Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ceci, I brought you another jewel!”

“Oh!” Cecilia jumped and spun around, thankful she had only been polishing a mirror and not holding anything breakable. “Goodness, Kyle, you scared me!”

Kyle’s grin turned sheepish. “Sorry about that. I was just really excited to give you this emerald I found. It reminded me of your eyes.”

Cecilia felt her cheeks darken as Kyle gently set the beautiful piece of emerald on her palm. No matter how many times Kyle gave her a gem, it always left her flustered. Especially when he had such a bold compliment to go along with it. There was only one problem…

“Ceci?” Kyle asked, trying to get her attention. “Are you okay?”

Kyle was so earnest, so thoughtful. Cecilia felt awful for even thinking it, but… he gave her a lot of gems. A lot. Almost every day now he’d find her and give her a gem he “came across” (Cecilia didn’t believe for one second he simply came across all these gems) while adventuring. Cecilia had two little boxes under her bed full of gems from Kyle and she was pretty sure with this new addition she’d need a third. She was running out of room and she didn’t know how, or if she should, tell Kyle.

“You know if anything’s wrong, you can tell me,” Kyle assured her. “Is something wrong with the present?”

“No!” Cecilia insisted, louder than she’d meant to. “No,” she repeated, softer. “The presents are all wonderful, really. I love them…”

“But..?”

“But…” Cecilia took a moment before continuing. “There’s just… a lot of them. I’m running out of room.”

Realization spread across Kyle’s face. Cecilia braced herself for the worst, but then he laughed. “Oh, duh! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!” He laughed a moment more, then continued talking. “I was so obsessed with impressing you I didn’t even think of what you’d do with all the jewels I gave you.”

Cecilia chuckled nervously. “Yes, I suppose there’s not a lot you can do with just gems.”

Kyle’s expression turned thoughtful. “Well, not exactly. You can make jewelry out of them.”

“Well, I can’t. I never learned how to use a forge.”

“It’s never too late to start trying!” Kyle shot her a grin, the kind that made her pace quicken. “Everyone needs hobbies. Jake could teach you.”

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. “You are suggesting I spend more time with Jake?”

“Hey, I’m not possessive,” he said with a wink, which caused another blush on Cecilia’s face. “I’m serious, though,” he continued. “It’d be really cute to see you wearing jewelry made from jewels I found for you, and you could even sell some for extra cash if you wanted.”

Cecilia cocked her head to the side. “You wouldn’t be upset if I got rid of jewels that you gave me?”

Kyle shook his head. “Of course not! I’d be thrilled that they were helping you out somehow.”

Cecilia was still uncertain. Kyle could read the hesitation on her face. “How about we try it together? I have something in mind I’d like to forge one day so I could use some practice.” He looked straight into her eyes and this time she didn’t even try to stop the red that flooded her cheeks.

Chapter Text

The first, and only, person Jake saw upon entering the clinic was Natalie's apprentice. Her son. Ray.

Well, one human was just as good—or as useless—as the next.

Ray spotted Jake before he could announce himself, hurrying over into the lobby. They met halfway, and Ray's gaze immediately latched on to the bag of ice Jake was cradling against his burned hand.

"Tanya sent me here," Jake told him by way of greeting. "She wouldn't let me keep working, so I didn't have a choice."

That was the paraphrased version of it. More like, Tanya had pointed a sword between Jake's shoulderblades and marched him out of the Sharper Edge. It wasn't the first burn he'd suffered—although, admittedly, it was far more severe than anything in recent memory—and it likely wouldn't be the last. Just because some human wouldn't have been able to tough it out themselves, he was forced to come here.

"Let's see." Ray reached not for Jake's hand, but the bag of ice pressed to it. Jake hissed as the ice was removed, revealing the violently red mark stretching from his right thumb down to his wrist. "Don't ever use ice, please. It's the worst thing you could put on a burn; it'll slow the blood flow."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jake had known this, but it'd been the only thing available at Tanya's. And he'd been too preoccupied trying to ease the pain to think rationally. Ray didn't seem tough in the least, but it was remarkable how composed he was, at least compared to Tanya's hysterics.

Ray instructed Jake to follow him, and the two of them moved to the back of the clinic, where Jake sat himself up on the gurney. Now with suitable light, Ray examined the burn more closely, turning Jake's hand slowly in his own.

It was impressive, Jake thought, how focused and careful Ray was—not something Jake had come to expect from foolish humans.

"Well, at least it's not blistering. It looks to be mostly an epidermal burn, so the good news is you can treat it similarly to if you'd been sunburned. I can give you some burn gel to take home—and probably some to keep at the blacksmith, too, just in case this happens again."

Jake meant to tell Ray that he had no intention of this recurring, but Ray had already excused himself, presumably in search for the aforementioned gel.

He returned a few minutes later with two small bottles that look liked they'd once contained alcohol—not the medicinal kind, either. Draped over his wrist was a limp rag, which he transferred to Jake's hand after setting the bottles down.

The relief was immediate, cool comfort enveloping his inflamed skin. Ray folded the cloth around Jake's hand, tucking the ends under each other in a makeshift knot. "Keep it dry and clean until tomorrow, then dress it in bandages, with the gel applied.  This should help for now, though. "

"I thought you said ice is horrible for burns." Jake scoffed—which wasn't easy, given how soothing the cloth was. "Water is the same thing, you know."

"It's not water," Ray explained. "I soaked the cloth in cold milk. It's not a cure, but the fat and protein help with the swelling. Although, if you get burned any worse, dunking your hand in a glass of milk won't do a whole lot."

"You don't have to worry about that." Jake had to actively try not to let his revulsion show. "I wouldn't go near something so disgusting."

"Disgusting, maybe, but it's working, isn't it? Mom would use it all the time on us when we'd get sunburned as kids."

"Hmph, who would have thought some human remedy would be so... helpful to an elf."

"Human, elf, we all bleed the same," Ray replied, reaching to retuck the cloth in where it'd loosened around Jake's hand. Paused. Added, more serious, tentative. "We all hurt the same."

Jake bit the inside of his cheek to keep from retorting that no, it wasn't the same. Because he wouldn't stoop to the same level as humans and lie, when it was the same, at least in this case.

It wasn't like he kept up on the latest gossip in Alvarna, but he'd lived here long enough that he'd absorbed information about his peers purely through prolonged exposure. Ray's father had left him and his mother and sister, much like Jake's... well, he didn't like to call her a mother, but birthgiver?... like she'd left him and Dad. 

The silence had hovered between them too long; Ray's hand, pressing the cloth to Jake's, had lingered too long.

"Thanks for your assistance, human." Dropping his hand abruptly, Jake hopped off the gurney, and clumsily retrieved the bottles of gel. "Hopefully I won't be back here anytime soon."

"I understand." Ray gave Jake a small smile. "But you're always welcome here, Jake. Whether you're hurt or not."

"Right." It was Jake's manner of saying goodbye, unable to manage anything more as he made his way out of the clinic. Thanks to Ray, his hand felt considerably better and somehow, something deeper inside him did too.

Chapter Text

“You want to… what?”

“Play with your hair, silly!” Julia held up the cutely decorated box in her hands. “I wanna see what I can do with it!”

Mana stared at the box with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The box was a disorganized mess of ribbons and clips and ties and anything else you could possibly put in someone’s hair. Mana thought she saw the handle of a brush sticking out of the mess, but all the bright colors were starting to hurt her eyes, so she looked back at Julia instead.

Julia’s excitement appeared to be dying down, like she could see the hesitation in Mana’s eyes. “You don’t have to let me if you don’t want to,” Julia shrugged. “I just thought it might be fun for us to hang out tonight.”

“No, I think we should!” Mana quickly assured. “You just caught me by surprise, haha…” She tapered off with an awkward laugh. It wasn’t a lie. Mana hadn't expected to be ambushed by an overly enthusiastic Julia when she got out of the bath, warm and clean and wrapped in a fuzzy grey robe. She really did think it sounded like fun. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Oh!” Julia’s grin grew fast on her face again. “Great! Can I set you up by the front counter in case another customer comes in?”

Mana nodded and Julia led her to a stool behind the front counter. Julia set the box down and began rifling through it. In search of what, Mana didn’t have a clue. Eventually she pulled out a pale purple brush and turned back to Mana. Mana was fairly certain it wasn’t the same brush she saw earlier.

“I’ll just brush it out to start with,” Julia said and walked around Mana so she could start gently pulling the brush through Mana’s hair. She started at the bottom, slowly working out the tangles there before moving higher up on Mana’s head.

It was… relaxing. Very, very relaxing. Mana hadn’t had someone brush her hair since her father did it because she was too young to do it herself. It definitely hadn’t been relaxing back then. She remembered constantly reprimanding him for pulling too hard. Julia, however, knew exactly what she was doing. Her strokes were delicate, causing a rhythmic sound that almost lulled Mana to sleep.

After a few minutes Julia set the hairbrush down. She seemed to be just as affected by the calm atmosphere as Mana was. She didn’t say a word as she divided Mana’s hair into three strips and began braiding them. With her practiced hands, it didn’t take long to reach the end.

“Can you grab a ribbon for me? I don’t want to let go of your braid.” Julia finally broke the silence and Mana almost jumped.

“Sure.” Mana eyed the box warily and stuck her hand in. It came back out with a pink ribbon and Mana sighed in relief.

“Thanks!” Julia took the ribbon from Mana’s hand and quickly tied it at the end of her braid. “There! You should really braid your hair more often. This braid’s pretty basic but I think a side braid would look especially cute on you.”

And there it was. A comment that had Mana nearly backed into a corner. She could brush it off, sure. Just say she would braid her hair in the future and move on. But, maybe… maybe Julia could help with Mana’s little problem. Mana took a deep breath, and when she spoke, she was thankful Julia couldn’t see her face. “I… don’t know how to braid,” she admitted.

There was a slight pause before Julia spoke. “Don’t sound so embarrassed! It’s not that weird. I can teach you how to braid! It might take you a little while to get really good at braiding so if you want your hair pulled back you could always use a ponytail or-”

“I don’t know how to make a ponytail either.”

The pause was longer this time. “Oh. Really?”

Mana nodded. Julia took her moment of silence as an opportunity to lean against the counter so she could see Mana’s face. “I can brush and tie ribbons into my hair but that’s really… it,” Mana finished with a resigned sigh.

Julia looked thoughtful. “I guess that makes sense. Your dad doesn’t seem like the type to know that stuff.”

Mana felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile. “No, he’s never thought that kind of stuff is important.”

“Well, I think it is important.” Julia stood and tugged the ribbon out of Mana’s hair, letting the dark strands fall back into place. “Hairstyles are a cheap way to express your style. I’m going to teach you everything I know about hair!” Julia announced, looking determined. There was a fierce gleam in her eye that made Mana giggle.

“We’ll start with the basics. First, a ponytail!” Mana was startled by the nimble fingers running through her hair. Instead of serene, Mana felt… exhilarated. That was the right word.

But she didn't have time that night to examine why Julia’s fingers in her hair exhilarated her. Mana was nothing if not a good student. She’d worry about such pesky things in the morning.

Chapter Text

Hate was a strong word.

Barrett hated festivals.

Or, no, actually, Barrett hated the days preceding festivals. Couldn't stand the town humming with excitement over what rarely lived up to anyone's expectations (and then there was Barrett, who had long since bothered even having any expectations).

All this false cheerfulness, as if these festivals meant a damn thing, other than an excuse to get together and drink and gossip. This wasn't entirely different than most days in Alvarna, but at least on those days Barrett didn't have to constantly absorb all the nauseatingly disingenuous conversations that abounded.

Or find himself thrust into one.

