Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The still morning hallways of Rhodes Island rang with the distant screech of metal on metal. Shaw set the fire extinguisher back into its wall mount and checked it off her list. Just forty six left in this wing of Rhodes and it'll be lunch time. The screeching drew closer. Shaw craned her neck around the hallway corner to see what approached.

A tiny girl, just a few inches taller than Shaw dragged a large chainsaw down the hallway in one hand, her other flipping through her phone. Little bunny keychains dangled merrily off both. Behind her, the hallway floor was scored with a long trail of lacerations from the chainsaw's jagged teeth. "Popukar!!" Shaw squeaked, and hopped out in front of her. "Whatareyoudoing??"

Popukar looked up and smiled brightly, waving with her phone. "Hi miss Shaw! D'you know where engineering is? My chainsaw broke."

"Uhh..." Shaw glanced at the heavy machine cutting a swathe through the shiny metal floor. It was a bit dented, stained red- or was that rust? Shaw hoped it was rust. It could use a tune-up, she figured. "Itsurelookssharpenough!!" Shaw blabbed out loud.

"Yeah but it won't run!" Popukar pouted. "If I pull the chain it just goes clunk-khchunk and stops!"

"Ibetengineering canfixitnoproblem!! I'llshowyoutheway, let'sjust-"

"Aw thanks miss Shaw!" Popukar threw her arms up in celebration, bringing the chainsaw back down on the battered floor with an echoing clang. Shaw's tail poofed out at the noise and she waved her hands placatingly.

"Yesyes!! Let'sjust- canIhelpyou carryyourchainsaw? Soitdoesn't, er, getanymoredamaged?"

"Huh?" Popukar looked down at the chainsaw, then slung it over her shoulder. Shaw ducked under the blade, though she didn't need to. "That's ok! Lead the way!"

Shaw gulped and hurried towards the engineering floor, Rhodes Island's most powerful baby giggling along behind her.

Chapter Text

Texas turned the package over in her hands. Something small, maybe two or three pounds, solid. She was good at judging these things, but didn’t care to guess exactly what the contents were. Texas was only around packages while they were in transit, and whatever happened to them before and after wasn’t her concern. This one was addressed to a dorm on the Rhodes Island landship, no name given, and there she was.

She reached out to knock, hesitated, and bent over to put the package on the doorstep instead. Then, the door swung open abruptly.

“Oh, hey Texas,” said a familiar voice. Texas straightened and looked her in the eye, not moving a muscle.

“Lappland,” Texas replied. She offered the package in an outstretched hand. Lappland looked at it, then back to Texas, grinning widely.

“So how’s it going? Busy?” Lappland didn’t reach for it.

“No. Take it.” Texas shoved the package into Lappland’s hands and turned to leave.

“Hey, hold on!” Lappland reached out for Texas’ hand, and Texas yanked it away like she had touched a stove. “You’re with Rhodes now, huh? Well good news. Me too.” Texas kept her back turned and clenched her jaw. “I’ve got a mission coming up, you know. Need a plus one.”

“Not interested.”

“Whaddya mean!?” Lappland circled around Texas, who averted her gaze. “We’ll be going to Siracusa! Might see some familiar faces, even.” Lappland nudged her with an elbow.

“No.” Texas looked her in the eye and jabbed a finger at her chest. “Drop it. For both of us.” Texas turned and left down the hall.

“Hmph.” Lappland tossed the package between her hands a few times, walked back into her dorm and dropped it in a trash can, along with a dozen more.

Chapter Text

Clack. Clack clack-clack. A rhythmic barrage of strikes preceded Courier as he let himself into the training room. Silverash delivered another series of attacks into the wooden dummy, the loud thwacks of his cane the only activity in the otherwise empty room. Silverash didn’t choose to train alone, but whenever he arrived to practice the rest of Rhodes Island inevitably found they had other engagements, or a general lack of enthusiasm for training in such a broad shadow. Courier waited for a lull in activity before making himself known, but Silverash spoke first.

“I trust your journey was productive, Weiss. You have news for me?” Silverash didn’t look over, keeping his attention on his target.

“Good afternoon, Master Silverash. Yes, it was good! Very nice to see Kjerag this time of year. Nice to see it so peaceful.” Courier fidgeted with a loose thread in his scarf.

“May it always remain so,” Silverash intoned, repeating the old Kjeragian prayer. Courier smiled wistfully and waited an appropriate moment for Silverash to add more. When he didn’t, Courier cleared his throat and continued.

“I delivered your letter to Ensia. She seemed amenable to your request, as well. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from the Doctor soon.” Silverash nodded in acknowledgment, and lashed the dummy again. “And, she seemed well. Healthy, happy, and all that.” Courier flinched at the echo of Silverash’s blows.

“Of course.”

“…Would you have me deliver any word to her? Next we meet?”

“I believe you already have, haven’t you?” Silverash glanced at him, then back to the dummy. “She’s been appraised of what she needs to know.”

“Yes, Master Silverash.” Courier swallowed. “Of course.”

“We’ll all have more to share in the times to come. One thing at a time, Weiss. And the big things come first.”

“…Right, Master Silverash.” Courier paused.

“You are dismissed. Have some rest before our venture.”

“Have a good evening, then, Master Silverash.” Silverash turned and met his eyes.

“Thank you. You as well, Weiss.” Courier nodded, his smile in place as always, and he took his leave to the sound of Silverash’s next volley.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun shined pleasantly on Frostleaf’s stroll through the convalescent garden, a welcome break from her long shift in the factory recording training videos of axe moves. It was good work, good for keeping her in practice for the next time she’d take to a real battlefield, whenever that may be. Part of her itched for it every day, but she was becoming used to the routine of treatment and therapy she had been prescribed by Dr. Kal’tsit. She went off the path to take a closer look at a tree with vibrant pink and white flowers, when her foot struck something heavy. She pitched forward with a yelp and caught herself, but not before her headphones slipped off and landed on the girl spread-eagled in the grass.

“Ow!” Cutter glared up at her, rubbing the spot where Frostleaf’s boot had struck her ribs. She had been lying in the golden knee-high grass that Perfumer had imported from Minos and planted just about everywhere that wasn’t growing flowers or vegetables. She sat up and blinked in the sunlight, apparently woken by Frostleaf’s intrusion.

“Sorry,” Frostleaf muttered, reaching for her headphones on Cutter’s chest.

“Heh? Watch where you’re going!” Cutter picked up the headphones and held them away, some loud tinny music thundering from the speakers.

“Er, sorry?” Frostleaf repeated, a bit louder. “You aren’t easy to see…”

“Pff, no problem.” Cutter shrugged, her demeanor settling immediately. She offered the headphones to Frostleaf, who tucked them back on her head. “What the hell is that stuff, anyway?”

“The music?” Cutter nodded, as she stood and stretched. “It’s Mantas. They’re an old band from when I was a kid. Columbian, but kinda obscure. You wouldn’t hear about them elsewhere.”

“Well, I’m Columbian and I haven’t heard of ‘em either.” She extended a hand. “Cutter. Don’t worry about waking me, I’m probably late for something anyway.”

