The upside down exclamation point is used in Spanish, in case anyone didn't know)

I keep half expecting Eda to say "Beep! Beep!" at this point.

Luz is finally asking questions. Took long enough.

Ah, the classic "moving the goal posts to extract more money from a desparate family member" technique.

Luz channeling Scorpion, we love to see it.

There is an exquisite irony in Eda's mom being scammed, I must say.

Ah, so that's where the elixirs went. Dammit, Gwen.

Luz is definitely thinking "Are you fucking kidding me right now?!"

Beast!Lilith is massive.

"Sweet flea?" Gwen just realized she done goofed.

"I can see you still need a little time." God Luz is so fucking smart.

The con revealed.

OH DAMN SCARY MAMA

(Also I am terrified of bees/wasps, so extra scary mama in my book)

The scam is revealed, goblins, getting back into the Wartlop disguise is kinda pointless.

She joined the Beast Keeping coven entirely to cure the curse? That's dedication. A shame you couldn't have spared some of that for Lilith.

Still, I do like badass scary mama Gwen. I'd be down to see more of that.

Owl Beast fight!

I am slayed by the fact that the portraits are now officially a recurring gag 😂

Aw, here's The Moment™️

"My turn to drive" Does this imply cars are a thing on the Boiling Isles after all?

Lilith crying almost immediately💔 She was holding onto a lot of pain.

Yes, King, she was trying to do her best. I mean, road to hell or whatever, but at least Gwen got there in the end.

WHAT?! YOU'RE BREAKING UP LULU AND HOOTCIFER?!?!?!?

Terrace, that's just cruel. (Worthless brownie points for whoever understands that reference)

No, seriously, you can't just give me my favorite inter-character relationship in the series after Lumity and just...take it away like that, come on! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I know I should remark on how Lilith told Gwen about the circumstances of the curse, how Gwen rightfully accepted responsibility for the whole situation, and how Luz finds the big hair aspirational, but...NOOOO DON'T END THE ADVENTURES OF LULU AND HOOTCIFER WHYYYYYYYYY💔😭💔😭💔😭

"BUT I CAN'T HOLD A PEN!"

I will never emotionally recover from this.

Okay, I think I got that out of my system. Anyway...

Not the only human, huh? Cue the "Belos is a human" theorists going into maximum overdrive.

That said, a tantalizing lore dump.

We certainly do have a lot of garbage. Some of it even holds office. HEY-O!

Setting up the next episode, too. Continuity!

Camp's over, huh? That means it's been three months.

Way to misdirect with Camila, guys. That said, we have now seen Camila cry and I HATE it. (In the right way, I think)

WHAT THE FUCK

HOLY SHIT

CREEPY LUZ IS REAL WHAT

OWJEIWHQGIWWOPQ

(It's hard to keysmash on a phone, even with autocorrect off)

That wraps it up! The flaws in this episode seem more pronounced than any others in the season so far, but the good stuff was really good! Overall a solid episode! I know everybody's looking forward to library Lumity in the next one (so am I), but I'm personally eager to see what they do with Gus. His part is the A plot, after all.

Anyway, I'll be back at this next week! Still hard to believe this is a thing, but that's life, I guess.

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

Starhearth Episode 8

Third Month of Spring, Days 5-7

The next day passes without much incident. Sarek takes a break from his crafting to work on the house, while Scotty is hard at work making all the doors and windows for it. There’s a couple more attempted goblin thefts; a second camp has now spawned on the other side of the field, which means even more goblins are going to be coming after our stuff until the camps are destroyed.

I’ve been putting off attacking the first camp because the squad was pretty low level, but this is getting ridiculous. Anyway, the repeated skirmishes have given everyone enough experience to make it to level two, so they should be alright.

In fact, both camps go down very easily.

[ID: 1. A screenshot showing the field across the tavern, with Chekov, Kirk, Leslie, and McCoy spread out and running across it towards a couple of goblins standing around a campfire ring made from skulls. 2. The three warriors running across the field towards another ring of skulls, while McCoy trails behind them with his head down. 3. Chekov, Kirk and Leslie running after a goblin named Figi the Thirsty, which is down to a quarter of his health and fleeing with his hands in the air. McCoy stands a little way away, still with his head down.]

You can tell McCoy is just SUPER enthusiastic about this whole thing.

With that out of the way, work back at the camp can proceed without interruptions for a while. Sarek has crafted enough stone lanterns to get himself to level two, meaning he can finally make Rand’s promotional item.

[ID: The Mason crafting screen, showing the potential crafting recipes on the left as rows of icons grouped into sections like Workbenches, Tools, Storage, and Refinement. On the right are shown the details of the currently selected recipe, a Cook’s Spoon. Its required ingredients are 2 Stone, and its description reads, “Required to promote a hearthling into a Cook...COOKED FOOOOOOOOOD!!!!--Alton the Bard.”]

Now we finally have a Chef! Rand immediately starts making her crafting stations so she can get to work on cooking up some real food.

[ID: Rand, now wearing a blue shirt with a white apron and a square white hat with a blue ribbon, running out of the tavern past the berry bushes. The message box on the right reads, “Janice Rand has been Promoted!--Janice Rand is now a Level 1 Cook!--Camp Cooking: The Cook can make basic, nutritious recipes.”]

Over in the fields, Sulu is harvesting the first batch of silkweed. Work is also progressing well on the house. Most of the villagers at this point are unable to build because they’re occupied crafting or patrolling, but now that Scotty has finished making all the doors and windows he’s able to help out, and he and Sarek are making good time.

[ID: The in-progress house, floor now completed and walls partly up, surrounded by scaffolding. Scotty is standing on some of the scaffolding, building a ladder.]

By the next day, Rand is all set up to start cooking, and sets about making several portions of stew from all the root vegetables and jerky we’ve accumulated.

[ID: Rand standing over a cauldron in the main room of the tavern, crafting Tasty Vegetable Stew.]

Having prepared food to eat quickly improves the general morale. For the first time in a while, everyone is content. Even McCoy!

[ID: The Citizen information box, listing the current eleven villagers and what task each of them is currently performing. The icon for ‘Morale’ is at ‘Content’ for all of the villagers.]

Later that evening, we have an encounter with...a fearsome goblin?

[ID: 1. A notification box reading, “A fearsome goblin approaches!” 2. A dialogue box titled, “Maybe not so fearsome...” with a blue-skinned goblin wearing a skull helmet above the top right corner. The inside of the box reads, “The goblin approaches, revealing itself a bit shorter than expected. “BONES! BONES!” They shout in a playful, almost childish voice. “BOOOONEEES!” They continue. It seems to be harmless.” Below that, much smaller text reads, “Is that a child? Are there goblin children?” and two available dialogue options read, “Bones!” and “Huh?”]

Turns out the goblin is just a child, and a very enthusiastic one at that. She also has a chaperon.

[ID: 1. Another dialogue box featuring the goblin child, titled, “They continue...” The box reads, “They’re clearly happy about it, hopping around in circles. “BONES! BONES! MANY BONES!” Suddenly, a stern and yet compassionate hearthling voice rumbles nearby, “There you are, Rattley!” The single dialogue option below reads, “Who?” 2. Another dialogue box, this one titled, “Now a man approaches!” with the goblin being joined by a hearthling in a blue tunic with a large brown mustache and a small patch of brown hair. The text reads, “He wears the colors of the Northern Alliance. Strong and grizzled, he rests his hand on the head of the little goblin. “So there you are! Going out and making friends, eh?” He notices the people around. “I apologize. Name’s Thorulf, traveler and former Scout of the Library.” With a gentle pat the goblin goes back to jumping around.” Below that, the available dialogue options read, “Greetings!” and “You have a pet...goblin?”]

Thorulf proceeds to explain the situation a little more:

“Rattley is like a daughter to me,” he says with a bittersweet smile. “I am the reason she is alone in the world and she is the reason I left the Library. One watches over the other now!” he laughs, shoving away the past back where it belongs. “I know you are busy so we’ll go find a place to camp for some days!” He waves his hand, calling Rattley closer.

So I guess Thorulf probably killed her family? Um. Okay. Well, we can’t really claim much moral high ground at this point when it comes to killing goblins, I guess.

[ID: Another dialogue box, this one titled, “They turn around...” The text reads, “ “Oh, I was almost forgetting...” He scratches the back of his head and smirks. “I’ll be busy setting up camp and won’t have time to hunt so soon...Would you mind gifting little Rattley a couple of bones?” The little goblin reacts to it. “BONES! GIVE BONES!” Thorulf stares back at her. “Rattley, what have I told you?” She looks down. “Please?” Thorulf smiles. “We would appreciate it, she loves carving them!” Below this is the dialogue option, “Of course!”]

You can’t have Bones, we need him!--Oh, no, I see, okay.

It’s no problem to gift Rattley a few bones—they’ve been piling up from all the animals Uhura traps for some time now, since we don’t currently have any use for them. She seems quite happy with her gift.

[ID: Another dialogue box, this one featuring only Rattley, titled, “The little goblin rejoices.” The text reads, “She quickly grab [sic] the materials. “BONES! BONES!” Behind her, Thorulf is finishing setting up the camp. “Rattley, thank them for the gift!” She looks back before continuing. “BONES! You make Rattley happy!” Below that, the single dialogue option reads, “Have fun!”]

Rattley and Thorulf leave to go make camp elsewhere, and the sun sets on the last day of spring. It’s been hard going for this first season of our settlement, but we’ve gone from everyone sleeping on the ground and living on wild berries to having shelter to sleep and work under, a band of warriors to keep everyone safe, several crafters working on providing goods for the community, fields to grow crops in, and hot stew to eat. I’d say we’re not doing too badly! Hey, no one’s died.

Time now to see what summer will bring.

[ID: An information box showing the day’s weather. It reads, “Today: Hot and Sunny. A nice and warm sunny day! Maybe too sunny, the heat is not good...Normal sunlight levels. Fairly reduced humidity. Unsheltered hearthlings are too hot to work as effectively. Unsheltered pasture animals are affected by the heat.”]

heat stroke, apparently

[hurt-care]

Ok prompt time. Lupin who thinks he's over the cold he's been fighting but his actions speak louder and Sirius isn't letting him off the hook.

A little drabble in response to this and an anon request for a fic involving someone catching another person’s sneezes in a handkerchief.

