Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She spotted him at the market.

Or he spotted her.

Or maybe it was more of a 'they spotted each other' situation? She doesn't know. All she knows was that it came at a complete shock, that the man who aided her on her journey could actually exist outside of that ethereal forest.

Alta had just come from her judo training class, still sweating off the last of the exertion in a black tank top. It wasn't as if she really needed anything. It was more of a silly habit that she had gotten into early on after signing up for it. Head to class, kick some butt, sweat it off at the market by looking at some silly wares. She wasn't complaining about it though, it was this place that led her to the duo pluffin companions that were currently waiting for her at home. Plus, if the stalls were laid out just right, Alta could buy some fruit from her first stall, and enjoy a lazy zigzag as she ate and glanced at the items.

Like today.

It was sunny, the marketplace a dusty creature that constantly blew off it's never-ending excess of dust all over everyone who dared stomp on it. That, with the sun beating down, made it a miserable dwelling if you strayed away from the safety of a stall covering for too long.

Despite all that (or maybe because of it? People could be masochists in the strangest ways, Alta was learning) The place was bustling, noise everywhere, a person passing into Alta as she demanded two bitterloupes. The shopkeeper quickly gave them to her, quietly accepting the money except for an uttered, "Have a good day, Miss."

The phrase hit something in Alta's mind, a fondness that surfaced but was not placed. The way many of her memories from that time tended to pass through her. She didn't repress them (god, does she know how little good that tended to do her) but as she settled more and more into her current life, they didn't play on loop as loudly as they used to. Instead, they were simply little notes that would strike Alta in a familiar way, without specific memories or people coming to mind.

Just feelings.

A smile graced Alta's features as she bit into one of the bitterloupes. That was a good fruit stall, the ripe fruit's strong bitter taste assaulting her tongue. Her (co-worker, colleague, companion? Person who ran the place and thus let Alta into it with no trouble even though what Alta wanted out of the class was different than what was originally offered?-)

Whatever. Jan tended to make fun of Alta for eating bitterloupes without the customary serving of weyling syrup drizzled on top. "No tastes-buds!" she would quip, "You lost them all the first time you ate a bitterloupe like that!!" depending on how Alta felt, she would usually think to shoot back with a simple "Yeah," or a "Yeah, I exchanged my taste-buds for the ability to kick your ass in front of your class all the time. No big loss on my part, though it sucks for you."

...Okay, She never once felt in the mood for the first response. Jan would squawk, and attempt a rebuttal of one of the few times Alta had simply graced her with a victory. Alta would say as much and they would squabble and bicker until another one of Jan's co-workers (usually Leon) told them to shut up.

Jan was good company though. She had made room for Alta to join her class as a half-committed team member after her first class there. She was smart and had a good head. Even if her skill level was lower than Alta's, she was still a fierce opponent.

Alta finished her bitterloupe and pocketed the second one, opting it for breakfast tomorrow. The afternoon sun was still high and she wanted a better look around at everything. She spotted a bin of things to rifle through, the items so low priced that they sat further away from the stall owner, out under the beating sun. Seemed like the perfect place to find entertaining junk.

Few others were looking through them, their place in the sun making them a trial for only the worthy to endure. Alta quickly secured herself as one of them as she marched up to a bin, digging through its loot. She pulled out what looked like a pluffin-sized kazoo. Would one of her pluffins like something like this? Then she grimaced. Would she want one of her pluffins to like something like this? She dropped it quickly and kept looking. A hat without a top. Useless, for a day like this. Or any day, really. Was it actually made like that, or did someone just think they could trick a person into thinking it was high fashion by putting a price tag on it?

Oh god, what if it was high fashion?! Alta dropped it faster that the kazoo and started to rummage quicker.

"Come on, come on," she muttered to herself. Surely something here was worth it.

"Ooooo~~~ Darling, come look at this!!" Obviously those words weren't directed at her, but curiosity still made Alta look up. At one of the other bargain bins at the end, a taller woman was smiling, holding something out to someone. Alta traced her eyes along her arms to see.

!!

Shock gripped her mind, as if she couldn't place it, couldn't believe what she was seeing. Their time together existed in a forest, so it felt as if that was the only place it could exist. To see him here felt like a breach of some, oh, she didn't know! Some rule she had probably made up for whatever reason. She wasn't sure what she had in her hand, but she could feel her grip tightening. The thing probably would have broke if he didn't make eye contact with her.

"Miss Alta!" Boro bellowed with shock and, more importantly, delight.

"Uh, hey. Boro. Yeah, hi Boro," she said with grace. Boro clapped his hands excitedly.

"It has been a long time, but Boro is glad to see you still remember him." Boro gave her a grin and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, you're kind of hard to forget," Alta replied. A weirdo who rarely took anything personally, liked being bored, and thought gossipy shows were the best thing around, along with literally everything else in this world.

"Oh? How so?" Boro leaned forward, his warm, brown eyes sparkling especially in the summer light, and Alta couldn't imagine any other response than to tease him.

"You're so strange I've had to make it my life's work to convince others you're not a cryptid."

"Well I wouldn't rule that out," Boro laughed, "I do live in a magical forest after all."

Alta stared, taking him in, something about this still feeling off-kilter. Boro smiled, ever patient as Alta opened her mouth.

"So, um, what are you doing here-"

"Boro, sugarplum, who is this lovely girl?!" The taller lady who had been gesturing for Boro earlier had stepped to her side, peering at Alta through her pink framed glasses with warm eyes.

Alta felt herself start to swelter under their gazes. Maybe those with a warm gaze were liable to gain the ability to put actual heat into their eyes on a day like this? Yeah that sounded plausible, totally real. What would be the other option, that it was nerves-

"Sylvia! This is Alta, I'm sure you remember her from our tea party stories," Boro said with a gesture and Sylvia beamed.

"My, my, darling! I've heard so much about you, how are you?!"

"Fine," Alta gave a strangled smile as she lifted her hand, meaning for a handshake, but Sylvia leaned in and gave her a firm hug. Alta stood, shell-shocked. Sylvia's warmth felt comforting, even in the midst of the hot weather, and she smelled nice, soft. Floral-y and vaguely like azzy fruit, Alta would swear.

Sylvia smiled as she stepped back, "Sorry sweetie, but I'm a hugger. Especially for a girl like you, Boro has told me so much about you I feel like we're already well-acquainted!"

In response to this all Alta could think to say was, "I see how you're Boro's best friend."

Sylvia let out a charmed laugh, "Oh sweetheart, trust me you haven't seen nothing yet!"

Alta could believe that.

"So, what are you two doing here? Don't you have to manage the tea shop and you manage the... plants?" Alta scratched her head, she didn't really know what exactly Sylvia did besides work with plants.

"This is one of Boro's many self-promised visits with Sylvia. She being ready to having a vacation here and I being very willing to join."

"And what a good choice that was, honey! Now we got to meet your good friend." Sylvia wiped her forehead, sweat starting to pool up on it. "Whew, let's get out of the sun and start jazzing things up! Alta baby, you don't have anything to attend to, do you?"

Alta decided not to comment on the fact that being out in the sun with a sweater, as Sylvia was now, tended to make it harder to cool down. What she really needed to focus on was declining these two. But as Alta looked at the two of them, their wide grins and hopeful eyes, she found her resolve wavering.

Would it really be so bad to join them? Just for the day, then they'd all be on their separate ways. She shrugged, trying her best at nonchalant.

"Well, as long as I'm not intruding..."

"Watch out! It's gonna be a dozy of a bowl!" Sylvia proclaimed, her throw decimating half the pins. Boro gave a clap from her side, picking up his vibrant blue bowling ball and switching sides with her.

"Well tossed! Unfortunately, I will be taking all attention away from this with my next toss."

Alta also clapped from her seat on a table and chair near the food court. She had opted against playing, claiming she was more interested in watching. Which wasn't wrong! She just...

Alta inwardly grimaced. She had tried it, once. A wayside flyer that had been haphazardly taped on the usual pillars that existed just for flyers to have a place to be. Those strange pings of fond memories coloring her thoughts when she saw anything associated to bowling. It formed a mix of curiosity and warmth that served as the catalyst for her joining a bowling night.

She didn't like it. Not much of a thrill of interest. It made her proud that she could toss the heavy ball with ease, line up shots if she really put her mind towards it, but...

It lacked anything she liked about fighting.

Collective screams had Alta tuning back in. Boro had done wonderful, eight pins down with his most recent toss. Sylvia had gone up and hugged Boro tightly, him laughing as she started swinging him around.

...Or doing her best to anyway, the difference in weight between them made it hard for Sylvia to properly handle Boro around with her current stance.

"Alta dear, you gotta take a shot! There's nothing better than this," Sylvia called out to her.

"I sincerely doubt that," Alta said, but stood up all the same. She may not want to play, but she decided to tag along, the least she could do was play nice rather than to bog down the evening.

She took the bowling ball Sylvia passed to her, fingers inserting themselves into the hole almost on instinct. She took a deep breath in, eyes narrowing.

With patience, and perfection was within reach.

She let the ball glide gently from her hand, and it went drifting off into the center. Six falling immediately, and one of the fallen knocking over another.

Seven, in total.

A resounding applause sounded from her two spectators and Alta un-hunched herself.

"Not the greatest release," she scowled, shaking her hands. Sylvia let out a gasp and was upon Alta in a second. Alta blinked, how the hell did she get so close so fast?!

"Darling," Sylvia began solemnly, her soft, warm wrinkled hands grasping Alta's.

"That," she let her words linger in the air, "Was the most..." Again, "Kick-butt..." Alta raised her brows, how much longer was she going to keep her gimmick up?

"DAMN THROW I'VE SEEN THIS EVENING!!"

Dear god, what evening of eccentric people did she sign herself up for?

"Boro agrees quite greatly. Miss Alta succeeds again with her laser-pointed efforts." Boro smiled at Alta's and Sylvia's joined hands and Alta shrugs, the attention making her feel wayside again.

"I've been bowling a few years back, I studied up on it, watched opponents, that sort of thing." Alta finally slid her grasp away from Sylvia's, noticing the calluses on the tips of her fingers.

Huh. Girl was tougher than she thought.

Boro clapped delightedly, "Amazing!" he cheered, "Please have another go!"

Alta scowled, "Wouldn't that mess up the scores? And no thanks, it didn't really stick for me."

Sylvia laughed, "Oh hun, we had our competitive play a hangout or two back. We needed to make this casual. For our sanity and the safety of those around us."

...Yeah, she could see that being a thing for these two.

Still, Alta gravitated back towards her spot at the table. "I'll just watch," she called. "Put on a good show or whatever for me."

Boro, clapped a hand on Sylvia's shoulders and leaned in, words surprisingly quiet for someone so boisterous. So quiet, Alta couldn't make them out. Suspicious.

Sylvia nodded solemnly and the pair of them started to walk towards Alta. Twins of mischief. No good.

Alta put on her fiercest resting face. "What is it?" She demanded. Perhaps they would ask her to bowl again, or maybe even inquire her on what was wrong, why she agreed to joining if she was just going to watch sourly-

Without warning the pair of them split up, and lifted Alta by either side of her armpits. Their much taller heights easily taking Alta off the ground. She felt a mad blush work it's way up her face, she didn't wear her boots today! Uhg, now she looked especially short and small.

"What! Are you doing!" she gritted out, yanking her arms. Not with enough strength to break out of their grasp, but enough so the two of them knew this was *not* approved.

"Why Miss Alta, we're off to our next destination!" Boro said cheerily, as if this was a perfectly respectable way of transporting someone. Especially a warrior!

"And the reason I can't walk there?" she growled and Sylvia jostled her good-naturedly

"Cuz it's a surprise sweetheart!" Alta considered breaking out of their grasps and making a run for it. She could kick their solar plexus', drop into a roll and be on the move before they even knew what hit em.

...Back alone at home. Wondering just what else the two were getting themselves into, trying to desperately convince herself she didn't care because she had her two pluffins with her.

Alta slumped in their holds. Straining would simply make the pressure on her pits worse.

"The real reason you didn't tell me was because you knew I wouldn't come willingly!" Alta rounded on Boro, because of the mischief twins, he really should have known better.

Or rather he did know better! But thought this was a good case of ask for forgiveness, not permission. Boro gave her a wide-eyed look, somehow peering up at her with a bowed head, adding to his pity factor.

"Miss, you were saying you wanted to tag along with us, and this is what Sylvia and I had always been planning to do after bowling!"

"Could have warned me," Alta groaned, forehead resting in her hand. "I don't do," she gestured the area vaguely with her other hand, "This."

'This' being a dance club.

"Then now's a good time to try." Sylvia placed her hands on Alta's shoulders, her bare skin again picking up on all the intricacies of Sylvia's hands. "Everyone here is just looking for a good time and its a wonderful way to burn off energy. You ever been to one?"

Alta tossed her head over her shoulder with a flat look. Sylvia squeezed her shoulders in return, "All the more reason why you should try it, darling! I think this is your jazz."

"I..." Alta faltered. How did you convey to people that it didn't matter if it was or wasn't your thing, you just weren't interested in making a fool out of yourself in front of the few people you knew. And how that fact made you feel even more foolish, as if the reason you didn't all know each other was because you had foolishly burned yourself out.

Sylvia released Alta and gave Boro a nod. "The dance floor calls me!" she laments with a bow.

"I will be dancing over there," she pointed an elegant finger with a flourish in some direction, "But slowly making my way back here to invite others." She winked at Alta and melted into the crowd with a holler. Definitely the kind of person who thrived here.

Boro came to Alta's side, smiling in the direction Sylvia had taken off. Sylvia was also definitely the kind of person Boro would be best friends with. Without Sylvia as connective tissue, Alta felt... weird. Untethered. Uncertain on how to proceed, as if this was a case of trying to figure out which approach to use in the midst of battle rather than just conversations with...

"Boro also wishes to join," Alta snapped out of her thoughts and shrugged. She gestured towards the dance floor with a lazy hand. "Be my guest, I'll be over here, somewhere. Maybe get harassed into doing a line dance." Boro laughed. "Yes, those group are being ubiquitous at dance crowds, do be quite careful!" And off he went, pulsing crowd and dim lights swallowing him up quickly.

Alta was alone.

Not that she cared.

Not.

One.

Bit.

She heard screeches and looked to her left. A gaggle of teenage girls, shrieking with delight and schadenfreude at one of their friends who had spilled a drink on herself. The perpetrator laughed, wiping down her sodden shirt with a hand and flicking the droplets at her spectating friends. They shriek again, joy-filled echos as they run away, the crowd absorbing them quickly.

Alta harrumphed. She never experienced anything like this in her teenage years. Not that she wanted to, god no, but with her family always moving, she never even had the option to get close enough to anyone to be invited to something like. Back when she had the spirited power of youth to make every single encounter of the evening delightful.

...But more than that, it would have been a different experience to have a gaggle, wouldn't it? The secure feeling of nothing being able to bog you down because you had-

"Here you are darling! A lovely drink for the equally lovely you!!"

A gaudy glass of some red liquid entered Alta's view. It was decorated with a paper umbrella already reaching the end of it's lifespan as the liquid slowly subsumed it.

Alta raised her eyebrows and snatched the cup away from Sylvia.

"What's in it?" she asked, taking a wary sniff. Something about it felt familiar, but she just couldn't place it down.

"Something that would be a lot more fun if you drank it blindly," Sylvia said loftily, a hand coming up to shape her Afro back in place from all her earlier dancing. (Not that there was much need, in Alta's opinion, it was still perfectly shaped.) When Alta's face sharpened into a glare, her hand fell down and she used both to grasp Alta's free hand.

"Listen darling," Sylvia said. She was leaning into Alta's space, trying to make herself heard over the noise of the party. With her standing this close, the glare of her pink framed glasses were reduced, letting Alta see her eyes in their entire sincerity.

"I could tell you what's in the drink, and you can decline and still stand off to the side here. I could tell you what's in the drink and you can still dance with me, maybe feel it a bit and decide it's not your thing but hey, at you least you gave it a good ole' try, right?"

Sylvia's eyes then sharpened, a knife pointed right at Alta's heart.

"But I could not say a thing. You could just go with the flow of the evening, the flow of life and drink this! Have a healthy surprise that might be fun. You could hate it, you could love it, but you wouldn't get this factor if I tell you what's in it."

Sylvia finally stepped back, her soft yet worn hands letting go of Alta's.

"If you ask me what's in this drink again, I'll tell you."

A part of Alta almost wants to snark that this was stupid, she could know what's in the drink and still enjoy it!

...But another part of her understood. Seeing Sylvia's sincerity made her realize that much in the way Boro made tea for troubled people, Sylvia was trying to make a surprise for her.

Relinquish Control.

Let this uptight part of her trust Sylvia enough to at least make some show of fun.

She wanted to avoid bogging down the evening, right? Well if she wasn't going to dance, this was as good a way as any.

Alta held eye contact as she chugged the thing down. It tasted as gaudy as it looked, definitely a drink for a night of fun.

...Is what she wants to think, if Sylvia's expression hadn't changed from content to alarmed.

"What?" Alta asked. Woah, wait, was it just her or were her words slurring? Then she giggled, who cared if they were! She was still being understood.

Hah! That sounded like something Boro would say.

"I gotta admit, I wasn't expecting you to down the whole thing in one gulp." Sylvia tilted her head as if the different angle would change the scene she was looking at.

Alta couldn't help but to laugh, a raw, raucous noise.

"Might have been a bit too much for one go," Sylvia said, almost to herself, "We can sit down for a bit and let you get settled in-"

Alta gasped.

"NoOo," she said, her voice possibly cracking a bit. "I am not bogging down this evening. We!" She hooked her arm around Sylvia's and tugged her. "Are dancing." She turned to Sylvia and extended a hand very much so gracefully and not at all like the drink was screwing with her sense of perception.

"My lady," she said smoothly. Sylvia accepted her hand and not a second later Alta pulled her in close, twirling her.

"My, my!" Sylvia cackled, "You have some wicked dance moves upon you. You must come here often." They started to pantomime a waltz, a less refined, more jazzy and discotheque version of the waltz. Alta hummed in response, the heavy beat of the club doing something to her. It just hit this part of her brain, the rhythm, reminding her of everything that she loved about fighting.

