Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a rose growing in Araway Haven.

Or, at least, a rose under some definitions, if not all.

Under the strict scrutiny of any respectable horticultural society, for example, the flower may not pass muster as any true variety of rose and may, in fact, more accurately be called a peony.

Under the less strict scrutiny as anyone off the street who knew a rose was a flower with prickly bits on it, it may also fail to be categorized as such.

But it had been labeled as a rose on the shelf where it had been on sale in the town, either out of deceit or sheer ignorance, and so in that sense, it was a rose.

It was a big red flower with a straight stem that certainly looked like the rose Surge had briefly glimpsed in Miss Binty’s home and he had coins enough in his pocket to buy it, and so in that sense, it was a rose.

It was brought home by Surge in such joy and secrecy alike that though even Nyx could tell from twenty paces off in broad daylight that it wasn’t worth the ten gold he had apparently spent on it, she could see how much it meant to him, and how much it might mean to the person it was intended for.  She ultimately did not have the heart or the words to tell him what it might actually be, and so in that sense, it was a rose.

It was waiting on the table in the dining hall, when Cam came home from giving gondola rides that day, in a clay pot painted green, and adorned with a bowtie that matched his own, so that there could be no question of who it was meant for – even without Surge jumping up from behind the table and shouting “Surprise!”  But even outside of the question of whether it was a rose or something else, Cam knew right out it was not his rose.  Cam’s rose was miles away, still maturing from its cutting, and being taken care of by someone who knew how to tend to it properly, and it wouldn’t be in Araway Haven until he had done enough to have earned it – if such a day ever came.

But it was gifted to him by the people he loved more than anyone or anything in the world, and if Surge and Nyx called it a rose, then Cam would not argue, and so in that sense, it was a rose, and he would care for it just as dearly as if it was his own.

And so, there was at last a rose growing in Araway Haven, and in Chamomile’s garden, it bloomed.

Chapter Text

Surge had experienced many forms of torment in his life - likely more than he had been allowed to remember.  He had been electrocuted.  Boiled till his skin blistered.  Poked and prodded and picked apart with wicked instruments.  Forced to witness Mala gum down mozzarella rice pudding when she’d taken out her human dentures.

He had been subjected to so many more agonies than the world had any right to lay on anyone so young.

And yet - he was pretty sure this was the first time he had been bullied.

“But I’m nooooooot!” Surge insisted in a whine that was long, and loud, and a little wheezy at the end.  “I’m not sick!”

Despite his protests, Cam continued along in his work, tucking in the corners of the bed Surge had been bullied - and that was what this certainly was bullying - into.

From where she stood at the foot of the bed, Nyx stared him down, arms crossed, utterly unmoved.  Cruel and unfeeling was what she was, certainly.  “You have a fever and your cough’s been getting worse all day,” she reminded him.  

Surge opened his mouth to argue again, but the gesture was somewhat self-defeating when his words quickly devolved into another harsh bout of coughing.  Cam took the opportunity lay another quilt down over his legs.  It was knit with warm browns and reds and notably clashed with silky, black bedspread that remained in Akree and Surge’s home.

“Arguing won’t make you well any sooner,” Nyx said sternly.  “You should stay in bed and rest.”

“But I’m gonna miss Akree’s shooooow,” Surge continued to whine.  He coughed again, and had to admit to himself - okay, maybe he was a little sick, but that didn’t make it any more fair.  He’d promised Akree he would make it to his band’s show.  It was their first big comeback concert since - well, since everything .  Surge had wanted to help setup the band and their gear, to be there in the front row when they performed, to greet Akree when he stepped off the stage, not - 

Nyx’s gaze softened, catching the frustration in Surge’s face.  “I’m sure Akree will understand,” she said.

Surge still wanted to gripe about this too, or else he would’ve told her he already did - because of course he did.  He’d already given him a kiss on his fevered forehead before sending him home for the day, even if the kiss did come from behind a masked mouth at that point.

“Sorry,” Akree had said before sending him off.  “I’m certain the band would only despise me further if I spread germs to them as well.”

“Do you want Yvaine and I to stay in tonight?” Nyx offered.  “We could play cards, or Yvaine could tell us about some more bandits she’s terrified over the years until you fall asleep.”

Surge sighed, even as the breath wheezed through his lungs.  “No, you should go,” he relented.  “Yvaine’s makeup looked way too badass to go to waste.  She’ll get all kinds of attention for the band just showing up outside.  And besides!”  He managed to summon just enough of his usual good cheer to smile up at his friends.  “I’ll have Cam to keep my company!  Right, Cam?”

Having been directly addressed, Cam stopped fussing with the bedding for a moment, stood up straight, and nodded.  “Chamomile is good company,” he said.  “Is take good care of Surge.”

That night, after Nyx and her wife had left for the concert, Cam made tea for the both of them, and brought Surge some biscuits to nibble on, even in spite of Akree’s strict “no food in bed” policy.  Surge talked for a while about the set Akree was expecting to play that night, and when his voice started to feel a little thin, Cam started telling him about all the passengers he’d had on his gondola that day, including a halfling and his very nice elven wife who’d tried to tip him a gold bar for taking them to see extra hanging baskets and not hurrying them as they’d kissed beneath them.

And when Surge started to feel not so much as tired as worn out from his coughing, Cam moved over to sit beside him on the bed, and much like their early days out in the world, Surge curled up against him, and listened to him list off the different flowers he’d been seeing lately until he fell asleep.

Of the many forms of torment Surge had experienced in his life, he begrudgingly had to admit that being bullied by his loved ones into staying in bed while ill, even if it meant he had to miss his boyfriend’s concert, was probably one of the least terrible among them.  Not being hurt by someone was a good start.  Getting to be taken care of by others was even better.

Chapter Text

Mav and El stood by with crossed arms and matching perplexed expressions they watched CeCe use a stick to draw a long, straight line in the sand before them, then a second line parallel to the first closer to the shoreline of the beach.  Two more lines followed, perpendicular to these, and once they were laid out, CeCe returned to face them, throwing her arms out and triumphantly shouting, “Ta-daaaa!”

“Wow, CeCe!” El said in full appreciation of the effort.  “That’s a mighty nice rectangle you got there.”

“It’s not just a rectangle, El, it’s a sports field!” CeCe insisted.  “One for football, to be specific.  And the four of us - ”  She gestured around expansively to include herself, El, Mav, and Jaques, who was poking around at pebbles in the space where sand met turf, in the count.  “ - make up the teams playing here today!”

“Ah, of course,” Mav nodded sagely.  “I see the madness of isolation has set in at last.  After four months alone here, I suppose it was inevitable we would fall to its grasp.  Honestly, I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

CeCe rolled her eyes.  “Alright, alright, get your jabs in now, but understand that we are doing this,” she said adamantly.  “Almost all of our physical activity since we got here has been either backbreaking farm labor and random 24-second bursts of almost being killed by weird, soggy cultist creeps.  For the sake of not getting island madness or whatever, we need to find something fun to do that actually involves us doing something and not just counting how many fish Jaques can shove in his mouth in one sitting.”

The crab looked up from the rocky business at the sound of his name.  A bit of foam bubbled out of his mouth at the sound of “fish.”

“So either we spend a few hours a week chasing a big sphere of wood I’ve been working very hard to cover in wool and leather so we don’t break our feet on it up and down this beach,” CeCe explained a little hotly, the amount of effort she’d already put into this scheme becoming clear, “or one of you is walking into that ocean until you find a triton city with a courtesan or anyone else professionally trained to keep people entertained!”

“You know, my mother spent ten thousand gold so I could attend a university where there wouldn’t be a question of sports and physical education,” Mav informed her, “so, it’s honestly a closer call for me than you’d think.”

“ Maaaaaav - ”

“Alright!  Alright, I know when I’m beat,” Mav said, throwing his hands up in surrender.  “But, my dearest Chechelia, since you are likely the most familiar with this game, I hope you don’t mind if I go ahead and claim El for my team.  I’ll need some level of athleticism to help make this fair.”

“Well, I do appreciate the vote of confidence, but I wouldn’t exactly call myself an athlete,” El told him.  “I prob’ly ain’t played any sorta sport in more than a century at this point.  You sure you wouldn’t rather have Jaques on your side?”

Mav cast a brief glance in Jaques’s direction.  The crab had scuttled over to the makeshift gameball and was giving it a few experimental whacks with his claws - apparently, to not much avail.

“Oh Jaques, darling, don’t you know?  You’re not supposed to use your hands in football,” he called out playfully, before clapping a hand on El’s shoulder and confidently telling him, “Don’t worry - I think we’re going to do just fine together.”

What could be said about the game that followed was that it was…epic.  A contest of champions.  A true test of sportsmanship.  There were certainly a lot of things that could be said to that effect - especially when they were being said in Mav’s personal memoirs recounting those events through a slightly distorted lens.

But what could be said about the game, in a more factual sense, was that CeCe and Jaques won, 8-0, and that Mav needed a lot of bribery before he could be convinced to step on that field of play again.

Chapter Text

It was Nieves’s turn to choose an activity for the group.  

Sandwiched between Tedbill’s choice to take them windsurfing around the skyports (Nieves’s long hair had not taken kindly to the windspeeds, and Bruny had clung to the board with all four limbs, barely rising a foot off the ground) and Brunhilda’s as of yet only vaguely promised tour through the backstreets of Cloud’s Cairn as she had begun to know them (she had promised hot, greasy food and lots of “interesting” alleys to explore, neither of which sat well in Nieves’s stomach), the tiefling had decided to plant a flag in one of the few activities available on this foreign island she was certain wouldn’t leave her any more rumpled or queasy than before.

“Tell me, have either of you two ever been to a spa before?” Nieves asked as she and her fellow Malcontents strode through the busy streets of Cloud’s Cairn.  Out of habit, she moved swiftly and authoritatively, staying half a step ahead of her companions, creating a balancing act for herself between trying to keep a straight, certain face and navigating to a place she had never actually visited before.

“Ooh, I think I know what that is!” Brunhilda exclaimed, skipping along beside her and making a visible effort to occasionally slow her steps to not get ahead of Nieves as they both knew she easily could.  The white and brown-splotched harengon had spun her shiftweave into the white dress with the pink pinafore, which Nieves had come to recognize as her favorite casual outfit.  “A spa is the kind of pollen that mushrooms give off, right?”