-

Sirius was sitting alone in the only sunny spot in Grimmauld Place, basking in the glow of the warm sun that poured through the skylight into the small attic. If he wasn't going to be allowed outside, he would have to be the next best thing. During his time on the run, he'd often curled up as Padfoot in a sunny patch to drench himself in as much warmth as he could stand. After Azkaban, he never felt like he could get warm enough.

The attic stairs creaked as someone climbed the rickety ladder into the room. Remus Lupin's head popped up in the passageway and Sirius sat up, grinning.

“You're back!” he said.

“I'm back,” Remus confirmed. He sounded hoarse and tired.

“How was the mission? Any success?”

Remus hauled himself up onto the landing and crossed to sit in the sunny patch with Sirius.

“It was...it was alright,” he said wearily, stretching his arms with a yawn. “I don't think I'm making much progress but if it's what Dumbledore wants, I guess it has to happen.”

Sirius frowned.

“Yeah, but sending you off to be miserable in some god-forsaken werewolf camp for a mission that isn't making a difference seems like a ridiculous waste of your time.”

Remus shrugged and reclined on the wooden plank floor, closing his eyes.

“I don't know. It's what he wants. I don't ask questions.”

“Well, maybe you should,” Sirius retorted. “You don't owe him this.”

Remus opened one eye and peered up at Sirius critically.

“I owe him everything.”

“What the hell did he do for you after we....when you were alone?” Sirius asked.

Remus didn't reply for a moment as he scrubbed his face with his palm, wincing.

“I don't want to argue, Pads.”

“We're not arguing.”

“He tried but I didn't want help. I was fine.”

“Just like you're fine now,” Sirius said, gazing down at his friend.

Remus frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“You look awful and you sound just as bad.”

“I had a cold,” Remus explained. “I'm almost over it now. We were camping outside for two weeks. It wasn't the most luxurious.”

“Almost over it?” Sirius repeated. “Alright. Sure.”

Remus sat up slowly.

“Look, I'm tired and I need a shower. I just wanted to say hello and to tell you that I'm back. Enjoy your sun.”

He stood and made his way down the ladder. Sirius glared after him, frustrated. Sometimes his pre-Azkaban memories were hazy or jumbled, but this one stood out clearly: Remus Lupin was terribleat being sick. And stubborn as a mule when it came to admitting it.

Sirius stretched widely and shook out his limbs before reluctantly leaving the patch of sun and climbing the ladder steps back into the upper floor of the house. Down the hall, the shower was running and he paused in the hallway outside the door, listening. Sure enough, he heard a series of raspy coughs and the sound of Lupin blowing his nose. Idiot.

He went downstairs to the kitchen and put on a pot of tea and found some leftover stew from Molly's dinner last evening. Remus appeared after a while, damp-haired and dressed in a stretched-out jumper that had clearly been darned back together more than once. Sirius scowled at him.

“Dry your hair or you'll get sicker,” he muttered.

Lupin laughed.

“Oh my god, you sound like my mother,” he said, sinking down into a chair and accepting a cup of tea and a bowl of soup. He flicked his wand and performed a simple drying charm on his sandy brown-grey hair. “I told you, I'm almost over it. This is just the tail end bit where I sound hoarse but feel fine.”

“Right,” Sirius drawled. “We'll see about that.”

They ate the stew, making idle chatter. Bill and Fleur stopped by and joined the little group. As Bill talked animatedly about a new vault discovery at Gringotts, Sirius glanced over to see Remus resting his head in his hand, his eyes fluttering as he fought off sleep. He felt his heart give a painful tinge. Why didn't Remus just admit that he felt as bad as he looked and go to bed?

“The thing is,” Bill was saying. “No one realized that the previous owners had transferred the vault security access to a Muggle and of course, they can't access it so...”

Hurhhh-TSGHH!

Across the table, Remus moved suddenly and covered his nose with steepled hands, sneezing roughly.

“Bless you,” Sirius said with a small smirk on his face. Remus cleared his throat and glared back but an expression of irritation crossed his face after a brief moment and he turned back into his hands.

Ehh-tsGHHT! Nhh-GSGHHTT!

“A tes souhaits!” Fleur exclaimed, looking down the table with a concerned expression. “Are you unwell?”

Remus pressed the back of his wrist to his nose and sniffled.

“I'm fine,” he said. “What were you saying about the vault, Bill?”

Sirius bit his tongue to prevent himself from calling bullshit aloud.

Bill continued his chatting as they all listened, chiming in with thoughts about goblin relations. Sirius stole a look at Remus and found him listening with his eyes half-shut.

“Moony?” he said softly during a break in the conversation. Remus jumped a little, startled.

“Mhm?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes reflexively.

“Can I talk to you in the library for a moment? Can you two excuse us, Bill and Fleur?”

Remus gulped down the dregs of his tea and stood up stiffly.

“Sure, we should get going anyway,” Bill remarked, sending their dishes towards the sink with a flick of his wand.

The pair drifted into the library as Bill and Fleur said their goodbyes and headed for the door.

Remus flopped down onto the lumpy leather couch without pretence, openly yawning.

“You're an idiot,” Sirius said fondly, sitting down at his side.

“What?” Remus asked. “What do you want?”

“I want you to get some rest,” Sirius replied. “You're still sick. You're ignoring it, but it's obvious.”

He reached over and gently wove his fingers through Remus thick, sandy hair and scratching at his scalp. Remus slumped at the touch, closing his eyes.

“I thought it was getting better,” he murmured. He coughed a few times as if to demonstrate that the cold still had a grip on him.

“Poor Moony,” Sirius whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It's okay. You can relax here. I won't fuss.”

“That's precisely what you're doing,” Remus replied, but he was smiling. With a sigh, he stretched out and rested his head on Sirius lap. Sirius continued to stroke his hair gently.

They snuggled together peacefully for a few blissful moments until Remus' body tensed and he choked out “Ah—I'm sorry I have to-” and suddenly trembled against Sirius with an unrestrained sneeze.

Eh-tsgGHHT!

“Remus,” Sirius began to say.

Ehh—hehh-TSGHHT!

The man on his lap shook again, sneezing into a cupped hand and then sniffling miserably.

“Do you have a handkerchief?” Sirius asked.

Remus murmured a “no” from behind his hand shield.

Carefully, Sirius extracted one from his pocket and gently guided it around Remus' nose.

“Blow,” he instructed.

Remus blushed and tried to refuse.

“It's fine, Moony,” Sirius insisted. “You'll feel better.”

Remus blew tentatively, not clearing much congestion.

“More,” Sirius instructed. “Let it out.”

Remus shook his head slowly and Sirius, mistaking it for refusal, withdrew the cloth. And then, Remus' breath hitched rapidly and his eyebrows furrowed and Sirius knew instantly what was about to happen. He nestled the handkerchief back over Remus' nose just in time.

Eh-tsgXHCHHT! Nhh'TSCHH! Ehhhh....tsxcHGHT!

The hot breath rushed into the handkerchief with each wrenching outburst. Finally, they stopped and Remus blew his nose harder, honking into the cloth.

“There,” Sirius said, satisfied. He pinched the handkerchief off Remus' nose and gave a gentle wipe across his nostrils. Remus sighed and closed his eyes.

“You're right,” he groaned. “It's not gone.”

“I told you so,” Sirius chided gently. “Up to bed?”

“No,” Remus murmured. “It's comfortable here.”

Sirius brushed his hands through Remus' shaggy hair and smiled.

“Alright. Rest up. I'll stay right here.”

[sockablock]

• (start) (prev) (next) •

Chapter 8: The Long, Looping Scrawl

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 9:08AM

Lavender Thunder: soooooooo good news and bad news Lavender Thunder: the GOOD news is that gustav isn’t arrested and the cops have cooled off and nobody else is dead Seaman: that is pretty good news Lavender Thunder: yeah well Lavender Thunder: the bad news is that kylre isn’t going to be around anymore Lavender Thunder: and that I think we might need to find some new jobs Lavender Thunder: the Moondrop is gonna be out of commission for like Lavender Thunder: kind of a while

•

Jester, from where she stood next to the couch with her hands over Fjord’s ribs, watched Molly make his way through the front door and into the living room. “What does ‘a while’ mean?” she asked as he approached. “Like…how long is that, exactly?”

Molly collapsed onto the sofa opposite them and shrugged. “My best guess? Probably over half a year,” he said glumly. “It’s mostly to raise funding. Gustav says that he’s got to pay off a heavy fine to the city for all the endangerment his ‘employee’ caused before he’s even allowed to start rebuilding, and then there’s the cost of repairs and the cost of new furniture and the cost of new equipment. Not to mention how long it’ll take to actually fix everything. You should keep an eye out too, Fjord,” he added with a nod to the half-orc, “word on the street is that Fletch will also be closed in the meantime. Gustav or Desmond will probably send out some kind of notice later on today.”

Fjord sighed. “Yeah, I figured something like that might happen.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime, then?” Jester asked. “And what’s everybody else doing?”

“I’m not sure about myself yet,” Molly shrugged. “I know Gustav and Desmond are going to stick around and oversee reconstruction. Everyone else is taking time off to travel and visit family. The Sisters are going back to Felderwin for a bit, and Bosun says he’s going to go backpacking through the countryside. Yasha also took off to do…whatever it is she always does. And Ornna’s taking care of Toya now, though I’m not entirely sure what that entails.”

“I take it that Kylre’s out of the picture, then?” Fjord asked.

“Yeah, what exactly happened to him, anyways?” Jester asked. “You need should be less vague over text.”

Molly’s expression immediately went dark. “It’s…not great, dear. Kylre…well, after the authorities determined that he was a fiend, they elected to…to…”

Fjord sat up as best as he could. “What, Molly? What did they do?”

Molly’s shoulders sagged. “They took him to the Zauber Spire,” he said. “They’re banishing him to the Nine Hells.”

“What?!” Jester shouted. “What do you mean, banishing?”

“I mean that they’re going to send him there for good,” Molly mumbled. “According to what Gustav told us, the police decided that because he’s a fiend, he should be sent back to where ‘his kind’ reside. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Fjord reached out a hand as if to comfort him, and then thought better of it.

“Fuck, Mol,” he said instead. “I’m…I’m sorry."