"Hi, Barrett!~ Fancy seeing you here," purred an unmistakable voice from somewhere behind him.

You mean in the middle of the park that everyone passes through? Barrett tried to pretend he hadn't heard Alicia, hurrying along, but it was no use. Her hand closed upon his wrist, the shock of it sending him whirling around so forcefully that she released him and stumbled a few steps away.

He didn't like having his personal space invaded; even less so did he like having his personal life intruded upon, but he suspected that was exactly why Alicia was trying to talk to him.

"What? What do you want?"

Undeterred by his reaction, she flashed him a welcoming smile—like her favorite customer had just walked up. "The Cherry Blossom Festival's tomorrow, you know."

One of the more "romantic" festivals in town. Of course all the girls would be buzzing about this.

And of course Alicia could not possibly imagine how much he did not care.

"Yeah," Barrett's voice sounded faraway to his own ears, as he was still trying to calm down from Alicia's sneaking up on him. "Same as every year."

"Is it?" Alicia's smile curled more wicked. "Because my fortune says that for you, Barrett, it'll be quite different."

"I don't ca—"

"That you won't have your usual company to pass the afternoon with. And that she'll be in rather... different company, herself."

Dorothy. He cared about her—who in their right mind wouldn't?—but it wasn't his business who she spent her time with. Just because they usually spent festivals together along Falling Star Path didn't mean he expected it each and every time.

"Yeah, and...? That's what you stopped me for? Your stupid gossip? I got better things to do than listen to this crap."

"It's not gossip," Alicia's face fell but her voice rose. "It's my inner eye, seeing all! And right now it's seeing you as miserably alone. Not just tomorrow, but for the rest of your life."

Barrett hoped his expression didn't betray how deeply Alicia's words cut. He'd never cared what his peers thought, but few had voiced, and so viciously, something that'd been a very real fear for him ever since his mother died.

Just as he opened his mouth to tell Alicia off, another arm fell over his shoulders, accompanied by the scent of crisp cologne. This time Barrett didn't jerk away, only flinched as he found himself secured to the spot by Max de Sainte-Coquille.

"Barrett! There you are!" Max grinned down at him for... well, this was Max, so no apparent reason, before turning to Alicia as if just noticing her. "Oh, hello, Alicia. Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

"Just as I predicted!" Alicia beamed, seemingly having recovered from Barrett's skepticism now that Max was present.

"Yes, and about that: I couldn't help but overhear you telling our friend Barrett here," Max paused to reach his free hand across Barrett and pat him soundly on the chest, "that his luck in spending tomorrow's Cherry Blossom Festival with someone is next to nil."

Alicia's eyes narrowed, evidently distrustful of Max's interest. "That's right. It's crystal clear to me; someone with a bad attitude like his won't have a date tomorrow or for the foreseeable future."

Barrett could only watch in a sort of thrall as the banter escalated, his eyes volleying between Alicia and Max.

"That's so curious, because I have it on good authority that Barrett's going to be spending tomorrow with the most sought-after single in town."

Whoa, whoa... what was Max talking about...? Barrett started to ask, "What...?" but was drowned out by Alicia demanding, "And who might that be?"

"Haha, well, what are you asking me for? Your... what is it, your Inner Eye? It should be able to show you, shouldn't it? Perhaps you just have to focus it a little harder." Max's tone was gratingly pleasant, even more so as he continued as if this were casual conversation. "I mean, you'll have plenty of time to do so tomorrow, won't you? Having the afternoon to yourself and all?"

By now, Alicia's face was almost as pink as her hair, and she let out a frustrated huff before pushing past Max and Barrett, disappearing from the park into the east end of Alvarna.

"Come on, Barrett." Max dropped his arm from Barrett's shoulders, leading them towards the west end of Alvarna.

"How much did you hear?" Barrett muttered, avoiding looking at Max as they walked.

"Enough," said Max, and Barrett didn't think Max de Sainte-Coquille dealt in one-word responses, but he was grateful in this instance to be proven wrong.

When they stopped in front of the Sainte-Coquille Mansion and Barrett managed a goodbye (he could throw in the "thank you" tomorrow), Max startled him by asking him to wait a moment.

"If you've the time right now, perhaps we can discuss the arrangements for tomorrow over tea? To ensure Alicia's properly convinced, and everything."

"You want to talk about me attending the festival with 'Alvarna's most sought-after single'?"

"Me. That 'single' is me. So yes, Barrett, I do."

And Barrett, who didn't like tea or talking about festival arrangements or Alicia, somehow didn't hate it, not even a little bit, when he accepted Max's offer.

Chapter Text

"This is so ridiculous!" Julia's frustrated exclamation echoed up from the foyer of Sainte-Coquille manor through Max's open bedroom door. "Why is it pouring like this?!"

What piqued Max's curiosity even more than Julia's question was the fact that Julia was still here, in the manor, when they'd exchange their goodbyes over ten minutes ago. Max couldn't imagine it'd taken her and Rosalind this long to gather all the extra fruit salad Cecilia made from the kitchen, that'd been promised to Julia during what should have been a quick social visit, but had turned into an entire afternoon filled with tea and conversation between the three of them.

He wandered out to the hallway, spying on his sister and Julia from above. Their dialogue continued at a much quieter volume, drowned out by rain drumming on the tall windowpanes framing the manor. The beautiful blue spring morning had been swept away, replaced by what was verging on a storm. Max had never found himself terribly bothered by such changes in the weather, but seeing Julia so perturbed created a similar sullenness, to match the grey misery outside.

Judging by their gestures, Max could tell that Julia's primary concern was how she was supposed to transport the large bowl of fruit salad while also handling an umbrella to shield herself—and her hair and outfit—from the rain. Rosalind, he knew, was kind enough that she'd offer to hold the umbrella for Julia, at the expense of possibly getting wet herself.

But what she wasn't was quick enough.

"If only you had an extra set of hands," Max commented, casually leaning forward with his arms resting against the landing's rail. "If only."

And so it was that Max was Julia's chaperone back to Wisdom Bathhouse on the east side of Alvarna. Such duties—escorting a young woman to a particular destination—were not out of the ordinary from someone as chivalrous as Max de Sainte-Coquille. But this was Julia and therefore he felt the peculiar mix of giddiness and trepidation he associated with the characters in the fantastical stories Rosalind enjoyed. That is, he found it astounding that he, as a living, breathing person could experience such extreme, heart-twisting emotions that he had previously assumed were mere products of fiction.

This was decidedly not anything out of any kind of novel. No fictional hero would be in Max's position, wielding not an umbrella large enough to cover the both of them but the only sort of protection available: Rosalind's lacy seafoam green parasol that, if Max held just so, prevented Julia's silver curls and wrinkle-free dress from suffering any damage.

The only thing still intact from when Max had left the manor was his smile. He kept it pinned up as Julia chatted away about the new shipment of lavender soap she'd gotten in. He couldn't help but wonder if Julia was purposely avoiding looking at him as a method of flirtation, playing the coquette, or if he looked as appalling as he felt, and she just couldn't bear it.

He knew his hair, once styled, was now plastered down against his head and neck, and it seemed as if every drop of rain was being drawn directly to his collar, streaming in tickly rivulets down his back. His slacks were likely a lost cause, given the high-quality fabric they were sewn from.

He didn't care. Wisdom Bathhouse was within sight, and Julia was safe and dry.

Once inside the bathhouse's threshold, Max could use the parasol to shield himself. Not that it mattered at this point—he couldn't get any more wet, but it did keep the water out of his eyes, for the most part, so he could properly look at Julia.

"Thanks for walking me home, Max. I really appreciate it," she told him, adjusting the giant bowl of fruit salad in her arms. "Ugh, but I'm gonna have a word with Alicia about this. When I saw her this morning, she said it'd be clear skies all day!"

"Hm, but I'm guessing she told you this before Kyle stopped by to see her." While Max knew that Kyle was no slouch when it came to his farm, everyone needed a day off now and then; he wouldn't be surprised if Kyle had paid Alicia a visit to ensure Mother Nature took over his tasks, if only for a day.

"Yeah..." Julia sighed. "Well, whatever, I'm home now and that's what matters. Which means the first thing I'm gonna do is sink into a nice warm bath."

Max blinked, as if there was still rainwater he needed to get out. "Pardon? A nice... bath?"

"Yeah!" Julia beamed. "It'd just feel... amaxing, soaking in a Toyherb scented bath and letting it envelop me, head to toe. Wash down with some luxurious Charm Blue-infused soap."

"Soak?" Max repeated. With his available hand, he smoothed away the hair caked along his brow. Droplets flung off his fingers. "Head to toe?"

With a giggle, Julia nodded. "That's the only way. There's nothing better!"

Max's smile softened, amusement and affection winning out over his disbelief. "If you say so, Julia, then I'll have to take your word for it."

"Duh, of course you will. Thanks again, Max." Julia moved forward a step; Max presumed it was to close the front door with her elbow, but no. It was to lean out enough that rain trickled onto her as she pressed up onto her toes and gave Max a peck on the cheek. Then, she did as he expected, backing away and nudging the front door closed with her shoulder.

The parasol lay in a puddle on the ground beside Max, a victim of his shock at Julia's action. He left it there, standing frozen to the spot with a damp hand touching his damp cheek, finding it truly interesting, in every sense of the word, how the rain was pouring down in sheets and here he was in a world where the sun was shining the warmest and brightest it ever had.

Chapter Text

Dorothy was startled out of the monotonous routine of taking inventory at the clinic by the slam of the front door and a voice yelling, “Dorothy, it’s an emergency!”

So naturally Dorothy dropped her clipboard in surprise, head whipping up so fast her hood slipped off and left her head exposed.

At the door stood Yue, who was soaking and muddy and dripping water all over the wooden floor.

Dorothy rushed over to the other girl. “Are you alright?” she asked, scanning Yue for any visible injuries. It was obvious she must have fallen in the rain, which had been pouring nonstop all day. She didn’t look hurt, so why was she yelling?

“No, I’m not alright,” Yue practically wailed, letting the door shut behind her. “I slipped and fell in a bunch of mud! And as if that wasn’t bad enough my kimono got stuck on a twig and ripped!” Yue held up her right arm to show Dorothy. Sure enough, a large rip ran down part of the sleeve.

Dorothy didn’t know how to respond to Yue’s bemoaning, so she stuck to what she understood instead, her nurse duties. “Are you hurt?” Her voice was quieter than it was before, now that she realized there wasn’t an actual emergency.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Yue responded.

“Then what was the emergency?” Dorothy asked patiently.

“My sleeve!” Yue showed her again. “I need help fixing it. I know you’re really good at sewing. Would you fix it? Please?”

Dorothy was never going to say no, but Yue’s puppy-dog eyes never even gave her a chance. She nodded and Yue let out an excited yell.

“Thank you so much! This kimono is one of my favorites. I can wash out the mud no problem, but I’m useless with a needle and thread.”

“I don’t mind h-helping,” Dorothy responded, cheeks flushing at the return of her stutter.

Yue only smiled wider and took Dorothy’s hands in hers, giving them a light squeeze. “I really, really appreciate it.”

Dorothy felt her heart skip a beat. She knew this time it wasn’t because of her social anxiety. “It’s no problem,” she replied, with no stutter at all.

Chapter Text

“Oh, Barrett, isn’t it beautiful?”

Barrett couldn’t bring himself to agree with Mana. Cozy, maybe. Quaint, if someone held a sword up to his throat and made him say it. But not beautiful.

While Mana stared around the newly built classroom with starry eyes, Barrett wore his usual unimpressed glare. He didn’t really get why she was freaking out so much. The classroom didn’t even have anything in it yet. The building team had only finished up the day before and they had yet to receive their shipment of school supplies. It was basically just an empty room.