“Frostleaf.” They shook briefly, measuring each other up. “Do I know you? I feel like we’ve met.”

“Doubt it. We didn’t go to school together, I can guarantee you.” Frostleaf switched her music off and scratched at an old memory.

“…Tkaronto? Three years ago?”

“I was doing mercenary work there, yeah.” Cutter braced herself. She really hoped this quiet Lupo wasn’t about to reveal some quest of revenge in the name of someone Cutter had run through.

“Me too,” Frostleaf said. Cutter sighed, maybe a little too visibly relieved. “Tough campaign down there. The Sarkaz didn’t give any ground.”

“Never would!” Cutter replied with some pride. Frostleaf cocked her head in confusion. “We kicked some Columbian police ass, right?” Cutter continued.

“…I was in the merc support for the police, I think.” She knew. “You fought well, then.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Cutter rubbed her side again and looked at the blue sky. “Can’t say it wasn’t a challenge, though.”

Frostleaf gave a tiny smile. “Well. Maybe we’ll get deployed together sometime.”

“Sure. We can show these Rhodes jokers how we do it in Columbia.” They nodded to each other, and parted ways without another word.

Chapter Text

“Two beers, please!” Hibiscus asked happily as she and Sussurro sat down at the bar. It was evening, both of them having recently clocked out of medical duties. This bar, a small outdoors stand in the packed Rhodes Island mercantile level, was the first they bumped into that Friday night and, honestly, not worse than any other place they could afford on their junior doctor salaries.

The old forte barkeep glanced over Sussurro. “Can I see some ID, miss?” Sussurro scowled and fished her Rhodes Island badge out of her coat pocket and flashed it at him. He nodded and started drawing their drinks from a steel keg.

“Ugh, I swear I’ve been here before,” Sussurro grumbled. “Can’t this guy remember his customers?” Hibiscus laughed lightly into her hand.

“I mean, you can’t blame…” she began, then stifled it with more laughter as Sussurro turned her glare up at the younger woman. “Nothing. Ahem.” The barkeep set their drinks before them and they both took big, end-of-the-work-week sips. “So how has your week been? I feel like I haven’t seen you at all!”

“Busy.” Sussurro shook her head. “I’ve been going back and forth with Closure since Tuesday about our supplies shipments. She wanted to move them to the 24th, but we have to get new hypodermics before the 21st, and,” she twirled her hand in the air and took another sip. “It’s been a whole thing. We got it worked out now, at least.”

“Oh, good! Maybe you can take a break this weekend and recharge. I’ll be cooking for Lava and her friends this weekend; she’s throwing a little party! So no break for me! But it’s important to find some time for yourself.”

“That sounds nice. I was kinda thinking about taking a few days off next week too, and spending some time off the landship after we park in Siracusa tomorrow.” Sussurro shrugged. “But I’ll have to find someone to cover my shifts short notice.”

“I’d be happy to!” Hibiscus said, unprovoked. Sussurro smiled but felt a sharp itch at the base of her neck. “It wasn’t a problem last time.”

“Uh, thanks,” Sussurro began, scratching her ear, “but no thanks. I can probably find someone else.”

“It’s fine! I have some time off I can spend so I won’t be needed on my shift…”

“Hey, Hibiscus? Forget I mentioned it.” Sussurro interjected. “I’ll be fine. Just wanted to bitch a little. I don’t need you breaking your back for me.”

“Oh, of course.” They sat drinking together in silence. Hibiscus thought about the previous night, when Lava mentioned her plan for the weekend, and their long argument over whether Hibiscus was allowed to help out. “…Sorry if I imposed on you,” she said.

“Hey, I appreciate the gesture. Just… sometimes I’d rather be able to mention a problem without you trying to solve it.” Sussurro finished her drink and gave Hibiscus a pat on the arm. “Save that for your sister, alright?”

“Heh, yeah…” Hibiscus trailed off, staring at her reflection in the dregs of cold beer.

Chapter Text

Hellagur was pulled out of his reverie by a small voice at his side. “Hello, Mr. Hellagur! Are you feeling alright?” He blinked and refocused his eyes on the medical wing waiting room around him, and looked down at the familiar speaker.

“Greetings, Miss Suzuran.” A slight ripple of shock passed over his stiff features. “Dear… what happened to you?”

Suzuran smiled sheepishly and touched the bandage wrapped around her head. “Oh, nothing to be worried about! Just a small cut.”

“An awfully large bandage, then.” His imperious gaze often quailed the younger operators of Rhodes, but Suzuran was the exception. She was polite, perhaps a bit shy, but not fearful, neither of him nor anyone else.

“Yes, it’s mostly my ears. They bleed a lot, so Miss Warfarin wanted to wrap them up especially well.” Her smile fell for a moment, but returned when she continued talking. “I was on a mission yesterday and I got nicked by a crossbow. It was so fast, faster than Miss Liskarm even! She stopped almost all of them, but I didn’t duck behind her in time.”

“You have reliable allies here, but you shouldn’t expect even them to be perfect,” Hellagur admonished. “I’m sure you know that.” He smiled back at her. “Listen to me, we’ve had this talk two, even three times before, now? You must be getting tired of it.”

“Noo!” Suzuran giggled. “Thank you for all your advice! I’ll do better next time!” She clenched her fists in a passionate display that drew some muffled laughter from the other Rhodes staff passing through the lobby.

“I’m certain you will. You’re more of the lady I know you can be each time we meet.” Suzuran’s smile sparkled under the soft flourescent lighting.

“Oh!” she said with a start, “are you alright as well? Did Miss Warfarin want to see you for a checkup too?”

Hellagur waved her enthusiasm down. “No, I’m fine, more or less. I took a bit of a fall this morning and my hip is… well, I’m sure it’s nothing.” He rubbed the bruise reflexively, another dull sting of pain shooting down his leg. The presence of pain in his body wasn’t unfamiliar, but there was something more dignified about a wound struck by a foe than one caused by a slippery floor. “Would you like a sweet?” he added, reaching into his greatcoat pocket for a caramel.

“Yes please!”

Chapter Text

Nian threw the door open and strode into the conference room with her hands held high. "It's that time of the year, bitches! Who's up?" Kal'tsit stared at her from the front of the table and slowly raised a finger pointing at the exit.

"Out," she hissed. The rest of the Rhodes Island medical board members snickered and whispered between themselves.

"No can do, Kal, you know the rules. If you want my medical evaluation- and I know you do, you freak-" she flexed her bicep unimpressively at the gathering of Rhodes' most esteemed medical professionals, "one of you has to beat me at an arm wrestle." Kal'tsit put her head in her hands and sighed heavily.

"Fine. Warfarin."

"What!?" Warfarin shouted, leaping up from her chair.

"It's your turn," Kal'tsit told her.

"No, what about-" Warfarin looked around the room. Everyone shook their heads and shrugged mournfully. Nian had a leg up on one of the chairs and was continuing to flex.

