Chapter Text
Aylin has no idea why she was sent here. The blaring yellow M that is plastered all over the building attracts all manner of folk to satiate their mortal needs. That she understands. But for her to be sent here? She surveys the parking lot, curious if there is any sort of danger she is meant to thwart.
Automobiles are queued in a rather chaotic fashion to reach the side window and receive their meal without ever leaving the vehicle. Aylin isn’t sure if it is truly more efficient than simply stationing their vehicle in one of the many designated spots and walking inside the establishment. She has yet to test this, but perhaps one day soon.
It is not often that Aylin visits towns such as these. She typically is found tending the few Selûnite temples which stand strong around the outskirts of cities. The ways of worship have much changed with time, but Aylin is not at all averse to such developments. Her mother had always stood for change, and Aylin finds it rather fascinating to see how each generation brings about new customs.
The majority of mortals seem to live in these modern towns and cities, working at establishments such as the one before her. There is very little resemblance of this age than that even a hundred years prior. The technology of the last century has drastically evolved to something unrecognizable. It’s completely unorthodox, and often, Aylin struggles to navigate it.
With what she is certain of in this new age, it is unlikely there will be a need for her armor and greatsword to stop whichever villain may roam about. Dressed down to more casual clothes, a simple dark blue button up and trousers, she still often gets strange looks from the citizens of this land. It’s likely the massive wings set on her back. Or maybe, the shiny, golden cracks that cover her face. Whatever it may be that draws attention to herself, Aylin doesn’t mind, for these features have always set her apart.
Aylin looks up at the sky, gazing upon her mother, not quite sure what she is meant to do at her current location. She receives no answers.
Exhaling, Aylin launches herself into the sky and crosses the street with two mighty flaps of her wings. She lands right beside the building’s entrance. The doorway is rather small, another common feature which Aylin has noticed changed. Doorways are much shorter, compact, hardly accommodating to those of her stature.
The best she can do is make her wings flicker out of this plane. It makes entering buildings much more efficient as she has learned. She attempts to push inside, but the door doesn’t budge. Aylin blinks and notices a small sign by the handle indicating she must pull the door handle. How odd. If one must barricade the door shut, it is unsuitable for an enemy to simply need to pull the door to make entrance. She glances around to see if anyone noticed her miscalculation.
Pulling the door this time, she holds it open for a family as they exit, smiling kindly at their gratitude. Even acts of politeness have evolved to merely holding open doors for people, enough to earn words of appreciation from strangers.
The floor is a light brown tile, and the lighting within is pleasant enough. A quick survey of the room she has entered does not seem to give way to any secret plots. Patrons gather in the open space before her, others seated in a separate section of the room that is decorated with seats and tables. Nothing suspicious. At least, not that Aylin would recognize, and based on the behavior she witnesses, everything seems to be in its usual order.
At last, her eyes find the front. There is a counter separating the customers from the back kitchen which appears to go rather far back. Signs are lit above covered with tiny words and big images of food to entice the customers.
Glancing beneath them, Aylin’s traveling gaze ceases, fixing on one thing. Where the signs had failed to entice her, something else entirely seizes her all the way down to the marrow. For a moment, the commotion in the room fades, and Aylin becomes distinctly aware of the rush of pumping blood in her ears, an uncommon event which she only recalls experiencing in the heat of battle.
There is no battle right now, only a woman situated behind the counter, a plastered smile on her face as she speaks with a client. No, she’s more than just a woman, a divine perhaps? Yet, Aylin has neither met nor seen a divine entity whose beauty is comparable to that which stands before her.
Brilliant silvery-white hair is partially covered by a black hat dawning that same yellow M which Aylin understands is a motif for this brand of food. Her high cheekbones and plush lips leave Aylin’s throat dry.
What she finds herself especially drawn to is those great argent eyes, and while they have yet to meet hers, Aylin can read a depth in them that she has never before encountered. The black makeup that embellishes them is done meticulously, and contrasts the light sheen of her irises in beautiful detail.
In her trance, Aylin senses a stranger attempting to squeeze past her to get in line, and Aylin snaps out of her lapse, realizing she is blocking the door. “Apologies,” she says lowly, and steps aside. She spots what she can assume to be the end of the queue, and moves to claim her placement.
It’s slow, a snail’s pace, and Aylin is certain she hasn’t felt time move this slowly since her capture 600 years past. With her eyes locked onto the goddess behind the counter, she can hardly contain her patience. There is something here. She knows it. This woman is her mission. Aylin isn’t sure what it is or why, but she was sent for her.