And yet Mana was already dashing from one end to another, rambling about where she wanted to put what. The teacher’s desk here, the blackboard there. She cared way more about that stuff than Barrett did.

“We should go over our lesson plans,” Barrett interrupted.

Mana turned from her spot against the wall, where she had been passionately reciting everything she wanted to hang up there. “Barrett, we’ve gone over our lesson plans so many times. I know you’re nervous, but we can focus on something else for a little bit.”

Barrett bristled at the accusation. “I am not nervous.”

Mana smirked, an expression that looked completely out of place on her. “Barrett, we’ve spent around 85% of our time together the past few months. I think I know you pretty well by now. But if you say you aren’t nervous, then sure. I believe you.”

Barrett blinked in surprise. Where the hell had this devious side come from?

Actually, looking back to when they were kids, Barrett knew exactly where her devious side came from. She only got better at hiding it throughout the years. He didn’t know if her believable ‘innocent daddy’s little girl’ act annoyed him or impressed him.

Not that Mana was evil or anything. No evil person would put so much care and effort into being a teacher. Hell, she hadn’t even started the actual teaching yet, but it was obvious she was going to kill it.

So, Barrett supposed he respected Mana, even if her bubbly persona could be a little grating.

Mana was still smiling at him with a twinkle in her eye, and to Barrett’s utter horror he found himself starting to smile as well.

Thankfully, Mana took mercy on him and looked away, choosing to glance around the classroom again. “I’m a little nervous too,” she admitted. “Mostly, excited, but also nervous. I know it’ll just be Cammy and Roy for now, but we’ll be teaching Alvarna’s next generation! That’s a huge responsibility, and the town trusts us to do it.” Mana turned back towards him. “It’s nerve wracking, but I know we’re going to do great.”

Barrett was surprised that Mana’s words had a calming effect on him. Not that he’d actually been nervous or anything, but still. Mana had a way with words. She was going to be one hell of a teacher.

And Barrett felt lucky to be by her side for the adventure.

Chapter Text

They saw each other every morning.

Sometimes it was cold, and Alicia had a shawl thrown around her bare shoulders as she made her way to the pier. Other times the sun was just heating up enough to make her wish she could shed her remaining clothes. The weather didn’t matter. Every morning, Alicia ran into Jake in the square.

He walked to the blacksmith’s without a falter in his step or a glance at anything but the space right in front of him. Jake made it painfully clear that he’d rather get trampled by a Buffamoo than talk to anyone.

But that never stopped Alicia.

“Good morning,” she’d say, usually in her sultry drawl. For the first few months after Jake first moved to town, he ignored her completely. His eyes would sometimes flicker to her, but he’d quickly refocus and be on his way.

After a while, he stopped outright ignoring her. That in itself impressed Alicia. Instead, he’d grunt and keep walking.

Well, any progress was still progress, Alicia supposed. She was clearly still annoying him. It was still fun, so she kept doing it.

Eventually it became more of a habit than anything. Alicia stopped thinking about why she greeted him every morning even though she only got a lukewarm reply. For years that was how they greeted each other. Except for the occasional holiday, Alicia and Jake were a strange, dependable part of each other’s morning.

Maybe two years after Kyle came to town (it’s funny how many of Alvarna’s residents began referring to time as ‘Before Kyle’ and ‘After Kyle’) their routine changed. Jake changed.

It was spring and Alicia was already in a good mood. Her mother didn’t nag her that morning and she was looking forward to being in the perfect weather all day. As she passed Jake in the square, she said “Good morning!” with a little more cheer than she normally would have.

“Morning,” Jake replied, not even sparing her a glance and continuing on his way as usual.

Alicia, however, swiveled around and stared at Jake’s retreating back. Her mouth was gaping open and she quickly shut it, trying to appear more put together. “Hey!” Jake turned around at her call, his face scrunched up and scowl apparent.

“What is it, human?” he sneered. His indifferent tone from when he first greeted her was long gone.

Alicia put her hands on her hips, her initial surprise wearing off. “Like you don’t know. How many years have we known each other? And never once have you ever said ‘good morning’ back to me.”

“I never actually said ‘good’,” Jake argued back. He crossed his arms and his eyes flitted to the fountain, like he wanted to ignore her. As if Alicia would let him get away with that anymore.

“Don’t be a smartass. You know what I meant.”

“You’re overthinking, which is something I didn’t think anyone of your species was capable of doing.”

Alicia was many things. She was many things she’d never admit to, but her mother would gladly reprimand her for. But one thing she could be proud for being, was a people person. Not that she wanted to spend her every waking moment with other people, but she understood them. Understood what made them tick, how their minds worked, what their behaviors said about their innermost wants and dreams. She wouldn’t be able to make money in her line of work if she wasn’t able to connect to people.

It also worked in Alicia’s favor that she lived in such a small town. Rarely did anyone move in and even rarer did anyone move out. She’d had years to cultivate her interpretation of each individual resident of Alvarna. Jake was no exception.

That’s why she could see through his trick so easily. He was trying to get her mad and distract her. The clever bastard almost pulled it off.

So Alicia did the opposite of what he wanted. Her stance became more relaxed and her smile returned. And she couldn’t help but take some satisfaction in how that seemed to make Jake even angrier.

“Now, Jake, sweetie, surely you feel something for me if you’re being so nice to me,” she said in the most syrupy voice she could manage.

Jake’s face turned bright red, a nice contrast to his pale hair, and his face balled up into fists. “You’re being ridiculous! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, do I?” Alicia asked, her voice attempting an innocence it could never hope to achieve. “I suppose you elves do know best. Farewell, then.” She batted her eyes at him and turned around, making sure to add a little extra swing to her hips as she glided towards the pier.

From the outraged sputtering Alicia heard behind her, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more to her teasing accusations than she realized.

Chapter Text

Barrett and Cecilia ran in different social circles. Meaning, of course, that Cecilia was friends with everybody and Barrett was friends with no one.

Cecilia laughed often, in a way that reminded Barrett of a fairy. Not one of the mean fairies that lived out in the wilderness, but one from a storybook his father would read to him when he was little. The kind that helped humans and brought joy. Cecilia’s laugh was bright and airy and contagious. Barrett couldn’t remember the last time he laughed, but he was sure his laugh wasn’t anything like that.

Cecilia was generous, more so than anyone else in Alvarna, Barrett thought. Anyone that could wait on Max hand and foot had to be a saint. But maybe not quite. Herman would be devastated to lose Cecilia to the church, after all.

Even outside her job Cecilia was overwhelmingly kind. She greeted everyone with a smile, no matter what she got in return. If Roy and Cammy cornered her and demanded she play with them, she didn’t complain. She helped anyone who needed her without a thought for herself.

Cecilia was also really pretty. Barrett would never admit to finding another person attractive out loud, but Cecilia being pretty was objective fact. Barrett knew that everyone else noticed too. It was obvious in the way Kyle constantly gifted her with jewels, Max blushed when she adjusted his clothing, and Jake allowed only her to befriend him. It was also obvious in the way Alicia wasn’t shy about leaving lingering touches, Yue would offer special discounts, and Rosalind asked for more help with putting on dresses than she actually needed.

Cecilia had many qualities worth praising. In his mind, not out loud, Barrett could admit that. In fact, she kind of seemed like the perfect human being. Or, elf. Whatever. The point was that Cecilia was perfect and it annoyed Barrett. Everyone has a flaw. Everyone except Cecilia, apparently. She was patient with the de Sainte-Coquilles, didn’t snap at her friends when they said something obnoxious, and had a good relationship with her dad. Barrett couldn’t even pretend any of those applied to him.

Cecilia was flawless. Until one day, she wasn’t.

Barrett walked into the de Sainte-Coquille manor, slouching and annoyed at himself for agreeing to show up. He couldn’t even remember why Max wanted him to come over in the first place.

“Max, could you please help me open this?”

Cecilia’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs. There she stood with Max, who looked a little too smug as he took a jar from Cecilia’s hands. “Of course, Cecilia. I-”

As soon as the lid came off, glitter sprung from the jar and flew into Max’s face.

Barrett watched from the doorway as Max sputtered, in shock. Cecilia just laughed. It was different from her normal laugh. It was less like giggling and more like snickering. He watched as Max ranted at Cecilia for pulling such a prank, though clearly trying to hide his own amusement. She apologized, but the grin on her face and mischievous glint in her eyes gave away that she wasn’t even a little bit sorry.

It occurred to Barrett then that Cecilia was one of the most obnoxious things a person can be: a prankster.

So why did his heart rate speed up at the sight of her covering her mouth to stifle laughter as Max droned on?

Barrett shook his head and turned around to leave. The other two hadn’t noticed him yet. Whatever Max wanted him there for could wait. He’d obviously need some time to clean up anyway.

Cecilia wasn’t perfect, and Barrett didn’t understand why that made him smile as he made the short trek back home.

Chapter Text

“Just a moment!” Rosalind called in a sing-song voice from her room.

Dorothy waited on the other side of the closed door. The only thing preventing her hands from shaking was the book she was holding.

This was normally the sort of errand she would have asked Kyle to do, but Rosalind was her friend. It wasn't scary or nerve-wracking to do something as simple as return a book to a friend.

Well, maybe a little...

Rosalind opened the door, the warmth of her pleasant smile penetrating the long green fringe Dorothy liked to hide behind. “Oh! Dorothy, you know you needn't knock... but what can I help you with?”

“I-I have the book you lent to Cammy.” She held up the book in question. “Now's an okay time to return it, I hope..?”

“Don't be silly, it's always a good time to see you.” Rosalind took the book and motioned for Dorothy to enter. “Come in, tell me how Cammy liked it!”

Dorothy obeyed her friend's request. She followed Rosalind to the bed, where both of them sat. Dorothy, who was so used to keeping her arms crossed defensively over her middle, found that here, she could let her guard down. She brushed her fingers over the heavy, down comforter and took in her surroundings.

The lamps offered a soft, welcoming glow, and the mingling scents of fresh-cut Autumn Grass and the steaming Relax Tea on Rosalind's nightstand made it even more cozy and inviting.

And then there was Rosalind herself, who always made Dorothy feel comfortable, regardless of the setting...

“She must've really enjoyed it, if she finished it already.” Rosalind was giddy, rightfully so, as this was one of her (many) favorite books. The tale of a mischievous squire befriending a rough-and-tumble apothecary's apprentice—she'd told Dorothy the two main characters reminded her of Roy and Cammy, and Dorothy couldn't disagree with that estimation.

“O-Oh, yes.” Dorothy said, recollecting how eager Cammy had been to continue the story each night this past week. Cammy, who never stopped running around, and lacked the focus required to read a book of this length, would beg Dorothy for just one more chapter, through yawns and half-mast eyes. “Fern did, too. I... I read to them... every night.”

“That's wonderful! What was her favorite part—ooh, I know!” Rosalind tapped at Dorothy's arm as she went on excitedly. “I'll bet it was when the apprentice had to sneak into the royal stable, and stole the captain's horse. That part has me on edge every time!”

Dorothy giggled quietly. “She did like that part a lot. She made me re-read it to her the next night because she wanted to tell Roy about it and couldn't remember everything.”

“What about you, hm?” Rosalind nudged her gently. “Was it when the squire disguised himself as a knight, and kissed the princess?”

“N-No..!” Dorothy lowered her chin, hoping it would hide the blush on her cheeks. She'd had trouble reading that paragraph out loud, and Cammy'd had an even tougher time hearing it, pulling a face and groaning. “I didn't really have a favorite part. I, um.... I just liked reading the story to Cammy. It was... nice.”