"Everyone else has gone. You are last. That is," Kal'tsit spit, "the deal."

"You heard her Dracula. Right here, let's go." Nian dropped into the chair and slammed her elbow on the table with a crack, holding her hand out for Warfarin to take. Warfarin looked at it, and Nian's grin, and glanced over at Kal'tsit massaging her temple.

"Fine. One moment." Warfarin reached into her coat pocket and took out a blood bag, then loudly slurped the entire thing down in a few seconds. Her eyes flashed with the red crackle of her arts, and she planted her arm down on the table with a fanged grin. "You're replacing that one when we're through."

"Now that's the spirit!" Nian exclaimed. They clamped their hands together and the battle was on. Both women grimaced with effort, the veins in their arms bulging, Warfarin's with the intensity of her finely honed Sarkaz arts, and Nian with all the alcohol she had drunk that morning.

"You are... such a nuisance!" Warfarin hissed through gritted teeth, her arm trembling from exertion. She was barely making headway, slowly turning their arms diagonally toward the center of the table. The gathered members of the board watched with bated breath.

"This nuisance is gonna flatten you!" Nian roared, "not that you need any help with that!" Warfarin's arm lurched back, but she caught the momentum again and pushed back quickly against Nian's grip.

"You crass..." Warfarin's other hand gripped the edge of the table tightly, slipping just a bit as they passed the midway point again.

"You ever thought about showbiz?" Nian sniped at her with a wink. "You actually have some fire when someone's got your dander up."

"There's no amount of money in Terra..." Warfarin growled, "that would get me into one of your atrocious films!"

"Oh yeah?" Nian shot back. "You're getting your blood if you beat me, how about you put something on the line? I beat you, you let me make you a star!"

"I'll... I'll have you seeing stars!" Warfarin shouted, to groans in the audience. "You're on!"

"Warfarin, do NOT-" Kal'tsit began, too late. The tattoos on Nian's forearm flared, and she whooped and snapped Warfarin's arm down into the table, cracking the wood finish.

"HA!" Nian leapt up and stabbed her finger at Warfarin's face in triumph. "See you this evening. Bye, doctor nerds." She strut out of the room and slammed the door.

Warfarin grumbled in pain as she rubbed her sprained arm. "I hate... our esteemed operators," she whispered.

Chapter Text

Ayerscarpe removed his lunch from its foil package and set it beside the microwave. Ansel looked up from his phone nearby and called out across the break room. “Hey, careful! The microwave is broken. I’m waiting for engineering to come up and take a look at it.” Ayerscarpe narrowed his eyes at the machine, and reached out to press a button. On contact, the display flickered and a sharp crack of electricity cut through the air, causing Ayerscarpe to flinch reflexively. “See?” Ansel added dryly.

Ayerscarpe judged the microwave again, and punched a few more buttons, causing a visible flash between his fingers. The hair on his ears stood on end, fluffing out his hood. “Ah, hm,” he muttered to himself.

“What are you doing?” Ansel asked, horrified.

“I’m charging up,” Ayerscarpe replied.

“You cannot be serious.” Ansel stepped forward and slapped Ayerscarpe’s hand away as he went to touch the microwave a third time. “Stop that! You’ll hurt yourself!”

“Would you deny water to the thirsty? Food to the hungry?” Ayerscarpe reached out again and Ansel pushed him away, followed by a scuffle between the two. “Come on man what’s your problem!?”

“Clearly you are the one with the problem here! Don’t shock yourself! This is,” Ansel sighed and shook his head, “basic medical knowledge.”

“So you’ll just believe anything they’ll tell you, huh?” Ayerscarpe said sarcastically.

“…I don’t know how to respond to that,” Ansel replied.

“Hmph. Get some real world experience before you lecture me.” He stuck his finger in the button panel and jolted in place. “Ow.”

Chapter Text

“Click!” Magallan shouted over the commotion of the Rhodes Island cafeteria, waving at her and pushing through the lunch rush crowd. “Hi! Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Click shook her head and swallowed a bite of fondue. “No, go ahead! Uhh…”

“Magallan!” she chirped, and took the seat across from Click in the booth. Click stopped poking at her phone and tried her best to remember the newcomer.

“Sorry, don’t think we’ve worked together before! Nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you too! I’m not around R.I. very often, so I can’t blame you!” Magallan poked at her food, but was clearly pausing to be polite. “Can I ask you some questions about your, um, stream, is it called? From Tuesday the 18th, March.”

“Oh, a fan huh?” Click grinned.

“No. I mean, not that your work isn’t interesting!” Magallan waved placatingly while Click laughed. “I hadn’t actually seen it before. I was trying to find recent footage of the Northwest Columbian Taiga and your videos showed up in my search.”

“Well, you have an eye for quality! My stream there got some big numbers. Glad it was worth it, it was SO cold.”

“Yes, it was very compre-“

“Like, CRAZY cold. Icicles hanging from my drone cold! Can you believe it?” Click took another big bite of fondue.

“Yes, I’ve been there myself! Though not recently, of course. Which is why I wanted to ask you about the footage.”

“Oh yeah?” Click asked, mouth full.

“You see, I was there about four years ago. Three years, seven months before your ‘stream’ to be precise. But your footage showed significant permafrost creep compared to my visit.”

“Cool.”

“No, bad! Very bad!” Magallan corrected sharply.

“Oh. Cringe.” Click replied. Magallan stared blankly at her.

“Yes. I don’t have a hypothesis on the source of the mechanical stress that’s causing such a noticeable land shift, but its ecological impact will certainly be ‘cringe’.”

“Well, I’ve got a whole drive of B-roll that I never uploaded. Maybe we can find some clues in there?”

“You want to help?” Magallan asked, brimming with excitement.

“Of course! This’ll be great material for my next stream.”

“Well, this is primarily research-“

“But we’ve got to work on your presentation!” Click leaned across the table and stared intensely at Magallan. “You ever heard of LungChamp?”

Chapter Text

Kafka surveyed the glowing embers of the garden in silence. The fire was out, but almost half of her patch was soggy ash. She took a deep breath and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“Um… Kafkaareyoualright?” a voice squeaked behind her. Fire chief Shaw approached carefully, her boots splashing inky black water around the work site.

“Yeah I’m,” Kafka sniffed and turned to Shaw with a big trademark grin, “I’m glad Rhodes has such fast responders! By the size of it I thought the whole garden would’ve been done for!”

“Thanksforyourconfidence! Hopefullywecanpreventsomething likethisfromhappeningagain.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kafka rubbed her arms and stared back at the scorched patch that had been flowers a few hours ago. The heat from the fire was gone now, and the afternoon was turning to a chill evening. “Any idea what might’ve started it?”

“We’reuh, we’relookingintoit.” Shaw was glad Kafka was looking away, she’d certainly have noticed Shaw’s flinch. “It’shardtofindtheexactcausesometimes…” she trailed off. The back of her neck stung, she thought about the two horned girls she passed in the corridor earlier, racing away from the garden with hands knit tightly together, eyes full of fear. She thought about the cigarettes she stepped on near the epicenter of the blaze. “Couldhavebeenanything!” she said a little too loudly.