She spotted a familiar face as she's about to let Sylvia out for another twirl.

"Boroooo~" She called out and twirled Sylvia in his direction, letting go of her. Boro caught her perfectly and Alta smiled. Should they try out trio dancing?

"Miss Alta is in a good mood," Boro greeted them, seeming exerted yet not at all disheveled. Figures he would have infinite energy for dancing.

"Duh," Alta replied, "Because I'm dancing! Come on!" She dragged Boro out to the dance floor and starts jazzing it up.

Was it good? Who cared, she was having fun! And she kept bumping into people but she kept dancing and Boro was watching and he had a dorky good-natured smile on his face and the evening was perfect.

Alta whistled as she walked ahead, Boro and Sylvia conversing behind her. They were leaving relatively late, much later than Alta would ever allow herself to stay up, but in some ways it felt too early for the night to end. As guests of her town, Alta invited the two of them to stay at her place, crash even if they wanted to.

Or at least she wanted them to crash. She hadn't quite worked up the nerve to ask them to yet.

"Okay shhhh, everyone be quiet, this is my apartment." The two piped down quickly as Alta fumbled with the keys.

No wait, she wasn't a fumbler, she never fumbled with anything! No, no, she was just...um... Enjoying the presence of Boro and Sylvia staring at her as she missed the keyhole by five centimeters again. Yeah, that was it.

"Good golly, what was in that drink?" Alta finally stepped back and dropped the keys into Boro's palm, crashing into Sylvia and immediately liquefying. Bones, what were those? No, she was just gonna be supported by Sylvia for now. Yeah, that sounded good.

"Oogh," Alta said, very dignified.

"Boro is sorry, Miss. When I was asking the barkeeper to be making the drink, I did not think it would be so strong." Alta waved a hand at Boro's apologies as he opened the door.

"S'fine," Alta mumbled as Sylvia dragged her inside. "Hold up, Sylvia gave me that drink though."

"Boro was the one who suggested getting you something to drink in the first place." Sylvia immediately deposited Alta on the couch, heading towards the kitchen, where Boro currently roamed. "Hah! Maybe he thought the drink was for you, Boro."

"But Boro had even specified it was for his friend-" Boro broke off and let out the loudest gasp known to man.

That perked Alta up, "What?!"

"There's a-!" Was he in danger? She flailed blindly, grabbing whatever was in reach to chase off an intruder. A pillow? Yeah, she could make that work. She vaulted off the couch, instinct making her stick the landing, albeit sloppily. She raised the pillow high, ready to chuck it...

...At the scene of Boro petting one of her pluffins.

She couldn't help it, she chucked the pillow at Boro. It bounced off him harmlessly and he laughed.

"I was not expecting to see these faces today! How ever did you find them?"

Alta leaned against the doorway of the kitchen hall, the adrenaline rush making her feel woozy. She gratefully takes the glass of water Sylvia was getting for her and drinks from it before replying.

"It was luck really, I guess, for me and the pluffins. That marketplace we were at earlier, I was browsing there and bumped into a guy. He was holding this cage and it was covered despite the heat, and he made the oddest noise when I crashed into him. I tried to help him up but he looked so guilty and just raced off."

Alta paused, Sylvia was at the counter, petting her other pluffin that was resting on the counter-top. It made a small content noise and Alta smiled.

"Anyone who's been near pluffins knows exactly what they sound like. It's so distinct. That odd noise wasn't him but one of the pluffins.

"So I tracked the guy down. Followed him to his evil lair or whatever. It turns out they were smuggling pluffins for pillow research."

"Hold on," Sylvia adjusted her glasses, "Did you just say 'pillow research?' "

Alta nodded, "Believe me, I thought it was weird too. Apparently there's a demand market for pillows that feel like you're sleeping on an exotic bird. So they thought to just put an indestructible bird in the pillow. Everyone wins, I guess."

"Not the pluffins, " Boro lamented, snuggling the pluffin closer to him as if to ward off the threat from the memories.

Alta grinned, this was the good part.

"I thought the same thing. So I confronted them, then and there."

"No!" Sylvia and Boro gasped.

"Yes!" Alta smirked. "They thought I was just someone from the competition and tried to put some muscle on me." Alta stretched one of her shoulders, the muscle rippling beautifully. Her grin definitely border on manic when she added, "They didn't know they were going up against one of the best arena fighters of the time."

Sylvia leaned forward, eyes strangely a lit, "How much butt did you kick?!"

"All of it," Alta said.

And then some. Including the janitor. Which probably wasn't necessary and had made Alta feel a bit bad, but that was neither here nor there.

"But yeah I contacted one of the wildlife specialists organizations here." Alta grimaced, "They took forever and just kept sending letters instead of making a meeting with me!"

Boro shook his head, "Yes, it can be a travesty how much those people despise a good in-person meeting."

Alta scowled, the memory irking her more than she thought it would. "You're telling me," she said. "During the 1000 or so years it took for them to respond, I took care of the pluffins. Fed them tea, played with them, just... enjoyed their company." Alta quieted down, as she remembered the evening she had finally gotten the letter she had been waiting for since the whole debacle began. The organization would finally be coming tomorrow and taking the pluffins away. As she sat on her couch reading the letter, petting one of her pluffins while the other ran amok taking every trinket it could find and stashing it underneath the fridge that she would definitely need to clean later, it filled her with nothing but sorrow. She had taken it for granted, the moments with these two, how coming back from classes or training with a pair of pluffins to excitedly greet her home made her feel at ease... God it made her feel *wanted*.

Alta cleared her throat, remembering her audience. "Uh, yeah. The person who came on by admitted they didn't really have a plan for these pluffins, just maybe stick them in a cage similar to the ones I found them in. I lost it on that worker, started telling them that it was no way to treat pluffins."

"Indeed," Boro agreed, his hold on the pluffin more of a hug as he shielded it away from the terrible memories, making Alta smile again.

"I had just gone into my third tangent of proper pluffin care when the worker just said I should take care of them. They'd approve the paperwork, maybe send someone once in a while to make sure everything was good and 'I can tell you three are really bonded to each other so please stop screaming at me.'"

Sylvia let out a howl, "Oh, the pluffins were screaming too?!"

"Yup." Alta nodded. "Apparently that's flock behavior, mimicking the leader's actions, so they only do that to creatures they feel really bonded too. The worker used that as the official third point as to why they couldn't go back to the wild. They were too domesticated and relied on me now."

"How lovely," Boro smiled, "It was indeed fate that the three of you met then!"

"Yeah," Alta reached out and pet the sleepy pluffin on the counter, "It was."

"Well, what are their names darling?"

Silence.

Alta waved a hesitant hand over the dark red pluffin snoozing on the counter. "Vreetle," she said. Then pointed a finger to the bright blue one currently biting at Boro's hand playfully, "Chip Chip."

There was silence again, the only sound Chip Chip's beak snapping open and close repeatedly around Boro's fingers.

"You just made those names up on the spot, didn't you?" Sylvia looked at Alta over her glasses, "Based on the last thing they drank?"

Alta flushed, "Well actually I named them after their favorite teas to drink, which happened to be the last tea both of them drank." She crossed her arms and looked away, feeling suddenly lucid again for the first time since the night club, "Plus I've never had to name them before. I don't really talk about them with anyone else and they know who I'm referring to if I catch them doing something bad."

Via her affection nicknames of 'Shithead' and 'Fuck it all'. But they really didn't need to know that.

Or anything at all! What was she doing prancing around and entertaining them with personal stories for? Nope, no no no no nope.

"Bedtime," Alta announced, unleaning from the wall and immediately crashing back into it. Right. This was juiced up Alta.

"I can help you to your room darling," Sylvia gave her a smile and latched onto her arm. Alta decided to allow it.

"No, no, one of you should take my bed!" Alta exclaimed as Sylvia tugged her out of the kitchen. "Then I could set up the couch for the other one of you."

"And where would you sleep?" Sylvia asked, looping an arm around Alta and slowly guiding her to the living room. Alta thought about it heavily.

"The floor," she announced after much thought. Sylvia laughed, "Me and Boro can just share the bed, you should take the couch. Maybe take an extra blanket so you're a lot cozier."

Oh. Of course they could share the bed together, they were close like that. Though Alta doesn't think she has any extra blankets. She broke off from Sylvia and went to her drawer where she kept old clothes for workout. She dug around and pulled out a blanket from god knows when.

Huh, she didn't even think she had an extra blanket. She took a sniff and frowned. Musty, definitely has not been used since she first stuffed it away.

Well, it wasn't like she had anything else. She came back towards Sylvia and spread the blanket over the couch. (It was kinda scratchy and Alta didn't tend to get cold easily anyways)

"It gets pretty hot in here with weather like this, so it's best to sleep without a blanket for the time being," she advised. Sylvia nodded and sat down, patting the empty space on the couch next to her.

"I've heard the stories of people dying from heat exhaustion during this season because of sleeping with blankets on, I'm well aware," Sylvia said as Alta sat down gingerly on the couch. Did she still need something? Alta didn't know what else she could want to talk about... Unless she wanted to talk.

Oh god, did she want to talk?!

"Alta baby," Alta turned towards Sylvia slowly. She wasn't sure if it was the drink, but she felt woozy. Completely sick, if she was being honest.

"Thanks for letting us crash your day," Sylvia gave her a smile, too genuine and soft in this small cramped place that was Alta's home. She raised a hand as she tried to literally wave her off.

"It's no problem, you're guests in my town, this is what I should do," She said, waving more violently than she ought to be. Sylvia gave a shake of her head.

"It's just-"

The waving got more violent.

"-You seemed kinda stressed out. We didn't push you out of your comfort zone tonight, did we?"

The waving stopped. Alta let out a laugh, a dry gasp that was heaved out for too long and didn't get heaved back in at all.

"Whaaa-? I-" She broke away from Sylvia and focused on the floor. Had it always moved in such a swirly pattern.

"I was an intruder who broke into your plans, it shouldn't matter if I was comfortable or not because those were your plans."

"But that's the thing, baby!" Sylvia leaned in and took Alta's hand. Alta jerked her head back to Sylvia and was once again caught in that earnest, warm gaze.

"It may have started off as our hangout," Sylvia gestured towards Boro in the bedroom, "But once you joined it became OUR hangout," now she gestured to Alta as well. "You shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable during our hangout-"

Alta laughed again, something harsh that made it feel like the off-kilter feeling that had been dominating her all evening was finally leaking out.

"Uncomfortable? How I could I not be?!" Alta hissed out. "This was some happy-go-lucky meeting of friends and then some girl Boro met years ago because she was an utter mess crashed the whole thing and stole the evening away."

"Alta hun," Sylvia said calmly, "Maybe we're not friends, but what about Boro? Did you really not want to talk to him again?"

"Of course not!" Alta snapped, the sickness reaching a crescendo as she snapped out a harsh sentence, words that she had felt so strongly finally put to clarity with the madness of the drink mixing into the fierceness of her nausea. And whatever she said must have hit the mark, because Sylvia face had shifted into a stung expression. But Alta could take little pleasure in her victory, as she doubled over and puked all over the floor.

She thinks it's two hours later that she finally sobers up an actual decent amount. Thanks to Sylvia giving her lots of water and a healthy dunk of cold water under the shower. Boro had miraculously slept through all of it, so it was just them as she blearily watched Sylvia clean up the last of the vomit.

"Sorry," Alta said, despite already saying it before when she first vomited. Alta wasn't the kind of person to repeat platitudes. You said it once, and that was good enough. But god if this wasn't all sorts of embarrassing and awful. Having a guest you barely even knew clean up after YOUR bodily fluids and babysat you as you slowly worked your way up to soberness. Yeah, she could bend her rules just a touch.

And really a second sorry was in order anyway. With the way she had run her mouth...

Alta put her head in her hands and groaned. She was never drinking again.

"It's no problem!" Sylvia chirped, somehow jolly despite having a literal puke rag in her hand. "And I created this situation too, deciding a drink would help you feel more relaxed."

"It did," Alta admitted. Way too much in fact. "And um, I was apologizing for the whole argument thing we had." Alta waved her hand around, has a distant memory of doing it like a raving madman while she was drunk and drops it immediately, trying to not let her hands fidget as she continued speaking, "I don't remember much of what I said. Something about bogging down the evening I think? But uh yeah, sorry about that as well."

"...You don't need to apologize for that either," Sylvia said, walking off into the kitchen her back turned to Alta the whole time, expression hidden.

And that was that.

"Morning!!"

"GoOoOoOd Morninggggg~~~!!"

Alta groaned as the two songbirds she had as guests greeted each other like they hadn't seen each other in a year. Uhg, she should be awake before them anyways, why were they up so early-

She sat up, head pounding and recollection of the night before trickling down.

Oh yes. She had been drunk Alta. Who had even carried her curse over to this morning with the fact that she was really about to sleep in past 9.

She groaned and fell back to the pillows, headache blooming beautiful images of bright orange pain. Yeah, she was definitely tacking on five more minutes.

...Which became an hour it seemed, as she woke up to the sound of a paper bag being rustled around her face vigorously.

"Breakfast," Boro chirped, stepping back from his close position so that Alta could sit up without bonking into him. She let out a yawn and stretched her back muscles. Yikes, the couch really did a number on her, even with the surplus pillow cushions her couch already came with.

"Thanks," Alta let out another yawn as she snatched the bag from him. Opening the bag, she was greeted with a familiar sight.

"You two went to Rubs'," Alta said, taking out a warm, buttered biscuit sandwich and biting into it. She couldn't help the pleased noise that escaped from her. This was the kind of food that she favored; rich, warm and greasy without being too unhealthy. It was always a favorite after a workout and she was desperately craving carbs.

"Yes," Boro laughed, "A close-by place you already seem to be very familiar with." Alta nodded, and the two sat in silence, the soft sounds of Boro's unhurried breathing and Alta's chewing being the only things that filled the air.

...And a squeak from her pluffins. Was Chip Chip stealing things to shove under the fridge again? Alta made a mental note to deal with that later. A vague, probably not happening today, later. That was one of the first things that had changed after her time in the forest. It was a hassle, that effervescent part of her heckling Alta every step of the way, but she had settled into the idea, somewhat, that if her plans of what today should be went wayside, then she should give in and see what today could be.

Sometimes it still annoyed her to no end, to have plans of training, muscle building, doing something actually fruitful, only to have it all knocked down by an over-pulled muscle or an emergency visit to the plumbers because a water pipe had broken. But to push through those moments and try to control the day into her idea of what it should have been was usually useless.

...And dare she say it was sometimes even better, to see what the day had in store for her, if she just let go. Infinitely scary, in a way she still couldn't articulate to anyone, not even herself, but rewarding too, as if braving the unknown was enough for life to give her a delightful surprise.

'Wow, way too cheesy.' Alta gave herself a mental shake. Was she especially emotional because she was around Boro? Yeah, she'll say it's Boro's fault she was being all sappy. He probably just emitted this weird aura of, confront your feelings and... have cute thoughts! Or something like that. Ugh. Her thoughts were getting away from her.

"Where's Sylvia?" Alta asked, getting up to wash her hands of the grease from her food and start some semblance of her morning routine.

"Boro doesn't know!" Boro replied cheerfully, and Alta paused from washing her face to squint at Boro from down the hall.

"Don't tell me you lost her," Alta said and Boro let out a belly-shaking laugh.

"Goodness no! Miss Sylvia wants to surprise Boro and sent him off to do his own thing." Alta squinted again, certain that Boro could still feel it even without her directing it in his direction.

"Is it really a surprise if she told you about it?" Alta asked in-between brushing her teeth.

"Yes!" Boro enthused, "Because Boro doesn't know what *it* is!"

"Of course you would say that," Alta said, spitting out the paste mixture and washing her face, looking up in the mirror.

Huh. When did she start smiling?

"Boro thinks Miss Alta would agree, given her surprise from Sylvia yesterday."

"That one doesn't count," Alta practiced her scowl in mirror before stepping out of the bathroom and using it on Boro, hands on her hips, "I already knew it was a drink, just not what type it was."

"Ah, So you *knew* about the drink but not *what* the drink was," Boro placed a musing hand on his chin, stroking it thoughtfully, "Strange, I have heard of this exact scenario just moments before,"

"Whatever," Alta felt the smile working up on her face and she crossed her arms, turning away from him, the small expression gracing her features as she says, "Well, what will you be doing in the meantime?"

"Boro thinks he will defer to Miss Alta about what to be indulging in next here. Seeing as this is your hometown."

"Well don't," The words come out fiercer than expected and surprise Alta herself. She clarified, walking down the hallway into her bedroom, "Defer to me or anything like that. Just go do your own thing."

Boro doesn't reply and Alta felt tension drain from her. Right, he would acquiesce. Nothing to get so worked up about here. She bended down to pick up something from the floor, Chip Chip, she internally admonished, and straightened up, turning around-

"Waghh!" Her fist goes flying before she can really stop herself and she gives Boro a thorough smite on his left shoulder.

"I had just wanted to be asking if you were being certain on not joining me today." Boro frowns at Alta petulantly and she sighs, pushing the ice pack further onto Boro's shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry. You just startled me," she admits, taking off the ice pack and peering at the skin on Boro's shoulder. It was already starting to leave a mark. She would probably feel a bit worse about it if there wasn't a slight rush of pride at how solidly she had landed the hit. How long has it been since she threw a punch like that, and to have it bloom so beautifully?

"Well, will you?" Alta gives Boro a flat look at his question.

"There's no way you're still asking me that after I just seriously injured you."

"Not injured, just in immense pain," Boro says, raising his arm to rub at his head, before wincing and aborting the action.

"Either way, why would you want to spend your day with someone like that. Who hurts you when you're just being friendly." Alta bites her lip and takes the ice pack away, switching it out for a less melty one. She see the new one and rummages in the freezer still, looking at the sparkling ice crystals as she waits for Boro's reply.

"Well for one, Boro likes this person's company." She hears him when he gets up this time, standing to the side as he accepts the new ice pack.

"And secondly, I cannot imagine a more joyous way to be spending the day." Boro gives her that smile of his, so bumble-y and carefree and it makes Alta slam the freezer door harder than she ought to.