“For her too, I'm sure. You have such a gentle, soothing voice, you know.” Rosalind carefully laid back on the bed, pretty wisps of blue hair framing her face like rays around the sun. “That's probably why she liked the story so much.”

She did? Dorothy didn't think anyone even had an opinion of her voice, as she so rarely spoke. She glanced at the book, that was on the bed beside Rosalind. “You... think so?”

“Absolutely! You know, I've read this story practically a hundred times but I've never once had it read to me. My father and Ceci are quite busy, so I could never ask them. And Max... oh, he'd be so ridiculous about it, give the characters all sorts of dramatic personas—ruin it, quite simply. You, I'm sure, made it infinitely better.”

“I did like reading it to Cammy,” Dorothy admitted, running a finger along a seam in the comforter. “When I have words to say, it... makes it easier to say them.”

“Then, would you mind terribly reading a little to me right now? Just a chapter, Dorothy. Please? I won't keep you beyond that. I'd like to...” Rosalind passed the book to Dorothy, laughing her musical laugh. “But I won't.”

Dorothy opened the book, and it felt like something more than the story inside was beginning. She smiled softly down at Rosalind. “I... could do that. For you.”

Rosalind smiled up at her in return.

Dorothy turned her gaze, but not her full attention, to the book. “Once upon a time...”

Chapter Text

Ray could hardly predict the future with the same accuracy as his sister, but he doubted even Alicia would have foreseen him leaving the clinic only to find Yue rushing towards him, waving frantically and calling out, “Ray!”

If someone was in this much of a hurry to see him, it had to be a medical emergency. “Yue? Is everything alr—?”

“Have you seen Alicia?” She gasped out between catching her breath. “I've been all over town... I can't find her!”

“Er... I believe she's visiting Julia at the bathhouse.” Not that he kept close tabs on Alicia's whereabouts, but it was a Monday, and Julia's day off. Which, Ray knew all too well, meant the perfect opportunity for his sister to catch up on beauty tips—and the latest town gossip. Surely, they would invite Yue to join them, even if she had no inclination to, herself.

Yue sighed sadly. “Oh..! Well, I don't want to interrupt them. Do you think Alicia'll be back soon?”

Ray honestly had no idea, and said as much. And then, because he couldn't shed the impulse to help someone in need, even after clinic hours, he asked, “Is it something I could help with, perhaps?”

“Could you make sure she gets this?”

Ray hadn't seen it before, but now, as Yue extended it to him, he didn't know how he'd missed something so flashy. He took the small container, examining its opalescent blue lid and equally shiny label. Madam Mammoo's Wonderous Wrinkle Reducer, it read, in fancy, curlicue script.

“What in the world...?” Obviously, it was a sort of cosmetic product, but he never assumed Alicia was concerned about things like wrinkles at her age.

“Alicia asked me if I sold any anti-aging potions or creams; I guess she and your mom got in an argument and—”

“No, no. I know.” Ray wanted to spare Yue from explaining it when he was far too aware of the situation, and hardly wished to relive it. Mother telling Alicia that all Alicia's antics were going to turn her hair gray, give her wrinkles—and Alicia replying acidly that at this point, it was a little too late to be worrying about that.

Ray removed the lid, gave the cream a testing sniff. It smelled amazing, at any rate. A mix of something like ripe Pink Melons, and other floral scents he couldn't distinguish.

“I found this in the capital when I was there a couple days ago," Yue said. "I spent every last G that Alicia gave me on it; hopefully your mom likes it.”

Ray had a faint idea that Mother would appreciate it being gifted in apology—quite a rare offering from Alicia—more than the cream itself. He put the lid back on, trying to sound encouraging as he told Yue, “Let's hope it actually works to some degree, or we'll have a whole 'nother argument on our hands. Maybe I ought to test it first, myself. ”

Yue just laughed, a musical sound like the bell that jingled above the clinic entrance. “What would you need it for?” Before Ray could reply that he'd only been kidding, Yue had reached up and planted her open hands on either side of his face, on his cheeks. “You have skin like silk cloth! So smooth!”

Ray froze, eyes widening, as did Yue's when she saw his reaction. Her hands stayed at his cheeks for several more seconds until dropping away; Ray wondered if it was the heat flooding there, that had forced Yue's hands off.

“Sorry, I...” she started, as Ray talked over her, “No! It's alright...!”

It was like Ray was hearing the awkward silence that fell between them through a stethoscope, for how loudly it pulsed in his ears. But Yue... if there was one thing she wasn't, it was awkward, and she quickly filled the gap of silence with a cheerful smile. “Just let me know if it works out, okay? I'd hate to deliver a faulty product, even if it isn't my own.”

Still recovering from the unexpected contact, Ray managed to respond, “Yes, certainly, I'll make sure Alicia finds you and—”

“It doesn't have to be Alicia. You could bring your mom and I could do a side-by-side comparison.”

The embarrassment that had just begun to wane returned with a vengeance. “R-Right, well, I'll keep that in mind.” Not that the thought of their unexpected contact would be leaving him anytime soon.

Smile still intact, Yue thanked Ray again and departed with the same enthusiastic wave she'd greeted him with.

No, he couldn't predict how this would unfold, be it whatever had just happened between him and Yue, or the rift between Mother and Alicia.

But he could predict that Alicia was never going to believe it when he told her that Yue had referred to him as smooth. 

Chapter Text

“Jake? Are you here?”

Jake quickly stood from where he'd been examining the surprise he had for Ceci, turning to watch her slowly emerge from the entrance to Trieste Forest's Spring Clearing.

“I said I would be.” He always kept his word where Cecilia was concerned. As she neared him, her green eyes brilliant like the emeralds she adored, Jake suddenly felt his gift was hardly deserving of her, despite all the time he put into it.

Then again, was there anything—or anyone—worthy of Cecilia? Jake hoped that he could be, especially after a major misstep last year had severely reduced his chances.

“What did you want to show me?” Ceci asked, stopping at his side with a soft smile on her lips.

“This.” Jake motioned to the patch of land in front of him, bursting bright with crops and flowers.

Toyherb, strawberries, cabbages; those all belonged to Kyle. But the square of Lamp Grass, vibrant red bulbs in full bloom, was a product of Jake's hard work and knowledge he'd never dreamed he'd acquire.

“They're for you,” he explained, gesturing to the Lamp Grass specifically. “Instead of giving them to you, I thought you'd like them here. Where they belong.”

Ceci knelt down in front of the Lamp Grass, reached out to trace her fingers gently along the crimson petals. “You grew these?”

“Yes,” Jake replied tersely. “Don't sound so shocked.” He thought better of adding the point that, if Kyle, a human with no memory, could grow them, then of course he could too. There was no of course—it'd been tough, plain and simple, to tend to the slowly-blossoming flowers day in and day out, on top of the hours he put in at the Sharper Edge.

“In a good way,” Ceci reassured him, leaning in close to smell the flowers' calming scent Jake had become all-too-familiar with. “Thank you, Jake. They're beautiful.”

“Which is why they're for you,” he stressed. He knelt down beside her, trying to not read into the fact that her smile had turned a bit flustered. He hadn't meant anything flirtatious by that; he was only being honest. “I'm sorry. For giving you those flowers for your birthday.”

It'd been almost a year ago, that Jake had idiotically taken advice from Max and, because all girls liked flowers!, presented Ceci with a bouquet of wildflowers. It seemed like a good idea versus crafting her a Cutlass with aquamarines encrusted on its hilt, as Tanya had suggested.

Ceci'd been furious that Jake had, in her words, destroyed the flowers and for what? A thoughtless gift? Didn't he know her at all?

No, he was able to finally admit after taking the time to talk to her, listen to her even more over the past year, instead of worshiping her from a distance. He really hadn't.

“I know you're sorry, Jake,” she said quietly. “You've already told me.”

“I said I was sorry,” Jake corrected her. “But I didn't show you that I really meant it.” How many times had he witnessed Roy carrying on around the forge, and telling Tanya “sorry!” whenever she scolded him? Too often for him to believe the kid meant it—to be expected, really, of a human. All talk and no action.

He wouldn't be the same way, especially not for Ceci.

Ceci tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, studying the Lamp Grass for another moment before looking at Jake. She reached out to where his hand rested upon his knee, and took it, giving it a squeeze. If it were possible, she sounded even more kind and sweet when she told him, “Thank you.”

Words failed Jake, for how frantically his heart was thudding from her touch. Even the soothing aroma from the Lamp Grass did nothing to help. He just blinked at her. Then, because he was still half-human and therefore prone to making stupid human mistakes, he said, “I know. You said that already.”

Cecilia scooted closer, their hands still connected as she did. Jake wondered for an instant if she might rest her head upon his shoulder, but she didn't—she only gave his hand another squeeze and told him, “Right. But I just wanted to show you I really meant it.”

Chapter Text

Alicia sighed as she sank into the steaming hot water of the bathhouse. Rosalind sat across from her, already settled and relaxing. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day, Rosie,” she told the girl in front of her. “You wouldn’t believe what Ray put me through this week.”

The corner of Rosalind’s mouth twitched into an almost-smile. “Yes, yes, rant to your heart’s content. Just don’t call me that around other people. I’d hate for it to catch on.”

Alicia smirked. Rosalind had long ago given up on trying to get Alicia to drop the nickname. Alicia thought the nickname was cute, just like Rosalind herself. “Anyway, Mom got mad at me yesterday again and Ray took her side again. They always team up against me!”

Rosalind listened attentively as Alicia recounted the argument, even though it was all stuff she’d heard before. Alicia and Rosalind had never been super close, but growing up in a small village meant you were bound to become friendly with your peers one way or another. The two of them kept to their separate friends groups, but as they entered their teen years they realized they both had one big thing in common:

They both had a brother. They both had an annoying brother who got on their nerves.

And so they began a weekly tradition of meeting up at the bathhouse to rant about their brothers to someone who would understand and maybe get some advice in return.

“So, was Max extra irritating this week?” Alicia asked once her own story was finished.

Rosalind shrugged in such a way that made even a nonchalant gesture appear graceful. “He really wasn’t so bad this week, besides a few self-absorbed comments here and there. He’s a lot easier to deal with now that he’s older.”

Alicia thought for a moment, sinking further into the water to wet her hair and then rising back to the surface. After wiping the water from her face, she replied. “Yeah, I guess Ray annoys me less now than he did when we were younger.”

Rosalind hummed. It was something she did when she was deep in thought, and another one of the little things about Rosalind that was cute. When she spoke up, it was soft. “It probably helps that we’ve matured as well.”

“Eh, maybe you have. I’ve never changed and never will.”

“Oh, please, you’ve grown up even more than the rest of us,” Rosalind replied with an eye roll.

“Why, Rosie, is that a comment about my figure? How inappropriate coming from a lady of your stature!” Alicia held a hand up to her heart, playing up the role of affronted damsel to the best of her ability, but the smile on her face gave away that she was teasing.

Rosalind’s face, already red from the hot water, colored even deeper. She kicked Alicia’s leg lightly. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Alicia laughed and settled back into the water. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right, like always.”

Comfortable silence followed. Rosalind closed her eyes and relaxed further into the water. Alicia took the opportunity to study Rosalind. She really had grown up from when they were little kids. Alicia often called her cute, even to her face, but that didn’t quite cover it. Rosalind had grown into a beautiful, smart, independent woman. She didn’t really need Alicia to help her solve her disputes with Max anymore.

That was okay, Alicia thought as Rosalind opened her eyes and caught her staring. Rosalind blushed again, but didn’t say anything. Yeah, that was okay. Alicia could find another reason to make sure Rosalind kept coming back to their weekly meetings. That wouldn’t be hard at all.