“Ugh, yeah. Fires are hard to trace… Don’t I know it!” Kafka laughed. “Just… real bummer. Wish I had something to blame it on to take the edge off.” She twisted the hem of her coat and pulled it arounder her shoulders. “I had some flowers growing for Ifrit’s birthday…” she whispered.

“I’mreallysorry.” Shaw gave her a little pat on the back. “Allwecandonowis makesuretheygrowbackstronger, right?”

“Heh, that’s sappy!” Kafka laughed again and nudged Shaw playfully with an elbow. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. I’ve had plenty of setbacks before. At least nobody was hurt.”

Shaw nodded. “Yeah. That’swhat’simportant.”

Chapter Text

"Let's celebrate! A round for everyone, on me!" Myrtle shouted over the hubbub at the bar. The bartender lined up eleven glasses on the bar and began filling them, one for almost all of the operators fresh off their latest mission. "Uh, buddy?" Myrtle asked merrily, "think you're missing one."

The bartender craned his neck to see her behind the counter. "Yeah, I'm not gonna kick you out, but I can't serve minors alcohol."

"ExCUSE me!" Myrtle snapped, aghast, "I'm no child! I'm a Durin! The only minor I am is, the other kind! With pickaxes, and stuff!" She stood up on her toes and continued to pelt the bartender with protests as he grimly poured the beers.

Across the bar, Scavenger was staring at the door from her corner seat, waiting for the time when it wouldn't be awkward to get up and leave. The rest of the squad had separated into their respective social cliques: the Rhine scientists were chatting about some bullshit, the Kazimierz knights were talking about honor, or whatever, and the rest of them were fawning over SilverAsh's impressive sweep of the enemy forces at the conclusion of the battle. Scavenger, on the other hand, was having an increasingly difficult time with the bar's volume, light level, and population. She glanced around the room one more time, and seeing nobody watching her, began to make her way to the exit.

"Hey!" A voice rang right next to her, and she looked over. Then looked down. "Leaving already? Not a fan of free booze?" Myrtle grinned and held out a tall amber glass. Scavenger gingerly accepted it and mumbled a thank you. "Don't mention it. Where ya off to?"

Scavenger shrugged and took a sip. Myrtle waited a second for an answer.

"Okay, cool." Myrtle took a sip of her own drink and grimaced. "Can you believe this asshole gave me orange juice? This is discrimination." Scavenger raised an eyebrow. "No, don't start with me." They stood together in Scavenger's corner, drinking and watching the rest of the bar in silence for several minutes. "So, how come you never stick around?" Myrtle looked up at her and Scavenger felt compelled to meet her slate blue gaze.

"Mm... don't feel like it. I keep to myself."

It was Myrtle's turn to shrug. "Well, I don't get it. This is all I wanna do after a big mission! Hang out, talk to everyone, see if I can get Saria to do Karaoke again- were you there that time?" Scavenger shook her head. "Too bad. She was mortified. She wasn't bad either! But wow, can you believe she got stage fright?" Scavenger shook her head again. Myrtle smiled at her, then kicked her foot lightly. "Come on. Don't make me do all the talking."

"Ehm, I have nothing to say. The job's over with and I want to go home," Scavenger replied. Myrtle's smile faltered slightly.

"Just not your scene, huh?" Scavenger shook her head. "Okay. I can respect that. But give it a chance, maybe? We all miss you when you disappear so fast."

"I didn't think anyone noticed."

"Of course! This isn't a stealth mission. People are expecting to see you. They want to see you!" Myrtle planted her feet and grinned at her. "You know, I overheard Nearl talking about you. She was really impressed this mission! I bet you, she wants to compliment your swordsmanship." Myrtle made a cutting gesture with her hand. "She loves that shit." Scavenger snorted a laugh, almost beside herself. "We can go say hi. No pressure."

Scavenger swirled her drink around and thought about it. "Maybe. In a bit."

"Sure." Myrtle looked between their still almost full glasses. "You wanna trade?" she asked, holding hers out.

"No difference to me." They swapped and Myrtle downed half of Scavenger's beer before she could blink.

"You're alright, Scav," Myrtle assured her.

Chapter Text

"...ya! Eyja!" Eyjafjalla felt a hand on her shoulder and she startled to attention.

"Oh! I'm sorry Ifrit!"

"It's okay!" Ifrit raised her voice over the clamor of the streetside ramen shop they sat at. "You were thinking hard. Did you pick something?"

"Mm..." Ejyafjalla murmured, "I like the seafood bowl... Is that too expensive?"

"No way! Look, I'll get something pricey too, then we'll be even."

"That's not exactly what I meant," Eyjafjalla laughed.

"I'm treating you, so you have to take advantage!" Ifrit told her. "Whatever you want." Ifrit waved her hand across the menu like a queen appraising her riches. "And if I can't pay, I'll burn the place down!"

"No don't!" Ejyafjalla giggled, jostling Ifrit playfully. "Okay, you talked me into it. What are you getting?"

"The spicy pork ramen! Extra spicy, of course!" Ifrit looked proud of herself, which always made Eyjafjalla smile.

"It's not the same kind of heat as our arts, you know..."

"Uhh, I've had spicy food before, Eyja!" Ifrit replied with mock affront. "I know what I'm getting into."

"You can call me Adele, you know."

"Heh, guess it's just force of habit! Spend most of my time around the squad, and you know how Saria is about manners..." Ifrit smiled awkwardly and tried to flag down the chef. "Come on, I'm starving!" Eyjafjalla put their menus together neatly in front of them, and moved Ifrit's glass of water an inch out of the way of her waving arm. "Hey buddy, can we get a bowl of the seafood ramen, and a spicy pork ramen, heavy on the spice! The real Yan specialty!"

The service was prompt and flashy, and soon enough the girls had steaming bowls of noodles in front of them.

"Hell yeah!" Ifrit cackled, and dug in immediately. Eyjafjalla blew on her bowl and took a careful sip of broth.

"Wow, this is incredible! I've only had the packaged MRE ramen before, and you were right, it's completely different. How's yours?"

"Amazing. Naturally." Ifrit grinned and took a bite of pork. "I'm glad you've seen the light! Silence takes me here after my monthly checkups- hhhhwhooaaa," Ifrit gasped and slapped the table. "That's the good stuff," she coughed, eyes watering.

"Are you alright?" Eyjafjalla asked kindly.

"I'm, perfect. Why do you ask??" Ifrit drained her glass of water and blinked the tears out of her eyes.

"You look flushed. Maybe a little too spicy?" Eyjafjalla laughed.

"No way! Just how I like it!" Ifrit shot back. "I'm just, I'm blushing! 'Cause you're so pretty," she rambled, then froze. Eyjafjalla nibbled a scallop and quietly watched Ifrit squirm. "Heh," Ifrit swallowed hard, "you know. It's a normal reaction when you're sitting with a beautiful girl! Oh god," she banged the table with her fist and shouted, "HEY! CAN I GET ANOTHER WATER!?" Eyjafjalla pushed her glass across the table to Ifrit and laughed as Ifrit clumsily chugged it. "Ooohhh, how is it getting worse..."