"Alright," she says, "Let's go out."

Alta doesn't really know where to take Boro, so she just wanders around aimlessly, more than certain that Boro would be content with that.

He is. Somehow he finds something joyous about every single blade of grass. And finds something joyous in every single grass blade.

(So far, in order, he's seen a ladybug, a paperclip, a wad of gum that wasn't chewed but was melted, a paperclip, and another paperclip-)

"Are you just part magnet?" Alta raises her eyebrow at Boro's fourth metallic find.

"But Miss, this is not a paperclip, but a binder clip!" Boro raises the object for Alta to see the oh so obvious difference and she frowns.

"Yeah, big difference," she deadpans and Boro nods vigorously.

"Indeed! I cannot begin to tell you the amount of times I had thought a paperclip sufficient enough to hold a stack of papers, only for it all to explode away from me," Boro sighs sadly, "A tough time, those days are being. Still, these things are always being remarkable finds." Boro slips the object into a shirt pocket and pats it gently. Alta watches, bemused. She really still didn't understand Boro sometimes. Or rather she did, and still couldn't believe someone wanted to exist in the capacity that he did. It was one part enthralling, two parts confusing.

"Does Miss Alta have a favorite find on such walks?" Boro asks as they resume their casual walk down towards god-knows-where-because-Alta-certainly-didn't.

"Your mom," Alta snarks before she really thinks about what she's saying and to who. Boro lets out an overblown gasp and turns to Alta with feigned shock.

"Is that so?!" he cries, "Boro himself has never even seen her! What did you do after finding her?" He looks at her imploringly and Alta shrugs.

"I uh, put her back. In the grass." Boro nods thoughtfully and brings a hand to his chin.

"Interesting. Yes, it is all making sense now."

"...What?" Alta feels like she's walking into a trap, but she's not sure from which direction it lies.

"Well Boro had been wondering, she had been inspecting the grass so closely the last few nightly visits." Boro seems so lost in thought as they walked that Alta went in front of him, confused and interested.

"Wha-... Who??" Alta asks again, giving the ground a quick aside look to make sure she doesn't trip as she does her slow moonwalk in front of Boro. If she had timed it better, she wouldn't have been facing Boro again as he gives her a blinding smile and his answer.

"Your mother. She had seemed so distracted these last few nightly visits, yes, because she was looking for your lost object. It all adds up now, no more confusion the next time she visits."

Boro sidesteps around the halted Alta, her brain processing the roast double time.

It's a minute later that she turns around and looks at Boro's meandering form indignantly.

"Boro!"

She forgets how despite his soft nature, Boro often gives it back as good as he gets it. The rest of the walk was characterized by subterfuge as Alta tries to get Boro back for his earlier roasts. It doesn't really go well for Alta, she knows she tends to be too brash for things like this, but some childish part of her got all giddy as she kept trying to poke at Boro's mental defenses, seeing when he would slip up just enough for Alta to land a solid strike.

A different kind of fight than the ones she was used to, but enthusing all the same.

"Well you know what's usually under there, right?" Alta says, trying to maintain a casual air at her next tangent.

"Hm? Under what, Miss?" Boro replies easily.

"Y'know, under there," Alta stresses. Yup, this is what she has been reduced to. Schoolyard taunts and jibes. It's for a good purpose though! She may be childish for stooping this low, but if Boro falls for it, then he would be the bigger child in the end! Yeah, yeah so it's *totally* justified.

He just has to fall for it first. Easy.

"What is 'under there', Miss?" Boro asks and Alta frowns.

"You don't even know what 'there' I'm talking about," she says and Boro blinks thoughtfully.

"I suppose you are correct! Well where is this 'there' then?"

"What there?" Alta asks loftily.

"That there," Boro says.

"Which there?" Alta tries again.

"Over there!" Boro gestures to some area and Alta moves his hand down.

"No it's not 'over' anything. It's under."

"Under there?" Boro questions.

"Under there," Alta agrees.

There's a moment of silence. Boro turns to Alta.

"So, what is under there?"

"No," Alta drags a slow hand down her face, "It's supposed to be 'under where.'"

"Hm, I don't see what undergarments have to do with anything, Miss Alta."

"No I-" Alta breaks off, realizing her mistake. She huffs and crosses her arms, glaring at Boro.

"You're cruel."

"I haven't the foggiest what you mean, Miss." Boro gives her a cheerful smile and she sighs.

"Yeah yeah, look at you playing Mr. Innocent," Alta brushes past him, mindful of his sore shoulder, "Next you'll be telling me you've forgotten how to spell 'Icup'."

There's no reply, and Alta looks over her shoulder.

Boro is gone.

It is funny, in an ironic sense. After all the grief she had given Boro about 'losing' Sylvia, and now she has actually lost Boro. Wonderful. Alta is certainly laughing right now and not stressing out at all, oh no. God, isn't she suppose to make sure guests in her town are enjoying themselves, and not getting injured or cleaning up after her? She's really scoring it *big* time in terms of hostess vibes. Good job, Alta! Surely no one else in the history of ever has done such a job as you have now-

"It's rude to walk away mid-conversation you know!" Alta growls, marching over to where Boro stood awestruck. He is a mere couple of feet away from where she had left him, just diverted off the sidewalk into the fields proper. Boro nods and glances at Alta's face. Whatever he sees must make him realize how serious she is, because his amazed expression is replaced briefly with guilt.

"Sorry," Boro says, genuine in that heavy way that sometimes feels like too much emotion to be directed at Alta solely. "But Boro has caught a glimpse at something amazing! Won't you join me in seeing it?" He offers her a hand and Alta knows a peace offering when she sees one. She takes it, mind burning at their conjoined hands as Boro leads her away. His hands were warm without being sweaty, and much more calloused than Alta expects.

But is that really surprising? She knows from experience that while weeding, gardening and gathering isn't particularly hard work, it is still something to put effort into. And if anything requires effort and is done enough times, your body would respond in kind by becoming tougher. Cause and effect.

But Boro's warm yet loose grip fills her with a weird sort of dread. She wants to break her hand away, wipe her shirt on it and be rid of this whole interaction. This is too much! She isn't even sure what this is, or what is too much, she just knows that this is too much-

"Here!" Boro lets go of Alta's hand and she surreptitiously wipes it on her shirt, trying to block the whole thing from her mind.

"What?" Alta asks, scanning the area. It's alright, as far as views go. There are sparse trees, so the field's long grass is illuminated by the sun greatly. Birdsong calls out and wild plants with intricate leaves, stems and flowers grow abundantly. Butterflies flutter by to and fro, the sunlight dazzling on their crystalline wings. A view Boro would definitely go crazy for, but is it really one worth giving her a mini-heart attack over?

"Do you see, the nest right over there!" Boro gestures so widely that 'over there' really could be 'under where' for all she cares. She glances around, eyes focusing as she scans each and every point of possible interest.

...Which for someone like Boro, could literally be everything. Well, he had seen it from far away. So, maybe it's a bigger tree or something. She eyes a suspiciously large tree. It's just sitting there, menacingly. Maybe Boro has never felt such malice from a tree. Yeah, that's it. The nest has to be there.

"What? This huge menace of a tree and it's nest of birds? Yeah, we have these all the time here. The birds that is, not the trees. This one's a real nasty guy," Alta gestures at the tree casually and Boro chuckles.

"Indeed! That is quite the foreboding tree, but not what has caught Boro's attention." He gestures again at the open air, "Look!" he says, "They are gathering more air!"

They? Alta squints at the high open air. There are butterflies. A lot of butterflies. An ungodly amount of butterflies.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed, Miss!" The flying insects were all the same species. Tinier than most butterfly species, hard to see if you aren't really looking at them.

"They're alright, I guess," Alta says and Boro rotates her body to face the direction of a non-malicious tree.

"Yes, but see what wonderful time we have caught them at!" There's a trail of butterflies leading over to a much smaller tree than the sinister one. They go up to this thin, ephemeral wasp-looking nest and...Exhale?

"What are they doing?" Alta ventures closer, wondering if the bugs would startle. They don't. In fact, the creatures seem happier with her around, going up to her and sticking their proboscis everywhere. One lands on Alta's nose and she scrunches it. Boro laughs.

"An honor has been bestowed upon you, Miss Alta! It seems they want to use your CO3 to build their nest.

CO2, Alta thinks to correct him, but focuses instead on the last two words of Boro's sentence.

"They're building a nest from my air?" She asks, watching as her nos-y butterfly takes off, flapping it's tiny wings towards the nest.

"Yes, they start off collecting air nearby to shape the outer part of it. Then, they take a person's breath to insulate the inside. A wonderful delight this is! For us to be seeing this in action. I myself have only heard tales of it." Boro claps his hand excitedly.

A weird kind of species that swallows air to make their nest of spun air. Alta isn't one much for bugs, but she has to admit, this definitely takes the cake in terms of unforgettable. Her butterfly finally flaps to the front of the nest (or what Alta assumes is the front anyways, there's not really much to differentiate front from back, or anything from anything else really) and exhales. The inside of the nest changes, from a slight fogged view to a warmly tinted orange.

"Does it always change color?" She asks Boro as her butterfly flaps off and he shrugs.

"Hm, I'm not too sure. Perhaps a person's breath is like being their wallpaper. Yes, that sounds very likely," Boro laughs and Alta sighs good-naturedly.

"Taking my breath, just like that, to use for decoration? Shouldn't I be getting paid for this?"

"My, you sound just like Nana when you talk like that!" Boro exclaims and Alta laughs.

"I guess I do," she says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. "How is she, anyways? Has her business finally put Wanderstop out of commission yet?"

"Not yet!" Boro says cheerfully, "But she still does put up a good try, last I saw."

"Sounds like her," Alta says, watching as more of the butterflies gather up to live in that fragile nest of theirs. They cozy up, snug and content. Alta sighs out, looking at her breath, invisible when it's not being plucked from the air. Weird. It's so weird, that something so insignificant that she did all the time, with practically no input from her, caused comfort and home to these hundreds of insects.

Is it bad? No, but it is *weird*. She's just Alta, and here these insects are, highlighting her breath as if it's the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"Well, who are these two lovely beetles I've just encountered!" Sylvia appears from honestly out of nowhere and wraps her arms around Boro in greeting. He looks up at her excitedly

"Miss Sylvia, have you seen the-"

"The bottled-breathe butterflies? Why else do you think I'm here darling!" She laughs and waltz over to Alta, placing her hands on her shoulders.

"What do you think, Alta dear? Aren't these beauties worth it all?"

"Worth what, exactly?" Alta shrugs Sylvia's hands off of her. Leave it to the only other person who would be just as obsessed with these insects to find her way on over here. The more she hangs out with them, the more Alta could see how clearly Boro and Sylvia are best friends.

Then what are you doing here? An insidious part of Alta wonders, Why are you here, interrupting their time together? Didn't you say so yourself earlier, Boro only treats you so kindly because he does so to everyone, he must pity you-

Alta shakes her head, stopping that train of thought. No one pitied her. Ever. She wouldn't even let them. There's nothing about her to be pitied. Why Boro is entertaining himself with her is just another quirk of his. After today, he'd be on his giddy way, glad to have seen Alta again but quickly besotted with other facets of life, and much friendlier, easier to approach people.

"Isn't that right, Alta?!" Alta tunes back in to Sylvia and Boro looking at her expectantly.

Uh.

"Yeah totally," she says dismissively, like it was silly of them to even ask for her input about a conversation she was totally listening to. Sylvia turns to Boro triumphantly.

"See! She already agrees to it. Be ready tomorrow sharp you two, because this is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!!" Sylvia dashes out through the thick grasses, the butterflies that landed on her flitting away quickly, making her look like a forest spirit. The last thing Alta hears her holler out is, "Woah, did anyone else see that super malicious tree??" Alta sighs and turns to Boro.

"What exactly did I just agree to?" Alta asks and Boro shrugs.

"Hm, I'm not quite sure. Only that you have agreed to partake on this adventure with me." Boro smiles, cherub as ever. "It is seeming like a thrilling outing though!"

Alta really doubts this.

She doubts it very much so.

...And as always when it comes to these two, Alta is correct to doubt it.

"I'm sorry, could you explain the surprise again?" Alta stares at Sylvia, who's sipping tea on Alta's couch. Sylvia had made the mad-dash back to Alta's place to unveil the surprise in it's ultimate glory, while Alta and Boro had finished their meandering walk (though finish is a strong word, it never really had an end goal anyways.)

Maybe Alta could use that to her advantage? Hey, the impromptu walk she was taking never really had an ending so she should really be getting back to that infinite jog of hers rather than listen to this inane plan that she is somehow a part of.

Sylvia cackles, "It must really be such a good surprise if it's got you asking thrice! Alright, so this wonderful man just had a birthday pass," Sylvia lays a hand on Boro's forearm, "So of course I got him a birthday present! In the form of these two beauties!" Sylvia gestures to the tickets on the coffee table.

Both of them are all-round exploration tickets. Tickets to leave whatever tiny shell of a town you were from and to explore the larger world. The much, much larger world. To see so much, that the Often Farlands would seem like a next door neighbor compared to the lands you would be visiting with these bad boys.

"Okay," Alta says slowly, "That part I got. Now why is there two tickets again?"

Sylvia smiles, "The other one is for you darling!"

Alta sighs and leaned back in her chair, throwing an arm over her face "Yeah, it's not my birthday. I don't need a ticket."

"But Boro thinks having a companion to explore with him would be much more fun than alone!" Boro pipes in, and Alta removes her arm, staring up at the ceiling. She should have left his ass at the market, pretend she didn't know him at all if this is how he's going to betray her.

"And why isn't it you going with him," Alta raises her head and fixes her gaze on Sylvia. Sylvia sips from her cup of tea again, seemingly unbothered.

"Because I have prior engagements." Sylvia stares wistfully, "If only the new bulbs of Sandium I planted didn't choose this season to go into their berserk mode. You do know what happens if they are left unattended during this time, right? That was the root cause of the tragedy of some local town a few decades back."

She springs back into enthusiasm immediately.

"But that's alright! It can still be a fun experience for Boro, I'll have my fun with my berserk Sandiums, and you'll be there to accompany him!" She smiles at Alta and Alta holds up a hand.

"Hold on, I didn't agree to any of this. How do you know I don't have plans of my own?"

"Do you?" Sylvia asks.

No. "Maybe," Alta says and Boro breaks into the conversation again.

"Miss Alta, do not feel as if you have to drop everything to be joining me on this trip. I will certainly still be having fun exploring these areas with or without company. Though Boro would appreciate it greatly if you came with him, I understand that it is not always so easy to be making these decisions so suddenly." Boro clasps his hands and fixes Alta with that heavy, patient look of his.

"Of course," he laughs, "With this spontaneous gift, we do not have much time for you to make a decision. Still, from now until tomorrow morning when Boro boards the train, I will be more than willing to be accepting your company." Boro bows to Alta, and gets up, presumably to head to bed. He'd be having an early morning tomorrow. Alta waits until he disappears into her room before turning her attention back towards Sylvia.

"Why did you buy two tickets?" She asks again and holds up a hand before Sylvia can reply, "And don't try to tell me it's because you want to give me the option or whatever. You could have waited until I agreed if that's the case."

Sylvia finally puts down her teacup, the china empty. "I wasn't going to," she says calmly. "I'm simply going to say that I think it would be good for you and Boro to have a lighthearted adventure again. When was the last time, when you were at Wanderstop?"

Alta crosses her arms, "I wouldn't say that those were 'lighthearted' times," she mutters and Sylvia leans forward.

"So you didn't have a speck of fun during that time at all, even in midst of everything, that time is only painted in red hot agony?"

If she says yes, she knows it would be a lie. But to say otherwise isn't helping her argument of being staunchly against this adventure for whatever reason.

Gosh, why is she so against this? Anytime her mind tries to actually think of the reason, the feeling just slides away from her like putty. It just feels... Uncomfortable. Like when she first tried to relax for no reason other than 'just because' after she had left Wanderstop. Alta finally breaks her gaze from Sylvia, her arms falling to her sides.

"Boro would have just as much fun without me," she says, something about the words stinging at her and she hears a rustle of fabric from Sylvia. Perhaps a shrug.

"Maybe he would, but it would be an entirely different type of fun. Fun by yourself is so, so different from fun with your friends, especially when it comes to new experiences. Neither of them are bad, per se, but there's a delight in having someone else go through the same motions as you."

Is there? Alta doesn't really know. She doesn't really have anyone she's close to like that, who goes through all the same things she does. And she doesn't consider it a bad thing! She's prickly, and does well by herself anyways. You can't get by in life without others, Alta isn't antisocial and she doesn't strive to be, but something about letting people in closer than the bare minimum makes her skin itch.

There's another rustle of fabric and Alta hears Sylvia's footsteps approach her. She keeps her in view from the corner of her eye as she speaks.

"Alta sweetheart, it's your choice. Neither me or Boro would want you to come along if this is something you aren't comfortable with. But I do want you to think about it, truly think about it beyond your initial discomfort, and to see if this just genuinely disinterests you, or if maybe it's just something a little heavier than you're used to." Sylvia lays a hand on Alta's shoulder and Alta stops looking at her, focusing on the sensation of her worn, wrinkled hands on Alta's bare skin.

"And just because it's heavy doesn't mean it can't be lifted." Sylvia says and Alta murmurs, "It just means you have to adjust to it." Sylvia nods and heads towards the bedroom, leaving Alta alone with her phantom touch on her shoulder.

She doesn't get a wink of sleep that night.

Chapter Text

For once, Alta is sure that the lack of sleep is helping fuel her decisions wisely. Or maybe not wisely, she doesn't know. She's trying not to think too hard about this because if she does, she'll freak out and retrograde on this half-assed decision she's making when she *really* doesn't have the time to be panicking because Sylvia and Boro have already left for the station.

So sleep-deprived fueled decisions it is. Hooray! How far she has come in making totally logical decisions that she now is flying by the seat of her pants. The other part of her must be so proud. Yup, as she's haphazardly stuffing clothes into a pack and writing down instructions for taking care of her pluffins along with a quick explanation to Jan, she is not at all a hair away from just ripping everything from out of the backpack to scattering it all over the floor and laying in bed, pretending she never saw Boro at all and making sure her memories made it so that the last time she saw him was in a forest.

