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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

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blastron01 · 7 years

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Ascendance of a Bookworm – 046

We Made It At Once

As soon as we finish with dinner, my father heads immediately for bed, since he has to work the dawn shift tomorrow. In order to make sure we don't disturb him while he's trying to sleep, the rest of us relocate to the kitchen, where we can quietly busy ourselves with whatever work we can do, quietly, to kill time before we need to go to bed as well.

Now that my father's gone into the bedroom and started getting himself ready for bed, I jump right onto the topic of winter handiwork.

"So, today, Mister Benno told me that the hairpins we made for Freida were getting really famous, and there's a lot of people wanting to buy them, so he wanted to know if we could maybe get some of our winter handiwork done early. He says he wants more like Tory's hairpin." "...Well, it's not like we can't, but..."

Tory and my mother exchange a glance, then frown doubtfully at me. The rest of that sentence is clearly written on their faces: it's not like they can't, but it would be way too much work to accelerate production enough. Their reaction is exactly what I expected, so I go fetch my tote bag and pull out the proof: two medium-copper coins, which jingle as I set them down on the table.

"It's just a little bit, but I was able to get him to let me hold onto some money in advance, so if you can get one done, I can pay you for it!"

In the next instant, the two of them abruptly stand up, their chairs clattering behind them, and move to the part of the table closest to the stove, where it's just a little bit brighter.

"Uh? What?"

I've suddenly been left behind, sitting dumfounded in my chair like an empty-headed fool. Meanwhile, Tory has dug out enough slender needles for the three of us, and my mother has disappeared into the storeroom to fetch the basket full of thread. I'm a little overwhelmed by how perfectly in sync the two of them are, but I hop down from my chair and pull it over to the table. As it clatters along the floor behind me, my mother calls out to me.

"Maine, do you have a sample we can base this off of?" "Um? It's just like Tory's, I think?"

Reacting instantly to my words, Tory immediately spins around and heads to get her hairpin out of her wooden storage box. Thanks to her rustling about in the bedroom as she searches for her hairpin, I can hear my father groggily speak up.

"What's happening? Is something wrong?" "Nothing's wrong, Gunther," replies my mother, calling to him from the kitchen. "Good night!"

By the time I've gotten my chair over the table and climbed up onto it, the preparations for our handiwork have been completed.

"Maine," asks my mother, "what colors should we use?"

She rummages around within the basket of threads, but I haven't actually told her what colors to use yet. All I've said so far is that the design needs to be like Tory's hairpin.

"We don't know what the customers' hair color or favorite colors are, so Mister Benno told me that he wants ones with lots of different colors. Let's do these like Tory's and pick three colors, and make the same number of flowers." "Got it. How about white, yellow, and red?" "I think that'll be cute!"

The instant the words leave my mouth, my mother starts knitting ferociously. Since she helped make Tory's hairpin last winter, she already knows how to do it, and now she's working so very, very quickly. In the approximately fifteen minutes it takes me to knit one flower, she's churned out five. Soon, we've knitted four of each and turned it into a little bouquet.

"He'll be happy if there's a bunch of different ones to choose from, right? Maybe I should do white, yellow, and blue...? The same colors as mine. Maine, what are you gonna pick?"

Tory giggles happily to herself as she digs through the many different colors, picking out three that she likes. She seems very pleased with the hairpin that I'd made for her last year, which makes me happy as well.

"I think I'll do pink, red, and green. The green flowers are going to look like little leaves, which I think will be really cute." "Yeah! Really cute. ...Hey, hey, Maine, how do you make these?"

Tory, probably thinking that she'd better not disturb our mother as she single-mindedly weaves away, scoots her chair next to me, it clattering against the wooden floor. Since the hairpin that we're using as an example had been made for Tory's sake, she hadn't had any part in making it.

"Oh, it's not really that hard. So, you loop it like this, and then you thread it through like this..."

I explain to Tory how to weave these tiny flowers, demonstrating as I went. Since these are much simpler than the roses we made for Freida, Tory picked up on it immediately.

"Got it! Thanks, Maine."

She clatteringly drags her chair back to its original position, then starts quietly, steadily knitting. After a while, once I've finished my third flower, I glance up at the rest of the table, and am overwhelmed by the sheer difference in quantity. My mother has already finished enough little flower to make an entire hairpin, and Tory has six flowers rolling around in front of her.

Whoa, now these are some sewing beauties.