"There, there," Eyjafjalla cooed and pat Ifrit's back.

Chapter Text

Grani walked into the dormitory common room, stifling a yawn. The sun was beginning to set after a long day of patrolling Rhodes Island, and on Grani’s schedule that meant it was approaching bedtime. Right after a snack, of course.

“Oh, hiya Prove- plaahhpbbtpbbt,” she coughed and spat hair after Provence’s tail swatted her in the face mid sentence.

“Sorry!” Provence apologized, turning quickly to face her. “You snuck up on me!”

“It’s alright,” Grani replied, plucking a lavender hair from her visor, “Just watch where you’re swinging that thing! I don’t want to have to write you a ticket!”

“Of course, officer!” Provence laughed. “In fact, let me make it up to you.” She took a foil covered baking pan out of the community fridge and offered it to Grani. “I cooked a bit too much dinner for myself, and I didn’t want it to go to waste,” she added sheepishly. “You’re free to have as much as you want!”

“Thanks so much!” Grani said, taking the heavy pan. “Uh, what is it?”

“Lasagna. My grandmother’s recipe, mostly.”

Grani peeled back the foil and took a look at the still very intact meal. “Wow, Provence,” Grani said carefully, “it’s so green?”

“It’s vegetarian!” Provence said quickly. “Spinach, lettuce, celery, all very healthy!”

“I’m sure,” Grani mumbled, sweating audibly. “I can’t believe you have leftovers.”

Provence smiled and nodded, opened her mouth to reply, then nodded again instead.

“I… will do my best! It shall not be, er, cooked in vain!” Grani saluted.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!”

“Anything for my fellow operators!” Grani swallowed hard and replaced the foil, locking the smell of the lasagna(?) back in its prison. “Even this…”

Chapter Text

"So, um, why did you want to learn how to play MtO?" Jessica asked while she shuffled her deck. Ptilopsis watched her movements closely, shuffling her own stack of cards identically.

"I have observed you and other operators playing this game during breaks, and as I have committed to a greater portion of 'leisure time' in my daily schedule, I have a general desire to learn new active forms of entertainment." She placed her sufficiently randomized deck on the table in front of herself. "Ifrit has also expressed interest in this game, so it would be valuable for my interpersonal goals as well."

"Okay, that's cool! I'll do my best to show you the basics, but it's a little complicated," Jessica admitted.

"My initial information gathering led me to believe it is well within my capabilities."

"I mean, I might make a mistake. But I've got the rulebook right here, so I can double check!" Jessica patted a small, thick booklet sitting in her card box, the title of the game printed in fanciful runes on the front: Magic: The Origin. "I buy a lot of starter decks, so I have some extras, if you want one!"

"That would be helpful," Ptilopsis said, and placed her hand on top of her deck. "How many cards do I draw?"

"Um, five! And you also get ten lives. Here, I've got an extra life counter for you..."

"Variable stored. A physical counter is not needed."

"Oh, right. You know, you'll probably be a natural at this!" Jessica smiled and drew her cards, looking through them intently and sorting them in her hand. "So, on your turn, you draw two more, and then play one as a resource..."

"...and this is a vanguard-type card, see this symbol? So you can't play it with those resources, you need ones that match. Does that make sense?" Jessica asked. Ptilopsis nodded and rearranged her tableau.

"This card has both of these symbols. I infer that I must expend both types of resources to play it?"

"Yeah! Some cards even have three or more..."

"...I'll attack with, these two! No, wait," Jessica turned her cards back around and thought a few more seconds. "Just this one. I mean... yeah, this one."

Ptilopsis looked at her cards, then at Jessica's. Several iterations of the battle played through her mind. "I will block your attack with this card." She pushed one of her operators forward exactly one inch, to differentiate it from the rest of her neatly organized board.

"Okay." Jessica flipped two of her resources and played a card with a big grin. "I'll play Sudden Entrance on my other guy, so your operator has to fight them both now!" Ptilopsis looked over the new card and committed it to memory.

"Had I known such a thing was possible, my calculations would have been different."

"Your guy is still dead though!" Jessica laughed. "Uh, sorry. I know you're new, that trick just never works on anyone else..."

"...three, four, five damage. What does that put you at?" Jessica asked.

Ptilopsis blinked. "Negative one lives. Have I lost?"

"Yeah. When you hit zero, or lower I guess."

Ptilopsis blinked again. "...Had I drawn a second Impertinence last turn, which had a 6.25% chance, I could have broken your defensive line and prevented your counterattack, correct?"

"Um, probably. But you didn't." Jessica shrugged. "That's just how the game goes, sometimes."

Ptilopsis slowly picked up her cards and began shuffling them together. "Game state saved for future reference. I would like to play again."

"Sure! Now that you know how, let me switch decks..."

Chapter Text

With the afternoon beginning to turn and her bag laden with impulse purchases, Archetto started her walk back to the Rhodes Island dormitories from the shopping district. Her eyes passed longingly over the stalls full of rich street foods, the carpets covered in brilliantly shining knick-knacks, the robot dog...

Oh, hold up.

She watched the dog, very definitely a robot, sit patiently in front of a stall as the man behind it filled a bag with soup cups, energy bars, energy drinks, deodorant, and what appeared to be some sort of gift card for a popular online role-playing game. Which Archetto did not know anything about. Once full to bursting, the man hung the bag around the dog's neck, and pat it on the head. The dog, seemingly satisfied, took off at a trot towards the dormitories. Archetto started after it, keeping a careful distance in case the machine was capable of detecting her. It took her through dim alleys and unfamiliar corridors all around Rhodes, until finally arriving at its apparent destination. It sat in front of a dorm room door for a moment, Archetto peering around the corner, and with a tinny ding! the door opened, letting the robot slip in.

Archetto waited a polite amount of time, then ran up and knocked on the door. Then knocked a second time. "Hello?" she called out, then read the nametag beside the door. "...Mayer?"

Footsteps ran up to the other side of the door and flung it open. "I can't do anything about the noise, okay!?" Mayer shouted over Archetto's head, then looked down. "Oh, sorry, you aren't my neighbor. What's crackin'?"

Archetto composed herself and launched into a well-practiced introduction. "Cleric Hildegard, of the Landen Monastery, at your service! I happened to notice your, erm, pet today at the market, and I wished to speak with you about it."

"Oh, you mean my Meeboo?" Mayer asked, and grabbed one of the few robot dogs pacing around her legs by the handle on the back of its neck, and hefted it forward into the threshold. "Did he bump into you? I thought I worked out the crowd pathfinding in the last hardware update..."

"No, no issues at all! Really, what I wanted to ask you about is- have you considered the commercial applications of your 'Meebo'?"

"Mee-boo," Mayer repeated, emphasizing the syllables. "That's a trademarked name, you know. And yeah, 'course I have. I'm not really in any place to mass produce them yet, though. Why?"