...God, she really is a mess. But mess or not, she's here, chest heaving as she arrives at the station in time. She spots Sylvia and Boro talking, perhaps saying goodbyes, and jogs on over.

"Hey," she says, praying that they won't make a big show of her joining.

"Miss Alta! It is good to be seeing you here. You have arrived just in time." Boro smiles warmly at her and takes her pack from her to give to the staff to load on up. Alta turns to Sylvia and awkwardly holds out a hand.

"Uh, I guess this is it. It was nice meeting you, Sylvia. In person, that is."

"Oooh, Alta!" Sylvia whines, and reaches in for a hug. Alta is again perfumed with her floral-y, azzy fruit scent. She breathes it in, thinking about how she usually doesn't care much about the assorted scent of flowers, but something about the scent on Sylvia is nice, comforting. "I'll miss you so much!! Make sure you write everything down to tell me about, It's not every day someone gets to travel around the world like this!"

"Uh yeah, I will," Alta mumbles into her sweater and Sylvia finally releases her, teary-eyed.

"Now go on, shoo darling, Don't miss your train. I'll deliver these letters for you. Have nothing but fun, you hear?! And if you do have bad experiences, well it's all a part of the fun of spontaneity and traveling!" She raises both arms, waving excitedly as Alta gets on the train, sitting across from Boro, the mini tables in between them. They both watch Sylvia as she keeps waving even as the train starts to move, even as she's a tiny speck in the distance.

...Even when it looks like one of her letters slips from her grasp.

"She better not have lost it," Alta mutters and Boro laughs.

"I am sure it is well within her grasp," he replies, turning his head from the window and facing Alta. Alta tears her eyes away as well once the scenery is of the same few bits of foliage. There's silence as their gazes set on each other. Alta takes in Boro's face, wondering at how different it looks to when she first saw it. She feels as though he mostly looks the same, with his rouge cheeks, large nose and soft smile.

Still, there are more age lines on his face than when they first met. And towards his eyes, Alta could see the faintest hint of crow's feet starting to set in. Time has passed, whether it feels like it or not.

Boro has gotten older.

Speaking of...

"So," Alta breaks the silence, placing her forearms on the table and interlocking her fingers together, leaning in towards Boro, "Birthday boy, huh?"

"Yes," Boro smiles bashfully, "Though it was a few weeks ago now."

"How old?" Alta asks and Boro taps his chin

"Forty-five, I believe!"

Alta laughs, "Don't tell me you're so bad at numbers that even keeping track of your age is hard!"

Boro leans in now too, "Well, to be quite honest with you, Miss..."

"What?" Alta scans his face more, wondering what other slight differences she'd be able to spot.

"You do know how the forest does be speeding up time," Alta nods and Boro continues, "Because Boro resides in the forest so often, his birthday may pass many times at Wanderstop before it passes even once here."

"Oh." Alta thinks on it for a moment. "That's uh..." Weird? Strange? A pretty good replacement for the fountain of youth? "...Pretty confusing."

"Indeed!" Boro laughs, "So Boro does base his age on whatever feels right to him. It seems like the closest approximation I can be getting to my real age."

"Wait, hold on," Alta frowns at him, "You just pick a number? Why not just compromise on one of the ages or even a halfway point? Picking a random one just sounds like cheating."

"Mayhaps it is! But I like the vagueness of it, I am only the age I feel. A good thing, to not have to worry about the passage of time so strongly." Boro closes his eyes contentedly.

Only the age he feels? Leave it to Boro to take the phrase quite literally. To be fair to him, it is a weird predicament. Alta was certain that Boro had a few scant but definite years on her when they first met, but now, if the forest slowed things down that much, he could even be younger than her...

Yeah, she'll agree with Boro on this one. Whatever age he feels like is good enough for her. Of course, this bit of news means that Alta needs to find a suitable birthday present for Boro. Since it's only through his graciously extended birthday gift that she's on this trip at all.

Whatever stop is next is going to be her present hunting place.

"Hey Boro," Boro opens his eyes slowly, disoriented.

"Hm?" He lays his sleepy gaze on Alta.

"How long until we-" Alta breaks off as a yawn possesses her. A comically, long one that really needs to be on it's way so she could ask her dang question!

"Until we arrive?" Boro asks and Alta nods, raising her arms above her head, trying to stretch the sleepiness out of her.

"Mm, I don't know. The first stop is the Often Farlands, but it may be taking a while before we reach the area. Let us get some sleep first in the meantime and later we can be asking the staff." Boro focuses his sleepy eyes, waiting for Alta's answer.

She wants to protest otherwise, that sleeping during the day while on a trip is a one-way ticket to a terrible sleep schedule and that she really isn't that tired, but as another yawn escapes her and Boro's eyes start to falter, Alta just gives him a thumbs up and slouches her head against her seat, sleep taking her immediately.

When she next opens her eyes, the light blue of the early sky has intensified, leaving a strong blue deepening to black.

Evening time. Alta wants to say she slept longer than she would have liked, but with how clear headed she feels compared to the fuzzy memories of the morning, she can't find it in herself to regret her rest. Alta glances over at Boro, his eyes still closed. She inspects him a bit further, trying to gauge if this is him actually asleep, or just the thing he does where he's 'resting and simply taking in the moment'. He did that a lot, back during her time at Wanderstop.

"Hey Boro," Alta guesses that he's simply resting. Her assumption is correct when he opens his eyes, beaming at her.

"Miss Alta," he greets, "How was your nap?"

"It was good," she says dismissively, "So, can I get some actual information on our destination, or am I just going there blind?"

Boro perks up and Alta speaks before he could get a single word in, "No! No more friendly surprises that aren't surprises. I want a detailed plan of everywhere we're going and how long we're going to stay there."

Boro chuckles, "Alright Miss, no more surprises." Boro reaches into one of pack's pockets and pulls out a small chalkboard. A wave of nostalgia hits Alta when she sees it, remembering when Boro would take it out to explain even the most minute things to her.

"You carry that thing around?" Alta asks. Boro nods, "It is always good in case I am needing an opportunity to explain things."

Alta raises her eyebrow, "Bringing something all the way from the shop to here? And you say that I'm married to my work."

Boro grins, "But look Miss! This is being used for non-work purposes, so there is no breach of vacationing rules here."

Alta harrumphs, but gestures for Boro to begin his explanation. Boro starts sketching out a wonky map of the immediate area. He circles a shaded in area and taps it.

"This, is the Often Farlands. It is one of the farthest areas, so we will be journeying there first-"

" 'One of the farthest areas so it comes first?' " Alta interrupts, "Do you even hear the lack of logic in that statement?"

Boro taps his chin, "Hm, Well you start from the outside and work inward. It makes sense to me." Boro beams again and Alta slumps forward, head in her hands.

"Oh my god you're going to make ninety percent of this trip just impromptu," she whines, aware of just how immature it makes her seem. But Alta is a firm believer that trips need some sort of structure, vacation or not. It's how you could make sure you maximized enjoyment. Which yes, sounds counter-intuitive but she had done it this way before and had actual restful vacations versus otherwise where the amount of stress that comes from a lack of direction is so annoying-

"Miss Alta, I am thinking that we come to a compromise. Yes there is a certain joy from the randomness of an unplanned trip, but I know it would be asking a lot of you." Alta tilts her head upwards, still slumped in her hands, and nods. "So," Boro continues, "How about we take things simply one day at a time? You can plan out today to your heart's content, but leave tomorrow for future us."

Alta leans back in her seat and lets out a heavy sigh. "Thank you," she says. Maybe it's the frequency, but if Alta experiences one more curated surprise she is going to start punching people. She likes having some modicum of control over her days. She had wrestled with it for many years after Wanderstop, trying to understand what's a normal amount when it comes to her versus an over-fueled panic of trying to streamline every facet of her life. The truth is, it's a natural part of Alta, liking the steadiness of structure. Probably in the same way enjoying spontaneity is a natural part of Boro.

Are we really the best people to be going on a trip together? Sure, Boro has come to a compromise now, but how long until Alta wants to wrestle together more concrete plans? Is one of them just always going to be miserable on this trip?

Maybe she shouldn't have come. Isn't it selfish? She would either be making Boro bend to her whims on his trip, or she would be miserable the whole time as she bent to his. They're a terrible pairing to have a trip together! What was she thinking?!

Oh yeah, she wasn't. She had made the decision to join on a complete lack of sleep, because if even one of her brain cells was properly awake, it would have been screaming at her NOT to go-

Spiraling. She's spiraling. Alta needs a distraction and now.

She gently kicks at Boro from under the table. He tears his gaze away from the window's scenery.

"What's been going on with you? Since I last saw you, I mean," Alta asks, possibly with a hint of hysteria in her voice.

"So much," Boro squints happily, "Let's see, I've gotten a new picture frame! It was given to me by a customer."

"All this time and you've only gotten one new frame?" Alta tsks, "And from a customer no less, I can't believe you."

Boro chuckles and Alta feels her own eyes crease with joy. She leans back, shoulder tossed over the empty seat next to her. "What else? Did you ever get any other assistants besides me?"

Boro nods, "Oh yes! I had been receiving one most recently. A young boy who came from a line of tea-makers."

"Let me guess," Alta says, "He wanted you as his mentor."

Boro shakes his head, "No, actually! He was wanting to get away from the tea-making business and ran away. Of course he wanted somewhere to be staying so I offered him board at Wanderstop." Boro hums thoughtfully, "Before he left he was saying that he wanted nothing more to do with tea, even as he kept making it and putting in customers' hand, without Boro's input!"

"He definitely sounds conflicted. Perfectly suited for Wanderstop then," Alta says and Boro laughs.

"So," Alta says when Boro obviously needed further prompting.

"So?" Boro inquires, as he flags down a porter to bring him a serving of tea.

"Who's the better employee? Me or him?" Boro smiles.

"Ah Miss Alta, I cannot be answering that. You both bring a liveliness to the shop that the other can't replace-"

"I just know you have one of us in mind. Come on, who got more compliments from customers?!"

"Huh." Boro thinks on it for a moment. Then he says, very gently, "Did Miss Alta ever get a compliment on her tea?"

"Oh come on!" Alta leans back in time as the porter comes back with a tray of assorted goods. She gestures for a glass of water and watches as they place various snacks on the table as well. She's opening a trail mix packet as she continues to berate Boro.

"I got so many compliments, all the time! On my tea *and* my coffee. Even Nana said my coffee wasn't bad! Nana, of all people!!" She pauses to take a sip of water, "In fact, shouldn't I get triple points, for making coffee at a tea shop. That's going above and beyond, what kind of boss wouldn't want that from an employee?"

Boro laughs, "All right! I am convinced. Never has there been an employee like Miss Alta at Wanderstop, and never will there be again!"

"Much better," Alta nods and begins to munch on trail mix. Boro takes a sip of his tea and hums happily.

"What flavor?" Alta gestures to the cup and Boro smiles.

"Simple chamomilk. It can be helping to give a person more lucid dreams."

"Cool."

Peaceful silence. Alta finishes up her trail mix as Boro inhales his tea.

(Literally though. Alta doesn't think she sees him doing anything other than sniffing at it and it's all gone somehow anyways.)

Alta herself is looking out the window when Boro calls her attention.

"What about you, Miss Alta? Any momentous changes since we've last seen each other?"

She gives him a look, wondering if he's teasing her. As if she did not come to the biggest revelation of her life after her time at Wanderstop. He isn't though, instead looking merely curious and Alta sighs, looking out the window as she speaks.

"I quit being an arena fighter," she says, her voice soft but the words still ringing out in her mind all the same.

"Oh?" She watches Boro from the reflection on the window. He leans in closer, slight concern on his face. She focuses on the outside scenery again, the blur of all the foliage somehow feeling calming as she speaks.

"I tried. Maybe for three years? On and off that is. In that time I only actually fought in the arena for six months. I had thought I just needed a good break, so I spent most of that time trying to train myself and refocus my mindset, let the things I learned in the forest actually stick.

"It worked well, I think. I wasn't crashing and burning all the time. But the second I actually signed up and started arena fights," Alta scrunches up her fists, grip tight as she trudges through the story.

"The second I started fighting in the arena again, It was like she was back in full control. The other part of me. When I tried to make myself take it casually, it was like I was choking myself. It's all or nothing when it comes to the amount of effort I'm allowed to put into the tournaments."

Alta sighs, the pain of the incident still heavy on her. It's perhaps the most painful decision she's ever made in her life, and even now, all these years later, she still thinks about retrograding on it, that maybe she could find another angle, a better compromise. But she knows herself, and she knows that this is not something she could ever distance herself enough from to have a healthy attitude to take it slow.

"So I chose nothing. I quit arena fighting entirely. I don't even watch it, it just...Yeah. No more arena fights in any shape or form." She feels like she's making a big fuss in the silliest way. After all, what kind of loser lacks enough self-control to just limit herself when it comes to things she's skilled at? But when Boro gives her a soft, sad smile from across the table, she feels lighter, like the fuss she's making is the perfect amount of fussiness to be feeling in this moment.

"That is a very tough thing to go through, Miss Alta. I am sorry that there is no way for you to be keeping arena fighting in your life, but I am proud of you for knowing your limits and setting them." Alta turns to face Boro fully now.

"Yeah, I just..." she falters, unsure of what she wants to convey and how to convey it.

"Never mind, just... Thanks," she says and Boro smiles softly.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, Miss Alta. It is not so easy to be sharing such integral parts of one's self."

"Yeah, well you asked what I've been up to and that was a pretty big thing." Alta crosses her arms and turns to face the window again, uncertain of why she feels flustered. She hasn't told anyone else about her arena fighting predicament since it happened, not even Jan, who had asked about it in a roundabout sort of way. Boro's the only one.

And she thinks she should feel disgusted and gross at sharing such a vulnerable part of herself so willingly, but she feels nothing of the sort. It feels... Good. Wonderful even.

Ew.

"Uh yeah, I just take a lot of classes now, to get the buzz I like from fighting," Alta diverts away from arena fighting, not wanting to linger on it a second longer. "The main one is judo fighting. I was actually coming back from a class when I spotted you and Sylvia."

"Wonderful!" Boro cheers, "It is good you can keep fighting in some shape or form. Is Judo your favorite to be taking?"

"Eh," Alta waves a hand around, "It's not bad, I just take it the most because the person who runs the classes, Jan, lets me do whatever I want pretty much."

"An impromptu class?" Boro asks mischievously.

"No!" Alta protests, maybe a little too loudly as other passengers glance over.

"No," Alta says again, calmer and quieter.

"It's a very structured class. I signed up for it when it first began and excelled, I was way past it's level. Honestly, I wasn't going to go back for the second class if it wasn't for Jan. She noticed how skilled I was and asked if I wanted to be an assistant teacher."

Alta really thinks back on the memory, a smile coming to her face.

"It was funny too, she really begged me. Said I could kick her ass all day if that's what I needed in order to agree to it. Considering that it is what I do most of the time, I guess she was right in her judgment."

She fixes Boro with a stink eye.

"So no, very much so not erratic or unstructured. A perfectly respectable class where I get to control what I want out of it."

"I see now, my mistake," Boro says humbly and Alta lets up her gaze. There's another moment of silence before Alta breaks it again.

"So, how long until we reach Often Farlands? And I'm not asking in a planning sort of way, just out of curiosity," Alta hastily tacks on the second part before Boro tries to hit her with a cheeky comeback. You give this one an inch...

Boro shrugs. "A long time," he says. "It all depends on weather, train and track conditions, staffing and many more things. Boro believes it could be two weeks if everything is perfect, but I have heard tales of it taking three months to reach the Often Farlands if conditions are bad enough."

Alta sucks in a breath. It could be three months of just wandering around, doing nothing on this train. Truly, this would be relaxing in it's ultimate form.

Is that such a bad thing though? Maybe if Alta's by herself on this trip, she'd riot against the idea more. But as she flags down a porter to bring a pack of cards to play against Boro, she thinks this won't be so bad.

And so that's how three weeks pass. Chatting and catching up (Alta learns that Boro had tried to keep a pet cat he found at the shop, but it seemed to have a fear of tea so he had to send it away,) playing games (Boro had gotten cheeky because he had won three games of war in a row. When Alta had tried to say that it was a simulation game and required no effort whatsoever, he replied that that was the sort of thing someone who lost multiple games of war would say. Alta challenged him to a fourth.

She lost the fourth.)

Teasing (She's not even sure who first pointed out the clothing differences, but now Alta refused to let Boro off without a brazen comment about whatever he wore for the day. He had eight different pairs of pajamas! And the ridiculous amount of combos he would pull off in a single outfit; top layer, undershirt, bracelets, hats, summer scarves tied around the waist...Way too much.

Boro in turn asked her if she really only brought black tank tops and shorts. She had told him that she *did* have other summer wear, this was just a favorite combo.

...When he laughed at seeing that her other summer wear was a black t-shirt, Alta decided that she was sticking to her many copies of tank tops and shorts and that 'Yes Boro, of course they're all in black, it's my favorite color!'

Whatever.)

And of course, simply relaxing. (Often, Alta would watch Boro as he would take in the moment with his eyes closed.

She didn't know why, but it made her feel at peace. It made the moment feel more real and just... Worth it. All of it.

She didn't know how to explain it. It was probably better left unexamined anyways.)

So when Alta is finishing up breakfast as Boro comes back excitedly from the bathroom to tell her that they are approaching their first stop, it's a surprise. When she thinks about the individual days, yes they lasted forever, but three weeks altogether have breezed pass.

"It's not the Farlands though, is it?" Alta chews away the last of her breakfast, wiping her mouth with her arm.

Boro shakes his head. "It is an introduction of sorts. To be helping inform people of the list of rules unique to the Often Farlands. And-" Boro pauses to pass Alta a napkin, gesturing at a spot on his face, "There is plenty of gear and pamphlets to buy from all the stores before the entrance. Some of which are very necessary to visiting the Farlands."

Alta wipes her face, calculating. If this place has so many stores, then perhaps it would be best to buy Boro's birthday gift here. For all she knows, the Often Farlands banned shops altogether. They already banned tea, a favorite of Boro's, so it wouldn't be far off.