“Actually, my most lapine companion, you may be thinking of a spore,” Tedbill pointed out.  Despite having just flown at speeds and heights five times what Nieves had managed to achieve, the adventurer’s hair looked only aesthetically windswept, as opposed to the frazzled mess hers had became before she had been able to run a comb through it again.  “A spa may in fact be a practice battle, generally undertaken in controlled circumstances.”

“Hmm, I think you might be thinking of a spar ,” Bruny said, twirling her hammer around thoughtfully.  “Maybe a spa is like that one kind of chopped cabbage dish that tastes kind of vinegar-y?  Mrs. Stark used to make it sometimes, she said stuff like that with the cabbage was really popular back in her homeland.”

“That may be some type of slaw you are describing.  A spa, I believe - ”

“A spa,” Nieves cut them off, because she adored her friends, but not always the kinds of circular conversations they could get themselves wrapped in, “is a kind of establishment where you go to be pampered and given attention from professionals focused on health and well-being.  Those I’ve visited before offered treatments like seaweed wraps, acupuncture, mud masks, and so on.”

When Bruny tilted her head in that particular confused bunny kind of way, Nieves went on to explain what those particular treatments entailed.

When Tedbill seemed off-put by those explanations, Nieves had to add why it was people found it relaxing to have needles poked in their faces or seaweed wrapped around their bodies.

When Nieves told them that people not only enjoyed these things, but may pay upwards of several hundred gold for a day of spa treatments, Bruny and Tedbill both began to cry out in alarm and disbelief - but by that time, they were finally in front of the Honeyed Dawn Luxury Spa and Nieves was trying to quiet them out of habit.

“Alright, alright, there’s no need to shout,” Nieves said, trying to make sure they didn’t get banned from the spa before they even stepped inside.  “This place isn’t nearly so expensive - I made sure of that.  It’s only twenty gold for six hours of scheduled treatments.”

Bruny’s eyes grew wide and round at that figure.  “I don’t think I ever even had twenty gold just for myself before I started working for Mr. Brixley,” she said, her voice quietly astonished.  “The bosses always used to take the biggest cuts from our scores.”

“I was frequently in possession of such amounts of cash, but that was only due to the crew liberating it from those who wouldn’t appreciate its absence,” Tedbill said.

Nieves could only shake her head in disbelief for a moment, wondering once again how she had found herself in the comfortable company of such people.  “Look, I won’t make you pay for your own entry if you’re not confident spending your gold on this,” she insisted.  “But this is one of the ways I enjoy spending my free time when I have it, and it’s an experience I wanted to share with the two of you.  If that means covering forty gold to get you in the door, then that’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.”

“Aww, Nieves, that’s so kind of you!  You really don’t have to,” Bruny said sweetly, but in the same kind of way as when she said Nieves didn’t really have to let her sleep in her room or she didn’t really have to let Bruny have half her fancy dessert.

“I certainly won’t refuse the offer, if it allows me to save another twenty gold for my order,” Tedbill agreed.  “But I hope you know, I would not have sought to turn away from your most excellent of activity choices.”

Bruny hopped in alarm at the realization and quickly added, “Oh, oh, I really didn’t mean to imply it was a bad choice either, Nieves!  It’s just - I know I have more, and I’m still earning more, but twenty gold still feels like a lot of money sometime!  Like, a lot -a lot of money!”

“Don’t worry yourself, Brunhilda, I understand,” Nieves said with an air of easy confidence.  “Just as I understand that the three of us are worth every last copper of that sum.”

The Honeyed Dawn Luxury Spa had come highly recommended to Nieves from the concierge of the hotel she was currently lodging with, so she was expecting at least a moderate to fair level of service from the place, compared to what she was accustomed to.  Across the day of treatments however, she began to wonder if perhaps she should have messaged ahead to give the spa an idea of what to expect from her party.

Of course, none of them were trying to misbehave - Nieves would never dream of sullying the Orinda name with such unbecoming behavior, and she was certain Bruny and Tedbill felt the same obligation to their own patrons - but it was hard to ask any of the Malcontents to leave their personalities at the door.  

Tedbill kept chatting with the spa attendants, asking about their days and if they wanted to hang later, even as they were attempting to plaster mud and cucumbers to their face.  

It took nearly half the visit for Bruny to stop asking if everything from the towels to the cucumber water would cost them anything, and even after that, Nieves had a sneaking suspicion she was still calculating what they could be sold for if successfully smuggled out.

And Nieves didn’t think it was too terribly rude to try to verify that these were, in fact, the highest quality of robe and mud and cucumber water and so on that the spa had to offer, but after the fourth time asking, she began to suspect she may be overstepping.

It turned out to be difficult as well to find a treatment that worked just as well for all the members of their party.  

Nieves found the full body seaweed wrap delightful and revitalizing, but Tedbill kept accidentally tearing through their wrap with that buff physique of theirs.  

Tedbill loved the massage portion of the day for getting their muscles worked in ways they weren’t used to, and Bruny did as well - but her enjoyment involved involuntarily kicking her leg in powerful thumps that caught of of her masseuses hard enough to require a touch of healing hands from Tedbill and somewhat dampened the chill mood.  

Bruny was thrilled by the prospect of acupuncture and seemed to welcome the challenge of the attendants sticking as many needles as they could into her without her flinching, but Nieves, quite simply, didn’t trust like that.

But after nearly five hours already of being primped and prodded and poked and pampered by the best efforts of the spa, the Malcontents finally found one treatment they were all equally suited for - the stuffy little sauna where they were finally left alone with each other to sweat and sink into their own private comfort.

It was almost funny, Nieves thought, glancing at Bruny in the sauna.  In the heavy steam, the harengon’s fur was plastered to her body, and while Bruny would never be exactly small on account of her sturdy build, there did certainly seem to be a lot less of her without the volume of her fur and frilly dresses.  She also noted, with no small sense of satisfaction, that the steam had succeeded where the wind had failed in disrupting the volume of Tedbill’s magnificent hair - if only by a little.

And as for Nieves herself - 

“This is definitely nice and all,” Nieves said, breaking the comfortable silence she and her friends had settled into since entering the sauna, “but to be quite honest, I haven’t even broken a sweat yet.  How would you two feel about turning the heat up on this?”  She gestured toward the glowing red crystal they had been informed would control the temperature of the magically powered sauna, and flashed Bruny and Tedbill a smile with a hint of a dare.

Tedbill smiled back in that affable, utterly charming way of theirs.  “I can throw some more water onto the heating crystals if we want it to get exceptionally steamy in here too,” they offered.

And Bruny, who Nieves was quickly learning would never back down from a friend’s dare, beamed and added, “First person who needs to leave the heat has to buy dinner tonight!”

Nieves knew Brunhilda said this knowing full-well her insulating fur put her at a disadvantage for this challenge, but she also knew Tedbill would be quicker to quit after this stopped being fun for them - which would probably come around the time they saw Bruny in any sort of real discomfort, so Nieves herself had no reservations as she waved her hand across the crystal and raised the temperature another five degrees or so.  The only idea really on her mind at that point, as the steam rose to further engulf the three of them was what a luxury it was to finally spend her time in the company of others she was allowed to know so well.

Chapter Text

An endless expanse of rich, blue water spanned out towards the horizon, lapping at the white sands of the shore.  The sun shone brightly down on the ocean, giving the effect of countless diamonds dancing upon its surface.  While the beach itself was vast, it was still possible to see the iron gate that marked it off from public spaces in the distance, and it was near impossible to ignore the massive resort building that rose up further back from the shoreline.

This was not the kind of place Coal had expected they’d wind up on their first break from school.

But then again, they hadn’t expected they’d wind up befriending the kinds of people who could afford 10,000 gold a year for school, while also attending that same 10,000 gold school as them, so by all rights, being invited to join Cloister Dodeca on holiday should just feel like one more random event in a continuously unexpected series.  By this point, they felt they really should know better than to be surprised by anything that came up this year.

And yet - the fact that the “chillaxing vacay” Sunny had promised with his initial invitation had so quickly devolved into a viciously competitive sandcastle building competition was something Coal was still struggling to catch up with.

He still wasn’t sure how all it had come together.  First, everyone had arrived on the beach.  Then Sunny had tried to explain what exactly you were supposed to do on vacation because Agatha still been a bit perplexed by concept.  Then Ionra had seemed to take offense at being spoken down to like that (although Coal wasn’t sure if Sunny had been meaning to talk to all the scholarship students or if he’d just glanced at Ionra instead of Agatha on account of the whole face similarity).  Then Sebastian had insisted he could vacation better than any of these fancy boys.  Then Hazes was pointing out there was probably some sort of way they could compete to prove that, then they were picking teams to build the best sandcastle, then Coal was getting nervous and just praying he wouldn’t be picked last -

Which he hadn’t been - somehow - although it had been close, but there wasn’t much time to celebrate afterwards with the other teams launching into their own designs so quickly.

To one end of the beach, there was Agatha, and her chosen teammates of Sunny and Cinder.  Those three seemed to be the frontrunners so far.  They had Cinder’s architectural prowess on their side after all, as apparently everyone who grew up in her subterranean city got at least a rudimentary education in tunnel maintenance - and Cinder never settled for the minimum when it came to learning.

They had Sunny’s creativity to guide them as well.

“Look, whoever said a sandcastle had to be a sand castle?” the tiefling explained excitedly as Cinder laid the basework for whatever form their creation would take.  “I mean, like, a castle doesn’t have to be a castle, right?  It can just be something really cool that inspires a sense of safety in you.  So what I’m thinking is - sand marmo?  And maybe it’s balancing on a tire just for that extra cool factor?  And like - y’know, it’s basically just a sand fantasy too, so maybe it’s breathing fire, and - ”

And they had Agatha’s inclination towards project management as well, so they would likely be able to actually get something made rather than just dithering between concept and creation the whole time.

Sebastian’s team, on the other hand, was struggling with a few more issues.