Chapter Text

Please don’t call Julia crazy. Because she’s not, okay? She’s not crazy!

It’s just, well, Jake kinda smells really really good. Like, so good she could eat him up. In a totally metaphorical way, of course. Julia is a lady, and would never let her mind wander in such a direction. For very long, at least. And definitely not about Jake. Jake is gross and mean.

And he smells amazing.

Hey, it wasn’t Julia’s fault that smelling good was her biggest turn-on. She ran a bathhouse for a reason! She smelled people at their worst and their best. It just so happened Jake smelled the best of the best.

It went against all natural laws, honestly. The guy worked at a forge day in and day out. You’d think he’d be so sweaty and disgusting at the end of a long day that not even a good soak could rinse it all away.

You would be wrong. Tragically, horrifically, amazingly wrong.

Julia wanted to know what part of his body wash/shampoo/conditioner combo made him smell so good. Jake didn’t even look like the kind of guy to know what conditioner was, let alone how to use it.

The question was always on the tip of her tongue as Jake exited the bathhouse. In normal situations, Julia wasn’t one to hold herself back. But Jake was kinda scary, okay? Yeah, he was more bark than bite, but Julia wasn’t fond of the barking either. Although, it wasn’t like Jake was that mean to her specifically, besides the snide comments about humans. Maybe because he knew the social ramifications of getting banned from the only bathhouse in town.

Instead of asking, Julia would offer a peppy “Bye, Jake!” that was rarely returned.

But, frankly, she was tired of living her life in fear. What was the worst that could happen, really?

It was a chilly fall evening when she finally asked.

Jake strolled out of the men’s bath, basket full of bath products tucked under his arm, blocking Julia’s answer from view as usual. He looked bored rather than angry, so hopefully that was a good sign.

He headed towards the door, not looking at Julia. Everything was going as normal. And Julia was going to ruin it.

“Hey, Jake, I gotta know. Why do you smell so good?”

There were smoother ways to ask that question, but whatever. It got her point across.

Jake paused in front of the door and looked back at her. The surprise was plain on his face. “Excuse me?”

Apparently he was so surprised he didn’t tack on human at the end. Julia took that as a good sign.

“I wanna know what you use that smells so good. It’s like almost minty but not quite?”

The surprise wore off his features and instead Jake wore his usual scowl. “Why do you want to know, human?”

There it was. Now it felt like a true conversation with Jake.

“I want it for myself, duh. It’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say. Jake’s posture slackened a little. “It’s elven,” he huffed. “That’s why you don’t recognize it. It’s made using plants only found in the Elven Islands.”

“Well, that explains why I couldn’t figure out the smell then!” Julia felt more chipper than ever now that she had her answer. She even dared going around the front counter to stand closer to Jake. “You elves really know your stuff, huh? Mind telling me where I can get some?”

Julia must have been hallucinating, because Jake almost seemed to preen at her compliment. “Talk to Yue. She’ll be able to get some for you,” he paused. “And yes, I do find elven products to be much more effective than human ones. You have decent taste for a human, Julia.”

Julia laughed. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jake.”

Jake huffed again, though he didn’t seem angry at all, and turned to leave. Julia swore she saw a light blush on his cheeks. He gave a quick goodbye and left like he was in a rush.

Julia thought about that blush for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

The worst part of cooking was cleaning up afterwards.

Rosalind prided herself on having learned to cook in the first place, in a family line where maids and staff were so often responsible for the daily upkeep and really, every task under the sun, including the three square meals (and dozens of snacks) her father required.

But the dishes. Oh, how awfully mind-numbing and mundane. And to what end? To see them dirtied again in a matter of hours? And of course, stacking them just so while drying, all the while praying to a higher power that they did not collapse and shatter—such was a task not suited to one of Rosalind's short stature, further proof that doing dishes went against her very nature.

It was a quandary she posed to Cecilia one afternoon when she went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and found the maid merrily humming to herself as she dutifully washed spoon after fork, pot after pan—some of which Rosalind was responsible for dirtying.

“It's not that I find it beneath me, or anything,” Rosalind clarified. “If anything, I'm impressed that you... enjoy it. You seem to find joy in just about anything, Ceci.”

And it was true, something Rosalind had never considered until the words were out of her mouth and nudging her lips into a smile.

“Heehee, I just use a trick my dad taught me a long time ago, when it came to chores. Just reminding yourself you're doing it in order to later do something you really do enjoy!”

Oh, how intriguing... Rosalind had never thought of it from that perspective. “Could you... explain a bit more?”

“Well, it's like when I make my bed at the inn—I just think about how I'm going to come home to a soft comfy place to sleep in. Or when I do laundry, I know there's nothing like the smell of freshly-cleaned cotton, and wearing it and being wrapped in that smell is even better.”

“Hm, I see,” said Rosalind—and she was starting to. “And so, for doing the  dishes...?”

“I always think about what I'm going to make next.” Cecilia rinsed out a saucepan. “This would be great to make a curry roux in. And think of the pancakes I could flip with this,” she said, picking up a spatula and vigorously cleaning it.

Rosalind tested the waters herself and, within the suds, found a hand whisk crusted with batter. “And this here would be of excellent use for scrambled eggs.” She scrubbed thoroughly until every last flake of batter had been removed, the entire time motivated by the savory, comforting scent of the scrambled eggs she would have to request tomorrow morning.

So it went like this, each utensil and plate being scrubbed, dried, and polished—and assigned a future dish that would see it returned to the sink for another round of cleaning. Rosalind, for all her frustration at such mindlessness needing to exist in the first place, found herself quite mentally stimulated by the back-and-forth imaginings of meals and desserts, each more filling and delectable than the last.

“You know what else my dad said made doing dishes worth all the time and effort?” Cecilia asked as the pile of plates in the sink diminished, as the one on the drying rack grew.

Rosalind placed a bowl in the rack to dry. “What's that?”

“All the soap suds you're left with!” Giggling, she flung a clump of soap bubbles in Rosalind's direction.

They landed on Rosalind's blouse, dampening it; she didn't care in the slightest, and splashed Ceci right back.

The playful battle continued, and Rosalind still thought the worst part of cooking was the clean-up. But now she was also certain that the best part of cleaning up was doing so with Cecilia.

Chapter Text

Kyle felt a lot better.

Well, he always felt better—emotionally, mentally, maybe even spiritually—if he saw Dorothy each day. But now, thanks to the cold medicine she'd given him, he felt physically rejuvenated too.

“Your temperature...i-it's gone down...” Dorothy gently pulled the thermometer from between Kyle's lips. “You look... less pale too. B-But if you feel you need the rest... You can stay, I'll let Ray know you're here...”

Honestly, he could have done with a nap—lack of sleep probably had something to do with why he'd caught a cold in the first place—but... “No, I'm good to go, thanks to you.”

Her head was tilted down, but he didn't miss the small smile forming at the edges of her lips.

“Your shift is about to end, too, isn't it?” he ventured.

“Yes...” Dorothy said quietly.

“Then would it be alright if I walk you back to the chapel?”

There'd been a time when Dorothy would've refused—said she wouldn't want to be a bother—but their friendship had grown beyond that. Kyle had walked her home a number of times, already, and even though he was aware that, at this point, he had unspoken permission to do so, he always liked to ask. It just seemed the right thing to do, to make sure Dorothy was comfortable.

She accepted, and ten minutes later, they were crossing through De Sainte-Coquille Park. The winter wind was brisk, but not unbearable.

“Thank you, Kyle... for walking with me,” Dorothy said. After a few more steps, she added, “I've been... scared to walk home alone the past few nights.”

“Yeah, I figured you might be, with that rumor going around.” Kyle had been in Alvarna long enough to take all the gossip he heard from Julia with a grain of salt, but with how bizarre some of the happenings in town were, he couldn't completely dismiss it, either.

“O-Oh, you've heard about it too..?” Dorothy hugged herself even tighter; she was used to carrying Fern, but had recently moved past needing her friend as often. “It's... it's silly, isn't it? If there was a ghost haunting the clinic, y-you'd think I'd have encountered it b-by now, but the other night... I'm sure it was just the wind, but... I was so scared...!”

“Who told you about the ghost?” Kyle was curious; Julia had heard from Mana, who'd heard from Alicia. Alicia, meddling as she could be, didn't seem the type to circulate rumors without swiftly following through to make them reality.

“C-Cammy told me... or, well, Roy told her. I don't know where Roy heard it from—I c-can't imagine him making up a story like that, knowing how upset Tanya would be...”

“I can't either,” Kyle said, as the image of a certain Elven blacksmith apprentice came to mind. “But as for the rumor's source, I have a pretty good idea.”

Kyle waited for Dorothy's response, but all he heard was a weak whimper.

“Hey...” Kyle took Dorothy's hand, stopping them both in front of the inn. “Dorothy...”

“I'm... a crybaby, aren't I?...” Her hand was trembling in Kyle's. “Ghosts aren't even real... and I'm sc-scared of them...”

“We're all scared of something; it doesn't make you a crybaby, or a wimp!” Kyle's tone filled with confidence; he believed everything he had to say. “You're still working at the clinic every day—heck, you even saved me from dropping dead, basically!—even though the whole time you knew there might be a ghost. Not letting your fears beat you—that's real bravery, Dorothy.”

“O-Oh...” Dorothy's mouth was pressed flat, as if she was mulling over what Kyle had told her. “Hm...”

“What...?” Kyle asked. Had he somehow made her feel worse?

“That's very... kind of you. But that's all... almost exactly what my father said in his sermon about courage last week.”

“Oh... well, yeah.” Kyle rubbed at the back of his head, embarrassed. “That's kinda where I got it from, actually. But it doesn't make it any less true, does it? I really do think you're brave, Dorothy. At least, a lot braver than you think you are.”

“Thank you.” Her hand was steady now, and squeezed Kyle's lightly. “You're... you're very brave too, Kyle.”

“Heh, I don't try to be, I just... do what I think is right, and if that ends up being considered brave, then—”

“N-No,” Dorothy interrupted, shaking her head. “I mean b-because my father's been watching us this whole time.”

Kyle's eyes went wide as he turned to see Gordon waiting outside of the chapel. Whatever bravery Dorothy had just commended him on possessing, Kyle was prepared to summon so he could explain why he was holding the former warrior's daughter's hand—and why he wasn't planning on letting go of it, either.

Upon realizing Gordon wasn't glaring at him, but instead smiling approvingly, Kyle exhaled with relief.

He thought he'd felt better earlier, when Dorothy had provided him with care and cold medicine. It wasn't half as great as he felt now.

Chapter Text

It was a crisp Autumn day; the noon-day sunlight streamed brilliantly through the window, the brisk wind rustling golden leaves.

Just like fourteen years ago.

Barrett burrowed deeper under the covers of his bed. He never had any particular inclination to go out and interact with the world, but the anniversary of his mother's death was a hard NO when it came to venturing into society.

And he had almost drifted back to sleep—less than twelve hours to sleep away—when a sharp tap tap tap! came from downstairs.

What the... maybe he'd just imagined it. No one in town knocked anymore, at least that he had experience with. They just barged in unannounced—Kyle, especially—with no regard for privacy.

Then, it sounded again. With a groan, Barrett shoved himself out of bed and threw on the first clean shirt and pants he could find. He really hoped whoever was bothering him wasn't here to see his dad—that they'd wasted their time, and his, when his dad was off in the Capital on some political errand Barrett didn't give a damn about.

Unhurried, he descended the stairs and threw open the front door. There was Rosalind, one arm daintily raised with a closed fist ready to knock again. Cradled in the other was a decent-sized bowl, sealed tight with a lid.