...Does she want to get him tea? Is that all she really knows about him?? Tea???

Uhg. This gift business is going to be more frustrating than she thought. Nonetheless, she has to get rid of her tag-a-long. She eyes Boro.

"Let's go separately," Alta says simply, getting up from her seat and tossing the napkin away. She's able to suppress her instinct to punch Boro this time as she turns around, seeing that he followed behind her with a sorrowful expression.

"Is Miss Alta already so terribly bored of Boro's company?" Boro rubs at the back of his head sheepishly.

"Yup. I want some alone time," Alta goes for a direct answer again as she brushes past Boro, pulls down her pack from the storage compartment and rummages through for her wallet, a sling bag and various other items she'll need on this outing.

"How long until the train starts up again?" Alta asks Boro as he rummages through his pack, presumably to do the same thing she is, but with how much he's stuffing in his pockets and 'smaller' bag, she thinks he'll save himself some time if he just takes the whole thing.

"Just for today. It'll start up again tomorrow morning." Boro says. Alta frowns. A day is less time than she'd like to try and decide a gift, but you work with what you get.

How hard could it be anyway?

Very hard.

Alta stares in dismay at the sheer numbers of shops. These aren't like small stalls she's used to at the market, or the ones lined up in a row like she was used to from her childhood. This is something much more dreadful.

The Conglomerate.

She has only heard of these stores from a superficial dive into the other economic books by Professor Currency (Let Nana try and tell her she knows nothing about economics now). They're an idea of fantasy, a thousand stores of each niche topic packed into one place. As similar places competed, whichever one did better swallowed up it's competitors and new niche shops are shoved into their gaping space.

In other words, a paradise if you're just looking to spend some money. A nightmare if you want to look for anything specific.

Oh and the size meant that traipsing it would surely take years if you go at a leisurely pace at all. Alta has half a mind to meet up with Boro, see what catches his attention and to buy it while his back is turned, but it feels like selling out the idea of seeing what she could get Boro on her own.

Plus, he would be tempted to go in every store anyways. No, no, she's on her own for this.

Alta grips her shopping basket and narrows her eyes. She's faced enemies who had more souls lost to them than this place had. It is *not* going to swallow her whole.

She'll do this orderly, start from the (metaphorical) top and work her way down. She's got this. It's already a done deal as she thinks about it.

Let's go, she chids herself, stepping into the first store on her right.

Then she walks down to the second. The third. Fourth, fifth, six, all the way to fifty-eight until she decides something has to change. Everything blurred together and nothing felt unique!

Uhg, where are the small shops when she needs them?!?! This is a nightmare!! The worst part is that Alta feels like she isn't finding anything worth buying for Boro. Yes he likes tea, but getting him something tea related feels like getting a bird wings, it's just too redundant.

The second worst part is that Alta felt like she could wander this stores forever. Each store that she went deeper into the Conglomerate, is another store she'd have to race past to get back to the train. But without clear direction on what to get Boro, wandering each store until she found the perfect gift feels like the sturdiest plan right now. Yes, the current store may have fishing poles specifically designed to look like a hypothetical fish arm if it is catching on fire, but what if the next store specialized in belated birthday gifts for people who you really ought to know better than you do? She couldn't take the chance on giving that up!

But these stores are so odd, too niche to really try and guess what kind of things a certain place would sell because they usually specialized in one 'thing'. One odd, strangely specific thing.

Should she just buy the present later? But how late is she going to push this thing? Boro's birthday has already passed, any later and she might as well give it to him next year.

Is there a directory? There should be a directory. Didn't Boro say something about pamphlets? Surely this place has one for it's own self. Alta dives into store number fifty-nine, a store that specialized in selling cooking ware that is frozen proof but not burning proof, and asks the owner for some pamphlets. She gets a dozen. Half of which are about the dangers of over-frozen cooking pots.

She really doesn't think that store would still be around next year.

But among them is a directory thicker than a door is high. Alta dives into it greedily, hoping that part of it's length is from small descriptions of the shops, but no. It just lists the stores' misleading names and opposing competitors. Alta wonders if this place is designed to drive her mad. It has to be, surely?

She drags her feet to a bench and sits down. What makes for a good birthday present anyways? Alta knows that the saying 'It's the thought that counts' is practically made for birthday gifts, but in her opinion, it's a phrase populated by the losers who can't dive deep enough into someone's psyche to find something worthwhile for their gift.

A loser *she* is on the cusp of being.

"Arghhhhh!!" she growls, rubbing at her head frantically. This is so stupid! A fucking birthday gift is what's doing her in?! Like she's a preschooler who only has enough money to buy whatever cheap toys came in the gumball machine. She doesn't want to compromise, that feels worse than not getting him anything at all. But she has no idea what to get him, and none of these stores are helping.

What really hurts is that she knows Boro would eat up anything she'd offer him. He's the living embodiment of 'It's the thought that counts'. He would be so grateful at the thought of a gift she's certain, even if it's a coffee jug or pesticide or some stupid object he really has no use for.

'One day', he'd say, 'Thank you for your forward thinking as always, Miss Alta.' He would be comforting her on her poor gift giving skills, and just the idea of it alone burns her so badly.

But here she is, stuck. Alta gets up and glumly walks into store number sixty. Wallowing in pity isn't going to help, she may as well have her nose stuck to the grindstone until she has to leave.

A child sits behind the counter. "Hello there- Oh, aren't you a sight for sore eyes. Like, you look as if you died this morning and decided to join the living anyways." Alta took this scene in, the child, the remarkably lame insult, and turns to leave.

"No- no, I'm sorry I always run my mouth wide, like a motor that's been stretched." The child runs in front of Alta, blocking the door.

"Sorry, sorry, like a sorry wilting flower." The child pleads. They really did look the part of sad wilting flower. Alta sighs, putting a hand to her forehead.

"You got two minutes to sell your products to me. Then I'm going to the next store. Understood?"

The child brightens, "Yes, yes you're clear like a crystal!" They clear their throat.

"I am Sable, a waremaster by trade. I sell wares like a shop sells...things." They trail off, obviously confused at the direction of their own tangent.

"But my things are grand! Sophisticated and for the best thing ever." They pause for dramatic effect.

"Other people!"

Alta spies around the store now, noticing the piles of tissue paper, the stacks of gift wrap and towers of gift boxes.

"Are you a store that specializes in belated birthday gifts for people who you really ought to know better than you do?" Maybe Alta's insane hope isn't so insane after all.

"Wha- no. I specialize in packing gifts that you've already bought for other people. How should I know what gift to get your friends?" Sable stares at her oddly and Alta inwardly sighs. Nope, her hope is insane.

"Cool, see you never then," Alta steps around Sable and they suddenly rush back in front of her.

"How should I know what gift to get your friends without any details, I meant!" They say hurriedly, "It's like a fishbowl without a fish. I need details!!"

Alta doesn't even deign that analogy with a response. She glances around the store one last time. Well, whatever gift she does end up getting would need to be wrapped, it can't hurt to spend time in here. Plus, if this child really does wrap gifts for a living, maybe they'd know which stores would make for good gift hunting.

"Alright, I'll bite. It's a birthday gift for this guy. We aren't really friends per se..." Alta trails off, uncertain how to even describe the relationship she has with Boro.

"Why not," Sable asks, pulling out a notepad, looking with wide, inquisitive eyes.

"Because we're complete opposites. He has other, better friends anyways." Alta says, crossing her arms. Sable sniffs, "Yeah I wouldn't want to be friends with someone who's a low tiered friend."

Alta glares and Sable quickly recovers, "Like you are obviously a high-tiered one! Getting a birthday present, wow! You must be like, rarer than gold. What's rarer than gold, iron? Yeah I've never seen iron." They scribble down Iron > gold on their notepad and Alta sighs.

"Why are you by yourself? Where's your parents?" Sable bristles at her question.

"I am by myself because I am the sole owner of this business. A prodigy, by age fourteen! I bet that's more than you can say for yourself, huh!" They puff up and Alta looks at them idly.

"At fourteen I was beating up kids two weight classes above me." Sable quickly deflates.

"Yes, well... Good!" Sable writes down 'aggressive' and Alta frowns.

"This isn't suppose to be about me, this is about Boro!"

"Who?" Sable asks.

"The guy I'm getting a gift for," Alta grits out.

"Oh! Right." Sable studies the notepad, looks around the store.

"I have no idea what to get him."

"I'm leaving." Alta brushes past them again and Sable tugs onto her shirt.

"Let. Go." Alta uses her glare at max meter, but they hold steadfast.

"Okay, yes I'm sorry. I don't know how to pick gifts, I'm like a lawnmower without a lawn. But maybe we could brainstorm together? I'll even throw in free gift-wrap. Please? I never get business here..." Sable trails off, looking small and sad and desperate. Alta can't say she doesn't relate to the feeling right now.

So she sits down on some over-sized gift basket, getting down to Sable's level.

"In thirty minutes, if I do not have some sort of idea of where to go, I will be leaving this place without even a shred of tissue paper." Sable nods vigorously.

"Clear as glass! I'll write down a list of good stores here. Yes, yes. We'll be thick as thieves when this is all over."

Alta looks at Sable's list in dismay. You get what you ask for, and this is an exhaustive list, with 398 possible options of where to go gift-hunting. 387, if you counted the ones Alta already visited.

"See! An exhaustive list. How tired it must be," Sable says, obviously proud. Alta scans it over.

"In numerical order?" Alta asks, shoving the list in her pocket and finally heading out the door.

"Yup yup!" Sable sticks to her side immediately.

"See that one?" They point to a store two paces down, "Full of breakable trinkets." They put their hands on their hips, a paragon of knowledge.

"Trinkets?" Alta muses. Boro always liked the little statues and figurines she found and placed in the shop. That sounds like a good place to start.

"Breakable trinkets," Sable stresses, marching to keep pace with Alta, "They're meant for breaking."

"That's so dumb, what makes a trinket perfect for breaking? They're already fragile."

"You can ask the owner yourself," Sable says as Alta enters the store, immediately looking around. She feels like she's back in her youth, doing dexterity training as she's minding every inch of her body not to make any sudden movements. God knows these trinkets break from even a gust of wind.

Alta sets her eyes on a pair of frogs drinking a cup of coffee.

Cute.

It explodes instantly. She backs up, body in front of Sable, arms covering her face.

The storekeeper hollers, "That'll be 650-"

"What the hell? It'll be nothing! Your items could have poked my eye out." Alta growls, marching over to the counter.

"Yes, well it only exploded because of how hard you set your gaze upon it." The store-owner, a tiny macaw, looks at Alta disinterestedly. "You've obviously haven't been around much fine china in your life, anyone would tell you that your gaze was much too harsh."

"My gaze?!" Alta sharpens her current expression and the storekeeper waves her fan more nervously, "Yeah, because fine china worth buying definitely breaks if you decide to look at it."

"Keep that expression up and you'll be paying for the whole store!" The shopkeeper squawks. "Pay the first fee then get OUT."

"I'm not paying anything!" Alta says. She hears something else shatter behind her and the shopkeeper gets up from her chair.

"Oooh now you've done it! That beaut was worth 2000 at least, and your brash attitude is what bothered it yet!"

"Shame," Alta snarks. Sable comes up between the feuding two, places down a token.

"I, the storeowner of the 956th store of this place, concede my place for a lack of care for other wares." The macaw picks up the token greedily, tossing a different one in return.

"Alright, you're free to go. Get out now though! Before you break something else."

The pair quickly leave. Alta turns to Sable.

"What the hell did you just give her?" Sable fidgets nervously as they mumble, "My rank. She's been acting so reckless lately because her store is going to down under from low sales. She's higher now so she won't be so cruel to other customers. I hope at least."

Alta glances at the new token in Sable's hand. 978.

"You shouldn't have done that. It just encourages her to act like that all the time. Plus, what about your store?" Alta hefts her shoulders and tries to decide how much trouble she would get in for beating up a trifling store-owner. Probably a lot.

"I promised to help you and I did. Just leave a good review for me and we're even like a Steven." Sable nods, and then points to another store.

"There's one fifty stores down that sells necklaces that double as gadgets. Could something like that interest your not-friend?"

Alta nods and the two set off again.

Shoes made of crocs, crocs made of shoes, Fire hydrants painted different colors and glasses that are fogged up. So many different stores that made for wonderfully wild gifts, but nothing Alta feels would fit Boro besides the passing interest.

Sable's a good constant the entire time, pointing things out and helping Alta learn about the nature of this place. She learns that Sable was born in the Often Farlands, their mother hailed from there but their father came from Vyndia. They had come upwards to try and finance themselves because 'they're a prodigy who's more than the products of their parents.' It all sounds like little kid bullcrap to Alta, but she supposes she had strong convictions at age fourteen too.

Plus, it gives Alta the fun chance to buy an overflowing crepe salad for them, something they claimed a business savvy person like themself has no time to eat. Their face as they dig in is bright, and Alta can't help but to smile at the scene.

"We'll stop here next!" Sable claims and heads into a store with a beaded curtain entrance.

"A detour?" Alta asks. This shop isn't on their list.

Inside is another child. Alta grimaces. Great, more friends.

"Sable! You just wouldn't believe!" A girl who looks to be no older than Sable races to the front, gesturing wildly at her wares.

"I was told that if I don't get any more sales this week, they'd replace me with 'Aldo's and his based vase.'"

"Terrible!" Sable laments, "Aldo only has the one vase for sale, preferring that is like preferring spaghetti on pizza!"

The girl nods, "I thought the same thing! But they say his vase is 'based' and mine are only 'bejeweled', which doesn't sound as nice. People want a singular based vase, even if it leaves no room for choices."

The children ruminate, before Sable reaches into their pocket and offers the girl a small present.

"Maybe a surprise can brighten the day?"

The girl takes it eagerly, opening it and seeing a ring.

"Oh! Thank you! When I lost my original one..." She holds the gift to her heart, slipping it on her bejeweled hand. She gives Sable a fierce hug before finally switching her attention to Alta.

"Hello! Are you here to buy some bejeweled vases?"

"Actually I've had enough of breakables for today," Alta says.

"This is my customer. I am showing her around," Sable says. They lean into their friend, whispering not very quietly, "She's wonderful! She bought me a crepe salad even though they cost so much!"

The girl gasps and looks at Alta with stars in her eyes. Alta shifts uncomfortably. What is it with children idolizing her?

"Have this! For helping Sable." The child tosses a small vase at her, complex and jeweled, and Alta catches it gracefully.

"Uh...Thanks," she says and the girl beams.

"We do have to be going, she only has so much time," Sable says, gesturing to Alta, "She's on a time limit, like a fox after a hound, you know." The girl nods sagely and waves goodbye as the two leave.

"Your friend?" Alta asks as they head down to the next store on the list.

"Nope," Sable says, "A business partner at most. She had lost a ring so I replaced it for her, that is all."

Alta thinks to say that most people didn't go out of their way to do that for people they didn't have some inkling of fondness for, but they step into the next store and Alta's mind goes blank.

Swords. So many swords and blades and their equipment. Inscribed in different ways and different styles. Scabbards, Scythes, Scimitars, Short-swords. All of it, so enticing.

So dangerous.

"Blades are an art and your not-friend seems to like artistic stuff," Sable says and Alta wanders in feebly, feeling like a newborn foal on unsteady feet.

"Yeah, he does," she says, reaching out to hold onto a short-sword with a thicker handle, delicately yet sparsely embellished. The weight feels good and wrong all at the same time and Alta puts it back quickly. That's the kind of sword she'd be into anyways, not Boro.

Would it be fine to get him a gift like this? Perhaps a little tongue in cheek, but it could work, couldn't it?

Yeah, just at least to entertain the idea.

Alta picks up a small dagger. It has long flourishes inscribed all along it's blade. Very gaudy, but something Boro would like. She spies another one, also a dagger (she has no qualms about it, she'd have to get something small or she'd worry about him hurting himself on it)

It's water themed, water lilies inscribed on the blade, blue jewels on the handle, with a frog cap at the bottom. It makes her think of Boro somehow.

But it also feels wrong. She knows this is nothing more than her interest that she's trying to fit Boro in.

It's just her, trying to fit her way into Boro's life.

She places the blade down and doesn't even stop to signal at Sable. She marches over to a bench and sits down, looking up at the clear dome.

Pitch black night. How much time has she wasted doing something she knows she's no good at?

"Why did you leave? You seemed so ready, like a corn on the cob." Sable rushes over and peers at Alta. Something on her face must show because they wilt.

"No good?" They ask and Alta shrugs.

"Yeah. I'm no good at this present stuff." She sighs.

"I appreciate the help Sable, really. You can head back to your shop. I promise to leave a good review and all that so don't worry about helping me anymore."

"You're giving up?" Sable gapes at her and the phrase makes Alta raise her hackles.

"I'm not giving up," she snaps, "But there's no way I can do this! Here I am, considering daggers for Boro as if I don't know he has no need for them! He's all, soft and warm and likes the silliest things. He's the kind of person who would nap halfway through a conversation! Nothing at all like what piques my interest, nothing at all like what I blip on the radar for what he might like."

Sable looks at her intently.

"Come with me," they say.

"No thanks," Alta deadpans. Sable shakes their head and tugs on Alta's shirt.

"Come!" They whine, "Just this one and I'll leave you be, like-"

"Like a flower being bothered by a honeybee," Alta snarks but gets up. Sable is about their word if nothing else. Once she got this stupid shop out of the way, she could just get Boro something depressingly easy and noncommittal, maybe another crepe salad.

When she enters this store, Alta's eyes are assault by fabric. Bright eyesores that aren't neon, but really pushed the boundary of how saturated a color could be before it gains that moniker. Sable bounds up to a section and pulls out one of the wares.

"This! Your non-friend would like this!"

Alta looks it over. And starts laughing. Sable, alarmed, puts it down.

"Am I wrong?" They ask. Alta shakes her head.

"You're right. Amazingly so," She wipes the pinprick tears that have started to form at her eyes from her laugh. "But how on earth did you guess so accurately?"

Sable hums, as they set the item on the counter for Alta to purchase.

"Buy my services and mayhaps I'll tell you," They say mysteriously and Alta rolls her eyes. Gift wrap it is then.