After an eternity stretched across the last eight minutes, Aylin steps forward, no one to interrupt for it is her turn to hold the attention of this bewitching woman. The moment their eyes meet, truly meet, Aylin feels a spark of raw energy burst in her chest and wash over her body in dizzying waves. The wisdom held behind that gaze is electrifying, and for the first time in Aylin’s unending life, she feels… well she’s not exactly sure what she feels, but she has never felt like this . It makes her mouth go dry and her jaw clenches as she tries to keep her composure.
“Th-thank you for choosing McDonalds,” the goddess of a woman stumbles over her words, and Aylin is only more enraptured. Her defined cheeks are dusted in red that draws Aylin in, and there is a sweetness laced in her voice which feels unreal. “I can take your order as soon as you're ready.”
Aylin stands frozen, unsure what to do. It’s a strange feeling. As she studies every detail she can of this woman’s face, mapping each little freckle and faded scar her keen vision latches onto, Aylin can’t help but reach a conclusion that momentarily terrifies her. No, Dame Aylin can’t be scared, she won’t show fear in the face of this new intensity that she had thought impossible for herself to harbor.
This woman is the one. Aylin is certain that what she feels is real. Her heart belongs to her. A quick glance at a small nameplate clipped to her shirt gives her the name of her soulmate. Isobel.
The growing line behind her goes unnoticed, for her heart’s palpitations feel as though they have ceased altogether. She may as well tear it right out of her chest and hand it over to this Isobel, trusting her to caress it gently, to not allow any harm to come to such a damaged part of her. It’s hers.
Isobel stares right back at her, her pretty lips parted slightly as though in awe. Aylin wishes more than anything to feel them against her skin. That odd sense of unrest buzzes through her nerves once more. The woman glances at the small crowd gathering, waiting, and blinks a few times. “Would you like to try an egg white delight?” The woman’s voice sounds almost automatic as she speaks.
Words spill from Aylin’s lips before her mind can catch up. “I humbly request an application of hire for this fine establishment.” Aylin snaps her mouth shut, astonished by her own plea.
Behind the counter, the woman’s radiant silver eyes widen, and she for a moment hesitates. This had clearly been the opposite of what she had been prepared for. Aylin, too, is solely unprepared, yet she must push through as is the way of the Moonmaiden’s sword.
“Of course! We uh- we are always looking to hire.”
The woman searches for the paper applications she must keep stored in a compartment near the register, but she stops dead in her hunt, and Aylin can see her cheeks darkening further. Isobel shuffles around frantically, and in a clear moment of panic, she looks up to Aylin and speaks. “You're hired.”
Aylin is taken aback, tilting her head in genuine confusion. “Is that true?”
“Yes.” The woman’s voice is shaky.
“That is most splendid to hear, miss Isobel,” Aylin beams down at her, suddenly feeling a lot more confident.
For a moment, Isobel looks alarmed, but a quick glance down at her own name tag seems to ease her slightly. “Y-yes. And you are?”
“I am Dame Aylin, sword of the Moonma-“
She’s cut off by a loud child whining behind her. The high pitched squeals make the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.
Isobel’s expression morphs into something of annoyance as she looks back to the long queue, and back to Aylin apologetically. “I’m sorry, would it be okay if you came back in say an hour to discuss your employment further?”
Aylin bows her head politely. “It will be as you desire. I shan’t keep the queue waiting any longer, it would be cruel to keep these fine people from quelling their hunger.”
“Thank you so much, Dame Aylin.” Isobel smiles, and Aylin feels that pang in her heart once more.
Perhaps on this day, acquiring a meal by way of automobile has won in efficiency.
Aylin turns on her heel to walk further into the building to investigate. If she is truly to serve as a workman here, it is imperative that she familiarizes herself with the premises. Tables and chairs are organized around the back half of the room, few occupied. She can’t help but notice the orts that have been left on several of the unused tables giving the unsavory impression of messiness.
Walking further towards the back, she stops at a wall. It is transparent, and through it, a large structure stands in its own room, though it does not quite appear sturdy. It nearly reaches the top of the elevated ceiling. Its winding passages are bright and colorful. There are nets and slides and it appears configured into a simple maze, yet requires that its inhabitants crawl through tubes to properly enter.
A play area for children, as indicated by a sign plastered outside the door, which also lists the rules of the place. Fascinating. Teaching children important skills in athletics and problem solving, no doubt.
Aylin looks back to the messy tables. She shrugs and starts picking up the leftover scraps she spots and dropping them in the nearest waste bin.