“No, we’re not making our sandcastle a stupid religious statue to your god ,” Sebastian insisted to Hazes.  “You think I could ever live it down, having to tell the rest of my primary I spent my holiday building sandcastles for Brynhann?   Even saying that makes it sound like the saddest charity you can imagine!”

Hazes’s pale cheeks were tinged pink, and it was impossible to tell if it was because of the sun or the frustration getting to her already as she stomped her foot in the sand.  “ Why did you even pick me for your team if you were just going to shoot down my most obvious idea?” she demanded.

“Look, it’s simple - you always win and I never do,” Sebastian explained.  “So if I have you on my team, either I’ll get to win or I’ll get to see you lose - which is probably even better than winning, if you ask me.”

Coal had never see Hazes look so much like she wanted to punch someone as she did in that moment. 

Hiraeth came up and placed a hand around her clenched fist, before bringing it up to his own mouth for a kiss.  “Look, we don’t have to play on his team if he’s just going to be difficult, right?” the fey pointed out.  “Why don’t you and I just leave him to flounder in the sand while we find something a bit more enjoyable to do for our vacation, hm?”

Hazes’s expression softened as she looked back into Hiraeth’s eyes.  “Oh darling, that’s so sweet and sensible of you,” she said, bringing her free hand up to pat him on his cheek.  “But I also have absolutely no intention of losing.  So, could you be a dear and start bringing up some buckets of water?”

But that was all the action happening on the beach itself.  Coal’s team, meanwhile, had temporarily retreated to the extensive patio of the resort and procured some pens to begin sketching out their own ideas onto some pilfered napkins.

“I’m sorry everyone, I know I don’t have Cinder’s same expertise - I just know a bit from what she’s talked to me about,” Bryn apologized as they watched Ionra begin to sketch out the turrets of their potential sand structure.  “I know you’d probably rather have her on your team, but I’ll try my best.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Ionra insisted, hand moving swiftly across the page.  “I’d have wanted you on my side, even if Cinder was available.  She knows about structure, but you have an eye for detail that’ll put us ahead.”

Coal noticed Bryn stand up a little taller at the compliment, and that made him smile too.  Despite her look of intense concentration, there was undeniably the hint of a smile on Ionra’s face as well, which was a good sign.  Ionra had been the most resistant to the idea of a vacation on Dodeca’s dime and Coal was certain she had only agreed for the sake of keeping an eye on her fellow scholarship students.  It was good that she’d found joy in something here already, even if it was probably only because - 

“Besides, so long as Hiraeth’s team doesn’t have either of you and keeps fighting amongst themselves,” Ionra added, her smile broadening just a bit, “they won’t stand a chance against either of us.”

They decided not to point out that some of their own friends were on that team as well - even if they weren’t counting Hiraeth amongst them for the moment.  Instead, they let her have this, and offered their own crooked smile in return.

“And whatever you need to get this castle made, I’m here to help,” Coal said.  “Water, or sand, or…”  He briefly searched his mind for any other major beach resources he could offer to fetch.  “Shells?” he guessed.  “Just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

Ionra paused in her sketching, and glanced up at him.  “Coal,” she said, “you know we need your input on this too, right?  I didn’t pick you just for your strength.”

I thought you picked me because the only other choice left was Hiraeth, Coal didn’t say, and really, only thought out of habit, rather than because they really believed it.

“Ionra’s right,” Bryn chimed in, and in another surprising move, gave Coal’s arm an encouraging nudge this time.  “You’re our knight!  You know what a good castle needs, don’t you?”

Coal felt their heart flutter so strongly for a moment, they nearly forgot to actually have a thought about what had been asked of them.  But still, looking at Ionra’s outline of the castle, with the details still vague, even they had an idea of what it was needing.

“Well,” Coal said, head tilted thoughtfully, “Pnevma volunteered to judge our castles, right?  So, we could try to make something that would appeal to her, like - like something sharp and pointy and a little scary?”

It was only a moment before Ionra was adding further detail to her sandcastle drawing.  “Sharp and pointy,” she echoed, bringing the tops of her towers to notable peaks.  “I think I can work with that.”

“Ooh, do you think I could use prestidigitation to color the sand black?” Bryn asked, her eyes brimming with excitement.  “We agreed not to use magic to build the castles - but we didn’t say anything about altering the sand!”

Coal couldn’t help but laugh as the image of that came to mind.  The ocean was vast and blue, the sun was warm and kind, and soon, if he, Bryn, and Ionra had anything to say about it, there would be a magnificent, black sandcastle joining the scenery soon as well.  He knew he should stop being surprised by everything new this life brought to him, but at the same time, he hoped he never would.

Chapter Text

Rok had been prepared for a great many eventualities at the outset of their latest journey.  He had packed potions and antiseptics for the eventuality of any injuries.  He had brought books enough to keep them entertained on the road, while managing that the total number of books would not slow them down.  He had brought loose leaves that could be brewed into a stomach-soothing tea in the unlikely eventuality that too much cheese was consumed, as well as emergency back-up snacks in the more likely eventuality that all the cheese was consumed.

It could even be said that he technically had been prepared for snow.  Rok fully understood what time of year it was and that they would be traveling to an even colder clime, so he had packed additional scarves and gloves and a small heating crystal for overnight while also reminding Aisling and Euegene on multiple occasions to pack their own coats, for just in case.

He just hadn’t been prepared for this much snow.

In the morning, the shared tent of Parshkik’s Chosen was momentarily stuck shut when Aisling tried to push it open again.  The few bits of ice holding it together easily broke apart with a little bit of force from the satyr, only open onto at least six inches of freshly fallen snow waiting just beyond.  

“Whooooa,” Aisling gasped as she stepped out into the now-blanketed clearling where they had set their camp the night before, her feet barely making a mark as she walked.  “Where d’you suppose this all came from?”

Rok himself tread a little less daintily as he brushed the snow aside with hand and tail alike as he emerged from the tent.  “Well, from the sky, I imagine,” he commented.  “As it usually does.”

His feet were already uncomfortably chilled.  For all the Empire’s faults, at least they knew how to cobble a decent pair of dragonborn boots there.  He just hadn’t found anyone who could replicate that sort of craftsmanship in all his years in Cloud’s Cairn.  

Aisling scoffed indignantly as she turned back to face him.  “I knew that,” she insisted.  “I just meant, how’d it all come down so quick?  There was barely any sign of snow yesterday!”

“I suppose you could say there was snow sign of any bad weather,” Rok grumbled under his breath, words coming out with an icy puff.

“Yeah, that’s what I just - ”  It took the satyr a moment to fully catch onto the pun.  When she did, she shook her head slowly and said in mock disgust, “Absolutely atrocious, that.”  Then, to their wizard, she added, “Hey Eugene, you’re good at setting stuff on fire, right?  Any chance you could just like, fireball us a path back out through this?”

Which, if Eugene didn’t point it out himself, Rok would have argued was neither the safest, smartest, nor even the most effective way of forging their path back to the main road, but when he looked towards the half-elf to make sure that at least one of them was prepared to make this argument, he found Eugene standing still in the clearing.  His head was tilted up, staring into the sky, as he held his hand out so it and the brim of his hat alike were catching some of the still-falling flakes.  Rok thought this might be the longest he’d seen the young man stare at anything that wasn’t a book or an ink-smudged grey tiefling.

“Uhhh, Eugene?” Aisling prompted him after a moment.  “You see something up there?”

It was only then Eugene blinked and seemed to remember his surroundings.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I guess I just realized - well, we sort of missed winter last year, didn’t we?  So, it’s been a while since I’ve seen proper snow like this.”

“Oh,” Aisling said as the same realization seemed to strike her as well.  “Yeah, I guess we did kinda miss out on the white stuff last go around.”

Based on quiet contemplation that began to fill the clearing, Rok had to imagine there was one thing on his companion’s minds - that six month gap of time they had apparently lost in their mission to an island separated from time and space.  

Had it been worth it for them to give up half a year in the rest of the world to free and safeguard the people of Parshkik?  Rok knew he would say so, and was certain the other two would agree, especially given the half a millennia Parshkik’s own residents had lost in comparison.

Still, like most things in life, time tended to mean more to those who’d had less of it, and the idea of having lost multiple seasons in a world that had simply continued to spin without them seemed to be weighing as heavily on Aisling and Eugene in the moment as the six inches of snow threatening to collapse the roof of their tent.

There was really only one thing for it, Rok decided.

He lobbed a snowball at the back of Eugene’s head and immediately blamed it on Aisling.

The ensuing snowball war, carried out even as the open road awaited their return, turned out to be a fine reminder that Parshkik’s Chosen could reclaim a little bit of their lost time and choose to let the world turn a bit without them for a change.

Chapter Text

CeCe arrived at the gates that led out of the Arkiveia estate to the city beyond shortly before 6:30 in the evening, dressed in a pink number that nearly made her feel 15 years younger.

Five minutes passed.

The time of night had been a compromise.  The once-upon-a-time diamond of the season CeCe Pemberton wouldn’t have been caught dead in the pre-8 p.m. nightlife of any respectable locale.  She would’ve told any potential suitor who tried to drag her out before then that any point of the night still young enough to still be touched by the sun must surely be reserved for boring, old fogies not daring enough to be without the company of their own shadows.  While the current day Cecelia Arkiveia might not have shared the sentiment, she was still hesitant to admit she sometimes found pleasure in the comfort of an early and reliable routine.

Ten minutes passed.

The dress had been for herself.  It certainly looked like something young CeCe Pemberton would’ve worn - sleeveless with a skirt that barely reached her knees in a blushing shade of pink and overlaid with a filmy material marked by silver stars.  She had a thin shawl draped around her shoulders as well, as, in the years since, she had become a bit more scarred, a touch more freckled, and a lot more willing to admit she didn’t want to be bothered by a chill at night.

Fifteen minutes passed.

But still, the dress and the shawl had both been choices for herself, as she was.  Not for CeCe Pemberton’s taste, or for the expectations heaped onto the wife of the patrician of Whetu.  It was just something fun and flirty that had been relegated to the back of her wardrobe for far too long, but would at last get the time it deserved to shine, because tonight - 

Twenty.

Minutes.