Given her upbringing, Barrett would have expected a greeting, but perhaps his disheveled state and the fact that this was a fairly casual setting steered her clear of the inevitable awkwardness that sort of exchange would create.

Which prompted Barrett to not bother with formalities either. “What? What d'you want?”

“Oh, Barrett. Excellent, I thought... well, I assumed you might be home. I take it you haven't had lunch yet?”

Or breakfast. Or even a glass of water. “Not hungry. 've been busy.”

If it was anyone else, this was where he would have told them to get lost and slammed the door in their face. But he couldn't bring himself to tell Rosalind to piss off. They'd known each other their whole lives and she'd always been not only kind, but respectful, too. Not nosy like Alicia or purposely obtuse like Max. He didn't think for a second she was here to annoy him, invade his personal space, just to amuse herself.

“Yes, I presumed as much.” She shifted the bowl in her arm, maintaining her pleasant disposition. “Might I come in? Only for a short visit, I promise.”

Try as he might to avoid eye contact, Barrett couldn't break the etiquette that'd been drilled into him. He considered Rosalind, her olive green eyes looking back at him. The sky was bright and clean behind her, a shade off from her pale blue hair.

He didn't say no. He actually didn't really want to. “Sure.”

Stepping aside, he let Rosalind in to find her way to the dining table. She set the bowl down, and Barrett could only watch, bewildered, as Rosalind began preparing the table as if she were in her own home—in Cecilia's role, of course.

Finally, he caved. “What are you doing?”

“Setting the table.” She placed a smaller bowl at what was Barrett's usual seat. “One usually does so before a meal.”

“No,” Barrett said. “I mean, here.”

“I was helping Cecilia with a new recipe. Salmon stew.” Rosalind gestured to the larger bowl, that she'd brought. “We made quite a bit more than even what my father can handle, and I didn't think it'd do to let it go to waste.”

Barrett hadn't had salmon stew in a long time. His mother used to make it—quick, simple, and delicious. One of his favorites, especially when Autumn rolled around and the temperatures started taking a dip.

“Besides,” Rosalind continued, “I find food can be comforting unlike most anything else.”

She knew. Remembered. Rosalind would—she was always on top of dates: birthday, anniversaries, things like that. Things like this.

Better than his own father seemed to remember it.

Barrett sighed and took a seat as Rosalind dished out the stew. It was still hot, steam rising from the thin red broth and filling the room with the scent of herbs and seasoned fish. Barrett's stomach grumbled—now he was hungry.

“Thanks,” he said, tucking in to the meal.

“We've actually had the recipe for years,” Rosalind said, filling her own bowl. “But thought today might be a suitable day to finally try it.”

Made sense to Barrett. His mom had probably given it to the de Sainte-Coquilles way back when. He nodded, trying his first spoonful of stew. It was almost as good as he remembered—nothing would ever beat Mom's cooking, but it was, as Rosalind had suggested, comforting.

After a few spoonfuls of her own, Rosalind patted at her lips gently with a napkin. “I don't mean to downplay... today, I simply mean—”

“I know,” Barrett cut her off, sharper than he meant to. He repeated, softer. “I know. What you mean. What you're doing. Why.”

Rosalind wasn't dumb, and Barrett never knew her to play as if she was. “Is it helping?”

“I dunno.” Barrett ate another spoonful. “S'not making it any worse.”

“That's good,” she replied quietly, giving him a faint smile of understanding. And given the fate of her own mother, who would understand Barrett's current reclusiveness any better than Rosalind?

Not that it made him glad, but there was something about being understood, rather than simply cared about, that Barrett found just as satisfying as the stew he savored as he finished it in a comfortable silence beside Rosalind.

Chapter Text

Max didn’t visit Kyle’s farm often. Most of the time it was the other way around. Kyle was always running around town and stopped by the de Sainte-Coquille manor almost daily, so there was never really any point in Max taking the trek out to Kyle’s home. He was almost never there anyway.

Today, however, Max had a mission in mind. It was the first truly hot day of summer, the sun beating down and making every living creature miserable. A few days prior Max had snagged one of Rosalind’s magazines that came from the capital (because he was terribly bored, of course). In it was an article about how “sunbathing” was a hot new trend in towns with beaches.

The article got Max thinking. He stared at himself in the mirror longer than normal. He’d always had a light complexion, of course, but the winter had left him even paler than usual. He could use some of this “sunbathing”.

Alas, Alvarna didn’t have a beach, and the manor cast far too big of a shadow. Sunbathing in the backyard wouldn’t be possible. Sure, Max could take a boat out to Blessia Island, but all that effort didn’t seem worth it just to lay out in the sun for half an hour or so. There were a few other options, like the plaza or the crossroads where Yue usually set up shop, but those were far too public. Max wanted to look his best, sure, but he didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of, gods forbid, Alicia or Barrett seeing him sprawled out on the ground.

Kyle was the only other Alvarnan with more than enough room for Max to do his sunbathing, and with plenty of privacy to boot. That’s why Max put on his swimsuit, packed up his things, and took a stroll to Kyle’s farm when he knew Kyle would be there.

Thankfully, Max didn’t encounter anyone else on his way to Kyle’s. A gift of protection from the Elder Dragons, perhaps. Max really wanted to avoid answering any questions about what he was doing.

When Max arrived at the farm, he breathed a sigh of relief. Sure enough, Kyle was hard at work digging weeds out of the ground. He didn’t even notice Max’s presence until his shadow fell over the ground he was working on.

“Oh, hey, Max,” Kyle said, smiling until he got a good look at Max. Then his eyebrows furrowed. “Um, why are you in your swimsuit?”

Max felt his cheeks heat up, but he tried to hold his head high as he gave his explanation. “Er, well, I was hoping to do a bit of sunbathing, but I’m afraid your farm is the only good spot in town to do such a thing. I was hoping you would allow me to lay out and soak up the sun for a little while. I can promise I won’t be a bother.”

The confusion didn’t leave Kyle’s features, but he shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

Max’s shoulders sagged, feeling a bit of the tension drifting away. “Thank you, Kyle. I owe you a favor.”

It was probably his imagination, but Max swore he saw Kyle’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “Nah, don’t mention it.”

With that, Kyle turned back to his work and Max laid out his towel in the grass and got comfortable. That magazine article had said to spend equal time laying on both your front and back sides. Max figured he’d go ahead and get his back first. He settled on his stomach, adjusting his hair so that the sun’s rays could hit his upper back, and closed his eyes. His arms were crossed underneath his head, acting as a sort of pillow. It didn’t take long for the pleasant warmth of the sun and the gentle sound of birds singing to lull him into a state somewhere between waking and sleep. Once the sun got a bit too hot on his back, he flipped around and slowly opened his eyes. When they adjusted, he looked around. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he had been laying on his stomach, but Kyle hadn’t said anything to him. Max was curious as to whether or not he was still pulling weeds out of his crops, a job Max didn’t envy at all.

When Max’s eyes found Kyle, they widened. He was no longer pulling weeds. Instead, he was swinging his hoe into a chunk of earth currently void of any plants.

Max’s mouth went dry. He’d never seen Kyle do this kind of work before. Sure, logically, he knew Kyle did this work, but knowing and seeing were two very different things. When Kyle hoisted the hoe up, the muscles in his arms became more defined. Sweat rolled down the side of his neck, slipping just past his collar and under his shirt, where Max could no longer see it. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath. After one last swing into the ground, Kyle leaned against the hoe for support and ran his arm across his forehead, in what Max assumed was an attempt to rid it of sweat. It was no use, however. His bangs were a damp mess, still sticking to his forehead.

Then came the final blow. The heat, along with the manual labor, must have been too much for Kyle. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and began to pull up, up, up-

Max hopped up. “I really must be going! Thank you for letting me sunbathe. Good luck with your w-work.”

Max cursed the break in his voice, but quickly gathered his towel and made a break to, well, anywhere that wasn’t right here, staring at that.

“Okay, feel free to come back again!” Kyle called after him, and Max had to fight the urge to turn around and do just that.

Chapter Text

It was a perfect day to read outside, Rosalind thought from her spot on a bench in the village plaza. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to block the light or a breeze in the air to rustle the book’s pages. The sunshine was pleasant without being too warm. Her book was nestled in her lap, and Rosalind couldn’t think of any pastime more relaxing.

“Rosalind!”

Well, the peace and quiet was nice while it lasted. Julia’s company was better than any old book, anyway.

Rosalind closed her book and smiled as her friend fast approached. Julia was sporting a wide grin, her hands hidden behind her back. Rosalind would be a little more worried about this behavior if it was Alicia, but instead of looking mischievous like Alicia was prone to, Julia just looked excited.

“Hello, Julia,” Rosalind greeted. “What do you have there?”

Julia squealed and thrust the object into Rosalind’s face. It was a book, but Julia was moving it around too fast for her to see the title. “It’s the new book by Angeline Fontaine!”

That got Rosalind’s attention. Angeline Fontaine was currently the most popular fashion designer in Norad. Her word was law. When it came to fashion, anyway. “I didn’t know she wrote a new book,” Rosalind said.

“That’s because it just came out!” Julia hugged the book to her chest. “I spent all last night reading it. I’m exhausted, but it was so worth it!”

Rosalind frowned. New book or not, Julia should still be getting plenty of sleep. She opened her mouth to say so, but Julia seemed to read her mind and quickly placed a finger on Rosalind’s lips. “Shush. I’ll take a nap later and go to bed early tonight. Promise. I just can’t help that I couldn’t put the book down! Angeline Fontaine has such a way with words.”

“What did she write about?”

Julia’s grin grew bigger. “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

When they arrived at Julia's bedroom, Julia ushered Rosalind to sit at her vanity while Julia stood behind her. “So, in Angeline’s book she presents a color analysis theory that is supposed to help individuals figure out what colors suit them best. First, we need to figure out if your skin has cool or warm undertones.” Julia paused to open a drawer in her vanity and shuffle around, eventually pulling out what she wanted.

“Earrings?” Rosalind asked.

“Yep! Look in the mirror.” Julia instructed. Rosalind did as she was told, looking at Julia behind her in the mirror. Julia leaned over Rosalind, settling a pair of silver hoop earrings against Rosalind’s left cheek and a pair of gold star shaped earrings on her right. The coolness of the earrings contrasted the warmth emanating from Julia, just centimeters from being pressed against Rosalind. Rosalind felt her heartbeat speed up.

“We can compare the gold and the silver against your skin to see which one looks best,” Julia explained, snapping Rosalind out of her trance. They sat for a moment in silence. Julia was studying Rosalind’s face closely. Too closely, really. Rosalind could feel the tips of her ears burning in embarrassment.

“Well, what do you think?” Rosalind asked, desperate to break Julia’s intense gaze.

“The silver looks better,” Julia concluded. “You definitely have cool undertones. Clothing with warm tones will just wash you out.”

“Okay,” Rosalind said, nodding along. “What next?”

“Next we decide what season you are!”

“What season I am?”

“Yeah! Here,” Julia picked the book off of the vanity and flipped through it, then turned it around to show Rosalind. “Look! Those with cool undertones are either Summer or Winter, while those with warm undertones are either Spring or Autumn. If you have light hair, you fall under Spring or Summer, and if you have dark hair you’re Autumn or Winter. So, let’s see…” Julia flipped the book back around so she could look at it. “You have cool undertones and light hair, so that makes you… Summer!”

Rosalind couldn’t help but smile. Julia’s energy was always so infectious. And Rosalind couldn’t deny, she enjoyed these fun fashion theories too.