Mollymauk shrugged listlessly. “It’s no fault of yours,” he said. “It was just…shitty. Complete horseshite.”

They sat there in silence for a few more moments. The distant sound of cars honking drifted up from the streets and through the window.

“Well…” Jester tried eventually, “…at least everybody else is okay?”

Molly snorted. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, at least there’s that. I guess…I don’t know, I guess in a weird way, life will go on. Just without one of the troupe now, and with a lot of dumb financial problems.”

“Fuck…yeah,” Fjord sighed. “This means I gotta find a new place to work. For the time being, anyhow.”

Jester’s eyes went wide. “Oh, shit!” she said. “Does that…does that still mean we can move in? Or are we going to have to wait a bit, now? I mean,” she added hastily, “it’s okay if we do, totally cool—”

Fjord reached for her hand, and she relaxed.

“It’ll be fine,” he said gently. “As soon as my damn ribs get better, I’ll ask around and see what’s available. Maybe there’ll be something I can pick up at the Leaky Tap, or somethin’, and we can go from there. But…Molly, will you be alright?”

Molly hesitated. He thought for a moment about his bank account, and then considered how tired he was.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe?”

Jester, despite the mood, giggled. “That doesn’t sound very responsible of you,” she said.

He gave her a half-smile. “We managed to negotiate the rent down for this year, and I’ve got plenty saved up. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually spend that much money.”

“It’s true,” Fjord agreed. “He eats at the Moondrop all the time and gets people to buy him stuff that he sells.”

Molly grinned. “I’m a financial wizard,” he nodded. Then he paused, and added, “but maybe I should look into finding a roommate. If you two decide to go ahead with the apartment plan, that is.”

“We’ll see,” they both said at the same time.

“Alright, you two, alright,” Molly laughed. “Keep me posted. I’m gonna need time if I’m gonna scout someone out that snores less than Fjord. Honestly, I don’t envy you, Jester.”

She started giggling again. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll make Caleb find me a silence spell that I can cast on him every night.”

“Hey!” Fjord protested, and then winced. He settled for sinking back down onto the cushions and pouting. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s really bad,” said Molly. “It’s literally the loudest sound in the entire world.”

•

“That can’t be enough,” Nott commented as she peered over Caleb’s shoulder. “Look at how much water there is! That little cup is nothing.”

“It’s the right amount,” Caleb sighed and turned around to face her. “Believe me, I have done this hundreds of times before.”

“How come?” she asked. “Did you go camping a lot as a kid?”

They were both kneeling in the bathroom, positioned on the tiled floor next to the edge of a very full bathtub. Caleb had begrudgingly dipped into the month’s budgeted water usage, telling himself that he’d take less showers, and after heating the bath with a few magic spells, they were both currently blanketed by a thick layer of steam.

That smelled, rather strongly, of vinegar.

“Not exactly campfires,” Caleb said lightly, “but I suppose that works. Anyways, this is the best way to remove ashy smells from our clothing. I feel terrible, ruining them like this in battle. Especially since your dress was brand new, Nott.”

The little goblin shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said, “I don’t really think they’re ruined.”

“I am sure that you do not, though others may have differing opinions.”

“They always do,” she said solemnly. “I always ignore them.”

They finished hanging up their fancy attire on the neck of the showerhead, then left the bathroom and shut the door tightly behind them. Caleb moved towards his bed, flopped down and buried his face into the pillow. He felt a light weight sink into the mattress near the space by his foot, and he shifted slightly to give Nott more room.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Bitte. Gods, I am exhausted.”

“Me too,” she said. “I don’t even feel like doing anything today.”

“What a night that was, eh?” he asked, muffled but with a mild chuckle. “Certainly more than what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted a giant toad monster would turn a guy into a zombie and then fight us in an abandoned warehouse,” said Nott.

There was a beat of silence.

“Ja okay,” he said. “Point taken.”

There was a longer silence after that, in which Nott sprawled upside-down off the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. Caleb shoved his face further into the pillow, and tried to think of a happy place. Or at least, a sleep-inducing one.

Then:

“Those were some pretty good pancakes, though.”

Caleb turned his head. “What?” he asked.

“Those pancakes,” Nott repeated. “That Molly made us. Those were really good.”

He blinked. “Er…yes,” he agreed hesitantly. “They were rather nice, yes.”

“And it was really nice of him to let us use his bathroom,” she said. “And it was nice that he gave us clothes, and blankets, and made us tea. Even if it was creepy tea.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “Yes?” he said. “That is…true. Er…is there something you have to say about all that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “There is. Last night was just…really nice. I liked it.”

“Despite the death and monster and fighting?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded. “Yeah. To be honest, I don’t think that stuff really matter too much.”

“Was? Why is that?”

Nott smiled. “Because we have friends now,” she said. “A lot of them.”

Caleb rolled over onto his back and stared up at the chipped ceiling. He considered this.

“Ja…I suppose we do.”

Nott’s smile widened. “I like them,” she said. “It was fun before, with just the girls, but after everything we all went through together, it sort of feels like…I guess it sort of feels like this whole group is a family.”

Caleb felt something flicker in his chest. He tamped it down immediately.

“I see,” he said eventually.

Nott giggled. “It’s okay if you don’t want to agree with me. I know the truth, anyhow.”

“Do you? What is that?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.

Nott closed her eyes again. “You like them too,” she said.

For a long, long while, Caleb thought of something to say.

And then, when nothing came, he closed his eyes as well and eventually fell back asleep.

•

“Beauregard!” Jester shouted, bursting into their apartment, “are you awake?! I am home! And ready to…”

She trailed off and looked around the empty kitchen. The lights were off, and the windows drawn shut, leaving only thin trails of light creeping in around the curtains. She dropped her purse, and the plastic bag that held her dress onto the floor, and took a few steps forward.

“Beau?” she called, quieter this time. “…Beau…? Are you there?”

Almost immediately, something began to stir at the back of her mind. Something heavy, and unbidden, and unnerving, and old. She felt her hand unconsciously reach into her pocket, and clutch a small metal object on a thick leather cord. She traced her fingers along its smooth surface, and relaxed slightly as a familiar warmth washed over her.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax further, and had just recovered her signature cheery smile when her eyes caught a single piece of paper lying on the kitchen table.

She ran towards it quicker than she probably would have liked. She immediately began to read the long, looping scrawl across its surface.

Jes—

I went to take care of some shit. I’ll be back tonight, but I’m not sure if I’ll be ready to talk to you about it ‘til later. I trust you more than any of these other assholes we call friends, so please don’t be upset if I don’t say shit when I return, alright? And please, please don’t ask any questions. I promise that the second I’m ready, I’ll tell you everything.

See you later,

Drunkmonk

She stared at the frustratingly short letter for a few more seconds. She flipped it around, saw nothing, then flipped it back over.

“Beau will be back tonight,” she whispered. She took another deep breath, and nodded. She carefully folded the page and slid it into her pocket.

“Did you hear that, Traveler?” she asked the air in front of her. “Beau is fine! She’s just running errands. And, and she said that she trusts me! Isn’t that cool?”

Jester was still, and silent for a moment. Her ears twitched as if listening to a far-off song.

“I agree,” she said eventually. “Also, thanks for helping out earlier with Fjord! I’m really glad he’s okay. And I’m really glad you were there for us.”

Another pause. Another strange, silent hum.

And then she laughed and nodded brightly. “That’s a great idea! Come on, I think I remember where I put it. We were on chapter nine, right?”

And then she skipped into her bedroom, leaving the door wide open behind her.

•

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 6:19PM

Seaman: good news yall! Seaman: Wessick says that the Tap’s looking for an evening bartender, and he says ive got the job! Seaman: which ALSO means yall get a friends and family discount for karaoke Seaman: probably Lavender Thunder: HECK YEAH Lavender Thunder: THAT’S AWESOME FJORD Lavender Thunder: why didnt you tell me that to my face though we live in the same house Seaman: i wanted to spread the happy news all at once Molly Seaman: also I still cant move and you went into your bedroom Seaman: sue me (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: that’s AWESOME (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: FJORD IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU Seaman: thank you Jester NottSoBrave: fjord you need to respond more energetically than that NottSoBrave: you shouldnt leave a lady wanting NottSoBrave: otherwise someone could snatch her up Lavender Thunder: oh and what do you know about women? NottSoBrave: i happen to BE a WOMEN NottSoBrave: woman NottSoBrave: whatever NottSoBrave: oh also Caleb says congratulations Seaman: thank you Caleb Seaman: and thanks for the relationship advice, i think? Seaman: don’t mention it Seaman: hey beau and yasha, what’re you going to do? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: beaus busy right now (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: but im sure she’ll answer later! Lavender Thunder: ditto for yasha Lavender Thunder: that’s just how she do NottSoBrave: how mysterious NottSoBrave: why are they gone? NottSoBrave: is yasha a spy? is Beau a spy Lavender Thunder: yes Lavender Thunder: theyre spies

Nott looked up from her phone screen, stared at Frumpkin dead in his clear blue eyes.

“Hear that?” she said. “I knew it.”

“Spatz!” Caleb called from the kitchen. “Come on, your noodles are getting cold!”

“Coming!” she yelled back. She gave Frumpkin one last solemn nod, then tossed her cell onto the covers and scuttled out of the bedroom.

•

Beau arrived home that night well after sunset. She shut the front door behind her as quietly as she could, but frowned and looked around suspiciously when she noticed that all the lights were still on. Then she saw the living room couch, and her gaze softened.

Jester was laid out on the cushions, fully dressed and fast asleep. There was a tray on the coffee table in front of her, piled high with pastries and sporting a now-chilly cup of hot chocolate. A note next to the tray read:

For Beau!

She sighed. “You little weirdo,” she said, “you didn’t have to wait for me.”

She slid her backpack onto the carpet and carefully lifted Jester into her arms, bridal-style. She made it all the way to Jester’s extravagant canopy bed, and was almost done tucking her in, when she stirred awake.

Jester’s eyes slowly peeked open. Her irises glowed in the darkness.

“Beau?” she mumbled. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, Jes,” she said. “I’m back.”

Jester’s brow furrowed slightly. “You…your face is messed up.”

Beau reached up, felt the tender skin around her bruised eye and split lip. She shrugged and gave Jester a faint smile. “It’s nothing,” she said. “I fell.”