CeCe was still standing at the gates of the Arkiveia manor at 6:57 p.m., more than twenty minutes past when her wife was meant to have met her there.  The half-elf was just beginning to move past the self-doubting, “did I get the wrong time” phase of being stood-up to the indignant, “did I get the wrong partner” phase and was considering storming right back home in her 4-inch heels when she heard footsteps finally begin to follow her up the path.  

As she turned to face Alessandra, CeCe was fully prepared to give that woman a piece of her mind - but the actual sight of her caught her words in her mouth for a moment.  Alessandra, funnily enough, was also dressed in a finely pressed suit of deep maroon - much in the fashion CeCe would’ve expected of her all those years ago.  The elf had worn tails and shiny brass buttons in that style as her future wife had dazzled at the palace season and she had watched from a distance she had apparently believed would keep her safe from CeCe’s charms.  

It was not lost on CeCe that Alessandra paid so little mind to her own clothing outside of what was suitable for the occasion that she must’ve had some reason in mind for choosing that particular suit.  She wondered if that too had been a choice for Alessandra’s satisfaction, or a compromise for the sake of CeCe’s.

It didn’t take long for the words to find their way out again.

“You’re late,” CeCe said, crossing her arms - but it was with more dry humor than she would’ve had before the reminder that this was the woman she loved and not some stranger foolish enough to believe they could stand up the CeCe Arkiveia.

Alessandra offered her a reserved smile in return.  “Apologies, my dear,” she said.  “I began to… second-guess my wardrobe decisions.  I did not wish to disappoint or disrespect the care put into yours.”

For CeCe’s satisfaction then.

“I’d say that you’ve almost certainly made us lose our reservation on account of your second-guessing,” CeCe teased her, “but I know better than to make plans with a restaurant that wouldn’t even be sensible enough to hold a table for the Patrician and her wife.”  

In her filmy, pink dress and her snappy, silver heels, CeCe walked over to close the gap between them.  She grasped the lapels of Alessandra’s jacket and Alessandra, in turn, let herself be pulled down down into a kiss.

“Thank you,” CeCe told her softly, lips close to her wife’s ear.  “I know it still isn’t easy, so thank you for trying.”

“Of course, Cecelia,” Alessandra said.  “I have asked so much of you already - I will give you whatever it is in my power to do so, now that I may.”

But CeCe wouldn’t press for too much else tonight, aside from her wife’s arm around her shoulders as they set out on a date that was only for the benefit of the two of them.

Chapter Text

It hurt to come back from the dead.

When El awoke the morning after his resurrection, that was the first thing on his mind - just how every single muscle in his body seemed to have found a new way to ache.  If he hadn’t been at that intersection of totally exhausted and being a good sleeper to begin with, he wasn’t sure he would’ve even been able to get a full night’s rest, just for how uncomfortable it felt to even exist in place like this.

The second thing on his mind was how out of wack the homestead and the farm might already be.  CeCe and Mav, bless their hearts, they’d certainly pulled off something impressive to bring him back - but El also couldn’t imagine either of them stepping up to feed the phan or check the smoker of their own volition on the best of days, let alone whatever the past 48 hours had been like for them.  There had to be a litany of chores that needed doing if they didn’t want to be courting even bigger problems down the road.

But that led pretty directly into the third thing on El’s mind: he was pretty squarely trapped, with a person hemming him into bed on either side.

It had been CeCe’s idea for all of them to share a bed the night before.

“For tonight, at the very least,” she had added quickly when El had given her that first look of apprehension.  “Just so we can be there for each other without staying up half the night - I think we’re all to tired to try and manage that.”

El had still been unconvinced by this initial reasoning.  Dreamed or imagined or ghostly though it may be, his many hours in Dyo’s stuffy study had left him longing for the open sky above his spot beside the well and beside Jaques.

“Oh, well, I suppose if you insist, Cecelia,” Mav had chimed in before El could make his argument, giving El the distinct impression he was even more keen on the idea than her.  “Wouldn’t you agree El, it would be most unbecoming of us to leave her in such a state of anxiety tonight?”

There were many things El knew he could’ve argued - that CeCe and Mav were certainly free to share their bed; that they had that Oskar guy keeping watch and he was apparently pretty powerful in his own right; that El was wildly unaccustomed to sleeping on a mattress and he might disturb their sleep if he were to share a bed with them.  But there just hadn’t been enough fight in him left to try to make any of those points stick, especially when it seemed like he would be outvoted anyway.

Waking up that morning though, with his muscles screaming for a stretch and his mind already building a lengthy list of things needing doing, he was beginning to wonder if maybe he should have pushed the argument a little.

Mav was asleep on his right.  The tiefling had started the night closer to the crook of his arm, but had somehow migrated so his head was resting on the space between El’s chest and stomach.  It was lucky he didn’t have horns that jutted out too much, or El had a inkling he’d be waking up with one of them poking into him uncomfortably.

CeCe was asleep on his left.  She’d been adamant about being a “big spoon” in this configuration - an expression El still didn’t totally get but apparently had to do with how he’d wound up in the middle of this tangle of bodies.  Her face was buried against his shoulder, her unbrushed mass of blonde hair all over them.

Both of them had at least one arm around him.

Neither of them showed the slightest sign of waking any time soon.

And it didn’t take El long at all to realize there was absolutely no way he was getting out of this bed without disturbing both of them.

At first, he tried to consider this options.  He thought, maybe he could do it gently - just whisper them awake and slip out if he could convince them to roll away.  But when he tried to speak up, he found that even his throat was too sore and parched to produce a proper whisper.

He thought, maybe it would go over better if Jaques did it - if he could somehow signal his friend to scuttle over and make a fuss.  But when he looked over to the side of the bed where Jaques had fallen asleep the previous night, he found the crab was still asleep as well.

El frowned.  Jaques was almost always up before or at least around the same time as him.  He hadn’t gotten the full story of what everyone else had been through in the past day, but when he pressed his memory, he supposed Mav and CeCe had both looked a little more haggard than when he’d left them, and Jaques had been on the pale side.

He let his head fall back against the nest of lumpy pillows Mav had put together for all of them, and for the second time in about as many days, found himself thoroughly beat.

Outside, the first grey morning light was beginning to peek through, and El thought there might be a rooster crowing soon.  Maybe that would wake up the others, or maybe it wouldn’t.  Either way, El let his eyes close again as he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be the one waking them today.  He’d spent enough mornings sleeping in, after all.  So maybe, just this once, he could let it be for someone else’s sake.

Chapter Text

Coal was starting to feel bad that he couldn’t remember the name of Bryn’s second-year mentor.  She had probably mentioned his name at least once, but for some reason, Coal just hadn’t retained it, and it was starting to feel awkward, given how often he saw him, both on and off campus.

He knew he was probably a wizard - he saw him outside the wizarding classrooms often enough when he went help Bryn cart her books from one class to another.  But then again, the second-years didn’t have their primary classes in the same classrooms as the first-years, so Coal wasn’t sure if he just went there to visit someone else.

He might be involved with the Sanatorium.  Coal would walk Cinder back from there occasionally at the end of a particularly long or stressful shift, and they would sometimes see the guy hanging around the exterior - though he never seemed to be wearing the tabards like the other students.

He didn’t seem to hang around his own cloister all that much - but then again, neither did Bryn, who preferred to take her studying and socializing to other parts of campus.  That wasn’t a bad thing, of course - Coal was definitely glad for the excuse to not have to deal with her first-year cloistermates - but it did mean he had fewer chances to sneak a peek at the name on his door.

Normally, this wouldn’t be something that bothered Coal so much.  It wasn’t like he knew Hazes’s or Saf and Jacobi’s second-years either, and he only knew Bing-Bong from Dodeca because the goblin had been so desperate for a first-year bard mentee that she’d apparently adopted Ionra as one of her own.  His own second-years were so absent that he was pretty sure none of his friends outside of Dekatessera ever thought about Jake and Belinda, and if they did, it was only because of the latter’s notably cruel and vindictive actions.

So it really shouldn’t be such an issue that they didn’t know one of Bryn’s second-years, even if he did stand out for being one of the few air genasi at Divisia.

But at present, they were both at the Apinae, and the guy had walked right up to them at the bar and started talking to him like they were old friends.

“It’s a dead useful spell, you know, and seemingly pretty simple too, a lot of people might think,” he was saying with an energy and investment Coal hadn’t seen yet in this seemingly always-very-cool guy.  “And that’s what seems to get people in the end with most transmutation spells.  They view them as less intensive than other kinds of schools of spellcasting because they focus on changing existing material rather than on summoning a magical effect wholecloth, and so they take less care in getting their spells precisely right.  But that’s the thing - so much of transmutation uses you or your mate’s own body as a focus, the consequences can be so much worse if you get it wrong!”

There was a brief break in conversation, and Coal got the feeling they were supposed to contribute something to the conversation.  “Um, yeah.  Yeah, I can see that,” they nodded.  “Bodies are still really important too.”  They didn’t know everything about transmutation theory, but they knew at least that much from the Knights primary - and from seeing what a bad instance of transmutation could do when it blew up on somebody.

“Right?” the second-year agreed eagerly.  “Like this spell you were looking at - Dragon’s Breath.”  He pulled the book that had been open on the bar before Coal closer to himself, just by the corner of its cover, and began running his fingers across the text.  “It briefly allows you use of a breath weapon.  That’s something dragonborns have access to naturally - but they ’re biologically equipped for it, and even the kind of breath weapon they’re equipped for varies with the lineage.  So, can you just imagine what would happen if you used the spell without getting every detail technically correct?  You could strip the enamel from your teeth with acid, or burn the flesh from your throat, or, hell, even poison yourself!  It’s a more delicate school than people give it credit for, I’ve been learning these past few weeks.  What about yourself?  How long have you been studying transmutation?”

Coal’s mouth hung open dumbly for a moment, before he decided there was really nothing else for it.  He’d never been that great at lying anyway.  “I’m…a…fighter, actually,” he admitted, nervously mussing with his hair.  “I don’t know much about transmutation.  I mean, I do know a little from alchemy club, but that’s still more just like, recipes, than the actual spellcasting.”

The air genasi looked at them with full confusion on his freckled face, and Coal worried he was going to get offended for having wasted his time on someone now apparently so unworthy of it - they certainly knew another blue-skinned second-year who would take such a stance.  But to his relief, that confusion quickly quirked up into a bemuse smile.