Both my mother and Tory move their hands so quickly that my own movements can't even compare. They can do these in practically the blink of an eye. I may be the one who brought this arts-and-crafts stuff here, but now I'm being outstripped in both speed of production and quality of product. I decide that, at the very least, whatever I make is not going to be obviously inferior to what they make when compared, and I start moving my needles again.

Ordinarily, winter handiwork is done while we're trapped inside by the snow and left with far, far too much time on our hands. It's something that we do because there's nothing else to do, and we idly chat with each other while doing it. Tonight, however, thanks the gleam of the coins lined up on the table, the two of them are focusing their entire effort on knitting as quickly as they can, with not a single word coming out of their mouths.

"Alright, done! Now what, Maine?"

I look up, startled by Tory's sparklingly enthusiastic voice, and see that she has twelve flowers lined up in front of her.

"Whoa, Tory, that was fast! You're really amazing. Ummm, after this, we sew them onto a bit of cloth... wait, argh, cloth! I didn't account for cloth!" "Usually," my mother says, "we provide our own materials for winter handiwork, so it's okay if you use whatever scraps we have lying around here."

My mother has already retrieved a scrap of cloth and sewn her little flowers onto it, turning it into something that looks like a proper hairpin.

"...When I go see Mister Benno to collect the money for these, I'll put in a request for some cloth, too." "He's already paying us two whole medium copper coins for each of these, so there's no need to go that far."

...What? Man, how unfair is ordinary winter handiwork?

Even as I was deciding for myself that I'd have added cloth to my calculations by the time winter rolls around and we get started in earnest, Tory has already brought a basket full of scrap cloth out of the storage room.

"Look at the one Mommy's finished as an example. Sew the flowers on, but don't put too many of the same color close together. If you sew everything together so that you can't see the cloth beneath, then it'll really look like a little bouquet of flowers." "Got it, thanks!" replies Tory.

By the time Tory finishes putting together her second hairpin, it's almost about time to pack everything away for the evening. Ultimately, I was able to complete about half of the flowers for one hairpin, Tory made an entire pin herself, and my mother's eighty percent along the way towards making her second.

"Now then, here is today's pa~ay!" "Woohoo!"

I hand the two of them two coins each, and put the two finished hairpins in my box for later.

"Alright now," says my mother, "you two go to bed." "What about you, Mom?" asks Tory. "I'll just finish up this half-complete one here, first."

She points at the eighty-percent completed hairpin in front of her with a grim smile. At her speed, she'll be done in no time flat. Tory and I quietly head for bed, taking care not to wake our father in the process.

I wonder, though; why is it that by the time we wake up there are two finished hairpins sitting on top of the table? ...You pulled an all-nighter, mother. Tory didn't want to go to bed last night, so now she's gonna be mad.

"Moooom, no fair! Why'd you get to stay up late?" "Sorry, Tory. Now, it's time for you to go to work! Take care, take care."

Tory sulks furiously as my mother apologetically ushers her out the door. With an extremely disagreeable expression, she runs off, yelling "as soon as I get home I'm going to make lots, okay?" Once she's gone, my mother hands me the two completed bouquets, and I give her four coins in return.

"Here's the money, so that I don't forget by the time you get home from work. I'm going to be going to Mister Benno's shop again today. I've gotta go get the pin parts for these from Lutz, get them finished up, and get paid, otherwise I can't get the rest of the money for you and Tory." "Alright. Take care of yourself today, Maine! And say hello to Mister Benno for me."

My mother tucks the coins into her coin purse, then starts heading out the door. "Let's work hard tonight, too!" she says with a broad smile as she waves goodbye. She shuts the door behind her firmly, and I hear the clack of the lock as she turns it. I keep smilingly waving goodbye until I hear her footsteps fade away, then let out an exhausted sigh.

Crap. The power of money is way too strong. I hadn't thought I'd get anywhere close to this kind of speedup. The fact that my mother would stay up so late to keep working was far beyond my expectations. If I don't get these hairpins finished up and sold so that I can replenish my cash reserves, I'm going to be in serious trouble tonight.

"Well, first things first, we gotta peel off all the tronbay bark, though."

I have no idea when Lutz will be by to come pick me up, so I start making sure that I've got everything ready to head out on a moment's notice. First off, I collect a couple of the potato-like kalfe roots. Then, I grab my slate, slate pencils, and calculator so that we can study while the bark is steaming. Since we're going to Benno's afterwards, I make sure not to forget to bring my ordering set, too. Finally, In order to complete my own half-finished hairpin, I grab my knitting needles and thread, my seven already-done flowers, a scrap of cloth, and a needle and thread for sewing everything together.