"When I saw it picking up your groceries, I thought, what if it could pick up my groceries too? What if it could pick up," she said, paused for effect, "everyone's groceries."

"Okay, so you want me to rent one to you so you can cut down on chores, right?"

"Y-no. Landen Monastery often struggles to deliver all the goods that people want from us, especially with our distant location. But if we had a fleet of your mee-boos, why, we'd be able to supercharge our sales!"

"Hm. That's an idea." Mayer touched her chin in thought, then looked back at Archetto. "Alright, I think we can work something out."

"Gre-"

"But! If I'm going to assemble a whole fleet, I'm going to need some seed money. For materials, labor, intellectual property rights, you understand." Mayer slapped her hands on Archetto's shoulders. "I need one million LMD."

The two stared at each other for a wordless moment.

"...Let me get back to you," Archetto replied.

Chapter Text

"Thank you for waiting, operator Robin," Dobermann said as she left the training room, her previous class still tossing knives down range to little effect. "What did you want to ask me about?"

Robin fell in step with her down the corridor, though she had to leap forward every few seconds to keep up with Dobermann's pace. "Well, I was curious, you see I was watching this movie recently, called Carnivore, and I was thinking-"

"Spit it out already," Dobermann snapped.

"Were you in that movie?" Robin blurted out.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"There's a background character who looks a lot like you, and it was filmed in Bolivar, so I thought-"

Dobermann narrowed her eyes. "There are plenty of Perro like me in my home country, I'm sure you are just mistaken. Is that all?"

"Okay, I thought that, but you can see her division badge if you pause at the right time, and it's the same one you have," Robin pointed at Dobermann's shoulder, "and she has that same wrist tattoo, and-"

Dobermann stopped and spun around to face Robin, who stopped abruptly and almost tripped over her. "Fine. It was me. Tell everyone you want."

"Huh?" Robin asked, confused. Dobermann studied her face.

"Why did you want to bring that schlocky horror film up, then?"

"I wanted your autograph, is all," Robin said sheepishly, taking a small notebook and pen out of her pocket. "I loved your performance, as short as it was. It had so much impact on the rest of the story, too. If you hadn't broken the Major's firearm during the inspection scene, he never would have needed to build all those traps and snares to outwit the monster!" Robin glittered with her retelling of the movie. Dobermann frowned and looked away from her, trying to hide her brief blush. The inspection scene had been a late addition, after the crew had gotten on site and Dobermann actually broke the real prop they were using for the Major's customized rifle. The director had been furious with her for the rest of the filming, swearing to never work with 'real meathead military bozos' ever again. She never did hear how the movie had performed, or if it had even released.

"Hmph. Fine." Dobermann took the pen and jotted down her name in Robin's autograph book. "It's... pleasant, to hear about that experience again. But as I'm sure you can tell, I've moved on."

"Yeah, I figured. I'm probably the only person on Rhodes Island who watches that old junk! But it means a lot, so, thanks."

Dobermann nodded to her, and they took their respective leaves. Later that evening, Dobermann would look online for a copy of the film, and after reading several negative reviews, changed her mind.

Chapter Text

"So, have you brought... the stuff?" A trenchcoated May asked the empty back street. She leaned against the cold concrete wall of a warehouse and moved the lollipop to the other corner of her mouth. In the half-light of the near evening she cut a very detective-novel figure, she assumed.

"Yup, all here." Dur-Nar said cheerfully, patting the cardboard box. She was also there, standing next to May, but off to the side where she wouldn't spoil the dramatic view. May sighed and shook her head.

"Come on, be serious!" she chided.

"Uh, okay. The... the package has landed." May shook her head again without making eye contact. "The... penguin is in its nest."

"Ugh, never mind!" May turned and threw up her hands in frustration. "You have no sense for subterfuge at all!"

"Is that what we're doing here?" Dur-Nar asked with a smile.

"Yeah!" May replied. She stared at Dur-Nar with a hurt look.

"Sure, sure. Do you still want 'em?" Dur-Nar shook the box.

"Of course. Gimme." May grabbed it and popped the lid open. "Wow... they're beautiful..." Her eyes lit up and she held one of her prizes up to her eyes. A frosted donut, positively embellished with sprinkles of every color. "Colombian gold..."

"So a dozen usually goes for 1500 LMD, but you're a regular so I can shave a hundred off."

"Wait!" May narrowed her eyes. "I need to make sure these are legit." She shoved the donut up to her nose and sniffed deeply. "It's g-ACK!" She coughed furiously and dropped the box. Dur-Nar snatched it out of midair, even catching the stray donut as it sailed towards the dirty sidewalk. May doubled over, hacking badly. "I breathed in- ACK! SNhhgh, a sprinkle..." Dur-Nar solemnly pat her on the back.

"Very hard-boiled of you. Let's take you to the infirmary, detective."

Chapter Text

Vigna shivered and blew into her cupped hands. The morning air was bitter and frigid, like Dobermann, only quieter. She snickered at her joke and pulled her mittens back on. The line at the coffee shop was moving slower than usual, which was already pretty slow. She wasn't about to go somewhere else, this was the only place that did Colombian style the right way! So she satisfied herself with further internal snarking while she waited for her turn.

"Did you hear their new album?" a voice carried on the chill wind reached her, and her ears perked up. "It was truly exceptional!" Vigna strained to hear the conversation over her shoulder. She stole a backwards glance, and recognized the speaker as another operator, though one she rarely came into contact with. What was her name...

"Hey!" Vigna interrupted. "You talkin' music?" Astesia turned away from her friends and nodded enthusiastically.

"Good morning, Vigna! Yes, I just mentioned one of my recent favorites-"

"What band?" Vigna asked.

"Oh, Warbler. I don't think they're widely known, though." Sounds whiny, thought Vigna. Probably one of those folk singers with the beat up acoustics. An especially lame one, if they aren't famous enough for her to recognize the name.

"I've heard 'em," Vigna lied. Astesia lit up instantly.

"Wonderful! You're the first person I've met at Rhodes who has, though I should have expected you of all people to!"

"Yeah, not my usual style, but I like to keep up to date on the underground, you know?"

"I'm sure! You're a musician too, so it must be a professional matter. I'm just a listener," Astesia said, self-consciously, "it's amazing what real artists can do with so little." Vigna nodded sagely. "What's your favorite album of theirs?" Astesia asked.

"Uhh," Vigna fumbled. "The... their first one. Of course! When they were really fresh."

Astesia frowned in thought. "Huh, I can't say I understand. I felt like their early work was very derivative, until they found their current sound in 'Bleary Eyes'."

"Well, you gotta appreciate the classics!" Vigna replied smugly.

"I can respect that, I suppose. Their evolution has been much more interesting to me, however. The stripped down instrumentation on 'Bleary Eyes' put the texture in their songwriting at the forefront, and I suppose that made it more raw and powerful for me. Not to mention, the pummeling drum performance across the latter half of their discography is a highlight in the whole black metal genre."

"Sorry, the what?"