“Well, I suppose I look like the fool now,” he laughed.  “There really isn’t a single wizard in my primary with arms as big as yours.  I just saw the spellbook and started jabbering to the nearest target, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine, really,” Coal said, smiling sheepishly.  “I thought it was pretty interesting.  Bryn talks about transmutation theory all the time too, even if I don’t totally get it.  This is, um, her spellbook, by the way, I was just watching it for her for a moment.”

“Bryn?” the second-year echoed.  “Wait, Bryn as in - ”  He seemed to be doing mental math before snapping his fingers as it all added up.  “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s where I recognize you from!” he exclaimed.  “I see you around with our Bryn all the time.  You two are together, right?”

Out of habit, Coal had started nodding before they even fully realized what Ky had said.  As soon as they did, they changed tact to shaking their head vigorously, face flushing.  “N-no!” they insisted quickly and probably more loudly than they’d intended.  “No, we’re not - not together, um, like that.  We’re friends.  We’re friends.”

The second-year raised an eyebrow at him.  The eyebrow had a nick in it, but not from any real scarring.  Probably another rich student quirk.  “You sure about that, big fellow?” he asked leadingly.  “Because I know that I, personally, wouldn’t leave my spellbook in the hands of anyone unless I trusted them as way more than a friend.  Pretty much every other wizard I know’s the same way.”

Well, that was certainly new information Coal knew he was going to have to process at a different time that was Not Now.  

“W-we’re - we’re really good friends,” he mumbled dumbly.  “Bryn’s never - she doesn’t - I’m just - ”  He glanced down, and caught sight of the dragonborn’s work in the spellbook.  Every line written in impeccably neat, straight lines, every rune and glyphs diagrammed out immaculately, accompanied by the occasional gem-shaped illumination in the bottom corner to help mark the subjects of her own work.

And that was only her spellbook for daily use.  Coal knew from carrying them around that she had dozens of other workbooks she was constantly filling out with notes on a finity of different subjects - useful bits from different schools of magic and spellcasting disciplines, personalization ideas for spells, lists of the best vendors for spell components in the area, potential substitutions and alterations on standard glyphs, breakdowns of parcel layouts for her dream farm, diagrams of weather cycles, ideas for mass potion distribution across the Empire, ideas for what to get her friends for Dawn’s Bounty (Coal had accidentally seen that one once, and immediately closed it again, out of respect for her secrecy).

He glanced across the bar and saw Bryn herself there, and vision of gold and maroon between her scales and her robes.  She had caught up Agatha in conversation, and though it was a bit too noisy in the Apinae that night to hear them, but he could tell from how animatedly Bryn was talking and how some tankards on the table were being whisked away by Shane instead that it was something of deep interest to both of them - so magic, probably.  Maybe Bryn going on a tangent not unlike the one her second-year had gone on not too long ago, but probably with a few more explanations than Coal had been offered.

Because that was just Bryn all over, wasn’t it?  She loved to learn, and she loved to share what she learned, and she had a finity of dreams and aspirations tucked away in her notebooks that Coal knew they would do anything to help come true - even if, for now, that just meant helping her carry around all those pages.

Coal felt their heart swell, and was reminded that the only reason they didn’t let themself think about what more of a relationship with Bryn might look like was that, if they let them, those thoughts would consume their every waking moment.

“These wizards girls - they sure are something, aren’t they?”

He was snapped away from his reverie by the air genasi, who he expected to find looking at him for getting so distracted - but when Coal looked at him again, he found that he as well was looking across the bar in the direction of Bryn and Agatha.  There was a softness in his expression, much unlike the excitement or joviality of just a moment ago, and though Coal wasn’t sure what that looked like on his own face, it was still an expression that felt familiar.

Coal looked at his face.  He looked at Bryn and Agatha.  He began to piece together what it was that everything he knew about this man had in common, and decided it most certainly wasn’t Bryn

They shared a weak smile with the air genasi in solidarity.  “Yeah,” they agreed.  “They really are.”

And even if it wasn’t his name, Coal still felt he had learned something important about Bryn’s second-year that night.

Chapter Text

Thala had nearly burst out laughing when Tiny walked her into the proposed site of their first date.

“You’re joking, right?” she’d asked as the minotaur held open the door to the Seaward Coffee Shop.  

Tiny had looked mock offended.  “It’s my place of work,” he’d explained.  “That’s not so bad, is it?”

Thala had just stared at him, astonished and impressed by the gumption of it all.  “You’re joking.   Right?”

It wouldn’t be so strange on its own that he had brought her to a coffee shop.  It might not even be so strange that he had brought her to a coffee shop where he worked if it was somewhere he felt comfortable.

What was strange was that they had, in fact met in another coffee shop across town in the first place, and it was, in fact, the coffee shop where Thala herself was employed.  So, having only known and socialized with Tiny for a grand total of about 30 minutes across three weeks, all between wiping down tables and sprinting after other customers trying to walk out with the sugar shaker, she was feeling, understandably, a little weirded out.

But it was a public space, and a nice one at that, with much more care and personality to it than the Buxstar’s Coffee Thala had worked at since she was sixteen.  It was lit sparingly, with most of the illumination in the middle of the day streaming in from the front window instead of from fluorescent lights that were annoyingly bright, regardless of the hour.  All of the chairs were mismatched and the tables carved and lacquered unevenly, as opposed to the corporate-supplied furnishings she was used to.  There was a pair of chalkboards with handwritten lists of items and their prices hung behind the counter rather than the electronic Buxstar boards that were on the fritz half the time anyway.

And much, much more important than that were the smells that hit Thala in waves as soon as she stepped inside.  It had to have been hours since this place was served with fresh pastries, but still, the air was thick with cinnamon sugar and icing and warm, rising doughs that nearly knocked her off her feet for the memory of what experiencing food was supposed to be like.  Not a dry as dirt scone capable of sitting in a bakery case for five days without showing its age or a frozen egg patty slid under a heater at someone’s convenience, but a full sensory experience that went far beyond taste.

“Hopefully, you’re not too put off by coffee shops already,” Tiny said, catching the wide-eyed look on her face.  “I wanted to bring you hear because I make nearly everything they sell in the bakery.  I think they may owe me a discount, if you’d like to sample the wares.”

Pulling herself out of her reverie, Thala smirked and was about to make a comment about what kind of wares she’d like to sample, when that guy behind the counter looked up at the sound Tiny’s voice.

“Ah, Tiny, I didn’t expect to see you in today,” that guy said.  “Wonderful timing though.  Would you mind taking a look at the toilet?  I believe it may be broken again.”

The lion-esque tabaxi who had just spoken was not that guy because Thala recognized him from somewhere in particular.  He was that guy because she could recognize him from everywhere .  From the beanie covering his unwashed mane, to his artfully ripped jeans, to his plain white t-shirt decorated only with coffee stains and the words “This Is What A Feminist Looks Like” in big, blocky letters that he had probably paid at least $80 for, she could’ve recognized him as that guy from a mile away.

“Isn’t fixing the toilets supposed to be your job, Pad?” Tiny countered, before unhurriedly correcting himself, “Sorry, Manager Pad?”

The apparent Pad seemed unbothered by the sass.  “I would, but I’m the only one on register right now.  I can’t exactly leave the till unattended and serve drinks covered in toilet water, can I?”

It was Tiny’s turn to look like he wanted to ask if that guy was joking.  “You’re the only one here?” he echoed.  “What about Shimmer?”

“Shimmer moved their day to volunteer at the raptor rescue center to Thursdays, they’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Norma?”

”Oh, apparently there was some kind of power outage at the rescue, so I told Norma she could go help get their backup generator running so all the meat in their fridges doesn’t go bad.”

“That kid we just hired?”

“Skylar said he was having some family troubles back home and he needed some time to help sort them out.”

“Pad, you know being a manager means having to manage this place, right?” Tiny pointed out good-naturedly.  “Look, I’ll help with the toilet today, but after this, you really oughta - ”

But he was cut off by the sound of the toilet flushing.  Thala dried her hands with some of the recycled paper towels as she walked out of the bathroom, someone else’s job finished - just like a typical day at Buxstar’s.

“It wasn’t broken, you know,” Thala told the two of them as they looked at her with different expressions of surprise.  “The chain had just fallen off the handle - easy enough to put it back on.  Used to happen to the one at work all the time before corporate had tankless ones installed everywhere.  They really don’t like us being able to fix our own equipment, y’know.”

Tiny looked as impressed as he had the first time he’d seen her deadlift 100 pounds of coffee beans herself when the delivery truck was six hours late.

Pad looked as if he meant to ask her to marry right then and there, if it meant such services would always be available.

But, at least he had the good sense to feel out that he wouldn’t be a welcome addition to this particular union, as he did the next biggest move.

“You’re Thalassa, right?” Pad asked.  “I don’t think Tiny’s stopped speaking about you since the day you introduced yourself to him.  Would you like a job here?”

Tiny palmed his face.  “ Pad - ”

“We have very flexible hours,” Pad carried on.  “Fascinating clientele as well.  There’s this one old fellow - Hendrix? - I think he’s some sort of politico.  Comes in here and works for hours on volunteer campaigns for local representatives who are opposed to AcsulCorp.  I have the feeling you’d get along with him famously.”

“Pad, we’re here on a date,” Tiny told him sternly.  “Not to hear job offers.  Unless,” the minotaur added, catching the thoughtful look in Thala’s eye, “that is something you’d…be interested in?”

“Well, I suppose that depends on what this offer entails,” Thala said, hands on her hips.  “Do you have any position higher than assistant manager available?  Because that’s where I’ve been stuck for about four years at this point - and, do keep in mind that I was doing half the manager’s job for years before that was made official, and clearly, I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Admittedly, there wasn’t anything particularly dirty about the water in a toilet’s tank, but that guy didn’t need to be made any more aware of that at the moment, especially when he suddenly looked about 30% less enthusiastic about the idea.

“We do… already have a manager, just so you’re aware,” Pad pointed out slowly.