I pass the time waiting for Lutz to arrive by working on more flowers, my needles making tiny little movements as I knit. After I manage to finish two, I hear a pounding at the door, followed by Lutz calling out, "Maine, you home?"

"Good morning, Lutz! Hey, about those pins, did you finish any?" "I got five done so far...?" "Bring all of them with us. I'm bringing my needles and thread too. We can finish these up while we're steaming. We have to sell these to Mister Benno tonight."

When I mumble that we wound up finishing four of them last night, Lutz's eyes go wide.

"Wh... That's way too fast, though?! I thought you said those flowers were super hard to make and took a crazy long time..." "Yeah, I had no idea they'd get done so quickly, either, so I'm honestly in a bit of a hurry now." "...Got it. You just need me to bring the pins, right? Anything else?"

There is one more thing that Lutz absolutely cannot forget to bring today.

"What about the butter? Did you get any?" "So I didn't hear you wrong, huh... I'll go get some. Wait downstairs for me after you lock up, okay?"

It seems that, somehow, he hasn't prepared any. That was a close call, I nearly missed out on being able to eat steamed, buttered potatoes. I wave as Lutz deftly runs down the stairs, gather up the things I'd prepared, and head outside.

"Man, it's cold..."

There's no sign of anyone else around our warehouse, which is piercingly cold, overpowering the warmth of the clear sunlight shining down. Since there's no hearth inside the warehouse that we can light a fire in, we get set up right in front of the warehouse so that we can steam the tronbay and strip off the bark.

After we put our bags inside, Lutz piles up some rocks to make a stove and sets the pot on top of it while I line up pieces of tronbay inside our steamer. In no time flat, though, the steamer fills up completely.

"Lutz, looks like we're going to need another steamer." "I'll go get it."

Previously, all we were doing was working on prototypes, so we never really needed to steam that much wood at once. However, this time, we need to steam all of the raw material that we have on hand. Since we'd had another steamer ready from the start so we could steam two layers at once, Lutz kindly goes to retrieve it for me.

"These okay to put on the pot yet?" "Yeah, I'm just about finished getting this wood stacked up in it."

While Lutz gets the steamers situated on top of the pot, I stack up the rest of the tronbay. Then, I take the two kalfe roots I brought with me and make a cross-shaped cut on each of them with my knife so that the heat can get into them better, then I line them up in the steamer with the wood. Once these steam for about twenty minutes, I'll finally be able to eat delicious, buttery, steamed potatoes (although they're not actually potatoes).

Sitting in front of the pot, close to the fire, I get back to work on making tiny flowers. Since it takes me about fifteen minutes to make each flower, by the time I'm finished up, plus the time it'll take to get everything squared away, the tubers should be just about finished.

"Lutz, could you get some of the leftover bamboo in the warehouse and make me a couple long sticks? Pointy ones, pointier than the ones you made last time." "Huh? Why?" "Why, you ask? I need them to check to see if the 'buttered potatoes' are done." "Um? Hey, Maine, what are you up to?" "Oh, I just wanna eat some food you need a steamer to make... do you not want any, Lutz?" "If it's food then I want it! You mean 'buttah'd poh-tay-toes' are food?!"

Ah, that's right, I must not have explained what buttered potatoes are. Although, there's already cooking here involving sautéing tubers in butter, so they should be something he could be eating regularly.

Now that he knows that there's food in the steamer too, Lutz cheerfully makes me a pair of bamboo skewers.

"Hey, Maine. These 'buttah'd poh-tay-toes', are they tasty?" "I really like them, myself. I think it's something you've probably already tasted before, though?"

Since it takes far longer for the pot to actually come to a boil than I originally expected, I wait until I've finished two flowers, instead of just one, then check on the status of the tubers.

"Alright, Lutz. Get that lid off!"

Standing on top of Ralph's failed something-or-other, I brandish the skewers tightly in my right hand while gripping my cooking chopsticks in my left, waiting for Lutz to take the lid off the steamer.

"Maine don't stick your face too close!"

As soon as Lutz removes the lid, a huge burst of steam leaps out of the steamer. As soon as the scalding vapor clears away and I can see inside, I see the two tubers resting on top of the tronbay, tinted a vibrant golden brown. With my right hand, I carefully insert the skewers into each of the tubers. They come back out easily without the potatoes breaking apart, so I think they're done pretty well. I swap the chopsticks in my left hand with the skewers in my right, and get them ready.