"Hey! Keep the line moving!" Came a shout from ahead of the two. Vigna shrugged sheepishly and skipped forward a few steps.

Chapter Text

Pudding mopped the sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief. The atmosphere in engineering that day was terribly muggy, and she couldn't stand it. Rhodes Island was passing through a heat wave in the middle of summer, and worst of all: the AC was broken. She sighed and trotted over to the thermostat. "Come on, I'm begging you..." she muttered to it as she adjusted the dials.

Clang! A wrench slammed into the deck next to her and Pudding jumped out of her skin. "Look out," Eunectes shouted from above.

"A little late!" Pudding shot back. "I thought you were more careful than that, Zumama!" Eunectes hung in a scaffold near the ceiling in the tall workshop room, her tail wrapped around the catwalk. The air conditioning unit near her was cracked wide open and she was elbow deep in its guts.

"My apologies. I didn't think anyone was down there," Eunectes said. "I've been focused on these repairs."

"Dropping your tools, though?"

"It was broken. I was going to take care of it later."

"What do you mean 'broken'," Pudding remarked, and looked down at the tool by her feet. The wrench head was twisted wide, almost snapped off. "Oh, broken. Huh."

"Closure has been skimping on our tools. I need sturdier stuff," Eunectes added, twisting a bolt in the AC mount with her bare hand.

"Yes, I see. Well, I'll still be working down here for a few more hours, so please watch where you drop things!"

"Of course."

Pudding began to return to her workbench, then paused. "Hey Zumama, you're from Sargon. How can you stand this heat?"

"I don't know how to answer that," Eunectes replied slowly. "It's just the way my homeland is. And the way I am." She shrugged, though Pudding couldn't really see. "It makes me feel energetic and alive. The cold makes me lethargic. I just want to sleep through it when it comes."

"That's funny, I'm the opposite. My grandfather is from Sami, so the cold is kinda in my blood, I guess." Pudding fidgeted. "You might like Sami. During the summer, probably," she laughed.

"How come?"

"Er, I figured... I dunno. I guess our traditions aren't the same as yours." Pudding tried to articulate herself, but just stood there for a few seconds with her mouth open. The heat she felt started to come from embarrassment instead of the weather.

"I'd like to finish this work in peace. And I think you'd like me to as well," Eunectes said. Pudding nodded and started to trail away. "I would appreciate seeing more of Sami. If you've any books on it, I'd like that."

"Oh, sure! They aren't exactly historical, but I have a few storybooks that meant a lot to me as a kid..."

Chapter Text

Roberta set the last box on the counter with a contented sigh. "Thank you sooo much Beanstalk!"

"No problem!" Beanstalk replied, squeezing against the wall as a few metal crabs carried Roberta's couch through the door. "You believe me now?" she smirked.

"I believed you before! These little guys are really somethin'."

"You know it. I'll be getting that promotion any day now," Beanstalk said, stretching her arms in exaggerated confidence, "aaaany day nowww..." They both laughed.

"Well, I don't think my word has much weight here yet, but you've got my support." The metal crabs set Roberta's couch down across from the little television and she flopped down on it immediately. "Ugh, moving suuucks! I didn't think I'd ever do it again after Wrankwood, but here I am." She stared at the sheet metal ceiling and integrated fluorescent lighting. "My ideas keep getting bigger, and the shitty apartments stay the same..."

Beanstalk scolded a crab nibbling at the heavy crates they had brought in earlier, each marked with the names of a few of Roberta's makeup lines. "I'm sure you'll get some workshop space, once you get in touch with Closure."

"Oh, definitely." Roberta stuck her tongue out slyly. "I'm just being a bitch." She sat up and checked her phone. "Can I treat you to dinner? As thanks for the move."

"I can't say no to that!" Beanstalk replied. "Will you be paying for the whole crew?" She gestured at the crabs huddling around her feet.

"Uhhh!" Roberta laughed.

"Hehe, don't worry. They're on a strict nutritional regimen. Can't be spoiling them with pizza!" She paused. "What do you think about pizza?"

"Oh I could kill for some pizza!" Roberta jumped to her feet. "Are there any good Siracusan places here?"

Beanstalk gave a noncommittal hand gesture. "We have some Siracusan places. That's the best I can offer."

"Offer accepted!" Roberta proclaimed. "I'll be the final judge here!" She pointed to the door with a dramatic flair. "To the pizzeria!"

Chapter Text

"Thanks for coming over, BP," Glaucus mumbled from her nest on the couch.

"No problem!" Blue Poison hung her coat by the door and sat down next to Glaucus, after carefully making some room between the stuffed animals. She rubbed Glaucus' shoulder and asked, "So, what's wrong?"

"Uh... I saw a ghost."

Blue Poison stifled a laugh. "Sorry. Like, here? In your room?"

"No." Glaucus replied cautiously. "...In a Utube video."

"Okay, I'm not sorry about laughing now."

"I'm really bothered!" protested Glaucus. "I didn't want to bug you but I just couldn't get to sleep." Blue Poison pulled her into a hug.

"Don't worry about it. I'll stay the night, we can get breakfast tomorrow, and if any ghosts show up in the meantime, I'll give them a severe neurotoxic reaction."

"Thanks BP. What you said isn't scary at all, and is making me feel much better." Blue Poison kissed her on the cheek, and they laughed together. "There's only one problem," Glaucus added. 

"Oh?"

Glaucus looked up at her. "I only have one bed..."

Blue Poison giggled. "Oh my god Glau, are you going to say that every time I stay over?"

"Yes," Glaucus nodded. "Every time."

Chapter Text

Gummy rapped on the open door to Vulcan's workshop. "Knock knock!" she shouted over the noise. Vulcan was stooped over a bench, welding a defender shield frame back together. Gummy approached slowly and waved at her. "Hello! Hi! Vulcan?"

Vulcan looked up, then methodically set her equipment down and shut it off. "Gummy, please be careful. It's very easy to get hurt if you wander in here unexpected." She lifted the welding mask and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Good afternoon."

"The door was open!" Gummy shrugged apologetically.

"It... shouldn't have been. I asked Ceobe to close it when she left earlier." Gummy raised an eyebrow. "...Right. Well, what brings you here?"

"Just wondered if my new skillet was done. And I was in the neighborhood, so here I am!" She hopped on one foot and spread her arms wide. "Ta-da!"

Vulcan set her mask on the bench and stood up, stretching her arms. "Yeah, I've got it right here." She took a step and stumbled over her prosthetic leg. "Damn! One sec." She fiddled with some switches on the back of the thigh. "Sleep mode. Alright, follow me." Gummy did, skipping along after Vulcan's trudging gait. Up at the front of the room, Vulcan sifted through a shelf of finished equipment until she found a thick cast-iron skillet with a red handle. "Here you go. Please don't hit anyone with this one, it's not reinforced."

"Promise! This one's strictly cooking. Speaking of, would you like something special? As thanks!"

"Hm." Vulcan picked at an oripathy lesion on her face. "I've been meaning to treat Ceobe to a porterhouse steak."

"Sure! But, what about something for you?"