"Boxes! Or bags. No, both and wrapping paper!" Sable zooms around, getting one of everything that you could use to wrap a gift. Alta watches, concerned.

"I really don't think this needs that many layers-" Sable gasps at Alta's words.

"Clothes always need extra layers of gift cover! It is the first rule of gift wrapping and the like!" Sable reaches over their desk and tosses Alta a book.

"Read it yourself!" They demand, rushing off into their backroom to presumably find more ways to wrap a gift.

Alta opens to a randomly bookmarked page.

Yes! The book proclaims, In order to have people take you more seriously, make your phrases more complex! The more nonsensical, the better.

Only children use easy words such as 'Hello', 'Hi', and 'Antidisestablishmentarianism'. Real chads use phrases that take thought, such as 'Bright as a darkened cloud', or 'Forget it like spaghetti on pizza!' These phrases make you sound twice as grown-up, and let others see just how wrinkled your brain is from all your wisdom.

Alta looks at the book cover. 'How To Be Taken Seriously as An Adult (For Kids!)' Seems like Sable tossed her the wrong one.

She frowns and wonders about Sable, how they even got into this situation they're in, working at the Conglomerate. They said they wanted to be more than the product of their parents, whatever that meant.

(As if Alta doesn't get it. The last thing she'd ever wanted to be was like her father.)

Still, so much of it seems to mean Sable has to push away childhood, buying a book on doing so even to seal the deal. They called warm relationships with others business partners rather than friends. It's none of Alta's business, but it does make her a touch warmer as Sable bustles out with all sorts of gadgets.

"Scissors, ribbon, shears, rulers, cutting mat..." They spill all the tools onto the counter.

"You read the book yet?" They ask and Alta nods.

"Yup," she says, smoothly placing it face down, back under the counter desk. No need for them to know of their folly.

"Good, you're fast as a lass," They crow, "Now come help me choose decorations!"

It takes two hours.

Alta isn't sure how. If you ask her, a gift bag is good enough. Gift wrap and a box if you're feeling extra fancy. But somehow with each layer Alta wants to end on, Sable argues for another. 'To give shape!' they'd say, or 'Another factor of surprise under this layer.' Then they'd go on about presentation and how birthday gifts that are late by precisely the 3 week period need to have extra ribbon length to represent the time that has passed...

Alta wants to call it all bull, she really does. But how often has she gifted people nicely wrapped things that she could call out a so-called expert?

(Not at all. The answer is not at all.)

At one point Sable yawns and Alta takes over the ribbon tying as they supervise. She cuts gift wrap and they mumble nonsensical things.

"Maybe my store will last two more days with this order," They say tiredly. Alta doesn't stop cutting, but she does slow down to converse.

"How many days did you have left?"

"Today," Sable yawns.

This has Alta stop. "What?"

"The last day is today. I couldn't make ends meet so I was just trying to fish out an order from who I could. Like a... and uh..." They trail off, their phrase left to rot.

"You should have stayed here and tried to make more sales. There are so many people around because of the all-around trip." Alta continues to cut, slicing a sharp edge of wrapping paper and folding it over the offending gift bag/box/whatever.

"Yes I guess I could have..." they trail off and slump down on the desk further. At first Alta thinks they're just upset, but a snore proves her wrong.

"Aren't you suppose to be helping me with this?" Alta says in a mock whisper. Sable snores in return. Alta looks around, uncertain. This isn't really a good place to take naps, but a child sleeping on a bare desk is just begging for aches later in life.

When Sable wakes, it would be with a gift tissue pillow and gift-wrap blanket. On the desk was a 5 star review and the fee plus tip.

'Thanks' the note says. 'You're like a gift in a store.' Sable would smile wide and cheerfully, the weight of their deadline for a second, lifted.

Alta hauls Boro's gift in the train cart sometime at dawn break. She's exhausted, the stupid Conglomerate really wore her out more than she'd like, and that was with a guide. She's definitely never going back in there again.

Considering how late it is, Alta's surprised to see Boro awake. She hides the bag behind her surreptitiously.

"Uh...Hi." Alta says, really hoping through some sheer will that the bulky shape of the bag wouldn't show.

"Hello Miss!" Boro greets, "Did you enjoy your shopping spree?"

Apparently it did.

"It wasn't really a spree," Alta plops the gift bag down in front of Boro. "Here. Happy Birthday."

It's a moment Alta wishes she could commit to photo memory, but mental would have to do. Boro's whole face lights up, and whatever gloom that lingers in the darkened train car is banished once more from the glow of this rising sun.

"How thoughtful of you, Miss Alta! Boro appreciates this greatly,"

"You haven't even opened it yet," she chids and Boro gleefully inspects the gift bag all around.

"Yes," he says in between rotating, "But I know Miss Alta used her prowess to get a very thoughtful gift." He finally gets to the first layer of gift wrap. It has dozens of different flowers on it, not a single one repeated. It seems like the kind of garbage Boro would like and consequentially is the first wrap Alta wants him to see.

"How delightful!" He says and tries to open the gift carefully to preserve the wrap.

It rips almost immediately.

Boro sighs, "I was hoping to be avoiding that."

Alta raises her brows, "Honestly I don't even know how you managed that. There's simple pieces of tape there and... Oh. You did use them. You probably removed it too fast. It's fine though, just open it."

Alta feels twitchy. The longer he takes to get through to his gift, the more uncertain she feels about it. Not that anything could be changed now.

After Boro finally gets through 3 more layers of gift wrap and two layers of bubble wrap, he reaches the gift box.

"My," he laughs, "Perhaps Miss Alta has decided that anticipating the gift is the truest present of them all."

"I consulted a professional gift wrapper to do these, you know," Alta huffs. Granted, said professional is a fourteen year old who's business is going down under, but Boro really doesn't need to know that part.

"Mm, yes, it shows. These are expertly picked." Boro smiles at Alta, "It warms Boro's heart to know that you went through so many efforts to flourish my gift."

"Shut up and open the damn thing." Alta hisses out.

Boro finally does, undoing the ribbon and removing the lid. Inside is a vibrant green fabric. Boro unfolds it.

It's sleepwear. A soft, soothing jumpsuit of high class fabric. Perfect for someone who took lots of naps on the fly, and even more beneficial considering they would be sleeping on the train most nights. Without a bed, an outfit to make your body even more comfy is a bonus.

The real kicker of the outfit is that it comes with a hood. Two, big boggling eyes emerged from the top, along with a pink strip sticking out. The front also featured a lighter colored belly than the rest of the fabric.

In other words, it's designed as a frog.

Boro laughs, a nice hearty one that goes on for much longer than Alta really ever expects a person to laugh.

"What a wonderful present to receive! Thank you, Miss Alta! I think I shall be putting this to good use now." Boro gets up with a hum, to change immediately. As he does, Alta deflates. She doesn't know what about the whole thing stresses her out, just that it did. That Boro's reaction to her gift would not be earned...

Not that he wouldn't snark her about it if it was something he had no use for. But he would have been kind regardless and Alta would've hated that. It would have been a form of pity that she has no use for.

But as he comes bustling, silly frog gear in tow, she feels like she made the right choice, a good effort for a gift. She'd have to thank Sable, the kid really did know what they were on about.

"Ah, it feels like a warm hug," Boro coos, "Wherever did you find such a nice pajama?"

Alta leans forward conspiratorially, "A magician never reveals her secrets."

( Though Alta had practically asked Sable the same thing. How on earth did they know to get him something like this?

"You kept gravitating towards frog themed gifts, like flies towards poop." They frowned, "Or um, more like mosquitoes towards blood? Er- no that makes it sound like a bad thing too ... maybe like- " They broke off with a sigh , shaking their head . "Um. You just kept looking at frog themed things, and when you were ranting earlier, you said he's the kind of person to take a lot of naps. So the animal-themed clothing store sounded like a good fit."

Had she? Been gravitating towards frog items, that is. Boro did seem to have a penchant for frogs, with his frog themed watering can and his love for the frog mug, but it was never anything Alta specifically internalized.

It just seems like all the frog items got lodged up in her memory, and now she couldn't help but to associate frogs with Boro. That's all.)

Boro smiles and reaches into his pack.

"Well, either way this is a good day for gift exchanges it seems," he comments as he places a package down for Alta. The covering for it is cheesy and corny and hold on why did Boro get her a present?

"I thought this would be something nice to be giving Miss Alta, since she has joined this trip very impromptu-ly." Boro nods to himself, "Yes, a peace offering of sorts, if you will." He pushes the box closer.

Alta wants to make a fuss about how it makes no sense to get her a gift, and that if any event shouldn't be a gift exchanges, it's birthdays for crying out loud. But she is curious, maybe because of how much thought and effort went into her gift, she wonders just what Boro saw that he thought would be fitting for her.

She tears at the packaging, musing. Maybe a set of kitchen knives, or boxing gloves? Wouldn't that be something.

Or perhaps it's a book, 'Being nice for the overly Intense.' Yeah, she thinks as she lifts the lid, Probably something lame that I won't care for at all-

It's a camera. Similar to the one Boro has at his shop, photos would be shot out instantly.

"Boro remembers how much you enjoyed taking pictures at Wanderstop, Miss, so he thought that on a trip with many sights to see, this would be an equally good opportunity to be taking lots of photos." Boro blabbers on but Alta's not listening. Instead, she's thinking, This moment, now.

I want to take a photo of right now.

So she does, a quick aim of the camera at Boro mid-speech, with his silly frog suit on. It's not really a very photogenic picture. The two of them stare at it and Alta shrugs.

"Much more flattering than the photo of you mid-sneeze," she says and Boro laughs.

"Ah, how could I have forgotten my recipient? No doubt you will be using this camera to create blackmail."

Alta waves the photo threateningly, "5000 nanabucks or I send this to the Tea shop tool department."

"I believe they already have any mail from me blocked after you destroyed the third set of tools," Boro replies and Alta softens. It's a small thing, but this moment feels good. She hopes that the picture will do it justice, a raw photo without posing. Very similar to a lot of the ones she took at Wanderstop.

"Thanks, for the gift," Alta says and Boro gives her a cheery expression.

"I should be saying the same to you!"

They talk quietly, into the day and Alta really isn't sure who falls asleep first. All she knows is that when she wakes up, they are officially past the known part of their journey.

The vacation has officially begun.

Chapter Text

They don't reach the Farlands until midday. Before they do, Alta heckles Boro into making a list. The train only stops for a week so they have to plan accordingly. Alta looks the map over (She had snatched a proper one from the Conglomerate, Boro's art skills just wouldn't cut it for this scale), the thing annotated from hell and back.

"Okay, so first we head into the Luxy caves, spend a day there. Next, the Oil caves get two days. After that-"

"The next cave gets three days?" Boro says and Alta gives him a sour look.

"Of course not! Then we wouldn't have time for the other two caves. Actually, we might even have to delegate a day to traveling..." Alta trails off, rewriting the travel plan for the fifth time.

...Or so she's trying to do, when Boro places a gentle hand on the map.

"I am remembering a time when it was said there will be no planning beyond a single day. Simpler times, those were being." Alta huffs.

"This isn't planning!" she says, "It's making sure we have enough time to hit all our spots!" She tries to slide the map from under Boro's heavy hand. "If you want me to show you what planning actually looks like, I'm more than happy to oblige."

"Hmm, Boro can already imagine it. No steps off Miss Alta's course, it'll add a whole second to our plans." Boro places another hand onto the map when Alta starts to succeed in sliding it away. Annoyed, she yanks at it.

It tears.

"It will all be good and fine, Miss," Boro says, giving Alta a reassuring look that goes up against her heated one, "There is no wrong way to enjoy a vacation. If we do not get to everything, then it simply means we have spent lots of time enjoying other spots. Please, won't you at least be trying the first day unplanned?"

Alta gathers the destroyed map, looking it over. "You're asking a lot out of me, Boro. An unplanned vacation is how you spend all seven days never leaving the gift shop."

Boro brightens, "Actually, the Often Farlands does not have any gift shops-"

"Attention all passengers," The intercom goes off, the voice crackly yet clear, "We will be doing our dive into the Often Farlands in thirty seconds. Repeat, our dive into the Often Farlands in thirty."

Boro claps his hands, "This is Boro's favorite part of traveling to the Often Farlands."

Alta doesn't respond, tensing her muscles instead. She had read about the dive from the pamphlet, and prodded Boro for what information she could. There is no way this 'dive' is going to catch her off-guard.

From the windows, Alta could see the dive. One of the cool points of the tickets Sylvia bought is that it let people visit the *old-age* Often Farlands, which is much harder to visit than the new-age one. The picture of the Often Farlands her bat customer had shown her at Wanderstop so long ago, where their home was located in the mountains, is the newer part of the Often Farlands, built sometime 500 years ago. The Often Farlands, as it is originally, isn't actually all that far, distance wise, but what makes it so inaccessible is it's deep dark location underground.

2,000 miles down, to be exact.

The intercom goes off again, "We will be diving in five..."

Alta double checks that her items are secured to the belt loops on the seats.

"Four..."

Boro flips up their table. Plenty of legroom now.

"Three..."

Alta takes in a breath, closes her eyes. Sight is going to be useless for awhile, she needs her other senses to take charge.

"Two..."

She feels a hand on her knee. She can recognize it's Boro's even from touch alone. Alta takes the action as a calming gesture and she wonders if it's for her, or Boro himself.

"One!"

The train flips over the edge, plunging straight down.

And Gravity is gone.

To counterbalance the swift plunge, it was decided that making the train car lack gravity was the best way to avoid everyone smacking a thousand different ways into the walls. Of course, magical anti-gravity is different from regular anti-gravity and Alta really doesn't care all that much about the specifics, she's just trying to focus on making sure she's balanced in the air.

Boro's next to her, giggling and she feels a warm mass bump into her.

"Hey! Don't throw me off balance!" Alta hisses at him, opening her eyes to glare in the darkness. That's another thing, light is dangerous in the Often Farlands, any and every creature attracted to it, so to keep wildlife away, the dive is also done in complete darkness.

"Sorry," Boro's voice floats by her ear, "I am not being used to floating in space. It seems my limbs will be flying everywhere for the time being. " He says it in a very non-apologetic tone, which Alta chalks up to him being chipper. Of course Boro loves this sort of thing.

"You and me both," she mutters. She re-stabilizes herself, closing her eyes again. She is anchored. As long as she keeps herself stone-still, she would be fine-

"Miss Alta! Won't you be flying around the cart with me?" Boro's voice sounds from somewhere behind Alta and she tries to shake off the unease she feels with someone sneaking up towards her unguarded back.

"No Boro, I really won't," she grits out. She needs to concentrate, to keep herself anchored-

A rustle of fabric has Alta opening her eyes, despite how useless it is. She hears Boro's surprisingly soft breaths close to her face as more fabric rustles; an extended arm?

"At least a float from our seats to the end. It is fun-making, flying is," Boro speaks gently and something about it annoys Alta.

"No," she snaps. "I have to stay here."

There's silence after that, more fabric rustling as Boro lets his arm drops. He shifts around and floats over to her side.

"Does Miss Alta find this scary?" Boro asks.

"Wha- No!" Alta frowns, "I just don't want to be flailing all over the place. That's all."

She could see it now, she starts floating off and can't control herself, going this way and that, being at the whims of the universe. Being up here is nothing like solid ground. The ground is tame, Alta could stomp, trudge, hop and leap and the ground still wouldn't yield.

But here, in this ether, even a sneeze could send her careening, make it impossible for her to truly regain her steadiness.

So no, she's not scared... But she definitely doesn't like it.

"Boro thinks it would be fun to be flailing around together," Boro says, and takes off again to go soaring through the air with a heartfelt laugh. Alta considers it, letting go in this darkened state, where she couldn't see a thing and there's nothing to help her regain her footing.

Yeah, she'd pass.

Five more minutes pass, with Alta not moving a muscle. It's almost like meditating, in that sense. Stay still, keep your eyes closed, concentrate on some vague idea. She could hear Boro as he went thumping this way and that. A comical 'Oof!' as he makes unexpected contact with the wall has her snorting.

When things are like this, the dive's almost bearable. She just has to handle it for a bit longer is all.

After a while she doesn't hear anymore of Boro's air prancing.

"Did you tire yourself out already?" She teases him.

No response.

"Boro?" She opens her eyes, forgetting for a moment how fruitless that is.

She's greeted with pitch dark blackness and silence. Something about the whole scenario makes Alta's breath catch in her throat.

"Boro?" she calls out again, ignoring the wobble in her voice. Has he fainted? Sometimes things like this happened, the body is use to certain conditions and being in the air in complete darkness is *not* one of them, so it would shut down, scared of impeding danger.

Oh god, what if he had fainted? Could Alta even reach him like this? She doesn't even know where he is-

Her breathing starts quickening and she wants to tell herself to stop, to calm down, to stop being dramatic and focus on what's important right now.

But all she can think about is how helpless she is right now. How she can't be able to help Boro or even herself. She is at the whims of something she can't rebel against. People, the ground, those were things that someone could overcome with force. Sure both fought back, but they could be overpowered.

This whole anti-gravity though? There isn't anything to apply force to. And even if Alta increased her force into one devastating blow, all she could succeed in doing is sending herself off into the everlasting darkness.

She's here alone, terrified and helpless.

She hears a bump against the far wall and hope comes unfurling in her chest again.

"Boro?!" she calls out.

"Yes, Miss Alta?" His familiar voice is the reply.

Relief washes over her, so strong and distinct that it's almost repulsive. A rank odor that makes her stomach fill with bile. She tries to ignore that, focusing on her gratitude that Boro is still very much so conscious.

"Where did you go?" The question comes out weakly, like a snapped lily stem. Alta feels too drained to yell at him for leaving her alone again in so many days.

"I had been misplacing my leaps, the last one sent Boro down two carts over, and from there I got into a conversation with another passenger." Boro floats his way back over to her side.

"I am sorry if it gave you a fright, Miss. I was quite surprised myself at my newfound destination."

"I wasn't frightened," Alta clarifies. She crosses her arms, fingers tightened as she clarifies even further, "I was worried."