——
An hour and four minutes passes in a blink. She doesn’t startle when she sees that gorgeous woman approach her, but she certainly feels that squeeze in her chest.
“Dame Aylin?”
“That is I,” Aylin stands, bowing her head again. “Let us discuss all we must so I may begin my training, miss Isobel.”
The smaller woman’s mouth quirks up, and her eyes crinkle adorably. “Just call me Isobel. Would you follow me to my office?”
“Lead the way, Isobel. However, I must insist you call me Aylin from this point on as well.”
As Isobel leads her past the counter, Aylin notices a new person working the register, evidently having taken Isobel’s place. Her long jet-black hair is braided neatly, and she casts a glance over at Aylin, raising an eyebrow. Aylin finds her significantly less intriguing than the silver-haired angel she follows behind the counter.
Several other employees litter the kitchen, seemingly focused on their various tasks. One, Aylin notices, is speaking harshly into a puffy device connected to a piece of headwear while furiously tapping at a screen with clawed nails Aylin understands is a typical physical trait of githyanki. Aylin wonders if there is a way to make the tapping of screens more accessible for those with naturally long nails. Another employee is humming as he assembles sandwiches in smooth, evidently rehearsed motions. He seems happy at least.
The room Isobel brings her to is cramped, only a little desk and two chairs set on either side as well as a few cabinets propped in the corner. The surface of the desk is scattered with papers, which Isobel hurriedly begins tidying up after shutting the door behind them. The space provides sufficient privacy for discussing her new career.
Aylin stands near the door, awaiting Isobel’s permission to enter further.
“Ahhh sorry about the mess,” Isobel huffs as she stuffs some papers into a drawer and sits down behind the desk. It takes a moment for her to notice Aylin is still standing, and she gestures to the chair across from her. “Take a seat if you like.”
The wooden chair creaks as she sits, and as she does Aylin focuses on the way Isobel presents herself. Her new workmate sits up straighter, chin tilted up slightly, and her heavy gaze set on her. “I must thank you once more, Isobel, for offering me this opportunity.”
Isobel huffs out a short laugh, and Aylin melts a little. “I should be the one thanking you, we really have been short staffed, so we’ll take any help we can get. I’m the store manager here, by the way, in case you hadn’t put that together. I had to work the counter last shift because somebody decided not to show up.” There is a hint of irritation in the way she says that, and Aylin can’t help but find it incredibly adorable.
“Ah, the woman in charge. Well I must profess I am glad it was you who I had the pleasure of meeting.“
Isobel looks down, grinning wide, and when her eyes flit back up, Aylin can feel her breath leave her lungs. She’s beautiful. Beyond that even.
“I guess you just got lucky. Maybe we both did.“ Isobel says, her voice taking a sweeter tone, and Aylin could bask in it all day if Isobel would indulge her. There’s a moment Aylin catches Isobel’s eyes raking over her form. “I hope this doesn’t come off as rude, but who are you exactly?”
“Dame Aylin. Servant and sword of the Moonmaiden Selûne.” She declares proudly.
Isobel visibly perks up, and something strange crosses her face. “S-Selûne? Truly?”
“That I am. Selûne is my mother. I was birthed from her celestial womb long ago and have served as the champion of her causes in this realm. I have seen many a battle, tended to countless wounded, and assisted beings of all walks of life.” Aylin pauses her speech when she notices Isobel’s perplexed expression. “I hope my credentials will prove adequate for the position I am to uphold here.“
Those silver eyes once more trail her form, and Aylin smirks. “I… I’m not quite sure what to say. Selûne worship has become rather uncommon in this day, but to meet her actual daughter?” Isobel leans back in her chair, baffled. “Pardon me for having a hard time processing that. You’re truly who you say you are, right?”
“I can assure you, I deceive you not, Isobel.”
Isobel nods slowly, biting the inside of her cheek. “Okay. Yeah, we can work with that. I guess what I really want to know is, why work here? You say you are your mother’s champion, yet you apply to, well, a McDonalds.”
“Is there something wrong with that?” Aylin asks, confused.
“No!” Isobel shakes her head, eyes wide. “No. It’s just surprising is all. I can’t lie and tell you this is the most prestigious job. For someone of your supposed station and heritage, it just feels odd that you would choose here of all places. What brought you here?”
Aylin ponders what she should reveal. The direct truth would likely be inappropriate to admit so soon after meeting this woman. To say that she is certain they are soulmates may overwhelm her, from Aylin’s limited knowledge of romantic customs in the current day. Aylin decides to go for a technical truth. “I was guided here by Mother Selûne. Her reasoning eludes me, but I am not at all displeased with this mission.”