“That’s a lie,” Jester murmured, and closed her eyes. “But it’s okay. You said you trust me, and I trust you too. You can tell me whenever you’re ready.”

Beau was silent for a moment. Then she sighed. “…thanks, Jes,” she said eventually.

“I’m glad you’re home,” came the sleepy response. “I’m glad you came back to me.”

Beau scoffed. “Of course I did,” she said. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

There was no answer. After a moment, Beau pulled the blankets up to Jester’s shoulder, turned around, and went back to her room.

•

And then, after that, life more-or-less returned to whatever semblance of normalcy it had once held, for most of them.

For most of them.

•

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 10:22AM

Lavender Thunder: guysssss Lavender Thunder: whos around??!!?? Lavender Thunder: im bored out of my goddamn mind Lavender Thunder: and yashas still gone (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: ughhhh sorry mollyyyy I have class now (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: and Fjord too right now Lavender Thunder: ah its arlight dear Lavender Thunder: anybody else? Drunkmonk: i hate you, so no Drunkmonk: but actually im also doing stuff right now Lavender Thunder: fuck off Lavender Thunder: nott and Caleb? NottSoBrave: calebs working at the library toady NottSoBrave: and I don’t want to hang out with you Lavender Thunder: wow alright then (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: Nott!! Apologize to Molly!! NottSoBrave: sorry Lavender Thunder: gee thanks Lavender Thunder: anyways have fun doing your stuff yall Lavender Thunder: i guess ill ,, read a book or something

Molly lowered his phone.

He was seated on his bed, wrapped up in his silk pajamas, staring out the window at the bright and bustling city landscape beyond.

This was a strange feeling. Here he was warm, and comfortable, and the sunlight gently caressed his skin with its soothing morning rays.

But today he should have been at the Moondrop. Today he should have been in the dark backstage performer’s lounge, helping the sisters with their makeup, or watching Desmond tune his instruments, or failing to stack crates as high as Yasha could, or riffing with Bo or giving Toya piggy-back-rides or pestering Ornna or chatting lazily with Kylre or learning about sound equipment from Gustav or even bemoaning the lack of proper lighting above his dresser mirror as he tried to apply his favorite glittering eyeshadow before the afternoon shows began.

Instead, he was here.

For the first time in his entire, extraordinarily short life, Mollymauk Tealeaf felt alone.

And he realized now, with rising dread, that he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

• • •

hey guys! Just letting you know, I’m going on a short hiatus now that Arc 1 is complete! Updates will definitely be coming, as I take time to sort out my other WIPs and adjust to college and the UK. Thank you so much for reading!!!

💚 ☕ ☕ 💚

[corrupted-sorrow]

I'm sorry to bother you but Oumeno-12? It's okay if you don't want to do it, I just love your stuff

It isn´t a bother at all! I love writing these :D Thank you, I´m happy to know!

12 - Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?

(This one will be looooong!)

Yes! And as expected, it was a blast. No, really. You know DICE. They made sure to make the wedding place very trendy and dreamy at the same time to fit the tastes of their boss and their “princess”, too.

But coming back in time a little… About their proposal… Everything started when their class was about to graduate from Hope´s Peak. All of them were also invited to take part on Future Foundation, if they wanted to. Naegi personally went there and revealed he had an interest in some of the 16 soon-to-be graduates. This included Kokichi (Now 18)

“Your leadership skills have grown very much in just three years. Not to mention… Despite being emotionally affected, you were a splendid strategist and a keen observator in V3 Simulator. You would be a great help there, Ouma-kun.”

Kokichi was flattered, even though he didn´t wanted to remember that horrible experience. He really could be a major leader in an important place! However… His smile was gone when he realized… He would have to abandon DICE… And Himiko wasn´t called. Only Shuuichi, Miu, Kiibo and Maki would go with him. What to do…? …………….

“Sorry, Naegi-chan. I´ll have to reject the offer. But thanks for making me look so cool, nishi~”

“E-eh? W-wait! Just like this? Ouma-kun, the Foundation changed very much in the last five years… Me, my former classmates and senpai made a very comfortable environment for all agents, cientists, ultimates… I think you would like it.”

“Hey, that sounds nice for you guys. If it were like a military camp, it would be terrible~ But that´s the truth, I need to stay here. Sorry about it.”

So Kokichi left Naegi behind, pretty sure that he did the right thing. It would be fine. He would graduate and keep making money with some scams, heists and stuff. Having fun until he becomes a true gentleman thief someday! He laughed a bit alone. Not to mention… He wanted to be beside her… The person who matured together with him, both physically and emotionally.

“Yep… I gotta get those rings… I really want her to be my empress… Yeeeah… That´s a truth I definitely like to think about!” - The psychiatric treatment also helped a lot. Of course he never said to the man that he was some sort of chaotic good rogue with merry subordinates. But that´s okay… I guess.

However… As his crew heard the news, they weren´t that happy. Kokichi was confused and asked why the long faces.

“Leader, you know… You should think about your future better. If you want to marry Yume-chan, that is. After all… Of course we have fun, but I think we shouldn´t make extreme moves as of now…” - Said the tallest man with blonde hair.

“Wha… Why? You… You guys want to disband?” - Kokichi trembled.

“Oh, nononono!!! Not at all! Most of us are adults, now! We can drink together, drive the car to everywhere, go to strip clubs and…”

“OKAY, SO WHAT GIVES?” - Kokichi definitely didn´t wanted jokes.

“You… You can be to jail for real if the cops catch you, boss! Don´t you see? Then you might not see Yume-chan again! Your record will be ruined!” - Screamed the twintail girl.

“And you grew a lot… More mature, stronger, taller, smarter… When I remember how scrawny you were… Boss… Of course DICE can continue. We just think you also need to improve your skills, work seriously. You are different from us. That´s why we follow and respect you… And we want your happiness…” - Said the tallest woman.

Kokichi didn´t knew what to answer… He definitely didn´t wanted to date by e-mail and voice chat. He wouldn´t be able to propose. He just went to his room, silently.

And you ask… “Hey, what about Himiko?”. Well… She was also sad, in her room. But she was thinking a completely different thing.

“Nnnaaa… Ouma… He will be far, now… I can work wherever I want to, so I have plenty of time to decide or…. I wouldn´t mind becoming a housewife. I can do both stuff…………………….. But how we will marry if he will be so far away…………….” - So there she was, her face on the desk, daydreaming. She thought he accepted it. But was trying to feel better, thinking about his future.

Next day, they met at the class. Himiko looked down.

“Ouma, you see… This thing of being invited by Future Foundation is pretty nice… They must have even a spa there… Nyehehe…….. A-ahem! So, this is a great opportunity, huh? I am really glad for you. Though… Well, we can trade messages, right?”- She gave a shy smile, playing with her fingers.

“Yumeno-chan, I won´t go.” - Blunt.

“N-nyeh? B-but you can put your leadership in action, get plenty of money, meet some legendary ultimates… I don´t understand……. Ah, of course… It´s a lie, I still get caught, nyehe…”

“Nope, that´s the truth. I need to stay here. I will find another place to lead and get clean money if that´s the case. I´m serious. You know I don´t lie as much as before.”

“Y-yes… B-but then… Um… Why you want to stay?” - Himiko was nervous.

“……….” - He didn´t wanted to spit out his plan of proposal. - “ Cause of DICE, of course!” - And gave that usual smile.

“Nna… I sorta thought that would be the case….. There´s nothing else?”

“Who knows~”

Himiko knew he was plotting something. But what? For one week, she was alert all the time. Which kind of prank it would be? Tenko and Angie were even worried… But finally, the Graduation Day has come. Everyone sat on their places on the gynasium, waiting for the classic speech from the principal. There was something weird… Kokichi, Shuuichi and Rantaro… Where were they?

“Hey, hey… What the hell? Shuuichi is never late! How can he be in such an important day? Harumaki, did you saw th—” Kaito was complaining, until all the lights were out suddenly. “HIAAAAAA!!!!” <—– High pitch

Chatter, chatter… A spotlight on the stage… Revealing,,, A flying… Gentleman Phantom Thief?

“THE HELL IS THIS? DID OUMA FINALLY FRIED HIS BALLS?”- From Miu, sure.

“WOOOOW!!! OUMA-KUN IS FLYING!!!” - Gonta, of course.

“T-that´s Ouma-kun, indeed… But why he is wearing the Halloween costume I made last year?” - Tsumugi was very confused.

Some cheered for him, some called him a show-off, some just laughed… Himiko was just watching his boyfriend acting like a circus performer above her. As soon Kokichi made a signal to the stage, the flying movement got slower…. And like in Mission Impossible, he was “floating” in front of Himiko.

“I came to steal your heart, my most beloved lady~ Accept this calling card, yes?” - With a charming smile, he gave her the card with a red rose. Started to rose again, going to the stage.

“N-N-N-NNNaaaa???” - Himiko blushed like a tomato. Heard girls gossiping, swooning… And read [Come right now to the stage. I haven´t finished my work heeere~ Your gorgeous Phantom Thief] “W-what he… Wha… Uh…”

“I wonder… Will my target appear? My, my… Won´t I be able to steal what I want, today? Sob~” - Kokichi acts, talking on the microphone. At this rate, all the boys and girls were getting kinda excited to see what would happen! Himiko took a deeeep breath and made her way in heavy steps to the stage, with her usual angry “OOOOUUUMAAAA!!!”

“Nishishishi~ My target! it´s finally here! Now… I know what to do to steal this cute crystal heart!” - Now he was playing around a bit.

“N-NNNAAAA!!! W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THIS IS AN IMPORTANT DAY, YOU KNOW? N-NOT TO MENTION EVERYONE IS LOOKING! Y-YOU KNOW I PREFER…” - While she was scolding him, a soft, pink light illuminated the stage. Rose petals scattered from above… Himiko just looked… There was Shuuichi with a bag of said petals. “I can´t believe it…” Himiko felt Kokichi´s hand gently holding hers, looking at him. He took off the hat. His other hand was on his pocket.

“Hey… You know why I decided to refuse that? ……. Yeah…. For DICE, sure… But actually, there´s a main reason…”

“Which… Is…?” - Her heart was like a Heavy Metal band battery.