Julia flipped through a few more pages. “Here’s some examples of colors that look good on a summer person.” She handed the book to Rosalind.

Rosalind studied to book closely. She asked without looking up, “What season are you, Julia?”

“Haven’t figured it out yet,” she said. The reply was so uncharacteristic that it made Rosalind look up from the book. “I was thinking… maybe you could help me out with it?” Julia asked, looking hopeful. “I can get your opinion, then maybe we can try on some different clothes and test the colors out.”

Rosalind smiled. She didn’t have to think for even a second before the answer came out of her mouth. “Of course. I can’t think of anything more enjoyable to do on such a nice afternoon.”

Chapter Text

Contrary to the impression that Julia's wardrobe gave off, she actually loved the color pink. It just didn't love her in return.

While her dewy complexion and springy silver-green curls suited her lacy black dress and its matching headband, they did not suit the various tubes of unused cosmetics she'd accumulated over the past few years. Most of which were pink.

Pink lipstick, lip gloss, blush in all different shades: fuchsia, seashell, salmon and even a pink the exact shade of the gorgeous cherry blossom trees lining Alvarna, with the fitting name “Sakura”. Julia had it all—and no use for them.

She felt bad hoarding it for herself, so finally, she'd broken down and decided to get rid of it. That is, give it away to those in need by posting a notice on the request board. The make-up was all still sealed, unopened—it couldn't expire, right? Well, and so what if it could? Who was going to complain about free anything (except Jake, who found reason to complain about everything—but Julia sincerely hoped he didn't harbor a need for Bubblegum Bliss lipstick).

The make-up was snapped up by the usual suspects: Rosalind and Ceci stopped by and grabbed a couple eyeshadows each, with Cecilia also nabbing the Petal Pusher lip crayon that Julia thought would made it look as if someone had a full-bloom Pink Cat bursting from their mouth.

Roy came in with Cammy at his side because “she was a girl” and he wanted her to help him pick something for his mom. Julia didn't have the heart to remind him that he was better off on his own, or to inform him that the magenta nail polish he selected was going to melt right off the second Tanya got too close to the forge—if she wore it at all. It was the thought that counted, Julia supposed.

Kyle, even, poked in for a few minutes before realizing that none of what Julia was giving away would benefit him—nor did it complement his complexion either. He'd only come by because he seemed to indiscriminately accept whatever was posted on the request board, without giving a second thought to what it might entail. Nonetheless, he picked out the “Shell-Shocking!” lip gloss and Julia had every suspicion he was going to turn right around and gift her with it on her birthday, like he'd done on numerous occasions with other things he'd received upon completing her requests.

At least everyone had appeared pleased with their choices, which is all she could've hoped for. It was late in the afternoon when Julia realized her supply had been nearly cut in half—another small victory to be glad about.

“Hi, Julia,” Alicia's purr of a greeting floated up the stairs. “I heard you have some freebies?”

Julia looked up from where she was sitting at her kitchen table, paging through the latest gossip rag from the Capital. “Yeah, right over here! It's all laid out, just come grab whatever you'd like.”

Alicia practically sauntered over, eyes trained on the dwindling selection. “Hm, not exactly the most business-savvy move, I must admit.”

“This isn't about business, Alicia.” Julia couldn't bring herself to be offended, and just laughed lightly. “You know, some people like to give out of the kindness of their hearts, not for any sort of personal gain.”

“Their loss.” Alicia shrugged and plucked up a small tube of lipstick. She turned it around to check the description. “'Think Pink',” she read. “I always do, haha!” She gave a flip of her long, brilliant hair, and Julia caught herself staring at the way it cascaded over Alicia's bare shoulders.

Uncapping the tube, Alicia pursed her full lips into a pout and smoothed the lipstick on slowly, then pressed them together to distribute the lipstick evenly. With a pop! her lips spread out into a wide grin that was framed by a pink tint matching her glossy hair. The whole time, her gaze remained fixed on Julia.

“Well~?” she asked, in the same beckoning tone she used before offering to tell a fortune. “What do you think, Julia? My color or not?”

“Y-Yeah. It's definitely you,” Julia managed, sure that her cheeks were also the very same shade of pink.

Chapter Text

Dorothy sat in the front pew of Alvarna's chapel, nursing a hot cup of Relax Tea that was neither hot nor relaxing.

The walk home from the clinic had chilled her to the bone, and she thought heating up a nice steaming pot of tea while waiting for her father and Cammy to return would warm her right up.

And it had. For a few minutes. But the chapel, as much as she adored it, was old and drafty. Her father never seemed to complain much about it—Natalie had told her it was something about men always ran hot, and if they were cold, would never admit to it—and Cammy was hardly around enough to notice. Once she got home after hours outside playing with Roy, she promptly crashed into bed and fell asleep.

The door to the chapel thudded open, surprising Dorothy. She nearly spilled her lukewarm tea. When she peeked over her shoulder, she was even more surprised to see that it wasn't her father or Cammy, but Mana.

In her arms was a box that, while not large, prevented her from shutting the chapel's heavy door behind her. Instead, she had to use her entire body to press it closed. The setting sun through the tall, stained-glass windows cast her in long shadows.

“Hey!” she called out breathlessly to Dorothy, walking quickly down the center aisle to her friend. “I brought that order of chocolate bars your father bought.”

It took Dorothy a few seconds to process this information. That's right... he'd mentioned purchasing a supply of chocolate from the General Store. Cammy was always clamoring for hot chocolate on days like this, and Dorothy had just used up her last bar the night before, heating up a mug full of the creamy drink for her sister.

And she'd probably be doing the same again tonight. Not that she minded... even though she was indifferent about the taste, holding a warm mug and inhaling the rich aroma was comforting like little else.

Mana set the box on the floor in front of the pew and took a seat beside Dorothy. “Hope I didn't keep you waiting or anything,” she said as she pulled her gloves off and stuffed them in her coat pocket.

“Oh, no, I didn't even know he'd purchased any. Thank you, Mana... it's very kind of you to deliver it all the way out here, in this cold...”

“I just wanted to get out of the store. Father's trying to argue with your dad about who could survive longer in one of those polar plunge dives. ” Mana unlooped the scarf from around her neck and shrugged off her coat. “No wonder they're never cold—there's so much hot air between them, ugh.”

Dorothy giggled at Mana's statement. That sounded very much like something her father and Douglas would bicker about. She only hoped they wouldn't go trying to prove anything tonight—or at all, really.

“Gosh, it's pretty nippy in here, too.” Mana crossed her arms at her chest, looking regretfully at the coat she'd just shed. “How do you keep warm? Nice cozy quilts, I bet?”

“O-Oh... well, yes, we do have some of those, but...” Dorothy trailed off momentarily, then explained how her go-to remedy was hot drinks—like the tea, or hot chocolate. “Of course, Cammy always gulps hers down so fast, it never has a chance t-to get cold. But I...” She glimpsed down at her tepid tea. No tendrils of steam rose, and her fingers felt stiff through the mug's handle.

“There's nothing wrong with drinking slow—that just means you like to savor it.” Mana smiled encouragingly. “Annnnd now I'm just making myself crave hot chocolate.”

“Um, well...” Dorothy snuck a glance at Mana. “You were nice enough to deliver the chocolate. I think it'd be fair if you stayed for a cup. We could make it... together.”

“Really? That'd be great! And I bet it'll warm both of us right up. Here, I'll go rinse this out if you want to get everything else ready.” Mana reached out and clasped her hands around Dorothy's mug. Over Dorothy's icy hands.

Dorothy stilled beneath the touch. Mana's hands were so warm—likely the thick gloves she'd just taken off, and Dorothy felt her face growing even hotter. Suddenly, she wasn't sure she'd need that hot chocolate to warm her up after all.

But Mana laughed quietly, as if nothing was amiss, and pressed her warm, cupped hands briefly against Dorothy's before slipping the mug from her grip.

And Dorothy decided, regardless if she actually needed the hot chocolate or not, she'd take it—and drink it slowly. Share it with Mana, and savor it.

Chapter Text

“Barrett!”

Oh, gods. He didn’t walk fast enough. Dammit.

“Barrett! Wait up! I wanna ask you something,” Alicia called, waving her arms like a lunatic. Resistance was futile at that point. Barrett slowed his pace until he came to a stop, letting Alicia catch up with him. She didn’t even give him the satisfaction of being out of breath when she reached him.

“Barrett,” Alicia said again, and Barrett decided he was sick of his own name. “You have bloomed into a handsome young man. Not as much as I’ve bloomed into a beautiful young woman, but you’ve still done well.”

“Right,” Barrett said, flat. “I’m leaving.” He turned to walk away, he was so damn close to his house, but Alicia grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“All I’m saying is that we aren’t children anymore. And what do adults want that children don’t?”

There was a beat of silence.

“Guess, Barrett.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Ugh! Romance, obviously. Hand-holding, kissing, maybe even a little more?” Alicia said with her all-too familiar terrifying smile. “I’m just saying that we’ve reached an age where we take interest in such things. And as you know, with my new fortune telling business, I’m happy to hand out advice to anyone who may need it.”

There it was. A ploy to scam money from Barrett. He should’ve suspected from the start. Barrett didn’t say anything, but apparently Alicia could read his face well enough to know what he was thinking. Or maybe she was actually psychic.

“I know there’s lots of girls in the world, or even just Alvarna, that would love to have a piece of what’s going on there,” Alicia said, gesturing vaguely towards Barrett. “Or boys! Or both! Or none. If that’s the case I’ll leave you alone. Personally, I don’t have much of a preference. People of any gender are great. Why should I have to choose?”

Barrett brought a hand up to his face and rubbed at his eyes. It had been a long day and he wanted to go home. Part of him wanted to say yes, he had no interest in people of any kind. Then he could be on his way. But something about Alicia’s admission stopped him. He didn’t owe her an admission in return, but at that moment he realized… he wanted to tell her. He’d never told anyone before. And all of a sudden it felt like it was creeping out of his chest.

“I’m… like that too,” he finally said, uncovering his face but not looking directly at Alicia.

Despite not making eye contact, Barrett could still see the way Alicia’s face lit up. “Both? Look at that, we actually have something in common!”

“Still not paying you for anything,” Barrett said, then turned to walk the short distance to his house.

This time Alicia didn’t stop him, but she did call after him. “Fine! But we’re talking about this later. Better be ready!”

And Barrett, oddly enough, felt like maybe he was.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Barrett!”

“No.”

Kyle blinked at his... well, friend. “No?” he repeated, still smiling. “What kinda greeting is that?”

Barrett's scowl evened out, now more of a slight frown. “Mana's already asked. So have Alicia and Max. You're not any different. The answer's 'no.'”

Kyle knew Barrett was serious—when wasn't he?—and laughing in his face wasn't going to help Kyle's cause any. Kyle would have thought, with the intensity of Barrett's defiance, that he was being asked to go off and join the Noradian army, not participate in the Dance Festival.

“Okay, fine, you caught me—I was gonna try and rope you into joining us. Even if you don't wanna dance with anyone, we're all hanging out at the park. And I really mean it: all of us!” Cecilia had convinced Jake, while Rosalind and Julia had promised Dorothy she would have a fun time, and if she didn't, they would escort her back to the chapel. The only Alvarnan in Kyle's peer group who'd yet to join the festivities had been Barrett. “I mean, if you wanna stand around by yourself and sulk, wouldn't it be at least nice to do it somewhere other than here? Mix it up a bit?”

“I'm not stupid, Kyle. I know your tricks. All their tricks. Once I'm there, it'll be like, 'Oh, but just have one dance with someone, Barrett.' Try and make me make a fool of myself in front of everyone.”