“She sent you personally?” Isobel visibly gulps.
“Indeed. It is not often that I am sent into a contemporary town such as this one, for I spend much of my time at the remaining enclaves dedicated to my mother’s worship. This had been a special quest, and I can see now why.”
“Oh. Why is that?” A slightly panicked look crosses Isobel’s face.
“Meeting you, of course,” Aylin shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “It seems that with Her guidance, we were destined to meet. For what purpose? I am not yet certain, but I have faith that the truth will be revealed with time.”
Isobel doesn’t reply for a long while, and Aylin doesn’t rush her. She glances around the office, taking in every detail, yet there is not much to memorize for it is rather plain aside from the masterful work of art sitting before her.
“I suppose since it is your holy duty to be here, I won’t make your task any more difficult for you than need be. You are free to work here as long as you like.” Isobel finally says, sounding a lot more composed. “We should discuss your pay as well as the times you are available to work.”
Aylin smiles and shakes her head no. “Oh there is no need for pay. I do not accept such offerings. I much prefer gifts of the heart than gold which buys one baubles. It cannot replicate the pride in knowing you’ve selflessly helped those in need.”
Isobel is once again left speechless. Aylin feels slightly amused by this woman’s state of awe in her presence. It’s not an uncommon reaction for mortals to have, but as everything seems to do around Isobel, this feels different. “I’m not certain that I’m allowed to do that. To allow an employee to work without pay, that is.”
“Oh, I was not aware. Is that a rule of this land?”
“It is. At McDonalds, working for pay is rather important to most people, and it’s not often someone wishes to forgo it.”
“If that is so, then perhaps the gold could be used as offerings to Selûne. I am in no need of a blessing, but if you wish, you may use the gold I am owed to place upon Her shrine.”
Isobel tenses. “Oh- I’m not a follower of Selûne. I couldn’t.”
“Is there another deity that you worship whom you would like to leave offerings for?” Aylin asks.
“No. I’m not- I don’t do that.” It’s strange, because as she says that, Aylin notices the way her fists clench and and her eyes dart away in a guilty manner.
“There is nothing wrong with that, Isobel, for it was only a suggestion. But do know that the Moonmaiden accepts all who bathe in Her light. If you choose not to use the gold I am owed as offerings toward my mother, then I ask that you find a charitable cause which it would be donated to. I am not entirely familiar with the politics and needs of this town, but as you are a citizen here, I am certain you would know what better to do with it.”
“Aylin, are you certain?” Isobel’s entire demeanor softens, and that look of awe returns to her face. Aylin wishes she could trace the curve of her lip with her thumb and up the ridge of her cheekbone. Aylin has to blink a few times to force her thoughts back to the present and not allow the pounding of her heart to distract her.
“Of course. Dame Aylin is not prone to deception as you will come to find out for yourself.”
“Then I will do as you ask,” Isobel caves. Aylin nods contentedly. “Now about the hours you wish to work…”
“I am available at any point of the day or night should I be needed unless I have been called upon elsewhere by my mother,” Aylin starts, then she has a thought most wonderful. “However, I do request that whenever possible, I would like to share my shifts with you. Even if it is not you working the front, I wish to be able to see you when I wish to speak. I can start at any time, so long as you are here as well.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Isobel does not appear at all uncomfortable with the idea, in fact, the brightness in her eyes indicates to Aylin that this idea is also exciting for her.
“Good. It is settled, for working alongside you would be all the payment I need,” Aylin says, enjoying the deep blush on Isobel’s face.
“You- you don’t have to try and flatter me. You already got the job.”
“I am aware, but if it is flattery which brings that smile upon your face, then I shall continue to speak my mind. As long as you are unbothered by it, that is.”
“No! Uh… I’m fine with it. I like it.“ Isobel swallows. Aylin feels as though she is losing her mind. This can’t be real. This goddess of a woman can’t be. And yet, she is. Aylin has never once been more grateful for a mission her mother has sent her on. “Feel free to speak your mind around me as you please.”
“Then I shall.” Aylin affirms.
“If you’re to work at the same times that I am here, are you okay with working full eight hour shifts? Or would you prefer less?”
“Eight hours is no issue for me. I do not tire easily, and such a time is hardly a blink in my eyes. You need not worry about keeping me posted for too long. I wouldn’t doubt that I could work a tenday shift without faltering if you asked that of me.”
“How do you mean?”