“You see, Yumeno-chan… I don´t plan to be a Supreme Leader forever… Actually… Maybe something more fitting… Like an emperor! It would be a blast!……………………………. However…… It would be boring if I were alone….. Soooo…. Maybe if I had a empress…..” - And so…. He took out the ring box out of his pocket.

Himiko thought she was going to burst. He was serious. He just made everything more playful, as he usually likes. She smiled widely and laughed a bit, but out of pure joy. Who didn´t knew her well would think she would refuse.

“SO!” - Kokichi put himself in the classic proposal position, on knee. Holding the microphone on one hand and the ring box on another. - “My most beloved Yumeno Himiko-chan… Will you be my empress? Will you let me take your heart? …………………. “ - He made a more serious, but tender tone.”…… Will you marry me?”

The crowd went crazy, hoping to hear a “yes” from Himiko. Many knew it would happen someday. The classmates were really excited to know.

“…….. Only if you let me take YOUR heart with my magic, too. And yes……… I will~~” - She kept smiling more and more, feeling in heaven.

“Fair enough!” - Then instead of putting the rings, he held her for a surprise kiss, which was a bit hidden by his white cape. The crowd applauded, screamed, cried… Soon, the principal showed up, infuriated with Kokichi´s mess. But whoa, it was worth it!

After the ceremony, Kokichi and Himiko put their engagement rings properly.

“You did such a number on there… But… It was fun, actually~”

“Nishishi… As if I would make a boring proposal!”

“Then I wonder about the marriage… Nnnaaa… Will you put some goblin inside the cake?”

“Maaaaybe?”

Nah, he didn´t do anything like that. What happened was… Just after their vows and kiss were done… He threw a smoke bomb, instant changing to his Supreme Leader from DICE clothes, Then, carried Himiko in bridal style, shouting:

“HEY, EVERYONE! THANKS FOR COMING! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THE PARTY MY CREW WILL THROW! NOW….. I NEED TO CARRY THIS FUTURE EMPRESS……. TO OUR HONEYMOON!!!” - That said, he just jumped outta the window with Himiko. Everyone, except the few who knew about Kokichi´s plan and helped to organize everything for the travel, were with their mouths down to the floor.

Yeees~ The honeymoon! We are talking about two sweet tooth, which like fantasy and rpg, right? So they went to Europe, to make a tour! Mostly Switzerland and Germany. They enjoyed the well-known chocolate and other candy made with it. Also visited old towns, from centuries ago, but that were like new.

Now, then… Since there´s honeymoon… There´s that, right? Fufufu… Yeah… They had lots of fun and sweet moments of romance… But more importantly… Let´s say they went back to Japan with one very special souvenir, if you get what I mean~

But that´s a story for another time~

[rosecorcoranwrites]

Tale of a White Rabbit

Originally published on www.rosecorcoranwrites.com

“Bostwick,” Emmaline began tentatively, “do you think, maybe, you could take me out of your pocket?”

“Why?”

“Well, It's just… a little too much jostling for my tastes.”

In reality, the repeated swaying and bumping that came with riding in the magician's side coat pocket had given her a combination of nausea and headache, but she had been raised to put things delicately, and moreover, the magician had done enough complaining for both of them that day.

“You want me to carry you again?” Bostwick asked in a resigned tone.

“I can try hopping beside you for a while.”

“Okay.” He gently pulled her out of his pocket, still a little unsure of how exactly to hold a rabbit that was actually a person, and set her on the rocky path beside him. “But try to keep up.”

They set off again up the trail, with dark clouds and looming peaks above and reddish black dirt below. Emmaline could tell that Bostwick had slowed down to allow her to keep pace with him. She was very small, even for a rabbit, and her gait, if that's what her little hops could be called, felt like a completely inadequate way to climb the mountain path. Still, she wanted to practice using her new rabbit feet, to get used to them… just not too used to them.

She looked back down the six switchbacks they had already climbed to try and see the carriage that had taken them across the Styxian Wastes, but they had already departed back toward the Empire, disappearing among the red earth and piles of garbage that they had driven through that morning. Emmaline remembered looking over an old, yellowing map of Ataxia that Mr. Charles had unearthed before they set out on their journey. The Rodomontade Mountains had looked so small and unimposing when they were just a series of small, inked-in points, but as she and Bostwick turned onto the seventh switchback, she thought they might never make it to the top.

“It's too bad we have to go by foot now,” Emmaline remarked offhandedly.

“It's not like the carriage could come up this path. It's too narrow.”

“I meant it's too bad we couldn't have taken a horse.”

“I can't ride.”

Emmaline opened her mouth to say something else, but couldn't quite think of what to say to Bostwick's remark. She had been trying to make conversation, since they had been traveling in silence for over an hour, but the magician's tone was that of someone defending himself, as if she were blaming him for his lack of horse-riding ability.

“Um, so, how far do you think we'll have to go before we reach Ramshackle?”

“The map showed a town somewhere in the mountains, but I would think it would have to be further in than this. Even goblins wouldn't build right on the slope of…”

They had just turned around a large boulder and saw that Bostwick had underestimated goblins' lack of constructional discretion. The path split in two; one way led further up the mountains, and one led to a small town that was built right on and into the slope of the mountain. The brick buildings had a sooty, factory look to them, and smoke escaped from dozens of pipes and chimneys that slithered and jutted from each structure.

“It looks like we're here,” Emmaline said cheerfully.

“And not a moment too soon,” the magician said, watching as white flecks of snow started to drift down and mingle with the soot in the air.

Emmaline hopped back into Bostwick's arms—which were much warmer than the chilly ground—and pointed her paw toward rusty metal sign that read Comewright Inn.

“That looks like a good—”

Bostwick put a hand over her head and muttered a soft shh. A crowd of tall, wooly goblins had bustled onto the street and were conversing loudly, but Emmaline remained silent until they passed. She couldn't let anyone know that she could talk. That was of the utmost importance.

Bostwick edged around the goblins, several of whom cast a curious glance at his top-hatted head, and made his way into the Comewright Inn. The interior was pleasantly warm and tastefully decorated, not all that different from a human inn, save for the innkeeper behind the reception desk. He was a pointy-nosed fellow with a bowl haircut and a covering of short beige fur on the rest of his face. He was actually very cute for a goblin, Emmaline thought, in a ferrety sort of way.

“Whooo!” he said as Bostwick approached the counter. “You're an odd-looking one. Styxian, eh? I have a second-cousin down in Styx.”

“I'm human.”

“Oh! We don't get many humans through here…” He trailed off, looked up at Bostwick's hat, and made an impressed sort of noise. “A magician, eh? What are you doing in Bombast of all places?”

“Uh…”

Emmaline nudged him with her nose. They'd been over what they would tell people, but Bostwick seemed to have forgotten. Emmaline couldn't blame him; this was the first goblin he'd ever spoken to.

“I'm… I'm doing research. For the Academy,” he finally said.

The goblin nodded, then seemed to have nothing else to say. Bostwick switched Emmaline to his other arm, nervously petting her ears back. She didn't know whether to object to this taking of liberties or not. It actually felt kind of nice, like having someone brush her hair.

“You'll be wanting a room then?” the goblin asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Bostwick gave a sharp jerk of his head that was probably supposed to be a nod, and the goblin led them up a narrow flight of wooden stairs and down a door-lined hallway. He unlocked one of the doors and held it open for Bostwick to look in. Their room was just that: a six by ten space with four walls, a window, and no furniture.

“Why…?”

“You asked for a room, didn't you?”

“I assumed that would include a bed… and maybe a bathroom, or at least a tub.”

“Bed and bath cost extra, and there aren't any vacancies for such rooms at the moment.”

“Well, could we—could I reserve a room like that for tomorrow night?”

“I'll see what I can do,” said the goblin, and left.

“Well, at least it has a window,” Emmaline said, hopping from Bostwick's arms as he knelt down.

“Great.” He pulled off his coat and dropped it petulantly on the floor. With a deep and resentful sigh, he grabbed his top hat off his head and pulled several blankets out of it, followed by a squashy pillow.

“I figured we’d have to camp out at some point,” he said, spreading the bedding out on the floor, “I just didn't think it would be while staying in an inn.”

“Yeah… Well, you know goblins.”

“No, nor do I have any desire to.”

Emmaline was tempted to retort that that was exactly what he was going to have to do, but held her tongue. Bostwick didn't have to be here, in Ataxia, sleeping on the floor. He was here for her sake, though she still wondered why. Why had he volunteered to come?

Maybe now is the time to ask him, she thought, but noticed that he had unwound his long scarf from his neck and was arranging it rather meticulously on the floor beside his make-shift bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I thought maybe you'd want your own bed. It's more of a nest, I guess, but you can probably fix it if it's…”

She hopped over to what indeed looked like a woolen nest. It was a little lumpy, she noticed as she climbed into it, but still fairly comfortable. She pulled the loose end of the scarf over herself like a blanket and looked up at Bostwick, who seemed to be bracing himself for a rebuke.

“Thank you, Bostwick. It's nice and warm.”

“Good.”

With that, he turned down the gas lamp on the wall, got into his own bed—carefully placing his top hat beside his pillow—and shut his eyes.

Emmaline could still see perfectly well, improved night vision being one of the only perks of being a rabbit, and looked around their room, letting her eyes and her mind wander. Both eventually settled on Bostwick, who for once looked almost happy. It was a rare sight. He had been her family's court magician for over a month, but she couldn't actually remember seeing him smile. Some people were just like that, her oldest sister had said when Emmaline asked about it. Some people were just serious. Of course, Bostwick skipped right over serious and decided to go straight for morose, her youngest brother had added.

Emmaline sniffed, hoping Bostwick was sleeping and didn't hear her. She had always been surrounded by people—her parents, five sisters, six brothers, and of course Mr. Charles, the Camellian Tea Inspector who acted as her personal tutor—but now she was all alone, in the dark, with no one but Bostwick for company. They had left the Empire just this morning, and she already wanted to go home. Had it really been only last week when they decided to go on this journey?

It had all been decided so quickly. Bostwick had barged into the meeting that Mr. Charles, her parents, and several foreign clients were having about whether or not to add extra bergamot to the new batches Earl Grey, (a measure that Mr. Charles vehemently railed against). All in attendance stared in shock as Bostwick, holding a pile of Emmaline's clothing and a small, shivering white rabbit, explained the situation as well as he could. He had found her in the garden. She—Emmaline—the rabbit. Yes, the rabbit was Emmaline. And at that point her mother seized her from Bostwick's arms, her father canceled the meeting, and the rest of the family was called in to sit around the large, teapot-covered table where the Camellian royal family typically conducted business.