“More of a default manager though, since it’s his name on the lease,” Tiny said, walking up to Thala again.  His bulk blocked out Pad behind him, and the tabaxi was immediately out of mind as Tiny took up her hands.  “Y’know, you don’t have to say yes,” he said, his voice deep, and quiet, and soothing - a welcome respite Thala had come to appreciate amongst the shrill demands of her own job.  “But you could probably do wonders for us here.  And I can’t say I wouldn’t be excited to see you out of that Buxstar’s uniform.”

“Out of my uniform?  Slow down there, cowboy,” Thala teased him.  “It’s still only our first date!”

Despite her own height, Thala still had to lean up offer Tiny a kiss - but the minotaur was more than happy to meet her halfway for it.  And there might have been more to follow - more flirting or discussion of “buns” or anything really to make Pad uncomfortable - but they were interrupted by the front door bursting open with a loud tinkling of the bell hung above it.  

Thala peered around Tiny to see a gangly, young elf rushing in, his clothes in such a state of muddy disarray, she was sure they had made Pad jealous of the authenticity at some point.  He hopped over the counter in a move that almost certainly against health and safety protocols and threw on one of the aprons hanging there as he apologized in a heavy drawl, “Sorry, there was a gator what got into our backyard again and that old toad of a landlord weren’t doin’ nothin’ to help get it out, and then I got pulled over by the police on the way over, and then - ”

It was only when he was fully dressed in an apron with a nametag that read “Skylar” that the elf seemed to notice Thala was even there.  “Oh.  Sorry,” he apologized.  “Have you already been, uh…”  Skylar looked at how close she was standing to Tiny, and seemed to be trying to choose his next word carefully.  “Served?” he ventured at last.

The triton smirked, and couldn’t help but remember herself as a younger woman, rushing between classes and family and shifts, doing anything she could to keep everyone afloat.  But maybe now that she had a little more security, she could help teach these people how to swim too.

“Oh, I’m actually not a customer.  The name’s Thalassa,” Thala introduced herself.  “And I’m your new manager.”

Chapter Text

The Birchwaters, it was said, when they could be bothered to be in residence at their own townhouse during the season, could throw some of the most lavish and exuberant dances in all of Solarea.  Unbothered by the prohibitive cost of such events, either in terms of coin or reputation, they were known to pull out all the stops in terms of food, drink, music, and entertainment for the events hosted in their home.

The first dance they were to host after their only son and heir had announced his availability on the marriage market was no exception to this - in fact, their celebrations on that eve early in the Solarea season went above and beyond even their extravagant standards.  

They had patronized nearly every merchant for wine, mead, and champagne both in the city and in a hundred mile radius so they could not only have a taste of everything, but allow their guests to compare the difference.  

Desertous plantlife had been teleported into the city by the wagonload and prepared in the styles of the ton to blend tastes of the familiar with the exotic.

All the finest musicians of the city had been hired to perform works that had been composed by some of the great bardic masters just for such an occasion.

Entertainment would take many forms that night, but among them were included a flock of peacocks, enchanted to curtsy and can-can in the gardens, and an acrobatic troupe of tabaxis who spend hours bending themselves into all sorts of fantastic shapes.

It was whispered even that Lady Birchwater herself may deign to give a private performance of her own particular talents - because, of course, nothing was too good to kick off the festivities of their son’s first year seeking a love match.

It may be noted, of course, that Sunny Birchwater had made less of a declaration or a statement of intent to soon be wed and something more along the lines of, “Yeah, sure, I think it’d be pretty cool if I could find someone to share all this stuff with and hang with when I go on holiday,” but that was as close to a declaration of intent as most anyone could expect from the Birchwaters.

But regardless of exuberance and extravagance of the evening, or the significance or lack thereof in the occasion, Colian Scarpadia - Coal to his friends, and youngest child of his family, even if he didn’t look the part of either ‘youngest’ or ‘of his family’ - still felt sick to his stomach to be in attendance, and all-around overwhelmed and ill-prepared for what the night had brought and what, apparently, an entire season ahead of him promised.

In all fairness, despite being the youngest Scarpadia sibling, Coal was the first among them to have to formally run the gauntlet of the social season.  Their older sister, Embria, and older brother, Belzazi, were two of a kind - exceptionally handsome with the family’s valued traits of rich, red skin and flowing hair in fiery gradients, exceptionally skilled with the family’s sorcery magics that had helped them rise to prominence in the first place, and exceptionally uninterested in being tied down by the bounds of marriage any time before at least the age of 30, at least.  They had come to attend the odd dance since coming of age themselves, but it was never to do more than tease possible affections and indulge in the hospitality of others, and given social currency they leant the family with skill and mobility, their parents were exceptionally willing to let them carry on as they had.

Coal, meanwhile, had no such natural gifts to allow him the same exceptions.  His skin was an uneven mix of green and red-orange that could be described more generously as “marbled” and less so as “splotchy,” while his hair was plain black that avoided all attempts at managing it.  He had never shown so much as a hint of aptitude for the family’s fire magics and while he had sought to make up the difference with skill in martial weapons, that was no better a claim to power than many a simple guard in the city could make.

As for the desire to find a match - 

Well, the idea that they might be able to find someone with whom they could be truly comfortable and have the chance to build a life with them was not so repugnant an idea to Coal, but truly, their own desire had been the factor least considered in the decision to push them into the season with the express purpose of finding a match.  It had been decided, likely years before their first season, that the greatest contribution they could offer their family was strengthening their social bonds through marriage.

And so there he was.

Hiding from every set of eyes at the party, including every potential match, in the quiet of the veranda out back from the Birchwaters’ home, and wondering when his head would stop spinning.  

It had felt like such a disastrous first foray into society - one, of course that his sister and brother, who were meant to have been chaperoning him, seemed to have missed entirely.  If there was any solace to be found in their absence, Coal knew it was that he could hide away in the cool night for as long as he needed - and potentially exit the party as soon was polite as well.  But it was weighing heavily on him that there could be months of these such events still ahead of him, potentially years of them, unless he somehow managed to - 

“Oh, Aggro, come on - do you really mean to tell me we can’t even talk now?”

Coal ducked down behind the railing and topiary that surrounded the veranda as two figures rounded the side of the house, likely having emerged from the side kitchen door.  Despite having every right to be there, they still wanted to offer the newcomers the privacy they had likely come there to seek.  At first, they assumed it would be a pair of cooks or servants from the Birchwater household, and the first of them to storm into view seemed in line with that thought.  She was a young woman - plain, but neat in her appearance with a clean, white pinafore over a brown dress and her equally brown hair pinned up in a plaited circlet.

The young man who followed her, Coal was surprised to recognize not as part of the Birchwater household, but as a once upon a time playmate of his brother, as fellow genasi were harder to come by outside the circle of Grand Py’li: Kyklonos Chrimata.  He was apparently known as Ky to his friends, which Coal knew he wasn’t counted among, but admittedly, neither was Belzazi, despite knowing him better.  With blue skin and impeccably coifed blue hair, complemented by a deep violet suit for the evening, he was rushing after the young woman who seemed intent on leaving him behind.

“Aggro, please!” Ky called out, and Coal immediately felt embarrassed on his behalf for the lack of propriety in his speech.  They were aware their own knowledge of social etiquette was incomplete, but even they knew that was no way to address a young woman, even in the unlikely event that her first name was, in fact ‘Aggro.’  

“Talk to me,” Ky implored her.  “Just - ”

The young woman stopped abruptly, and turned on him with a face like thunder - stormy, and heralding rain.  “And say what, exactly?” she demanded, voice taut.  “You are engaged to be married.  And even if you were not, what could have ever come of us?  We were fooling ourselves to have pretended this ever could’ve been more.”

The silence that fell between them implied that Ky seemed just as shocked by her words as Coal was to be witnessing all of this.  “We could still be friends…couldn’t we?” he offered weakly.  “Go back to the way things were?  Pretend that’s enough, so maybe it could be someday.”

The woman shook her head slowly.  “It never would be.  We’d both know that,” she said.  “It was a lovely dream.  But it’s time to wake up now.”  She hesitated a moment more, then said something too quietly to be heard at a distance, then turned and walked away across the grounds.

Ky waited a moment as well.  He raised a hand and opened his mouth as if he wanted to reach and call out for her again.

But then he let his hand fall, his mouth close, and the wind go out of his hair, before turning and exiting the scene in the opposite direction.

And Coal had the distinct feeling they had just witnessed something they absolutely should have been party to, like walking in on the middle of a play, meant only for a private audience.

After that, returning to raucous, if at least expected noisiness of the party inside almost seemed preferable, and Coal was just about to attempt to rise and do so when the sight of another figure moving in the garden made them stay crouched exactly where they were.

At first, they assumed it to be another servant.  She was dressed simply enough with an off-white pinafore and a burnt orange dress, and her long black hair in twin braids over their shoulders.  She emerged from behind a tree and Coal wondered if she had come out there to seek a bit of solace as well - they certainly wouldn’t fault her for that - and she began to follow the path Ky had left in, as if to return to the kitchens herself.

But then.

As she was passing beside Coal’s hiding spot, she changed.

Not in posture or mannerism or expression, but in her entire physical being.  Her face shape rounded.  Her complexion paled a shade.  Her hair shifted from black to light brown.  She shrank at least three inches.  Within a few seconds, she looked much less like the anonymous scullery maid Coal had assumed her to be and much more like the young woman who had just stormed off, which had to mean she was neither of them in the slightest - and more likely something he had only heard about in stories from his sister meant to scare him as a child.

But at the same moment Coal began to become aware of what this woman was, she seemed to become aware of him as well.  

She stopped.  Took a second look to her left.  Finally noticed where all six-foot-four of them had been poorly hidden to begin with.

And she drew a knife from behind her back and pointed it straight at their face.

Coal was well-trained enough not to be cowed into inaction by a single small blade.  He leapt to his feet and instinctively reached for where his glaive would normally be affixed to his back - only to remember that he hadn’t been allowed to bring it to this event.

The woman held her knife up higher and stared at Coal unflinchingly.  “You saw nothing,” she said, the threat in her voice evident.  “You say nothing.  If you know what I am now, then you know precisely what I am capable of.  Don’t give me a reason to seek out your home and steal your face as well.”