Aylin sits up a little straighter as she replies. “Dame Aylin is immortal and does not require sleep, nor does she require food or sustenance the way a mortal needs to function.” It’s not something she hides, yet few are aware of her immortality upon first meeting her.
“You’re truly immortal?” Isobel asks.
“Aye. It is true. As I mentioned prior, I have lived many years. Far more than any mortal who lives today.”
Isobel seems to digest that information well enough, appearing more fascinated by the prospect rather than having any sort of negative reaction that Aylin is not unfamiliar with. “Well I will not have you work more hours than myself, Aylin. I wouldn’t make you do that, immortal or not.”
“That is very gracious of you, Isobel. You are good to your employees.” Aylin points out.
“I- I do my best, heh.” Isobel hunches in on herself a bit, that smile on her face seemingly plastered there permanently in Aylin’s presence. “Before I forget, I’m going to need you to sign a few papers to affirm your hire.“ She sits back up and begins digging through one of the filing cabinets beside her desk until three sheets are pulled out. As she explains each one, Aylin just nods along, not fully paying attention, more content to simply observe the way her new boss gestures. When she seems to be done talking, Aylin scoots her chair closer.
“I see. Just show me where I must deposit the signature of mine name.” A pen is handed to Aylin, and she fiddles with the contraption for a few moments before setting the extended tip on the paper. The first stroke, no ink is left behind and Aylin furrows her eyebrows. “I believe your quill requires fresh ink.”
“You just gotta-“ Isobel hastily slips the pen from Aylin’s grasp and scratches it into a seperate piece of paper, and after a moment, ink begins to leave behind in its wake. “Sometimes these pens can be stubborn. “ Isobel slides the device back to Aylin.
“How odd. Your assistance is greatly appreciated.” When Aylin begins to write, the ink comes out fine. In several practiced strokes, her name is printed elegantly on the page. Isobel, however, cocks her head at first glance.
“I don’t mean to pry, but your signature doesn’t appear to be written in common, is it?”
“I take no offense to your questions, Isobel, ask any that may come to your wise mind. This is celestial, my mother tongue. If my signature is meant to symbolize myself and my consent, then this is the most authentic I can be.”
“It’s… beautiful,” Isobel blurts out, before more words tumble out. “I mean that’s great! I think it’s cool that you write in celestial! I- I write my signature in common, I never thought to do it in elvish, but maybe one day? Though I’m not sure if I would consider elvish my mother tongue, it’s a language I know and learned young, but I rarely use it and I’m probably rusty. I-“ Isobel stops mid sentence, realizing her rambling, and clears her throat. “I’ll take your papers and file them.”
Ayling finds her rambling unfairly adorable. She wants to hear it every day. Allowing Isobel to change subject, Aylin pushes the papers across the desk. “When should I start?”
Isobel seems to still be composing herself, but the reddened tip of an ear Aylin spots is all the more endearing. “My day is nearly over, so will tomorrow morning work? Nine?”
“You will see me then, not a moment later.” Aylin stands.
“I can show you the ropes, if you like? I usually have one of my longer running employees train new hires, but if you would like…”
“That would be most appreciated, Isobel. Truly. I look forward to seeing you early in the morrow.” As Aylin reaches for the handle of the door, she pauses as a thought comes to her. “Is there a code of dress I must follow?”
“As long as you wear something clean and presentable, it should be no problem. I’m pretty flexible on it. What you’re wearing now would be suitable, though it may get hot back in the kitchen, so perhaps something with shorter sleeves?” Isobel suggests, her gaze landing on one of Aylin’s covered biceps. “If you’d be comfortable with that, of course.”
“I shall wear a most suitable fit, Isobel. I promise you, I will not disappoint. I shall now depart to the temple. On my way, I will purchase a modern communication device to keep better contact since I have noticed a severe lack of messenger pigeons in this town.”
“Y-yeah, phones are helpful around here. They can be kind of expensive and take time to learn how to work if- if you need help with it, let me know.”
Before Aylin can walk through the doorway, her stomach lurches with pleasant elation. “Isobel, your kindness is without bounds. I will take you up on that offer when the time comes.”
“Of course, it’s no big deal,” Isobel waves her off, and Aylin has to steady her breathing.
“It means much to me,” Aylin turns to her. “I am aware that you are not a follower of my mother, but may the Moonmaiden protect and guide you. I will see you soon.”
With that, Aylin navigates her way back through the kitchen, tips her head at the woman behind the register, and slips out the front door. On her way back to the temple, she flies low, scouting out a merchant from whom she can purchase a “phone” from.