Emmaline huddled against her mother's chest and explained what had happened properly. There had been a goblin in the garden. He had snapped his fingers, and then… The whole situation still felt surreal to her, but the shock and terror on her siblings faces brought it all home. She had been cursed, turned into a rabbit. It had really happened.

“Well…” Her oldest brother had said. “Well… should we go out looking for that goblin?”

“And get someone else cursed?” her father said. “Of course, our guards might have a chance if they're on the offensive. That cowardly little dastard might not fare as easily against a soldier as he does sneaking up on a thirteen year old girl.”

“Probably not,” Mr. Charles said. He and Bostwick—who was standing silently against one wall—had been asked to stay. “If he's not long gone anyway, he would prove to be nothing but trouble for anyone who encountered him. From what Emmaline described, he must be an imp, and imps aren't known for their repentant behavior.”

“Then… then what can we do? Surely human magic can't break a curse like this.”

“No.” Mr. Charles poured himself a cup of tea, sipped it for a moment, thinking, then said, “But goblin magic might be able to. Mind you, the only sure-fire way to break the curse would be for that imp or someone from his family to reverse it, but like I said, you'd have a fine time convincing them. Your best bet would be to find some other way of turning Emmaline permanently human again. There are a number of magical items I've heard of: lamps containing genies, wishing stones, magic wands. Ataxia has many such items, but it won't be easy finding them, and it will be even more difficult obtaining what you've found.”

As this statement settled over them, Mr. Charles began pouring tea for everyone in attendance. They passed the cups around the table, with one for Bostwick, but no one but Mr. Charles actually drank anything.

“So I'll have to go to Ataxia,” Emmaline finally said.

“It looks like it,” her mother said, hugging her close. “But you won't have to go alone. Surely… surely someone…”

They looked around the table. Though Camellia was the smallest of the countries in the Empire, everyone in the family had important jobs to do. Emmaline's parents and her two eldest siblings ran the affairs of state within the country itself, while her second and third oldest sisters and her twin brothers (who were the second oldest brothers) oversaw the many tea plantations that covered the hills of Camellia and provided the country's wealth and stability. The rest of her siblings acted as ambassadors to the countries around them, some traveling as far abroad as the Nopali Desert in the South or the Opal Islands in the East. Even now, three of her siblings were out somewhere in the Empire, negotiating tea deals with other countries, and would not find out that their youngest sister had been cursed into a rabbit until she had already left for the goblin-run continent of Ataxia in the north. They couldn't spare anyone for a quest like that.

“I recommend against a large troop of guards,” said Mr. Charles. “Or a group of humans of any kind. It would attract far too much attention. Attention invites curiosity, and curiosity… Well, it might not be a very good idea to let anyone know you're a princess.”

“True,” her youngest brother said. “They're liable to kidnap you for ransom.”

“But I'll need some sort of… bodyguard,” Emmaline said, unsure if that was the right word. Companion? Comrade? Someone to saddle the burden of journeying through unknown territory with her, while fending off any hostile goblin activity they might encounter along the way. “Maybe… maybe a magician could come with me. They expelled the goblins from the Empire in the first place, so surely…

“I can't see any goblins giving a magician too much trouble, at least,” Mr. Charles agreed. “Magicians have been known to journey into Ataxia to conduct research for the Academy from time to time. That might actually prove to be a good cover story. You can go disguised as the rabbit they use for hat tricks.”

After a moment of thinking it over, Emmaline's father said, “Very well. If that's decided, we'll need to contact the Academy as soon as possible to find a suitable—”

“I'll go,” Bostwick said, stepping out from the wall.

Everyone in the room stared at him, some open-mouthed. Though he was the most logical choice, none of them had even considered asking him, for they all assumed that he would refuse to go, or that he might even leave for another country if they pressed the matter; with his skill, he could have his pick of any royal court in the Empire. Yet he had said it. The disagreeable and standoffish Bostwick von Dogsbody, who prided his prestigious position as court magician to one of the Empire's royal families, and who had worked very hard in school to get there, was volunteering to accompany the last princess in line for the Camellia throne through an unwelcoming continent full of humanity's ancient enemies, on a quest for something that might not even exist. It was the second most shocking thing that had happened that day.

“A-all right,” Emmaline squeaked out. “Bostwick and I will go. We'll go to Ataxia.”

A week later, they took the train from Camellia to Borderton, a town just to the south of Styx, where they hired a carriage company to take them as far into Ataxia as possible, which proved to be a straight, one day ride through the Wastes of Styx to the border of a country called Bombast, where they would start their search for a cure.

“Why 'permanently',” Bostwick asked, as Emmaline reminded him of Mr. Charles specifications for what they might be looking for before they set out from their spartan Bombastic lodgings the next day.

“I certainly don't want to change back and forth into a rabbit at random times.”

“Obviously. I meant why bother stating that. Why wouldn't anything we find change you back permanently?”

“Well… I don't know. Maybe Mr. Charles meant beware of quick fixes. There are probably potions that only let you stay human when you've drunk a certain dose or spells that wear off after a while.”

“That would still be better than nothing.” Bostwick donned his coat and picked Emmaline up in his arms once more.

“Try asking the innkeeper first,” Emmaline said. “See if he knows about any magical items.”

Bostwick held his finger to his lips and Emmaline ducked her head into his hand. She was going to have to get used to pretending to be a dumb animal.

“So…” Bostwick began, leaning on the counter of the reception desk. “I'm researching curses.”

“Ooh, I'm not sure I would want to teach humans how to do those,” the innkeeper said.

“I don't want to cast them, I want to lift them… or know how to lift them… for research purposes.”

“Hmm. Well, I don't think you'll find anyone with curse knowledge around here. Not many Bombastic goblins can cast curses.”

“I thought all goblins could.”

“No, no, no. Some goblins can set things on fire, or conjure large blades of metal from nowhere, but that 's hardly what you might call a curse, now is it. Imps and some Stuffian goblins are quite adept at curses, and I suppose certain royal families have acquired the ability over the years. I myself can only imbue ink with magic in such a way as to make it change color, but that's my lot in life, I suppose.”

“Wait, you mean that different kinds of goblins have different sorts of magic?”

“You really do need to do your research. That's basic knowledge.”

“I'd just assumed that since humans can do all kinds of spells…”

“Yeah, I'd heard that, too, but you all need to practice magic, right? Imagine that. Practicing magic like a child practicing tying their shoes.”

“It's a little more complicated than that,” Bostwick began, but Emmaline pawed at his sleeve. They were getting off track, and though Bostwick might find the conversation interesting, it didn't seem to be leading them any closer to an idea of how to break her curse.

“Anyway,” the magician said, picking her up in one hand and pulling her away from his sleeve, “I have to get going. There wouldn't be any magical items nearby, or…”

“Hmm, well, there's the mayor's house. I heard his wife is an avid collector of magical items from near and far. That would be your best bet, as far as Ramshackle is concerned.”

Bostwick made his way out the door and up the street. It was not hard to find their way around, as the town had been built vertically up the hillside, with a single street zig-zagging back and forth through it. The mayor's house, the innkeeper had explained, was of course built at the very highest point in town because “being high up is better than being low down”, which was apparently some sort of goblin proverb.

Though belonging to the mayor, the house was just as blackened as the rest of the town, which sent its smoke up to curl around the mayor's walls. Bostwick covered his mouth with his scarf and wrapped Emmaline's head in the other end, which actually made it harder to breath, but she was so muffled that she could hardly say so. Bostwick knocked, and a short, round, thoroughly cow-like goblin opened the door.

“Oh, my! A Styxian! What a surprise! Come in, come in!”

“Actually I'm a human.” Bostwick said, stepping in and removing the scarf from Emmaline's face. “Do Styxians look human? That's the second time I've been mistaken for one.”

“Oh, you're the spitting image. But a human, dear dear, I can't think of the last time one came through here. Must have been seventy years ago. I was just a girl.”

The goblin certainly didn't look or sound older than seventy, but then again, Emmaline thought, they might age differently than humans, or live longer.

“Right… Anyway, I'm doing research for Melieh's Academy of Magic, and I was told the mayor's wife had a collection of magical items.”

“Ooh, indeed I do, dear. I never knew they were world famous, but I suppose it is quite a large collection…” She was clearly flattered that even a human had heard of her, and waved Bostwick down the hall into a room that was filled, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with glass cases holding velvet covered shelves, upon which sat thousands of small, gleaming silver and gold objects.

Bostwick and Emmaline gaped at the sheer number of objects, then approached one of the cases to see what exactly they were.

“Thimbles?” Bostwick asked.

“Thimbles!” The bovine goblin said. “Largest collection this side of Pandemonium.”

“And they are magic thimbles, right?”

“Oh, of course, dear. When you wear these thimbles, not only will you never prick your finger, you'll also be able to thread any needle, no matter how small the eye or how large the thread.”

“In that case…” Bostwick said, making to leave, but Emmaline scrambled against his chest, trying to climb up to whisper in his ear. He opted to place her on his shoulder instead and leaned toward one of the cases on the premise of examining the thimbles.

“What?” he whispered from the corner of his mouth.

“You can't just leave, Bostwick. That's rude!”

“There's no point in staying.”

“Just make small talk. See if she knows about any other magical artifacts around town. She is the mayor's wife after all.”

“ 'Other magical artifacts' implies that these are also magical artifacts…” he muttered,” which I hardly think—”

“Who are you talking too, dear?” the goblin asked.

“Oh, um, just my rabbit.”

Emmaline scratched him hard on the neck, trying to remind him to remember their cover story, and he whipped her down off his shoulder.

“I often talk to dumb animals,” he said, glaring at her and rubbing his neck with his other hand. “It's just a habit some of us magicians get into.”

So he hadn't forgotten… Well, how was she to know? Still, he didn't have to squeeze her so hard. She wiggled around into a more comfortable position while Bostwick started a conversation about whether or not all the thimbles did the same thing.

“Oh, yes, it's a common enchantment, really.”

“And do you use all of them? Or… any of them?”