"Attention all passengers, we will be exiting the dive in 30 seconds! Repeat, exiting the dive in 30 seconds." The intercom goes off, interrupting their conversation. Alta takes in a steadying breath, preparing herself for landing.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Alta. Though I am not being fond of the thought of causing you distress. Next time Boro will not be leaving your side, he will be holding your hand throughout the dive!"

"Five seconds!" The announcer starts the countdown. Alta asks Boro idly, "Is that a promise?"

"Yes." An immediate response, truthful in it's earnesty.

"Four..."

Alta falters, the emotion throwing her off-guard. He's always like that, genuine to a fault.

"Three..."

Something that could be steady even in a darkened, groundless train cart.

"Two..."

"Okay," Alta agrees, and she can feel Boro's beam through the darkness. There's the sun, shining and erasing all gloom.

"One!"

All at once, lights appear again and the gravity is back. Alta sticks the landing, her tail slamming into the seat harshly, but squarely. Boro does not stick the landing at all, his body flailing back into his seat, half in and half out.

"Oh dear," he says, voice muffled by an astray pillow that has fallen on top of him. Alta watches him amusedly before taking pity and helping free him from his soft prison.

"Thank you!" he chirps and Alta waves a hand dismissively. As they sit down again, Boro flips the table back up and raps on it, getting Alta's attention.

"A promise, Miss Alta. Boro will not leave your side next time."

Alta nods, looking at his face before staring out the window again.

"I know," she says.

It's thirty more minutes of travel before the train finally settles down. This week is theirs and it's theirs to explore the Often Farlands.

The very boring Often Farlands, it sounds like, as Alta pours over some of the pamphlets that listed a fraction of rules, laws, regulations and what have you.

"What can we even do here?" Alta questions as she reads another rule saying that vacations to this place are not to be longer than a week. Well, that explains it. Though with the lack of anything interesting, Alta is starting to think a week is a punishment.

Boro scratches his chin, the eyes on his frog hoodie boggling around as he does so. While one part of Alta is warmed that he's wearing and enjoying the gift she had pained over, another part of her wants to ask him if he really wants to be wearing that around the whole time, in all their photos. It makes him look really silly. Undeniably so. But he's enjoying the gift so no way is she going to complain.

"Well the Luxy caves are right here, and they sound excellent for sight-seeing!" Boro says and Alta rolls her eyes.

"Great, more nature," she gripes, but she's mostly teasing. Boro catches on quickly, wheedling her as they start the trek towards the caves,

"But these aren't just any caves, Miss Alta, although Boro finds any cave to be of marvelous interest," he adds in the second statement quickly, winking as Alta huffs and puffs, "These ones host the Luxy crystals! A rarity only found in these caves."

"Wow, special rocks in special caves, how fun," she deadpans and Boro smiles, "Indeed!" causing her to smile right back.

"Also, you suck at winking," she adds as they stand at the entrance of the caves, waiting for the tour guides to begin the tour (another rule, no exploring without three tour guides handy). Boro blinks at her. "Ah, but I have been practicing it for so long, I had been thinking maybe I've gotten better." He throws Alta another wink, this one more painful than the first.

"No, no, it's like this," she winks, easily, maybe a little too harshly. Boro does the same. His emphasis on it is quite frightening and Alta wonders if she's really been winking like that her whole life. She can't tell if she's more upset at the idea that she has, or that no one has ever thought to tell her so.

They banter as they wait, more people gathering around for the tour in the meantime. Eventually the three tour guides arrive. One of them looks extremely nervous, she has sweat pooling on her face and palms. She keeps glancing around furtively; it makes Alta feel on edge too.

"Welcome to the Often Farlands State provided tour of the Luxy caves!" One of the tour guides, a cat, speaks and cheers go up.

"Shhh!! No cheering in groups of more than seven! It's against the rules," The other tour guide speaks, his aged voice carrying surprisingly well. The cheers pause as everyone stops to count and then die down immediately when it's realized there's sixteen people on tour.

The third tour guide speaks now, her nervous voice barely audible, "You may follow us into the caves and we'll guide you throughout this exploration."

"WHAT?" someone yells form the back, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

"YEAH ME EITHER," another person pipes in. The sweaty tour guide pales and looks ready to pass out. Her fellow feline tour guide takes the helm.

"She said follow us and quickly. No diverting from the path, no going ahead, and no unauthorized talking. There will be talking breaks in-between presentations so hold all conversations until then."

The group descends into the caves, the second tour guide providing a quick history.

"The Luxy caves were discovered early on, in the Migration era. Beforehand, the main source of crystals were from the inhabited caves..."

The tour guide goes on and on, his voice echoing more the deeper they ventured. He talks for ten minutes straight before the first talking break was available. The group is stopped by a pool, some of the golden luxy crystals above reflecting in the water. It makes for a fine sight and Alta takes a picture, reminding herself to get a photo album when she could. She places the photo in her pack as Boro chatters with her.

"Boro has only been to the Often Farlands once, no tour unfortunately that time, no."

"What for?" Alta pauses to take another picture from a different angle.

"Curiosity!" Boro smiles, then furrows his brows.

"Of course, back then, the rules were not as stringent as they are now. Yes, it was much more relaxed those days. Still, Boro himself got in trouble and was banned for a while."

Alta raises a brow, "Let me guess, for being bald."

Boro laughs, "No, not yet! It was for having tea ingredients on me. I had forgotten to empty my pockets before heading over."

Alta shakes her head, snapping one more shot of the water. "Typical," she says and they are hushed as they're herded to the next destination.

The next two stopping points aren't all that remarkably different from the first. Boro seems to be absolutely enamored though, so Alta lets him take shots of them. She would tease him on the composition but they are actual wonderful pictures, so she grudgingly lets him keep taking pictures of everything he wants, even the small little pebbles of gray boringness that he seems to find adorable for whatever reason.

The next stop is the one of interest because it actually features the Luxy crystals, an exorbitant amount that's free for the taking*

(*that amount being one and only the ones on the ground which have lost their luster)

Alta hears some people chattering in the back, faint whispers that tickle barely even her ear. She wonders if the whole group would get in trouble if they're caught talking, or just the perpetrators. The group is halted right before they head inside the cavern.

"Now remember," The third tour guide says, "Only the crystals on the ground are for the taking. Do not even think too hard about taking one from the walls, it's said to leave you with adverse effects."

"Yeah yeah," the chatter in the back continues to prickle Alta's ear, "We'll see about that. I'm grabbing myself a big one."

There's a giggle as a reply and Alta tenses. No way people are going to be stupid when this isn't even their hometown. She glances around behind her furtively but the talkers have shut their mouth for now.

Boro places a hand on her shoulder, eyebrows raised in concern. She softens a bit, shrugging him off literally and figuratively. No need for him to worry about the idiots, hopefully just a sharp word would shake them off from their dumb idea.

The group continues walking, a slow shuffle in the dimly lit caverns. A faint twinkling can be heard up ahead and something about it soothes the entire experience, makes the adventure more akin to an after school hangout at the park rather than a trek through the caves.

And she sees them. A faint soft glow from thousands of crystals of varying size hanging off the cave walls in all sorts of directions.

It's stunning, even Alta has to admit that. Boro lets out a joyous squeal as he starts to inspect the crystals with glee, each one getting it's fair share of scrutiny before he's onto the next.

Alta keeps note of his direction and heads off to a different part of the cavern, where a group of five have settled themselves. She has no idea who the perpetrators for the whole stealing shebang are, but it seems best to target those trying to not draw attention to themselves.

The group's in a darkened corner, or at least as dark as you could get in a cave filled with glowing crystals. While they aren't whispering, they are talking very quietly amongst themselves. One of them raises her head at Alta's approach.

"What brings ya to our corner of the cave," she asks casually as Alta towers over them all, arms crossed.

"Just wondering why you're all sitting here. It's a bit odd to go on a tour guide if you aren't even going to explore the place," Alta says and the girl snorts, spitting out a wad of spit.

"It's horseradish is all," The girl says, "I signed up to smash things and all I got was talking and walking." One of her group-mates nods frantically.

"That's pretty much what a guided tour is." Alta stares at them. The girl turns to someone behind her.

"Jess!" She scolds, "You told me tour guides was like demolition derby, this ain't it at all!"

Alta isn't great at reading people, but nothing about this group seems all that off. Well, not off enough to attempt robbery that is. She leaves them to their feuding as Jess tries to defend herself, claiming that it was Ethan who told her that it was like pickle-ball, which is similar to demolition derby.

She passes by a couple, the words they were saying hushed by the crystals twinkling. Alta wants to think it's just sweet nothings they're whispering to each other, but that would be a perfect front to make no one suspect you.

She edges closer, pretending that she's just so into the crystals that happen to be right next to the couple.

"...So I told Bethany that she could take her resignation letter and shove it up her nostrils!"

"Wow," his partner sighs, "You're such a baddie."

Alta can't help the snort that escapes her. The two swing their heads towards her and she coughs, stretches her arms above her head as if she's just doing a maintenance check on her body, nothing else to suspect. The two go back to their whisperings and Alta wanders back over to Boro.

Could the duo have decided that stealing from the caves is a dumb idea? Alta doubts it, but it isn't like she's currently getting anywhere. She could tell one of the tour guides, but between the girl ready to pass out, a sleepy feline and an actual fossil of a person, she really doesn't think any of them are equipped to deal with something like this.

"Miss Alta, look!" Boro excitedly shows her the fallen crystals he has found. Five in total, all with different qualities.

"Which one are you taking?" She crouches down and inspects them closer. One of them looks like a horse figurine with a broken leg. Another has a dim shade of lavender as it's glow rather than the usual golden shimmer.

"That is still being decided," Boro scratches his head thoughtfully, "Though I will admit, I am feeling quite partial to this one." He points to one that quite frankly looks like a blob.

"It is similar in shape to a calming drink leaf bush," he says pertinently. Alta stares at him.

"Do you mean a tea-" He places a finger to his lips. "Oh. Yeah, sure, calming drink leaf bush. It sure does look like one."

"I am glad you are thinking so," he smiles. "Which one has caught your attention, Miss?"

"None of them," she says flippantly and Boro gives her an imploring look.

"Then we must be finding one that interests you, yes?"

Alta smirks and gestures to the large crystals still on the wall.

"Oh I found some that interest me all right, just don't think anyone else would agree with me taking them." Boro laughs and Alta looks at the crystal wall again, ruminating.

The perpetrators said they were going for the biggest ones, right? A quick glance around the cavern makes Alta certain that their side of the wall has them. If the criminals are going to strike, it'd be here.

Boro brings various other crystals to pique Alta's interest as she keeps watch near their wall. She judges each one with a discerning eye, discrediting it for one reason or another.

"Here!" Boro brings forth yet his next find and Alta gives it a glance.

"What's this one's selling point?" She asks and Boro smiles.

"It looks like you, Miss!"

"I decline that's a boring thing to- Wait what?" Alta stops herself from her usual spiel of discontentment and scrutinizes the crystal. It's just... a rock. A fancy one, but nothing that resembles her.

"How the hell does that look like me?" She asks, scratching her head in bewilderment.

Boro chuckles, "Not too certain, but I was being sure that saying such a thing would get you to look at it more closely."

Alta scoffs and takes the crystal from him.

"Alright fine, I'll have the crystal that looks very much so like me."

"Excellent!" Boro smiles.

Alta glances around again as Boro sits next to her patiently. Her gaze falls on a trio, looking around suspiciously. Super duper close to the wall of huge crystals. She watches as two of them walk up to the tour guides, chatting amiably as the third scoots closer to the wall. It's go time.

Alta marches up to him, face fierce.

"Whatever you think it is you're going to do, stop it right now."

The guy turns to her and sneers, "What goody-two shoes? Disappointed that I beat you to the largest crystal this cave has to offer?"

"Not even close," Alta says smoothly, "I just don't want your dumb ass to get us all killed. Do you even know why they don't let us take the crystals that haven't fallen? Do you?!"

"To deter wimps like you from even attempting to get the good stuff," he snarks and Alta's nostrils flare. She wonders how bad it would look if she starts whaling on this guy.

...Not that she wants to. Nope, she isn't that person who responds to everything with violence anymore.

"You'll see how much of a wimp I am if you even reach for that crystal," Alta warns, stretching her shoulder.

The guy snicks his teeth and aims for a crack in the crystal with his knife. Alta is faster, rushing forward and disarming him. Despite his laid back attitude, the guy has more fire than she thought, as he steps down harshly on Alta's foot. She grits her teeth and shifts her body weight, throwing him over her shoulder. He lands with a loud 'thud!' getting the attention of everyone in the cavern.

"Just what is going on?" The elderly tour guide asks, as the feline one fans the nervous one, who seems to have fainted from all the excitement.

"This idiot was trying to chip one of the crystals off the wall," Alta says, "If he'd read even a single pamphlet, he'd know that the reason we don't touch the ones on the walls is because they're highly reactive. Even the slightest bit of pressure on them could blow up this whole cave."

The thug's two friends pale at Alta's words. The third tour guide blinks.

"Exactly just that! It's a good thing you were here to stop him Miss. Unfortunately, this is a situation that has to get the officials involved, so we'll have to end the tour guide here."

The group is quickly escorted to the entrance. A group of officials already stand waiting.

"How punctual!" Boro exclaims and Alta nods, confused. Have the tour guides even made their call yet?

"You!" One of the officials points to the recovering first tour guide.

"You think we wouldn't notice that you're not an official tour guide, that you could just only go with two sanctioned ones and bring along a rando for the third??" The pale girl passes out again as her coworkers try to defend themselves. Everyone on tour seems too excited to leave, only Alta and Boro stick around so that Alta can give her statement.

Alta sighs as they walk away.

"Plenty of excitement for you, Miss?" Boro asks and Alta groans.

"If that's what you want to call exciting," she says, "So much for day by day planning. I take it back, I refuse to plan a single thing anymore. We can do this trip your way, look where all my planning has gotten us so far."

"Hold on, excuse me!" A voice calls out and the pair turn around. One of the officials, a small bat-girl with large ears.

"Thank you so much for what you did. It makes me glad not all you tourist are like that, not caring for our rules." Alta waves away the compliment. Either she stopped him or they all got blown up, it really isn't that magnificent.

"Please, are you doing anything? I would love to give you two a better tour of our town!"

Alta shrugs and looks at Boro. She has already let go of her reins.

Boro nods, "We would be most extremely grateful if you do."

The official smiles, "Great!"

The official introduces herself as Constance, having worked as an official since she was old enough to work. Despite her short stature, she's much older than she seems and as such, a lot of the newer age history she's showing them, she herself has been alive to see and influence.

Right now, the trio's dining at one of the few cafes the Often Farlands has to offer.

...If you could call it a cafe. Alta thinks that the place is *really* stretching the label. It has none of the cute pastel colors associate with cafes, or the nice trims and miniature plants. Instead, everything is a dull rock gray, as if they didn't even try.

And while the place does have outdoor seating, as typical of cafes, their idea of 'cute' umbrellas are these dense heavy ones made of metal. When Boro pointed it out, Constance said it came from the fact that earthquakes, and consequently falling rocks, were not unheard of. So if any place wanted outside seating, it had to have the proper equipment.

Alta can't tell if sitting under a fortified umbrella makes her feel safer from danger or more aware of it. Probably the latter.

Definitely the latter, as pebbles plink on the umbrella. A dull thud sounds as well and Alta tries to tune into Constance's current tangent rather than thinking about how quickly she could make it to a building with a steady roof.

"...So it's wonderful really to have people—tourists no less!—who really care about understanding why we have all our rules."

Boro nods sagely, "Yes, Boro completely understands. Trying to keep people safe is being the biggest concern of the government here. It does not always be making things easy, but it is important."

"Exactly!" Constance exclaims, "I mean this place right here. It's a fine establishment, never once had problems following the regulations, but a lot of the kids who come here always come asking and complaining 'Where are all the colors?' 'Why are these ''boring'' plants the only type we get to see?'"

Constance points to the one type of plant they seem to allow down here, a shriveled fern that by any means shouldn't be called colorful, but with this place's palette of 'dull gray' and 'even duller gray', it's quite stunning.

"Which first of all," Constance resumes, "Isn't boring! It's genuinely very lovely!! More so than any ''colorful'' plant I've ever seen. And secondly, colors are how you get killed out here! If everyone is so 'eye-catching' and 'adorable' then predators would be on our trail all the time! Plus we barely have any 'dies' or what have you here. So not everything could be so colorful anyways. To get even a fraction would require the bat-power of 10,000 workers. How many would die for such a silly cause like colors?? In fact, that's probably why it's called die, how many would die before you even get one unit of it?!"

Alta exchanges a glance with Boro as Constance rants, uncertain if she should point out that it's 'dye' and not 'die'. The server saves her from having to make the choice as he comes with the drinks they had ordered before sitting down, 3 rock gray smoothies. Alta is marginally impressed, this is a slightly different shade of gray than everything else around here. This truly is the best cafe of the Often Farlands.

She takes a casual sip and immediately starts coughing.

"What the-" she hacks, pounding at her chest, "in this-" she breaks off again and keeps clearing her throat. Distantly, she recognizes Boro also clearing his throat a lot, strained smile as he sips his drink.

Constance brightens, "Oh, it's always so good to see someone new try our special cuisines. Do you like the sensation? It's ground down from our very best granulates."

Alta hopes she really isn't expecting a reply other than her coughing fit. Eventually the server comes back with water and Alta drinks it gratefully, the tang of metal in the water almost welcomed at this point.

"What the hell is in that thing?!" Alta growls, the fit making her voice even raspier. The server comes back with another serving of water and she pushes it towards Boro, who's only coughing sparingly but has his face getting redder by the minute.

"Our very best granulates," Constance repeats dreamily, "My, I wish I could try them again for the first time. No flavors, only sensations! That's not something you can say about any other places cuisine but ours."

"Yeah, for good reason," Alta mutters as Boro's face finally lightens a few shades, water cup empty. A tiny device lodged in Constance's ears starts to buzz and she frowns.

"Oh dear, another incident," she sighs. She glances at the two of them.

"I would hate to cut this short, but I really do need to check this out. But I can do this for you."

She produces two laminate passes and Alta inspects them as Constance keeps talking.

