Chapter Text
It’s the same as it ever was. Wake up, make coffee, be sure to wipe the soot out of the mug (not going through that again, no sir), start up the forge, open shop, work on any outstanding jobs while waiting for customers, close up shop, kill the forge, be sure to wipe all the soot from his hands and face before leaving for the saloon (definitely not going through that again, the kids in the pool room still think he wears black eyeliner), have a drink, admire the most beautiful girl in the world, go home alone. Again. Same as it ever was.
Except it wasn’t. Lately, that farmer had been coming by a lot more for tool repairs and geodes and questions about smelting and asking about rocks and and and a-and even talking to him at the saloon where he was usually alone.
Well. Willy is always there, but it’s not like they ever talk much. They just sulk together. That was their thing, being alone together. With also Emily bringing drinks.
But not anymore, not now that Mica was absolutely everywhere. When did that happen? Why were they always there with their hair that sparkled like minerals freshly mined and their eyes like cold stones. They were so nice. To him.
It made no sense.
After weeks of noticing the presence of Mica Stone and the particular way they glanced his way once or twice, Clint realized that he hadn’t looked at Emily. For a while now. It was a punch to the gut. Emily was his perfect girl and he hadn’t thought of her once.
He might as well be a cheater, thinking of someone else like that, except that he wasn’t, because they weren’t in a relationship, and they never would be because the pedestal he placed her on was too high to reach. And he knew that. But still.
Maybe it was ok. Was it ok? He needed to ask someone.
Against his better judgment, he decided to ask Willy that evening. It would be a serious breach of their current arrangement, but he was the closest thing he had to a confidant. Silent drinking buddies could talk on occasion. It would be ok.
“Uhm. Hey, Willy?”
Willy blearily looked up, suddenly surprised that Clint was there, at his table, talking to him. Well. It would be rude not to say hello at this point.
“Yeah?”
Clint swallowed. This was going to be rough. Why was it so hard talking to people?
“When you have trouble, uh, making a decision about something, who do you… uh… who do you go to?” What. That is not what you wanted to ask, what is wrong with you. “Like, for advice.”
Stupid.
“Oh, that’s easy,” said a woman’s voice, ”I just ask Welwick! She’s amazing.” Emily carefully placed two new beers on the table and reached for the spent glasses. “Are you having trouble with something Clint?”
Shit. Shit shit shit, this was not how this was supposed to go. Of all the people in the world, Emily had to be the one to overhear the most embarrassing conversation of all time and interject. A quick glance at Willy and it was clear that this conversation belonged to Emily now and could Willy please get back to his drink thankyouverymuch.
“Is it anything I could help with?” Why was her smile so beautiful. Why did it make him feel absolutely horrible right now.
“Oh, uhm… I, uh, was just looking… for… some… s-spiritual advice?” Why did he say that why did he say that.
“Well, you know I’m a very spiritual person, I could tell something was bothering you, your aura has been off for weeks! I’m so sorry, I would’ve checked on you sooner if I had known it was a spiritual dilemma. Please don’t think terribly of me!”
“N-no, I could never do that Emily, not to you!”
She simpered and his mind reeled.
He was in hell. He had committed a grievous sin and for it, Yoba cast him into the deepest depths of his own personal hell.
“Oh I’m so glad, you’re such a good friend, Clint.”
Friend.
F r i end. Ffffffriend.
Oh. Friend.
Okay then.
“But seriously, you should consult Welwick, you know, from TV? She’s on every morning reading fortunes, I swear she’s speaking directly to me sometimes. Have you ever seen her? She’s incredible.”
Emily shifted, scribbling on her server notes and handing him his bill. She still remembered his regular order and knew when he was ready to settle his tab even before he asked. She was so thoughtful like that. Because that’s… that’s something that… friends… do. Friends.
“She even comes to the Fair every year. You should definitely go see her next week, I’m sure she’d have some wisdom for you.” She smiled. Why was it so bright and sunny.
“Sh-sure. Sure, Emily, thank you very much. I’ll. I’ll do that, I’ll go see her.”
She beamed and the flames of hell grew hotter.
She went back toward the bar and he noticed Mica, Mica Mica Mica, always Mica, always there, walking past Emily, back to the game room, a super moon eclipsing the sun that had been Emily, casting a furtive glance his way as they passed, and the hell he was in became a roaring inferno that Clint could no longer handle.
This couldn’t go on. He needed help.
Of all the places in the valley, Pelican Town was one of the most beautiful. The turning of the leaves made the valley shimmer in emeralds, rubies, and golds; the smell of the Gem Sea a sharp contrast to the leaves. At the height of the season, seeing Pelican Town in the fall was a real treat.
And Welwick didn’t get to see any of it.
Every year, Welwick hosts her fortune telling at the Stardew Valley Fair. Every year, she intends to stay a few days longer to enjoy herself. And every year, something always comes up to cut her stay short.
And just like every year, she had a fair amount of customers with the same old predictable problems.
Same as it ever was.
Especially with this fuckin’ guy.
This kind of guy was a dime a dozen. Welwick had seen so many of this guy that she put him on a bingo card to check off whenever she came to events like this.
That reminded her, she had to check Rasmodius’ bingo card soon. First to fill the whole card gets a bottle of the good stuff, courtesy of the loser. He may be out walking the grounds but her steady stream of customers would put her ahead in no time.
She discreetly marked this fuckin’ guy off on her card and turned her attention back to her customer.
Entering her tent, this particular fuckin’ guy was obviously nervous. Ok, so he’s never been here before.
He was also wringing his hands and looking away to the side. Definitely wants to ask about a crush.