“I, um…”  Coal’s throat felt dry as he tried to find the right words.  He wasn’t sure there were any.  But at least out here, there was only one person who might judge him for the wrong ones, rather than the whole ton.

So…

“I’m…really sorry, miss,” Coal mumbled.  “I really didn’t mean to watch you change, and I’m - I’m not sure how impolite that really is.  I was just out here and I didn’t want to bother you on your way.  And can I - can I ask, are you really a changeling?  Sorry, is that impolite too?”

The woman’s expression didn’t give away much, but there was a twinge of uncertainty in her eyes as well as a loosening of her grip on the knife - which Coal had spotted from the outset wasn’t the most effective grip for the weapon, and told him it likely wasn’t her weapon of choice to begin with.

And there did seem to be at least a twinge of humor in her voice as she replied, “Well, that’s certainly the most unique response I’ve had to sticking a knife in someone’s face.”

Chapter Text

The changeling’s name - for she confirmed, after Coal leant her a hand to climb over the railing and join them, secluded there, that she was, indeed, a changeling - was Ionracas.  

“I was hoping to gain access to tonight’s festivities,” Ionracas confided in them as they crouched down together.  “To observe them, if not to participate.  I’m a bard by trade, you see, but without any established clientele base of my own.  I wanted to observe the types of music performed at such events, as well as to find other sources of inspiration for my own compositions.  I didn’t intend to interfere with anything.”

Coal felt their siblings would call them foolish for believing that when she had come there in disguise and with a knife, but they were still inclined to believe her.  After all, she was the one with the knife here.  So why would she need to lie about it?

“I’d gladly pass on the invitation if I could,” Coal told her with a sheepish smile.  “Maybe you would have a better time than me.  This is only my first time attending one of these, and I think I might’ve already ruined my chances for the whole season.”

Ionracas raised an eyebrow at him.  There was something slightly intense, slightly sharp about her expression at all times, but oddly enough, Coal hadn’t found it off-putting so far.  He was so used to being surrounded by people who wore pleasant countenances regardless of how unpleasant the situation was, it felt impossible for him to parse out what most people were actually feeling.  At least Ionracas seemed to wear her sharpness honestly.

“How did you manage to ruin your… season, in less than an hour?” Ionracas asked.  “And is that why you were hiding out here when I came by?”

“Um, well…”  Coal rubbed his arms uncomfortably.  The fact that he touched the stiff fabric of his sleeves rather than skin only compounded his discomfort as he thought back to his introduction to society.  

It had felt wrong from the start.  Despite Coal’s desire to set out from home early, Em and Bel had dragged their feet in getting out the door.  They had arrived to the party late, when nearly all expected guests were already in attendance, when Coal’s nerves were already at what felt like a peak, only to have all eyes turned on them at the announcement of their name.  

They knew, logically, they could’ve only stood there with everyone’s attention for a few seconds, but it had felt like half an eternity standing there under the burning judgment of so many stares.  They had stumbled, too, when coming down the stairs from their entrance, and would’ve been at a loss of what to do next if Hazes and Sebastian hadn’t come to their rescue.

“Hazes and Sebastian are, um, two of my oldest friends,” Coal explained as they recounted all of this to Ionracas.  They left out the detail that they were also two of their only friends.  

Hazes’s parents were wealthy merchants rather than true nobility, so she and Coal were closer to each other in social standing and they had been close friends since childhood, but that was where the similarities ended.  Unlike Coal, who was a disappointment to his family in nearly every arena, Hazes was already considered to be one of the most accomplished debutantes of the season.  She rode.  She was well-read.  She was fluent in five languages, skilled in three instruments, and proficient in martial weapons and heavy armor.  She was beautiful, and charming, and kind, and there was an ugly part of Coal’s brain that was convinced she only continued to associate with him because she was so invested in her charity work.

He’d never quite had concerns about Sebastian.  Sebastian was nobility, but only in the loosest possible definition, and it was widely known that his family had less wealth and power than most untitled folk.  Possibly because of this knowledge that any relationships built with him would be of practically no benefit to the other party, their peers had begun to avoid him as soon as they had begun to understand the weight of these social games they played.  He and Coal had begun to gravitate towards each in their mid-teens less out of a sense of friendship in the traditional sense, and more of an understanding that, as two individuals near the bottom of the pecking order, they would be able to stand taller if they both stood together.

Still, they liked Sebastian, and they adored Hazes, and they felt certain that if they could’ve spent the entire evening with them and them alone, then maybe it wouldn’t have wound up so disastrously.

But…

“A lot of people wanted to dance with Hazes, so she kept getting pulled away,” Coal explained, hugging their knees to their chest.  “And at one point, he didn’t say it, but Sebastian saw this triton he’d like to court, so he asked me to go get punch for a minute, which I did, but, um…”

His face went hot as he remembered what happened next.

His face went even hotter as he described to Ionracas what happened next.

Ionracas’s eyes went wide and she echoed so loudly, it nearly startled the embarrassment right out of him:

“You poured punch on a prince?”

“ Spilled punch, I spilled it,” Coal corrected quickly in a hushed voice, hoping Ionracas would follow suit.  “It wasn’t on purpose, I - I just turned around too fast and he was right there!”

Coal hadn’t even known there was meant to be at the party that night.  He wasn’t even sure the hosts had known either, or else it would’ve been gossiped about as much as the peacocks and the cactus roasts - and Coal would’ve tried harder to fake sick to avoid getting out of it.

But sure as the sun would rise, there he’d been - a young man even taller than Coal themself with skin in gradients of yellow and orange and long, flowing hair in the softest shade of pink.  He’d been wearing a long coat of an unusual style in deep blue with gold accents and a surprisingly simple white undershirt - 

Or, at least, it had been white.

After Coal bumped into him, it was white with a large, red stain of punch down the front.

It was the first time Coal had ever seen the man in his life, but based on the silence that seemed to have fallen over the entire hall, he assumed that he was incredibly important, whoever he was.

He also assumed that meant he was dead - socially, if he was lucky, or literally, if this very important person was of a particularly pernicious disposition.

But somehow, my some miracle, instead of screaming or having him arrested or calling him an idiot in front of everyone, the prince had looked down at his shirt, looked up at Coal and his stricken expression, and then…smiled.  Smiled in a way that seemed more bemused than anything.

“Well, would you look at that,” the prince had said.  “And here I was thinking there wouldn’t be anything to surprise me at a mortal soiree.”

And then he’d offered his hand to Coal.

“You danced with a prince?” Ionracas echoed again, and Coal didn’t even try to quiet her, because frankly, they felt shouting about it too.

“I - I still didn’t know he was a prince when we danced together!” Coal insisted, head in their hands.  They’d had to hear it from Hazes afterwards when she came back and wanted to know why and how they’d found themself the dance partner of Prince Hiraeth of the Fae Realm - because of course she could recognize all notable nobility from here to the Fae Realm.

Ionracas paused to consider this, then came back with apparently the most important question on her mind.  “Was the prince any good as a dancer?” she asked.  “And a good dance partner at all?”

Coal stared down at their feet, both to remember the moment and to hide just how much they wanted to smile about it.  “He was,” he murmured.  He almost felt he should’ve known Hiraeth was a prince from the moment they stepped onto the dance floor, because dancing with him felt exactly like what he’d imagined dancing with a prince was meant to feel like - like for a brief few minutes, Coal was someone else and part of another world entirety, and all that mattered was the steps they both seemed to know by heart.

They were so caught up thinking about it, they almost didn’t know that Ionracas seemed more disappointed by their answer than anything.  “Hm,” she said.  Neither her tone nor her expression gave away much, except in that they were now much more controlled than when she’d been excited to hear about how the prince might’ve been embarrassed or gone and embarrassed himself.  “So the prince wanted to act the gentleman for an audience.  Hardly surprising,” she muttered.  “That still doesn’t explain why you’re out here, if all that turned out well enough.”

“Because, it - it wasn’t about the prince,” they said.  “He was fine.  Really nice, really.  It was everyone else afterwards.”

It had been bad enough to hear from Hazes that he had apparently been the first person to dance with Prince Hiraeth in the first ever formal visit of Fae Royalty to Solarea and suddenly have to panic in retrospect about every move he had just taken.  But then had come the swarm.

“Everyone wanted to dance with me, or bring me punch, or offer me an invitation to see them later in the week,” they said worriedly.  

“Isn’t that the point of these things?” Ionracas asked.  “For you folk to indulge in frivolities while building your social alliances?”

In some sense, Coal knew that was right.  They knew this should’ve been the point of the evening and that they had been reveling in the strangely-found success they’d managed to find.

But that hadn’t stopped them from feeling overwhelmed by the rush of noise and attention focused specifically on them, and the sudden demand to perform exactly as according to all the social laws they were meant to know without them even being spoken.

That hadn’t stopped them from feeling hurt to know that all the attention was likely because of everyone’s curiosity about the prince, rather than any interest in them.

“I’m sorry,” they murmured.  “I know this is this…silly.  I’ve known all my life I would have to do this someday.  But it still just feels like so much to deal with, and I’m hiding out here because I…couldn’t.”

What was he meant to tell his family when he went home tonight?  That he’d bumbled into dancing with a prince out of pity?  That he’d been swarmed with offers without making any significant connections?  That he’d spent half the night hiding and talking to a…to a…

It was halfway into another self-doubt spiral that Coal realized Ionracas had started humming.  It was an unfamiliar tune, but slow, and lulling that she hummed with her eyes closed and her head slowly tilting from side to side.  Coal decided not to question the song, because whatever it was, it was calming the panic that had begun to rise in him once again.

He let the song finish and a comfortable silence settle again between them.

“Colian,” Ionracas said at last.  “I have a proposal for you.”

And so that was how, half an hour later, Coal found himself with the confidence to re-enter the party - even if it was with his never before seen distant cousin Ionracas now on his arm.

“You vouch for me at these events,” Ionracas had told them.  “Call me a relative and give me legitimacy in my presence so I’m able to experience this world exactly as you do, and in exchange, I will help you navigate this season as adeptly as you ever could.  I will tell you who to avoid.  Coach you on how to react.  Help you survive this as you are.”