“No, no, don't be silly.” She waved a hoof-like hand with stubby, hard looking fingers on it. “I collect them because they have little pictures on them.”

“Hmm. And none of them have any curses on them, right?”

“Oh, no… at least, I don't think so. Hmm, I wonder, though…”

“If, hypothetically, they did, how might you go about removing it?”

The bovine goblin seemed exceedingly disturbed by this line of inquiry, and Emmaline looked pleadingly up at Bostwick. He was being too obvious.

“I only ask because I have a cursed… spoon.”

“A cursed spoon? Oh dear, whatever does it do?”

“It… Well, it turns into a fork whenever I put it into soup.”

“You poor thing!” the goblin said with sympathy. “Oh, but… why not just use a different spoon?”

“It's a good spoon… aside from its being cursed,” he said, clearly at his limit for hastily cobbled-together explanations.

The goblin brought her hoof-hand thoughtfully to her chin, contemplating Bostwick's predicament for a moment, then clapped her hands with a slight clicking sound.

“I know! There's a shop at the bottom of town that might have just what you're looking for. Just take the road all the way downhill and it will be the last shop on the right. You can't miss it!”

Bostwick thanked the goblin and followed her back down the hall, only to stop in mid-step on his way out the door.

“What was it you said they sold there?”

“All kinds of kitchen utensils. Everything under the sun. You're bound to find a nice new spoon there.”

“Ah. Right.” With that, he continued out as the goblin waved cheerily after him.

“How did you know she had spoons in mind rather than curses?” Emmaline asked once they were out of earshot.

“I think having Clarence as a roommate gave me a sixth sense for detecting inanity about to happen. Not that it helped much. With nothing else to go on, we might as well make our way down through the town and see if there's anyone who has the vaguest idea about curses. Unless you have a better idea.”

Emmaline didn't, so they proceeded through town, talking to any goblin who met their eye and visiting every shop that was open. Although Emmaline was pleasantly surprised to find that many of the goblins were friendly, if not as chipper as the mayor's wife, she also noticed some downright angry stares from some of the goblins they walked past, and one or two huffed away before Bostwick could ask them anything. Bostwick's mood went downhill with every passing encounter, and she could tell that the complete lack of information on curses was getting to him. For once, she shared his depressed mood. Not being able to ask her own questions was frustrating enough, but Bostwick also kept switching her from hand to hand, or up to his shoulder, or back into his pocket. Even now, as they made their way back to the inn with nothing to show for a whole day of inquiries but a supply of hopefully-edible goblin food, he wedged her into the crook of his elbow while trying to get a better hold of the sack of foodstuffs they'd purchased.

“Ow! Be more careful, Bostwick!”

“Sorry.”

“That's twice today you've squeezed me. Rabbits are a lot more fragile than humans.”

“Sorry,” he repeated, though he didn't sound like it this time, “but you're sort of inconvenient, you know?”

“Tactful as always,” she muttered, hopping to the ground. In a way, he was right—this entire situation was far from convenient—but she was just as dirty and tired and discouraged as he was. It wasn't her fault she was difficult to carry; she didn't want to have to be carried at all.

As they entered the inn, Bostwick scooped her back up—carefully, she noticed—and started up the stairs, only to be stopped by the innkeeper, who delivered the first good news of the day.

“Ah, Human, I was waiting for you to show up. There's a bed and bath vacancy open if you still want it. You certainly look sooty enough to warrant it, at least.”

He led the way to their new room, which was the exact same size as the last one, only with a bed and bathtub squeezed inside, only inches apart from each other.

“Why…?” Bostwick began.

“You asked for a bed and a bath, right?”

“Please tell me the tub is at least hooked up to the plumbing system.”

“Of course it is. What kind of lunatics do you think we are?” the goblin said with a chuckle, leaving them to their room.

Bostwick once again dropped his coat to the floor; a small cloud of black dust flew up from it. Ramshackle really was filthy, Emmaline thought, examining her own gray paws. She couldn't wait for a proper bath, but she was also bothered by the large, ground floor window above the tub.

“It doesn't have much privacy, does it?”

“That shouldn't be a problem.”

With a swipe of his hand, Bostwick conjured a long, purple curtain in mid air right in front of the window, then conjured two more to block the view of the tub from the rest of the room.

“Whoa…” Emmaline said.

“What, that?” he glanced up at his handiwork as he removed his shoes and socks. “It's just conjuration and levitation. You've seen me do those spells before.”

“Yes, but never with anything so large, and conjuring all three at once…”

Bostwick shrugged, as if pulling objects from nowhere and defying the laws of gravity were nothing special, though Emmaline knew that even for a magician, what he just did was no easy feat.

Bostwick climbed onto the bed and pulled one of the curtains aside. He turned the hot water faucet on full blast, with the hopeful and expectant look of one who had not had a proper bath for days, but then jumped back as if something had suddenly occurred to him. Emmaline had thought of it already. They both stared at the tub, with a glance or two at each other.

Of course it was fine for Bostwick, Emmaline thought. He could take a bath while she did something else—study the map of Ataxia, perhaps—but how was she supposed to bathe? Rabbits might be able to swim, but she couldn't, and she didn't know how slippery her paws and claws would be on the porcelain, even if the tub wasn't filled all the way. Before they had left Camellia, her second oldest sister had helped her take a bath in the sink, but now? What if Bostwick had to help her? She was mortified at the thought; even if she was a rabbit, she was still a girl!

“Ah,” Bostwick said, snatching his top hat off of his head. “This might work.”

He pulled a long saw out of the hat—Emmaline had heard of tricks where people were cut in half, but never seen one—grabbed the blade in one hand, gave the whole thing a wobble, and turned it into a cooking pot.

“Clarence taught me that one. He took a lot of classes in the door-to-door magician track, where you're expected to travel and make do for yourself in the wilderness. I thought they were pretty useful spells, even if I never thought I'd actually end up needing them,” he finished bitterly.

Emmaline felt a hollow, guilty feeling in her stomach. She was no expert on magic, but she knew that court magicians studied hard to be able to perform the sort of spells Bostwick did, and here he was, for all intents and purposes a traveling, door-to-door magician, a job usually reserved for those whose magic was sub-par at best. He had stood by her, no matter how “inconvenient” her situation was.

Now, he had rolled up his sleeves and was filling the pot with water, then clambered off the bed and placed the pot on the floor. Conjuring a knife, he cut a sliver from a large bar of soap.

“It looks like there's only one set of towels, but you can use this washcloth,” he said, draping the cloth over the handle of the pot, with the little piece of soap on top of it.

Emmaline hopped over to what had become a perfect, rabbit-sized bath tub, in awe of Bostwick's ingenuity.

“Could you, um, help me into it?” she asked. Bostwick obliged, plopping her into the steamy water that half filled the pot. She reached for the soap, but ended up knocking it to the floor; Bostwick picked it up for her and placed it in her paws.

“You're on your own from there,” he said, and disappeared behind the curtains of the bathtub.

They left town early the next day and took the path further up the mountain, where it eventually leveled out and meandered between two slopes. The sky above was still cloudy and seemed to be threatening snow, but the innkeeper said there would be a settlement about a day’s walk away that they could get to before the weather became too bad. Bostwick had made a comment about the high likelihood of them catching their death in a blizzard instead, but took the innkeeper's advice to head out anyway. Though the road was covered in sharp pebbles and bits of briars, Emmaline hopped along beside Bostwick. She wanted to be as little of a burden as possible, which seemed like a good idea for the first hour or so of walking, until she cried out in pain.

“What's wrong?”

“I stepped on a thorn or something.”

Without asking, Bostwick picked her up and examined her front paw, from which protruded a small but very thick and spiky black thorn.

“It must have been from one of these bushes. Can you pull it out?”

He extracted it easily, and Emmaline jumped down, wincing as she hit the ground, then hopped a few paces.

“You're limping,” Bostwick said.

“Oh, well, it just hurts a little.”

“Here.” He whisked her up once more and started walking again.

“Sorry about this,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“You always having to carry me around. I know it's probably annoying…”

“It's not your fault. At least now I can walk at a decent pace.”

Even when he's being conciliatory, he somehow manages to complain, Emmaline thought. Of course, he had been the same way in Camellia, but now, spending twenty-four hours a day with him, it was almost too much. Still, at least she wasn't alone on her journey…

“Bostwick, do you mind if I ask you something… personal.”

He looked down sideways at her, then said, “Suuure.”

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?”

“Why?”

“You know we could have asked another magician.”

“You could have, but none of them would have agreed to come. Magicians are generally pretty snooty. You couldn't expect someone who's used to the life of a stage or court magician to want to wander around the boonies with a rabbit.”

Anyone else might have added “no offense”, Emmaline thought, but instead said, “But surely a door-to-door magician would have jumped at the chance to travel like this.”

“Not through Ataxia they wouldn't—well, maybe Clarence would, but he's still in school—and anyway, when push comes to shove, you're going to need someone more skilled than a door-to-door magician.”

“So that's why you volunteered? You knew you had what it took to be able to protect me, and you were willing to give up the life of a court magician to do it.”

She was impressed. Bostwick might not look it, or act like it, or say anything to even hint at it, but he was a genuinely good person. Yet here he was, frowning again as usual.

“I thought I could protect you, if need be, but I'm starting to have my doubts about whether or not human magic really is a match against goblins. You heard what that innkeeper said about them conjuring blades and fire, and if a goblin could curse you just by snapping his fingers…”

“But magicians drove them out of the Empire.”

“That may be so, but none of the spells I know could do that. I can put on an entertaining show, but that's pretty much it.”

“I don't think so. Your spells have already been really useful. Like how you put all our supplies in your hat, or turning a saw into a pot… It's more than I can do, like this at least.”

“There's not much you could do as a human, either, to be honest.”

Bostwick had never struck her as the most tactful person, but this was going too far. She had been trying to cheer him up, and really was thankful for his magical abilities, and here he was insulting her to her face. She could take a few complaints about the problems of her being a rabbit, but to scorn the abilities she had as a human was the last straw. She bit him hard on the hand and leapt to the ground, favoring her hurt paw as she did so.

“I'll have you know that I could do plenty as a human! I've been preparing to accept my royal duties my whole life. I've learned all about history and geography, diplomacy, biology as it relates to tea, politics…”

“I only meant you wouldn't be good in a fight against goblins,” Bostwick said, sucking on his hand, which had a nasty red mark where Emmaline had bitten it.