"I'm happy enough with the work I do," Vulcan replied.

"Aw, come on! You sure I can't tempt you with some blinis?" pouted Gummy.

"I appreciate it," Vulcan began, then paused. "Alright. Why not. I'll collect Ceobe and we can drop by the kitchen for dinner tonight. I'll let you cook whatever you want for us."

"Yes! You won't regret it!" Gummy proclaimed, and skipped off.

Chapter Text

Mousse leaned against a nearby tree in the courtyard and sighed. She'd been searching for hours, with no luck... "Oof!" Something fell out of the tree and clonked her on the head. "Oww..." she rubbed the lump and picked up the offending object, a thick book on sedimentary rocks.

"Gosh, I'm sorry!" A voice called down from the tree. Mousse looked up and caught sight of a remorseful Mint sitting on a tree limb, balancing a few more books of equal size on her lap. "It slipped. I should have been paying attention, but I didn't know anyone was down there."

"It's fine," Mousse replied cheerily, "not your fault. I, um-" she held the book up, but between her stature and the tall tree, there was no chance Mint could reach it.

"Oh, thank you!" Mint twitched her wrist and a sharp gust of wind snatched the book out of Mousse's hand and carried it up to Mint, who deftly caught it and placed it back in the pile. "A little Arts trick," she grinned.

"Cool! I wish my Arts had that kind of use..." Mousse replied, then, self-conscious of her wistfulness, powered through. "Hey! Um, I'm looking for one of my kitties, I don't suppose you've seen her from up there?"

"I'm sorry, my nose has been in a book all morning. What does she look like?"

"Her name is Tipsy, and she's a long-hair calico. She has a little white tip on the end of her tail, and the last I saw her she had found something shiny and ran away with it... I didn't get a good look at it, so I'm worried she might hurt herself." Mousse's voice fell.

"That sounds serious. Could I help?" Mint held onto her books tightly and conjured a swirl of wind that carried her gently to the ground. "I'll have to put my books away, but I don't mind. Do you think she's here in the Convalescent Garden?"

"Thank you so much!" Mousse exclaimed. "Yes, I'm sure of it. It's her favorite place. But she likes to hide..."

"Okay. I know a lot of the best hiding spots around here, so let's start with those." Mint gave Mousse a comforting pat on the shoulder and they took off together.

Chapter Text

Amiya hurried down the hallway, a stack of folders gripped tightly to her chest. The day’s meetings were done, which meant her schedule was thinning. She only had her caster training exercises, followed by violin lessons, and then her tutoring on Victorian politics to prepare for next week’s diplomatic summit… but at the moment she had a short break, which was just enough time to fill out a few budget sheets. She entered the break room and was relieved to see it empty. Or, almost empty. She realized with a hint of irritation that the lump spread out on the few chairs at the table was, in fact, an operator. Sleeping on the job, no less!

Amiya quietly approached the layabout and contemplated her next move. The table was blocked, and all the chairs had been lined up as a makeshift couch for the lazy feline to rest upon. She recognized the operator and was momentarily appalled.

“Miss Siege?” she asked, perhaps a tad too low. She tentatively reached out, and flicked Siege’s ear. “Miss Siege? Excuse me?” Siege’s ear twitched, but her breathing remained slow and even. “Siege? Pardon me, you’re just…” Amiya mumbled. She frowned and lined up another flick. “Siege? Vina-“ She flicked Siege’s ear again and Siege’s hand shot up, closing on Amiya’s wrist like a vice. Siege peered up at her and yawned.

“Oh, hello Amiya.” She released Amiya’s arm and sat up, stretching widely. Amiya rubbed her wrist uncomfortably. “Was I in your way?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“My apologies.” Siege stood and beckoned Amiya towards the chairs. Amiya smiled politely but stood her ground. “I’m done with my break anyway, so you can have the room to yourself.” She shrugged off Amiya’s stern look and went to the coffee machine.

“Not to be rude, I’m simply concerned whether you’re getting enough sleep, if you’re napping here in the break room where others are trying to work.”

“Work in the break room?” Siege raised an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee. “Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?”

“I am doing fine, thank you.” Amiya replied. The dark circles under her eyes were well hidden by her concealer and foundation. Siege surely had no idea.

“Hm. Well, enjoy your work then.” Siege turned to leave. “Taking care of yourself is work too, you know.” She waved over her shoulder at Amiya. “Don’t slack off.”

Chapter Text

Ifrit barged into the store ahead of Silence and Ptilopsis, practically bouncing off the tables of board games as she made her way to the glass display case on the register counter. It was full of brightly colored cards, organized by price, a sign beside it reading "Arts: The Awakening". She marveled at the riches sealed just inches away.

"Be careful, Ifrit," Silence told her, "and don't go too crazy. Those cards are expensive."

"Pff, check it!" Ifrit spun around and fanned out a handful of blue bills. "I got my bonus this week, for [i]exceptional[/i] performance in the field. I've got money to burn!" She went back to surveying the store's selection as Ptilopsis walked up to Silence's side.

"She deserves a small indulgence, doesn't she?" Ptilopsis asked.

"I suppose." Silence shook her head and sighed. "Ugh, of course she does. It's been a tough month for her." The two watched the excited teen badger the perro at the register about the latest releases of this card game she had become so infatuated with over the past few weeks.

"Your concern for her is," Ptilopsis began, but was cut off by the chirping ringtone of Silence's phone. Silence checked the caller quickly.

"Sorry Joyce, can you watch Ifrit for a few minutes?" Ptilopsis nodded and Silence stepped out into the hall outside the shop. "Hello? Speaking. She's [i]what[/i]? No, put her on [i]now[/i]..." The door shut, muffling Silence's sharp tone.

Ptilopsis approached the counter and waited for the cashier to retreat from Ifrit's onslaught. "Excuse me, these are the beginner's products, correct?" She pointed at the stack of pocket sized boxes next to the display Ifrit continued to gawk at.

"Yeah, those are starter decks. I think your, uh, kid has a handle on it though," he replied.

"I am interested in purchasing one for myself, actually."

"Oh, I gotcha."

"Are these suitable for someone completely new to the game? How many of these would you suggest?"

"That's exactly who they're for. But you only need one, really. After that people usually buy the booster packs to keep collecting." He motioned at the wall of shiny foil packages hanging behind him. "If you want to start off right, you could get one of these and a few packs of the latest set, Treachery in the Golden City."

"Confirmed." Ptilopsis scanned the stack of starters and plucked one from the pile. "Academician Xenoglaux," she read off the title, "and two of the booster packs, please."

"Sure." The cashier picked the boosters off the wall hook and began ringing her up. "We do a small weekly thing here in our event space, every Friday. In case you're looking for some new people to play with." He smiled. "Uh, that'll be two thousand LMD."

"Thank you for the offer." She paid and pocketed her new cards.

"Hey buddy!" Ifrit called over to the cashier. "Can I get a few of these?" She pointed rapidly between several cards in the case. "And gimme fifty of those Golden City boosters!"

"Ifrit..."