“That’s - really kind of you, Miss Ionracas,” Coal had said, slightly taken aback and still trying to find the proper response.  “But, are you sure you’d, um - you’d know better?  If you haven’t even been to one of these before?”

Rather than looking offended, Ionracas smirked, as if at a challenge.  “I’m an entertainer by trade,” she had said.  “I understand people.  A different kind of frock doesn’t make them any harder to decipher.”

Coal had still felt uncertain at this - not because they doubted her in particular, but because they knew how much they struggled on a daily basis just to understand everyone around them.

But Ionracas, once again proving her skill, had caught this doubt.

“I worked you out, didn’t I?” she pointed out.  “I knew I could trust you.”

And, well - Coal could hardly argue with that.

Of course, it had taken a bit of finagling to explain Ionracas’s slightly…dressed down appearance at the first dance (“She only just arrived in town after her travels, fashions are a lot more relaxed in the countryside.”) and a bit of half-truthing to explain her presence to Hazes and Sebastian (“Yeah, I didn’t really know she was coming either, you know how my family is.”)  But by the end of the night, Ionracas - now, Cousin Ionra to Coal - had already ingratiated herself on his friend after politely, but damningly dismissing a pair of tieflings who had approached them with obvious intent to ask about the prince alone.  She already seemed able to navigate this crowd better that him, just as promised.

Because of Ionracas and her assurances she would meet them again to discuss further endeavors, Coal went home at the end of the night feeling for the first time they had a chance to not only survive, but maybe even do well in this season.

And because there was correspondence waiting for them at home promising that their dear childhood friend Bryn would be back in town for the season after nearly five years away, Coal even began to hope the season might bring them a chance to build a worthwhile relationship after all.

Of course, there were still the matters of that scene in the garden Coal was certain they hadn’t been meant to witness, and of the prince who Coal could’ve sworn they’d caught looking in the direction of their group more than once that night.

But Coal decided, as they fell into sleep that night, knowing day two of the season would bring challenges of its own, that they would take a victory where they could find it.

Chapter Text

The Sweet Suite had been reported by Agatha to be the premiere candy shop in all of Solarea.

“Look, I’ve never been much of one for sweets myself, but Mel used to love the place, and people have been buying her stuff from there for years,” Agatha had said.  “It’s gotten to the point where if someone goes in trying to buy a load of honey tarney, the owners - Maya and Mylark, they’re these halfling twins who opened the business together, lovely folks - they ask if they’re buying something for someone else and have to remind them they don’t take returns if they say yes.”

She had gone on to add that, of course they had a much broader range of wares than just honeyed items, and that just one step into the shop could make your teeth ache and your head spin from all the colors - it really was impressive like that - so Hiraeth had gone into it with at least moderate hopes of finding something suitable.  He had learned to temper his expectations against his mortal friends’ standards and fully knew that nothing on sale in that shop would match the depth of flavor and the rush that came from tarney as they made it back home.

Considering it was fey tarney that had gotten him into this situation in the first place, Hiraeth knew that should be a point in the shop’s favor today - and yet, by some twist of fate, just a few minutes after beginning to browse the shelves of the Sweet Suite, he still found himself encountering something distinctly fey after all.

The profile of an all-too familiar face caught his attention as he was perusing a display of candied fruit peels.  As a roving crowd of schoolchildren moved away from gawking at him to gawk at a mound of mango-swirled fudge instead, Hiraeth found Ionra standing just a few feet away, examining a packet of strawberry-shaped treats until she caught sight of him as well.

He stared at her.

She glared at him.

He smiled politely, because what else was there to do?

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this,” Hiraeth said with words and tone that suggested he was joking, but backed with a much more genuine hope that the two of them really would stop meeting like this.  Just once, he’d appreciate having a little advance notice when he was about to have the more unpleasant reminders of the Feywild rubbed in his face.

“Trust me,” Ionra said with, without, Hiraeth suspected, even the pretense of a joke, “if I could find one inch of this city that I could be assured was free from your carelessness, this would never happen again.  But apparently, I can’t even find that in the sanctity of my own cloister, now can I?”

Hiraeth’s smile almost faltered.  He had learned in court to keep it plastered on in all manner of situations to help maintain the impression that as a prince and as an Agvi, he was always in control.  That never seemed to be the case whenever Ionra was involved, but he could still certainly pretend.

“I know it seems to come up far too often for either of our comfort, but I truly have not intended for us to keep running into each other,” Hiraeth told her as she glared up at him defiantly.  “I would allow you run of this store if I could, but I have my own errand to take care of here, and it has to do with attempting to make good on some of that carelessness you mentioned.”

“What could you possibly - ”  Half way through asking, Ionra’s eyes widened with realization, and she already had her answer.  She let out a low growl and begrudgingly muttered, “You’re here shopping for Coal too, aren’t you?”

Hiraeth raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, you’re here for them as well?” he asked conversationally.  “Not here to treat yourself?”

“I don’t even like - look, I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Ionra snapped.  “I just want to make it clear that you can’t buy your way out of this screw up.  Understand?  It’s bad enough I had to find out you were offering wine from your estate and fey goods to other students, but to have to find it in my own cloister - ”

“Ionracas, please understand I am tremendously aware of the scale of my error, and of how much worse it could have been if you hadn’t brought this to my attention,” Hiraeth cut her off.  He ran a hand through his hair and tried not to show any more sign of how agitated this was making him.  Ionra wasn’t nearly as graceful as his friends in Dodeca in letting him live down his mistakes.  Of course, she had no reason to, he had to remind himself, but that didn’t make being confronted by them any easier.

He took a breath and made himself take half a step back in case he’d moved any closer out of habit for a confrontation.  “I know I can’t buy forgiveness, in this or any other situation,” Hiraeth said plainly  “But this - ”  He picked up a packet of candied orange peels on the shelf beside him.  “This isn’t about forgiveness.  This is about amends.  I gave Coal a gift, and then because of me, he also had to relinquish it.  I don’t feel comfortable leaving that as it is.  Would you?”

On the other side of the shop, one of the children bumped into a bin filled with jelly tarneys, spilling a few of them onto the ground with a clatter, only for one of the shop owners to gently tell them off.

Ionra considered Hiraeth for a moment, then folded her arms and stared at the tarney beside her instead.

“He hadn’t eaten any of that tarney, you know,” she muttered.  “Thank the gods he hadn’t, but still, you gave that to him right at the beginning of term and he still had it when I came back that night to tell him and the others not to accept anything from you.  I think he must have just been happy to receive anything as a gift.  Coal doesn’t talk about it much, but I get the impression he comes from the kind of family that expects too much, and offers too little support.  That’s why his friendships here mean so much to him.”

Hiraeth tried not to show the recognition he felt at those words.

“And so I hope you can imagine, I didn’t exactly enjoy having to take a piece of that away from them,” Ionra told him.  Her expression, which had softened briefly when discussing her friends, filled with fire and righteous fury once again.  “For some godsforsaken reason, they want to be your friend, and I don’t appreciate constantly having to be the one telling them what a bad idea that is, especially when I can’t even properly explain why I feel like that.”  She glared back up in his direction.  “That’s why I’m here.  I wanted the chance to do something nice for them, rather than just having to push away the bad.”

“I’ve told you, that’s why I’m here as well, I wanted to make amends - ”

“You still don’t get it.  Your amends don’t start and end with gifts,” Ionra snapped.  “You want to fix this situation?  Then prove you’re the kind of person I don’t have to warn Coal against.  Don’t make me feel like I have to look over my shoulder just from being in the same clubs with you.  Show us that you’re better than your kind.”

“And how do you propose I do that, exactly?” Hiraeth demanded, the tension undeniably rising in his tone.  “I understand I’ve made mistakes, and that I’ve benefited from a system detrimental to many others, but I am trying to do right by our people now.  When will that be enough?”

Ionra considered his question carefully, then answered, “I don’t know.  I don’t think anyone can rightly tell you that.  I do think the first step still has to be realizing there is no one action you can take that will be the end of it.  Becoming a better version of yourself means you constantly have to be aware of who you used to be as well, and how to avoid becoming that self again.”  Her shoulders rose and fell heavily with a sigh as she added, “But, I think perhaps if I see you’ve taken that first step, I can at least stop looking over my shoulder.  Doesn’t mean I’ll stop looking out for my own people around you, but…”

Hiraeth felt his smile flicker back up at what seemed to be, in her own way, an attempt at offering a daisy.  “But, one step at a time, right?”

Ionra did not return the smile, but nodded all the same.  

There was a jingle at the front door, as the gang of children ran out with their treats in hand, waved off by both Maya and Mylark.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hiraeth called over, after they’d gone back to their own browsing for a moment, “do you have any idea of what to get Coal here?  I have a feeling neither of us have the best sense of the tastes for this particular… region , but you probably have a better idea of his tastes at least.”

He watched Ionra’s hand trace over the price tags of a few different tarney baskets, and thought at first she was ignoring him - which, was fine, he was an Agvi after all, he didn’t need someone’s help with his shopping, he could - 

“To be honest, I think they’d eat most anything you put down in front of them,” Ionra said without looking up at him.  “Just avoid anything too spicy.  They pretend to like spice because most fire genasi do, but I can tell it doesn’t sit well with them.”

Hiraeth let out a small snort of laughter, and made a mental note not to introduce them to Udon anytime soon.  That helpful instinct of Coal’s could get them killed if Udon was in need of more test subjects.

“And keep an eye out for anything dragon-shaped,” Ionra added after a moment.  “He would probably think that was cute, to receive a chocolate dragon, even if he couldn’t bring himself to eat it.”

“Yes, I suspect he would,” Hiraeth agreed, smiling knowingly.  “And since we’re already here with the same purpose, would you be interested in coordinating our gifts?  I’m not sure what would be better - to give Coal two gifts at once, or to surprise them on two separate occasions.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be keeping my plans to myself,” Ionra told him in no uncertain terms.  “We’re not nearly there yet.”

“Right,” Hiraeth murmured after a moment  “One step at a time.”  Then he turned and went to make sure he would have something suitably draconic to bring to his friend.  Ionra had made it clear he couldn’t buy he way out of his mistakes - but maybe his first step could still involve a special order.