“I guess… I suppose not… but neither would you!”

He sighed, or growled, or something in between, then said through clenched teeth, “That's my point!”

This statement echoed softly through the still air around them. So they were both a lost cause, that's what he was saying. Should she feel depressed about this, or perhaps take their mutual uselessness as a form of camaraderie? Either way, Bostwick's constant pessimism was maddening. One the one hand, she probably ought to say sorry for biting him, since he apparently hadn't meant to insult her, but that would no doubt lead to some new line of negative commentary from him. Instead, she opted for hopping a few feet in front of him as they continued on in uncomfortable silence.

It had started to snow again, and the ground was incredibly cold on her paws. Looking back, she saw that Bostwick had donned a pair of gloves and pulled his scarf up around his chin. Oh well, she thought, rabbits survive in the cold. She had a fur coat of her own.

The path began to wind back and forth around the mountain slopes, so that they couldn't see too far in any direction, but the light behind the clouds grew steadily darker, so they must have been nearing the settlement. Emmaline hoped they were, at least, as the wind was picking up and the flakes of snow were gathering together in thicker, wetter bunches.

“Hold on,” Bostwick said from behind her, “you’re getting hard to see.”

Bracing herself for being picked up again, Emmaline was surprised to see everything go black for a moment, then to feel the ground get swept out from under her as the magician scooped her into his top hat. She looked up at him, wondering why the sudden change in transport, but he wouldn't meet her eye. He probably doesn't want to get bit again, she thought.

“Look,” he said, “if I put you on my head, you won't scratch me, will you?”

“On your head?”

“It's getting too snowy out here, and I don't have any other way of sheltering you… I definitely don't want to use the blankets, in case we have to camp out again. If you ride on my head, with the hat over you, that'll keep all the snow off, but you have to promise not to scratch if you can help it.”

Emmaline wanted to think it over—she was more concerned with whether or not Bostwick could actually keep her on his head without her falling—but the hat was filling with snow as they spoke.

“I promise I won't scratch you.”

With a nod, Bostwick flipped her onto his head. There was one tumbling, disorienting moment, and then she felt her feet come down on his hair, and was again surrounded by darkness.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Okay.”

They were off. Though Emmaline had to work a little to stay balanced, Bostwick had a remarkable steady rhythm to his steps, which was odd, considering how jerky her ride in his pocket had been.

“Where did you learn to hold your head so steady, Bostwick?”

For a moment the only sound was the wail of the wind and the pat-pat of footsteps, then Bostwick said, “I used to walk with books on my head sometimes.”

Emmaline had heard of this practice used by some young nobles to improve posture, but had assumed those stories were made up. Besides, Bostwick's family were shop owners, from what she had heard.

“Why did you carry books on your head.”

Again, there was silence. It seemed to stretch out so long that Emmaline didn't know if Bostwick had heard her, but finally, quietly, he said, “I thought it would help me walk more like an aristocrat, like everyone else at the Academy.”

He offered no other explanation, but none was needed. He was from a merchant family; most students at the Academy were fairly wealthy, if not actually nobility. Emmaline had always assumed that because Bostwick was so good at magic—the best in his class, according to her father—that he'd been revered by his fellow magicians, but maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe Bostwick had spent his whole time at the Academy trying to prove himself. He certainly had, in her opinion, and Camellia had been fortunate enough to be one of the only countries in current need of a new court magician at the time of his graduation. His hard work had all paid off while he served as their magician, living the kind of life that any aristocrat might lead, but now, because of her curse… If she had been human-sized, she would have hugged him, even if he probably wouldn't appreciate it. As it was, she settled for snuggling down onto his head.

They continued walking for about half an hour, occasionally taking a turn here or there from what Emmaline could feel. Eventually they seemed to slow down, and finally stopped.

“Great,” Bostwick said, his voice the definition of sarcasm.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

He lifted up the front of his hat for her to peak under. They had reached a settlement of sorts, for there were a few wooden buildings lining the mountain path. All of them, however, had boarded-up windows, and several had caved in from some prior disaster. As unwelcoming a sight as this might be, the storm really had become a blizzard, so Bostwick pulled the boards from one of the doors and hurried inside.

The interior, Emmaline saw as Bostwick removed her from the hat and put her on the ground, was drier than outside, but just as cold. The magician snapped his fingers, conjuring a small flame into his hands so they could get a better view of their surroundings. It might have been a barn or a bar at one time—it was difficult to tell which—but the floor was now covered in a thin layer of straw and a few broken chairs and a table had been pushed to the side of the room. Emmaline hopped over to these, seeing if there might be anything of interest left by the previous occupants, while Bostwick busied himself with shoving the straw into a pile and lighting a fire. It was crackling in no time, aided by some of the chairs' legs. They were at least warm enough to pass the night. Emmaline sat in her neck-scarf nest and looked across the fire to her companion, who had removed his snow-dampened coat in favor of the blankets he'd been carrying in his hat. They were both exhausted—emotionally, on Emmaline's part—and neither made any move to start a conversation. Bostwick poked the fire from time to time, then finally fished in his hat for some of the food they had bought in Ramshackle. He unwrapped a small potato pie and slid it on its paper wrapper over to her, then started on his own.

The soft snap of fire and the muted wind outside were the only sound for a while, until Emmaline sat back on her haunches and asked Bostwick if he could wrap up her half-finished portion. He did so without a word and stowed it back in his hat. Dinner was over, and without anything else to do, they might as well try to sleep, but Emmaline didn't want to leave things as they were.

“Um, Bostwick, about earlier… I'm sorry for biting you.”

He looked at the mark on his hand. “It's okay.”

“No, it really isn't. You were just being realistic, and I… I suppose I took it personally. I already feel like I can't do anything, physically, as a rabbit. I hop too slowly, and I can't hold things. I can't even talk to the goblins we meet, and getting information from people is something I know I'd be good at, since I've been taught about negotiations and diplomacy. I'm still a princess, even if I am a rabbit… Anyway, there was no excuse for me hurting you like that.”

Bostwick at first showed no reaction, but poked the fire a little more and added one of the chair backs for fuel.

“Well,” he said, “I guess I wasn't much good at getting information from those goblins.”

Don't take it that way! she wanted to scream. Instead, she hopped out of her nest and over to where he was sitting, putting her paws up on his leg.

“I didn't mean it like that. I just wish I could help you out more, since it's my fault you're here. I'm not blaming you for us not finding anything in Ramshackle. There was nothing to find.”

For a moment, Bostwick raised his eyebrows in surprise before bringing them down into a concerned scowl.

“I'm not blaming you either.”

“What?”

“It's not 'your fault' we're here, Emmaline. You didn't ask that goblin to turn you into a rabbit; he just did.”

“I know that, I just meant, well… You don't have to be here, but you came anyway. I know how much you loved being a court magician, and now you're basically working as a door-to-door.”

“Yeah.”

It was such a blunt, bitter reply that Emmaline didn't know how to respond. Anything she said was sure to be met with more pessimism, but, she reminded herself, some people were just like that. In which case, there was no point being diplomatic or delicate; she could say whatever she wanted.

“Thank you.” She leaned her head and paws on his leg, which was as much of a hug-like gesture as she could manage. Surprisingly, an moment later, he pet her ears back.

“Just doing my job.”

They slept through the night curled up on their respective beds, as close to the fire as they could manage without getting burned. It had died out by the time they woke up, but fortunately, so had the blizzard. Sunlight and snow dust poured in through the doorway, and beyond that, a blanket of snow, two feet deep, covered everything in sight.

“Great,” Bostwick said, donning his coat once more.

“It doesn't look too bad.”

“You don't have to walk in it. Speaking of which, I think I have a way of keeping you warm.”

He had crammed his scarf part way into his hat and let Emmaline climb into it, then wrapped the two ends tightly around her. She imagined this was how it felt to wear swaddling clothes, or maybe a straight jacket, but she was at least warm. Holding her in his arms, he set out into the snow.

The clear, clean white under the blue sky gave the mountains a beauty that had been hard to see before. Each ridge appeared in more detail, and the pine trees they found themselves walking through glistened and sparkled with frost. Even the ever-present rocks and boulders had taken on the appearance of soft, smooth lumps under the snow.

“I hope we don't get lost,” Bostwick said.

“Always looking for that cloud behind the silver lining, aren't you?”

“I'm just being realistic. Things like that always happen to me. During one of the festivals in the Capital, when I was a kid, a dog tried to bite me and I had to climb a lamp post to escape. And then when I was offered a place at the Academy, a bunch of people looked down on me for being a von Dogsbody. Then I couldn't pull a rabbit out of my hat…”

“Well, at least that has changed, in a way,” she offered, but Bostwick either ignored or didn't hear her.

“And then there was that time I won third place in the poetry contest…”

“That doesn't sound bad at all.”

He stared off into the distance for a moment, then shuddered, as if recalling some terrible event, leaving Emmaline to speculate about what sort of white elephant prize he must have received.

The path they hoped they were on led gradually uphill and the trees around them grew thicker all the while, until the path crested. They saw before them a clearing with dozens of houses, each with multiple chimneys issuing smoke into the air.

“This must have been the settlement the innkeeper meant!” Emmaline exclaimed. “We just had to keep walking a little longer.”

“If we'd done that, the blizzard would have—”

Emmaline never found out what the blizzard would have done—though it was something awful, no doubt—because one of the trees had chosen that moment to dump the melting snow off its branches and onto Bostwick's head.

“What did I tell you?” he said, wiping the snow off of his hair. “The worst possible things always happen to me.”

“Really?” Emmaline said, taking his attitude in stride. “Have you been cursed by a goblin and turned into a rabbit? Because I think that might be the worst possible thing.”

Bostwick glanced away, apparently realizing that he couldn't say much to this, but then muttered, “Well, the way things go for me, I probably will be before long.”

Emmaline burst out laughing. He really was maddening, but whether it was their talk last night or the prospect of a warm, dry room before them, she couldn't hold it against him.

“I'm glad my misery amuses you,” he said.

“Well, isn't that what you're supposed to do? You are still my court magician, right?”

“Sure,” Bostwick said, with a grudging smile, and walked on toward the town.