"Lutz, I need a plate!" "You think this place has any?!" "That board over there's fine, bring that over! Then get the butter ready." "Maybe you should have done this instead of making decorations!" "Ngh, you're right..." I say, ashamed.

As soon as I lift both of the tubers out of the steamer and set them down on the board, I have Lutz immediately put the lid back on the steamer. I hop down from my makeshift step stool, then immediately widen the cross-shaped cuts on each of them and shove butter inside. The butter melts into the soft flesh of the tubers immediately, and the scent it gives off is irresistible.

I've been getting more and more excited as these get closer and closer to completion. Lutz, on the other hand, merely looked disappointed as soon as he saw what I took out of the steamer.

"...Hey, those are just kalfe roots. I had really high hopes, since it's your cooking..."

It seems that he's disappointed that this is something he's eaten before. Kalfe roots are a very common crop in the nearby areas, so they're an ingredient that shows up on everyone's dining tables very frequently. I wonder if he's tired of them? I can see how he'd be disappointed; this is extremely simple cooking. I didn't even peel them first.

"Right, right! These are just kalfe roots cooked with butter, and you've eaten lots of these before, right? So you don't need to eat one, do you?" "...I'll eat it."

I ignore Lutz as he grumbles to himself, quickly peeling the skin off the very top of the tuber. I wrap my hand in my apron so that it doesn't get scalded, and pick it up. I bring the steaming potato up to my mouth, open wide, and take an enormous bite.

The surface of the tuber had cooled down quickly thanks to the frigid air, but the insides are piping hot as they melt within my mouth. Since they were steamed with the tronbay, they taste faintly of wood, like they were smoked. This flavor has intertwined with the savoriness of the butter, making a flavor that's nothing like anything I could find at home.

"Mmm...," I say, squirming in pleasure at the taste. Lutz, next to me, simply lets out a sigh, breath white in the cold air, then takes a bite of his own tuber. Immediately, his eyes fly wide open, and he stares in shock at the tuber. He looks back and forth between me and his food, looking like I'd tricked him somehow. Tilting his head in confusion, he takes another bite.

"...This is good! What is this?! This tastes totally different from the boiled kalfe root we eat at home!" "It's because they're steamed. All the nutrients and flavor are locked in there by the steam. Today, since we steamed them with the tronbay too, it picked up the flavor of that too, like if we smoked it, so it has a really luxurious sort of taste."

While we gleefully dig into our kalfe roots, I tell Lutz about what what happened last night while we were working on the hairpins.

"...So, yeah, Tory and Mommy were really amazing last night. They're really fired up about tonight, too. I couldn't even get one done, though, so I got reminded about how useless I really am, hah." "Don't get too proud." "How about you, Lutz? How'd it go?"

Lutz, who's finished his entire kalfe root already, sadly licks the last remnants from his fingers, then shakes his head grimly.

"Nobody seemed to have any interest in anything I was doing, so even when I asked them for help, they all just pretended to ignore me." "I see. Well, how about I come to your house today and cast my magic spell?" "Magic spell?" "Yup! Once we get our money from Mister Benno, I'll go home with you, so look forward to it!"

Now that we're done eating, I ask Lutz to draw some water from the well, then wash my hands and rinse out my mouth. Then, I take out the calculator that I'd brought and set it in front of Lutz.

"Ummm, so, today, we have four completed hairpins to sell." Since we're discussing business, I make sure to speak clearly and politely for Lutz. "Yesterday, Mister Benno paid us for one in advance, so today we will be paid for three. Each hairpin earns us eleven medium copper coins. Now then, how much money will we make today?"

As I explain the problem, Lutz listens with a serious expression, moving his fingers across the beads of the calculator.

"Thirty-three!" "Correct! Well done, Lutz! Next, we've already established that you need to make twenty total pins. Yesterday, you made five. How many do you have left to make?"

As I thought, Lutz gets frustrated when doing calculations that involve carrying or borrowing numbers, even when he has a calculator to help him, because they can't be done immediately. If he can't learn how to do single-digit calculations automatically in his head, these things will take a while even if he has a calculator, so for now I take away the calculator, write a bunch of numbers on my slate, and have him start working on practicing addition.

"Let's just work on memorizing this," I say, speaking casually again. "You gotta get fast enough at this that you can answer immediately when asked something."