He sat down and drummed his hands on the table nervously. Someone talked him into coming here and he’s unsure.
Welp, time to pour on that good old mystic charm.
She tapped a small button near her foot and her cloak billowed softly around her, another button slowly dribbled mist from beneath the crystal ball on the table between them as it began to glow.
He gasped and looked up at her. Just the reaction she was hoping for.
“Uh… uhhh… uhhhm… I, uh… are you Welwick?”
Yoba almighty, this fuckin’ guy.
“Ah, yes… my crystal ball is swirling with visions of your future,” she crooned before pausing briefly and adding, “young one.”
“Oh, oh gosh, no, I’m, uh… no, you’re too kind.”
Yoba, restrain the impulse to grab his shoulders and shake this fuckin’ guy. She looked up and—
“Oh wow, your eyes! They’re different!”
Welwick shifted gears quickly, smiling. “Yes my child, Yoba blessed them each on the day of my birth. One eye sees—”
“That one’s like a moonlight jelly!”
“Yes, one eye sees—”
“And that one’s green like the Gem Sea!”
“Yes my child, one eye sees—”
“Do they help you see the future?”
Yoba take me straight to hell this fucking guy.
“Yes. My child.” She stared directly into his eyes. No more interruptions. “One eye sees the future that will be, the other, the future that was to come.”
He swallowed nervously.
That shut him up.
“So I, uh, I-I need s-some advice. About, uh… it’s about my love life.”
...that did not shut him up.
Welwick waved her arm dramatically to break his concentration. She’d never get through this if he didn’t. Stop. Talking.
“Ahh... Indeed. I see you in a room, having a conversation with a lady… Oh! It'ssss… Emmmmily. You seem to be close friends.”
He deflated. “Fuh… friends. Right.”
Ah well, time to give him the kick in the pants.
“Ooo… It's dark, and I see you and a certain young person. They look a little bashful, but happy to be with you. Hmmm… now what's this young person's name? …I believe it starts… with aaaaaaaaannnnnnnNNNNNNNNNnnnnnMmmmmMMMmm??”
This fuckin’ guy choked on his spit. Okay it’s M, which townie starts with M…
MARU no Yoba no that wouldn’t, just no
MARNIE no no no she’s already got tail and this fuckin’ guy isn’t the type to crush on a taken lady
M—hahahaha, I can't even think it oh Yoba he'd kill me
Who is iiiiiiiiiittttttt
A shadow suddenly fell over the opening of the tent. “Oh! Excuse me, I didn’t realize you were busy. I’ll, uh, come back later.” Almost imperceptively, both the shadow and that fuckin’ guy froze. Just for the briefest of moments, they froze.
The shadow left and the air grew heavier. The silence was deafening.
Oh. Ooooh what was THAT that’s it THAT’S IT who is it WHO IS THAT who—
“…Yes, yes, it starts with M. They remind you of the earth and all the good things that come from it and they shine to you like… like crystals… of Mica.”
“Wha—” he sputtered, clearly caught off guard, “I don’t—what makes you think I know someone with a name like Mica??”
Yes, another one for the bingo card.
Also this fuckin’ guy.
“Ah yes, the local blacksmith. He does have a bit of difficulty interacting with the other townspeople.” Rasmodius sipped delicately at the stardrop liqueur in his cordial glass. “Frankly I’m surprised you were able to give him a reading without the poor man bursting into flames.”
He held out the now empty glass with a smirk. Welwick poured another draught of the very expensive stardrop liqueur with a pout. “Well aren’t you pleased as punch that he took up so much of my time. What is this, your fifth glass?”
“You wound me, dear Welwick. Haven’t you divined that I would never take pleasure in the misfortune of others?” He raised a single eyebrow.
That little shit.
“Oh shut up Mitchell. You old windbag. Speaking of bags, hand me mine please.”
“Windbag I may be, Trisha, but you’re just as old as me. ” He smirked and she rolled her eyes, taking the proffered bag.
She rummaged through a few pockets in the small satchell. “Augh, where is it, my eyes are killing me…”
“I cannot believe you insist upon wearing those things.”
“Hey, if it works it works. Aha!” With a flourish, Welwick brought out a contact lens case and hurriedly removed her colored lenses. “Oh sweet Yoba that’s so much better.”
The great M Rasmodius harumphed.
“Oh stop, not all of us can effortlessly be an imposing nine feet tall .”
The now slightly cowed Mitchell Rasmodius also harumphed.
“Look, divining is difficult, ok? I’m sure you know how much energy it takes out of you. That’s why I rely on the smoke and mirrors show.” Eyedrops oh Yoba yes life is worth living again.
“It’s easier for people to believe in the fake mystical shit like two tone eyes and seemingly unbidden winds and mists and flowy robes and all that than it is to trust a fortune as told by Trisha Wickerwell. ” She sipped at her own glass. “Anyway, he might not have self immolated but he was surely only a few joules away from bursting into steam.”
“How did you manage that level of frustration, by the way? It’s quite impressive.”
“Told him the name of his secret crush.”
Rasmodius blinked. “I thought you had not met the new farmer in town yet.”
“Nope, never met ‘em.”
Mitchell blinked. “Then how did you know their name? Ah, you used your proper divination this time?”
Trisha threw him a conspiratorial smirk.
“Come on, out with it.”
“Saw it written over and over again on a piece of paper sticking out of his apron pocket.”
Rasmodius coughed into his drink.
“Shut up.”
“He even drew little hearts over the i’s.”
This time he spit.
“That fuckin’ guy. ”