Kyle let out a quiet, uncomfortable laugh; Barrett had hit the nail on the head. “But isn't that the point, since it's a festival? To... let loose?”

“Yeah. And that's exactly why I'm not going along with it. 'Letting loose' is not something I'm remotely interested in.”

But was it really? Kyle had the immediate thought there might be a different motivation to Barrett's refusal. “Or maybe you're just a lousy dancer.”

Barrett's frown deepened, brows furrowed behind his sweep of bangs. A confirmation. “Right, and I'm sure you're any more accomplished.”

“Hey, just 'cause I lost my memory doesn't I can't improvise.” Kyle grinned. “Bet I could show you a few moves. Prepare you for the real thing.”

"You show me how to dance?” Barrett scoffed. “Yeah, sure, Kyle. Why don't you show me how to do the hokey-pokey or something?”

“No problem!” Barrett's eyes widened in alarm as Kyle lifted his right arm and thrust it forward. “You put your right hand in!” Due to their proximity, he grazed Barrett's shoulder, and Barrett swung his own right hand—fist—to try and force Kyle away. “Yeah, like that!”

“Kyle, shut up.”

“You put your right hand out.” Kyle winged his arm away from Barrett at the last second, then repeated the first step. “You put your right hand in, and you shake it all about!” He wildly wiggled his hand, and ended up smacking Barrett.

“Kyle!” Barrett grabbed for Kyle's shirt, but Kyle easily slipped from his grip as he rotated himself in a circle, dodging the next swipe from Barrett.

“You do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself around... oomph!”

Barrett threw himself at Kyle before the last line could be finished, tackling Kyle to the ground and effectively ending the song and dance routine.

Looks could be deceiving; Barrett was so wiry—scrawny, some (like Douglas or Tanya) might say—yet Kyle felt trapped beneath him. Pinned down, bodily, with no particular inclination for Barrett to move off him any time soon.

He stared up at Barrett, and Barrett stared back. Disbelief was bright in his eyes—though if it was because Kyle had acted so ridiculously, or that he'd reacted in such a way, Kyle couldn't tell.

Finally—strangely—it was Barrett who spoke first. “I'll go to this stupid dance festival if you promise to never make me witness that again.”

Heartbeat still drumming rapidly in his chest, Kyle managed a lopsided smile at Barrett, who sat back on his knees and slowly—almost reluctantly—removed himself from atop Kyle and got to his feet.

Kyle pushed up on his elbows, sitting, and looked to Barrett.  “You don't...” As he stood, he felt equal parts relieved and confused. “You don't actually have to dance, though. You know that, right?”

“At this point, I'm just hopin' you don't decide to dance, with that sorry display you just put on. At least I don't go out and prove what a lousy dancer I am.”

“So... just double-checking here,” Kyle said, trying to sort through what he thought was Barrett's acceptance. “You're really gonna go to the Dance Festival with me?”

“Yeah. But not with you. And not to dance,” Barrett emphasized. “And not to 'let loose', or whatever the hell you said. Just to uh... 'hang out', I guess.”

“Nothing wrong with 'hanging out.' Hey, when it comes to festivals...” Kyle couldn't keep his grin from resurfacing. "That's what it's all about.”

Barrett shoved a laughing Kyle in the direction of Sainte-Coquille Park.

Chapter Text

Cecilia did what anyone reasonable would do upon opening her bedroom door and being met with her best friend springing off the bed towards her, shrieking “Happy birthday!”

She screamed and dropped the package she was carrying.

There was only a thud!—so her gift from Russell wasn't fragile. Which meant it was probably a book. Mana, for her part, actually picked it off the floor and set it on a spare chair in Cecilia's room before giving her a tight hug.

“Sorry! Sorry!... but not really!” She was almost as giddy as she'd been on her own birthday, a couple days ago, when Cecilia and Alicia had orchestrated a surprise party for her at the bathhouse. Turnabout was fair play, Cecilia supposed.

Mana pulled away and led Cecilia to the bed, where a small wrapped box sat. “I've been waiting all day for you to get done so I could give you your gift—I can't believe you don't ask for your birthday off!”

Cecilia gave a self-conscious shrug. “It would just mean twice as much to do tomorrow. Besides, Rosalind and Max gave me their gifts, so it was worth it.”

Max had presented Cecilia with a perfume that he said was meant to imitate the warm, saltwater-buffeted sands of Blessia Island; it just reminded Ceci of playing on the beach in Kardia. Rosalind's gift had been more practical: a monogrammed, lace-trimmed set of stationary, complete with fancy pen and a fresh inkwell.

“Bet they aren't half as neat as mine,” Mana claimed, handing Cecilia the box. “Go on, go on! I've had it picked out for weeks.”

Cecilia pulled off the small ivory ribbon looped around the box and removed the lid. She was met with a gorgeous pendant, opal and amber carved to resemble a crescent moon laid over the sun. All of this in a filigree frame with a thin silver chain tailing out from it.

“Mana, this is... beautiful! I can't believe...!”

But she could; Mana had always been so thoughtful, so good with giving gifts. Cecilia shouldn't have expected any less.

“After you baked all those sweet potato muffins for my party? This doesn't even come close, but I'm so glad you like it. Here.” Mana motioned for Cecilia to turn, so she could hook the new pendant around her neck. Cecilia obeyed, lifting her long hair up to expose her neck.

Mana's closeness to her exuded warmth—odd, that on such a hot Summer day, Cecilia didn't feel it to be oppressive or suffocating. Only welcoming.

“You know, I was almost born today—the twelfth,” Mana said, the clasp closing with a solid click! She patted Cecilia's hair back into place as she continued, “But I came a bit early—during a typhoon! My father is always saying how even hurricanes can't stop me once I have my mind made up, and he's right. But isn't it crazy to think we could've been like, twins! Or I guess not really, but...” she trailed off, seeming to want the anecdote to end on a positive note.

“Actually,” Cecilia said, turning to face Mana once again. “Today's not really my birthday.”

Mana blinked. “What...?! Hey, wait, you don't mean you've been lying all this time just to get extra presents or something, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Cecilia said with a giggle. “I just mean, I don't know the exact day when I was born.” She'd already told Mana about how Russell was not her biological father—how he'd found her orphaned, and taken her in, so she didn't have to tread in those deep waters all over again. “My dad just decided to use the day he found me as... a celebration, instead of what could be something somber—well, that, and he saw how jealous I got that Nicholas had a party, a couple weeks after I came to Kardia. So it's more like an anniversary, but it's also kind of the day I really came into the world I have now, right? So a birthday!”

She'd never told anyone about this abnormality in regards to her birthday, mostly because it never came up, but also because she was worried others might feel sorry for her—pity her, when really, it was something that made Cecilia exceedingly happy.

“I like that,” Mana replied simply, reaching for Cecilia's hand. “I think it's really sweet—that sure, he found you by chance, but he made a choice to keep you. To love you, to protect you. And then made sure you were reminded of it every year. Even now.” She glanced over at the waiting package on the chair.

Cecilia looked down at how Mana's pale hand curved over her own warm one, like the moon overlapping the sun on her pendant. “There's people other than Russell who remind me how loved I am.”

There was a moment that could have been an eternity where their eyes remained locked on each others', something unspoken passing between them. Then, Mana scooted closer, and, hand still tight over Cecilia's, gave her a soft peck on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, Ceci.”

Chapter Text

Jake thought it ironic that, while his dad was a full-blooded elf, he often behaved as foolishly as only a human would.

Contradictory. Stubborn. All dressed up in the guise of the caring, protective father. Saying he was fine when he wasn’t, because he didn’t want Jake to know how troubled he really was, some days.

Not that Jake thought his dad was always despairing over the absence of his wife—Jake’s mother—but it was definitely more than he let on. More than he ever wanted Jake to believe.

Case in point: this very morning, which Jake knew was his mom’s birthday. He’d like to have forgotten it, and would have a long time ago, if his dad would’ve quit acting like it really was just any other day to him. Overly polite to Jake, asking him over breakfast about what orders he was currently helping Tanya with.

Because he was fine. Great. Content. Wouldn’t let Jake think otherwise.

And then he wondered why Jake was never honest with him, including in this instance when Jake had neglected to answer, pushing aside his barely-touched scrambled eggs and storming out to head to the Sharper Edge earlier than usual.

Luckily, Jake had honed his skill of temporarily mentally setting aside his grievances with his dad for the sake of work some time ago, and was able to do so throughout the morning. But now, at the General Store, running an errand for Tanya, he couldn’t help but replay the—well, conversation wasn’t the right word, because he hadn’t said anything…

Ordeal? Yeah, that sounded more accurate, with how stressful it’d been, how it’d piqued his irritation before he was even fully awake. And how this hadn’t been the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Hello? Jake?”

Mana’s cheerful voice reeled him out of his thoughts. Judging by her expression when he looked up from the shelf he was staring blankly at, this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention.

“What?” His tone was more foul than Object X. Despite that, she barely reacted, with only her brows furrowing slightly.

That was harsh, even for me. He tried again. “...Sorry. What… what do you want?”

“Well, I work here,” Mana said patiently, “and you’re a customer. So, if you need anything...”

Right. It then dawned on him that given his initial greeting to her, he should have already been threatened by Douglas to have his ears ripped off and shoved down his throat. Except Mana’s golem-sized father wasn’t anywhere in sight.

At least something was going his way today.

“Oh. Yeah,” he muttered. “Tanya sent me to pick up her weekly grocery order. Said you’d know what that is.”

Normally Tanya would send Roy to do it—anything to instill some responsibility in him—but he’d come down with a cold. With how he was romping around with Cammy all hours of the day and night, Jake could only marvel at how this wasn’t a more common occurrence.

That, and with Jake’s temper running short, he’d been especially irritable all through his shift. He didn’t doubt this was Tanya’s way of not only giving him time to cool off, but getting him out of her hair as well.

“Your dad’s usually the one who handles this, right?” Jake asked as he watched Mana gather a few bottles of oil, and bag them along with other sundries. “Isn’t he around?”

“Honestly? I don’t know where he’s at,” Mana admitted, carefully arranging a couple sacks of flower into the bag. “I mean, he says he’s over at the chapel because he’s due to catch up with Gordon, but for all I know, he could be thundering his way through the Messhina Valley, hitting every monster in his path. We got into an argument earlier and he left.”

“Hmph. If anything he’s probably with my father and they’re congratulating each other on ticking their kids off today, all in the name of what they think is good parenting.”

Mana made a sound that Jake swore was a stifled giggle, then looked his way. “It’s so dumb—he’s always blowing up about the same thing. About letting me do anything on my own, especially if it involves a boy. And he thinks that this time will be the time I finally see things his way. When he doesn’t even try to see things my way in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Jake said, his thoughts starting to take a more defined shape. It felt strange, but not entirely uncomfortable to tell Mana, “It sucks, how they expect you to listen but at the same time disregard anything you have to say.”

“Well, I can always listen.” Mana picked up the one bag. “Er, if you want.”

“And your father wouldn’t get mad for you spending time with a boy like that?” Jake asked dryly.

This time, Mana’s giggle was discernible. And pleasant. “But you’re not just a boy, you’re an elf. So that doesn’t count. Besides, I’ll tell him how nice you were to help me out with this order.” She motioned for Jake to take the other bag.

“I’m…?” Seeing no reason—and shockingly, having no will—to decline her, he hoisted the bag up into his arms with a heavy sigh. “Oh, fine.”

Things weren’t resolved. But walking back to the Sharper Edge alongside Mana certainly wasn’t making it any worse. Yes, these humans were so foolish, but Jake had to admit, as Mana glanced his way with a small, encouraging smile, that he might sometimes be too.