Lutz grumbles, but gets to work studying. Meanwhile, I sit down next to him and work on finishing up my hairpin. By the time it's done, it's nearly noon, and the tronbay has finished steaming.

"Lutz, once I get each of these in the water, take them out please."

One by one, I use my chopsticks to place the steamed sticks of tronbay into the tub full of water from the well. They hiss with steam as I push them down into the water, then Lutz takes them out and puts them onto a nearby board. Since this isn't flowing river water, the water in the tub quickly warms up.

"The water's getting pretty warm," says Lutz. "One sec."

While I wait for Lutz to draw fresh water from the well to refill the tub, I sit down and start working on stripping bark from each stick. Once the tub is full, I go back to soaking new sticks. This repeats for some time. After all of the wood has been removed from the steamer, I steadily keep working on stripping bark while the wood is still warm, and Lutz cleans up the pot and steamer. Finally, we hang the strips of bark from nails in the warehouse to dry, and our work for the day is complete.

"Woohoo, all done!" "Alright, cleanup's all done too!"

Since I'd been stripping hot bark for so long, even after hanging everything out to dry my fingers are still prickling with heat. The cool air feels really nice on them right now. I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool, crisp air.

"...Huh?"

I'm not despairing over anything. I'm not anxious about anything. All I feel right now is the relief and sense of freedom you feel after finishing a difficult task.

Even still, the devouring fever rages within me. Reflexively, I turn all of my strength inwards, focusing on pinning it down again.

"Whoa, Maine?!"

Since I've suddenly gone rigid in front of him, Lutz shakes me frantically. I want to tell him that I'm trying to concentrate and that I want him to stop, but I'm struggling so hard against the pain that I can't form any words. I shakily reach out my right hand and catch one of his. He grabs onto it tightly with both hands.

"What the...? You're burning up?! Maine, are you alright? Can you hear me?!"

I focus on my tightly-squeezed hand, struggling to shut down the fever as I've done so many times before. Even though I've been imagining building a strong wall around my inner core to keep it shut in, this time a fragment of it managed to penetrate straight through.

Get back in there!

I manage to force the last embers of it back down into the depths of my heart, but I think this time is the longest it's ever taken me.

Immediately after my fever goes away, I'm suddenly weighed down by fatigue so heavy that I don't even want to move my mouth to speak. I don't really have the strength to stand anymore, so I sit down on the spot. Lutz, still holding tightly to my hand, is pulled along, crouching beside me.

"Huh? Your fever... went down? What the hell is this? Hey! Maine! Are you okay?!" "...That was... the devouring. You know, the thing Frieda was talking about?"

I let out an enormous sigh as I answer, and Lutz frowns worriedly.

"Wait, hang on. You're saying that there's no sign at all that you're suddenly about to get really sick?" "It comes really quickly. Until now, it's only happened when I'm feeling really strong emotions, but lately even the tiniest flicker of emotion seems to let it out... man, that startled me."

I really was startled, but I picked such an ordinary word to finish that off with to try to lessen the raw shock of it all. Lutz, though, still looks like he's almost about to cry, still clutching my hand tightly. Trying to give him at least a little peace of mind, I smile broadly up at him.

"Is there... anything you can do?" "...Frieda told us already, didn't she? It takes a huge amount of money. Mister Benno said the same thing."

The blood instantly drains from his face, leaving him white as a sheet.

"And, since that's that, shall we go to Mister Benno's shop now so that we can earn a little money?"

I show him a happy smile, hiding the honest fact that putting in any large amount of physical effort would be intensely difficult. Lutz clenches his teeth tightly, then lets go of my hand and spins around so that his back is facing me.

"I'll carry you to the shop. ...It's all I can do, after all." "It's all you can do? Don't you already do a lot for me, though?" "Argh, just get on!"

I hear a quaver in his voice as he's urging me on. I pretend not to hear it, though, and lean against his back, draping my arms over his shoulders.

Man, I'm beat, I think to myself.

Back when I was Urano, living life without ever looking up from my books, I'd never had a friend who'd cry for me like this. I don't know if saying anything now is the right thing to do here. I've read about it in books, but I'm still not sure at all.

Lutz, you're too kind. No matter how useless I am, you stay with me. I'm not even the real Maine, and you know that, but you've forgiven me.

"If I ever pass out from the devouring, Lutz, it's not your fault at all. It really, really does come without any warning. ...And there's no way I'm gonna lose anytime soon. I haven't made a single book yet."

I can hear Lutz sniffle, but he doesn't reply.

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