"They're for access into the government building. Only the parts open to citizens but still, it's an honor not many, even those born here, get to experience. Take this as my thanks for showing a genuine appreciation for respecting our rules."

Constance pays for all their drinks and gives them a quick wave goodbye, her tall ears still visible even among the crowd of people who walk through the streets.

Alta raises an eyebrow to Boro. "Do you actually want to check this out?"

Boro nods excitedly, "Of course!" he chirps, "We have been bestowed an honor that few have ever even gained!"

Alta puts a hand on her hip, still skeptical, "Even if that honor is choking to death on another god-awful smoothie?"

Boro laughs, "Miss Alta, while some of the experiences here have been... Harsh to say the least, it is still worth trying for the sake of adventure, no? We may be disapproving of it, or even be disliking it, but when all is said and done, at least we have partaken in it."

"And that's what vacationing is all about, huh? Doing things you hate," Alta sulks and Boro laughs once more.

"Perhaps," he says mysteriously, "Or mayhaps it is about finding the joy in the new, yes? You might even learn that something being specific to the Farlands is something you love. An experience you couldn't have anywhere else!"

Alta sighs, resigned. "Quit being so cheery, it makes it harder for me to decline."

Boro grins at her, "Mission accomplished, then."

They have to take the bus to get within reach to the government building and walk along a sanctioned path with a heavy duty umbrella for them to share. Alta opts to hold it, both because she has the strength to do so and because some part of her is unwilling to trust anyone else to keep her safe from falling rocks with only a metal umbrella to protect her. She wants to say that it's unreasonable, but with every 'thunk!' that hits the umbrella, she's even more confident in her choice.

(And confident in her lack of confidence towards others. Isn't she a model person?)

When they approach the awning, Boro waits for Alta to fold the umbrella before heading inside.

The view is boring. Spectacularly so. Alta almost hoped that since it's the government building, a place that's usually the pride and joy of any land, it would be spiffier compared to everything else she's seen. Maybe even a different shade of gray.

But no. Same old gray, same old architecture. Same boring aesthetic.

"I'm going to go mad," Alta whispers, "I feel like we've been to the same building with each 'new' place we head to."

"Now, now," Boro whispers back as they approach a secretary's desk, "If Miss Alta could survive Wanderstop, I'm certain there is nothing else that could shake her so."

"Would you really call it surviving?!" She hisses out, "I barely lasted in that place too!"

"Ah, but you lasted all the same!" Boro murmurs and whatever rebuke Alta wants to say is cut short by the secretary who greets them.

Alta produces the passes. "We got these from one of the officials, Constance. She said something about Government tours open for civilians."

"Oh!" The secretary scans them over, first with her eyes and then with a small machine. Satisfied with the results from both, she hands back the passes.

"Okay, so you can just walk on through those double doors there. There'll be a guided path for the tour, you can't miss it!"

They thank her and head on down to the doors. Perhaps the most impressive thing Alta's seen yet since they've arrived. Huge, granite doors that dwarf even Boro.

"Ready to get lost for twelve hours?" She drawls and Boro chuckles.

"Yes, that does sound like the most pleasing experience," he says as he opens the doors.

A small dotted line, traced out with chalk. The section can't be more than two feet. This is their sanctioned area. Alta stares at it before turning to Boro.

"Lemme revise; are you ready to get lost for twelve minutes?"

"Surely there is being more to this than meets the eye," Boro muses, walking on ahead. Alta follows behind, somewhat annoyed that she can't really see past him on the narrow path. But she really isn't in the mood to find out how much trouble she would get in if she's even slightly over the path if they walk side by side.

"Ah, see! There is being many paths we can choose from, Miss Alta!"

Alta nods, then realizes he can't see her.

"Go ahead and pick one, it's your trip."

Even without sight, Alta knows the sound she is hearing is Boro's clap of excitement. As she follows him on his chosen path, she glances at the ground.

Yikes. The paths aren't orderly at all but a mess of tangles, going over each other and even canceling each other out. She doesn't really know how Boro figured out how to find one single strand to follow among the others, or how he did so without even messing up and going outside of the boundaries even once, but if no officials are coming after them, then she supposes it's alright.

They're walking for only a little while before Boro makes a small sound, one of excitement and Alta tries to peer over him (a fruitless endeavor.)

"What?" she asks and Boro tries to let her squeeze past. She scoots awfully close to the line and backs off.

"Mayhaps we should backtrack so Miss Alta can take the lead, on account of how-"

"Whatever word you're going to use, don't say it," Alta threatens. Boro simply chuckles and they turn back.

...All the way to the confusing mess of paths.

"Which one did you choose?"

"Hmm..." Boro's silent for a while. An extremely long while that makes Alta doubt his recall as he picks one. They try to follow it, but it leads into a square, that leads into a circle that just takes them back to the same squiggly mess. Boro points to a different one, assuring her that this was most certainly his real choice.

It leads to a dead end.

"At least we are exploring all the options," Boro comments and Alta sighs.

"I'd rather we just go back on the path we were on. At least that way we were seeing things. I'll just be delay reacting or whatever."

When she turns around Boro is still standing there.

"Come on, let's go," she prods and that shakes him out of his stupor. He smiles at Alta.

"I am having an idea, if you would be indulging me."

Alta raises her brows but gestures for him to go ahead. He raises his arms at her imploringly. Alta waits for a beat before she realizes he wants her to copy him. She hesitantly raises hers as well. Boro swoops in, grabbing her waist and setting her on his shoulders.

"There! Now we can be seeing things at the same time."

Alta doesn't reply, too many words fighting to get out all at once.

She settles for her favorite ones.

"Boro what the hell?!" She feels her face burn hot, certain that she's blushing hard enough for it to show up even on her dark skin.

"Is it uncomfortable?" She sees Boro shift his face up a bit to make eye contact with her and she groans, shoving her face into her hands.

"It's embarrassing is what it is!" She grits out. "What do you think I am, a ten year old?? Put me down before anyone else sees!"

"There's no one here but us, Miss," Boro says. He's right, since they've started on the path they haven't seen a single soul, which makes sense if this honor really is as rare as Constance claimed.

"Well," Alta shifts forward, resting her arms on Boro's warm head, "It's embarrassing for me. How helpless do you think I am?"

Do you always have to help, to come save me? To be my savior because of how much of a mess I am? Even a tour with you has to turn into a battle to keep my pride, to stop being the helpless little princess I've been displayed as in front of you, over and over again-

"I am not thinking you are helpless at all, Miss Alta," Boro says, loosely grabbing her legs at her shifted weight, making sure she didn't pitch forward. "We all have our strength and weaknesses. Size is not being one of your strengths, so Boro lends his to you. And you are possessing a better memory than Boro, so it is being good if you could see what paths we take so we won't be getting lost again.

"It is not a bad thing, relying on each other. It can make situations that would be difficult alone much better together." He looks up at her again, his dark eyes ever so warm. If Alta's arms weren't currently supporting her pitched weight, she would use a hand to drag down her face slowly.

Damn Boro and his everlasting sweetness.

"Think of Boro more as your noble steed. Mm, yes. Good ole' noble Boro, steed to brave noble knight Alta-"

"Okay I get your point," She cuts him off, vaguely noting that they both thought of feudal dynamics. She leans back, moving her arms to hang loosely on the side of his neck.

"One slight jostle and I'm getting off immediately, sanctioned zone be damned," she warns him and feels his nod.

"Here we go!" He cheers as they rush forward, Alta pointing out which path to take.

She hates to admit it, but it's kind of fun.

(And nice, to see things from a higher angle. Maybe they should do this again sometime?--

...No. She doesn't need anyone. Not for height, not to make up any so-called weaknesses. She's fine on her own. Boro would be gone soon anyways, when the trip is over. Why should she care to rely on him more than she needs to on this trip?

God, even through the layers of clothing she could feel the warmth emanating from him—he naturally runs hot, she's noticed—and instead of the usual dread she feels when she makes prolonged contact with people outside of fighting, it's...Alright. Fine.

Alta takes this entire turmoil of thought and shoves it deep into a mental box called 'unpack later (or never!)' She really doesn't need to have an introspective breakdown right now.)

They stop at a statue, Alta staring at it idly as Boro reads the plaque. Something about the person who founded the idea of the government. It's barely chiseled, the crude stone resembling an idea of the person who founded the idea of the government at best. Alta doubts the sculptor really put that much thought into it though. From what Alta could tell, the art style is just another quirk of the stringent Often Farlands.

Past the statue lies signs and contained objects. It's Alta who gets to read it this time, the sign high above Boro's head. All it says is something about the introduction of this section, a history of very important items.

"I guess when over half the population flies, you can put signs anywhere," Alta remarks as Boro marches onward. Boro smiles and jostles Alta around lightly.

"Indeed! Even better then, to combine our heights!"

"Hey, what did I say about jostling me?!" Alta hisses out, but it lacks any fire. Boro seems to take this as an invitation to be even sillier, each step an exaggerated stomp.

"Your steed comment gets ever more truthful, my liege," Alta takes on a faux posh voice as she pretends to rein Boro in.

"An upgrade!" Boro cheers "Boro is a noble steed no longer but a noble liege now."

Alta shakes her head, "No, still a steed. Just a liege as well."

"Steed liege?"

"Steed liege."

"Noble steed liege?"

"Noble steed liege."

"Noble horse steed liege?"

"Now you're pushing it," Alta tsks, making Boro laugh. She straightens out again, something catching her eye, and she nudges Boro's attention to it.

"My!" She can practically hear the heart eyes in his tone as he rushes over to a shadowboxed teapot.

"Looks like they have a section on contraband as well," Alta says. She wonders if she could convince Boro to skip the rest and head down this path. No doubt the plaques here would have some juicy things to say.

Boro decides to make it easier for her, as he follows down the path by himself, lead by teacup after teacup.

"They are all so finely made as well! A shame they don't get to fulfill their purpose of being filled with tea." He sighs forlornly at an extravagant teacup shaped like a high heel.

"At least they don't have to ever worry about the fate of breaking. How many poor little teacups have suffered at your hand?" Alta leans over, looking into Boro's face.

He squawks, "Boro had not once been breaking a cup when you resided at Wanderstop!"

"And before that? Hm? How many, Boro? The people want to know!" She pokes at his rouge little cheeks, each prod getting a giggle out of him.

There's a little cough that sounds ahead, and Alta straightens up immediately. One of the officials looks at them curiously, making Alta all too aware of their silly situation. Her being piggybacked by Boro, who is wearing his goofy frog onesie. She makes to disembark, but maybe Boro thinks she's unsteady, for he holds her legs firmly as he greets the official.

"Uh, hello." The official blinks at them. "Just so you know, we're closing. In like ten minutes. Follow along the path to find the exit."

The official walks off like they couldn't get away from the pair of them fast enough. Alta waits a beat before she berates Boro.

"Look what you did! Your idea to see the exhibits has the whole Often Farlands government thinking we're weird!"

Boro hums as he swings around, taking them back the way they came, "Are we not?" he asks.

"I'm not," she says firmly, steering him towards the correct way when the path starts to bisect. "And even if I was, I definitely wouldn't want everyone to know it!"

She can feel Boro's laughter as it bellows, his shoulders shaking.

"Well, Boro has been weird for so long he has forgotten what it is like to be ashamed of it, if I ever was to begin with, that is."

"Good for you," Alta says sulkily. They walk for a while before Boro pipes up, "Has no one ever called you weird, Miss Alta?"

"Not to my face," she says breezily, Boro chuckling in response. Then she thinks about it, actually sits with his question.

"I knew a weird kid once," she says, nudging Boro towards the correct path again. She hears him hum his assent and assumes that means he's listening.

"I don't think he was particularly bizarre or anything. He just earned the moniker for whatever reason kids like to outcast others. I don't think he knew what the others called him, or if he did he just didn't care.

"He liked to sit by himself on the playground, and just... stare. Into space, at others, certain things, whatever. It was like his thing to do. I just assumed he did it because he was lonely. No one wanted to hang out with him, he might as well be a loser by himself, right?

"One day I got sent to timeout for throwing a kickball at a kid's face. I had sat on the side, near where the weird kid liked to hang out. I was just trying to get through it, I didn't want to say anything to him. But he just started *talking* to me." Thinking back on it now, Alta wonders if he was just trying to be friendly. It really wasn't her fault that the kickball hit the kid's face, but when she was confronted as aggressively as she was, she definitely was going to double down on the action.

It's Boro jostling her legs lightly that brings her back. She clears her throat, "I wasn't really listening, he was saying just some bull about the unfairness of it all, being the ones punished for being yourself. I was genuinely counting down the seconds in my head.

"At one point though, he turns to me and says "You'll be yourself, you'll get called weird. You act like one of them, they'll still think you're weird. So you might as well be yourself."

Alta pauses, meditative. Boro stops too. It gives Alta time to focus on the sensation of his warmth, to remember the here and now.

"I've forgotten about the whole thing, not that it was really anything world-breaking. But I guess that was the kid calling me weird. I wouldn't say he had any right though."

"So to answer your question, yes. I guess I have been called weird," Alta finally finishes, gently nudging Boro forward. Boro doesn't move forward, shifting his weight instead as he asks, "Do you think you're weird, Miss Alta?"

"No," she says decidedly. Yes, *she* answers. You are weird, and have to reel yourself in from all your bad temptations. It's fine though, that's not you. That's just all the unsavory parts of you. The unsavory parts of you that want Boro's friendship, as if you don't know what a terrible thing that would be to do to him. Stay on track, do not forget why you are strongest alone.

Suddenly, she feels sick and rests her forearms on Boro's head, head slumped down. He doesn't say anything, kindly following her silent prods as she leads them back.

Good ole' steady Boro, steed to Alta the terror-knight.

(No, the voice insists, Alta the weird.)

(Alta the helpless.)

It's been two full days since they've entered the Often Farlands. At the start of the third, Alta insists on traveling past the Luxy caves.

"Didn't Miss Alta say that she wanted to do no more plans-"

"None of your cheekiness," Alta harrumphs, "I just think if we're going to explore the Farlands, we should actually explore it instead of staying in the same Government building for a week."

"We simply had not been done with our tour from before, so we spent yesterday finishing it. I think it was being necessary," Boro says and Alta waves a hand around.

"Yeah, okay, sure, fine. We finished that, now we're going on."

"Even if Boro wants to be seeing the Luxy caves again in full?" He gives her a sorrowful look and now she knows he's just playing it up.

"We can finish the tour of the Luxy caves," she gives him a blinding smile, "After we go check out the other ones." Boro sighs, dutifully following Alta as she heads to the bus station.

"It is a terrible tease, to raise Boro's hopes like that," he says petulantly. Alta replies without missing a beat, "The only tease that's terrible is what you're doing to me."

Boro chuckles, faux melancholy gone. "Yes, I suppose so," he says humbly as they board the bus.

It's a bumpy ride, which makes sense considering the Farlands terrain. As annoying as it is, Alta is able to accept it in some sort of choppy rhythm. Boro is the one who really suffers, as each time he closes his eyes, another bump jolts them back open. Like being hooked up to a water bottle that sprays you anytime your head droops.

They exit the bus swiftly, with sore bodies. It's forgotten quickly enough with the new environment. Alta scans it.

Oil caves is an apt name, as all the rocks here are a dark sooty color, almost as if all the stone here is made of shadows instead. There's a constant odor that Alta can't place, and machinery that could be seen in the distance, nothing at all like what Alta has seen in her life.

She points the machines out to Boro and he scratches his head.

"I am not thinking I have ever seen anything like that," Boro muses, eyes fixed on the horizon. Alta shrugs, "I guess we have our first destination."

...Or first idea of a destination. The machines are in the far, far distance. Far enough that Alta agrees that they could do a pit stop to one of the smaller caves the place has to offer. This one is free for people to enter without tour guides, something that seems suspicious considering the Often Farlands. When they enter and Alta's eyes adjust to the darkness, she realizes why. There's nothing to tour or guide, it's a hot spring.

A hot spring of sorts, she amends, as she sees the liquid bubbling in a strange, iridescent color. It's piping hot and makes the cave fill with humidity. She edges as close as she can, the large, but clear, stone fence keeping anyone from falling in.

And while there isn't a tour guide, there is one of the officials who stands by the side, watching everything with a discerning eye. There we go, that's closer to the Farlands Alta knows. She can't imagine it being the Often Farlands without some sort of surveillance around.

"What's the deal with this place?" Alta asks, not taking her eyes off the pool.

She hears the kerfuffle as Boro shuffles through pile after pile of miscellaneous papers.

"Aha!" Boro finally pulls out the right one. "This place is being a magic pool."

"Okay, what's so magical about the pool?" Alta watches as another bubble pops, the sticky liquid sending sparkles everywhere.

"Hmm, I'm not too sure. It doesn't say." Alta turns to Boro, taking the pamphlet from him.

Not a thing about the pond and it's magic. Wonderful, how explanatory.

"Then we can leave whenever," Alta says, opting to take a quick photo before they set off again. Boro nods and takes his turn of staring. Alta takes a shot with him in it as well. She looks at the photo, brows furrowing. The picture came out awfully blurry, maybe from the heat of the hot springs?

Boro touches Alta's shoulder, giving her a questioning look. She shrugs and heads towards the entrance, shoving the photo in her back pocket. No doubt at least one of the others would come out decently.

"Do you think we'll make it to the machines before this day's end?" Alta asks over their lunch. She had gotten this mixture of harsh carrots and soggy moss. Something about a meal that inspired the sensation of life. It tastes really bad, but hey, at least she isn't starving.

(She wishes she let herself starve. Starving would be better to whatever dirt and rocks the Farlands paraded around as veggies she's forcing herself to 'enjoy'.)

Boro shrugs. He finishes his mouthful of dust sprouts before answering, "It does seem much further than Boro suspects. At least the oil caves do not be having much to divert our attention."

"What," Alta mocks, "Was the 5th cave of unknown bubbling liquid not interesting enough for you?"

"Oh no, I was finding it plenty interesting," Boro insists, "It is Miss Alta who I fear wouldn't hold on for much longer."

Alta frowns, "Well maybe I would like it more if anyone knew what it was. None of the officials would answer our questions, and I can't even get a clear picture of one." Alta takes out the last picture she had tried, at the third pool, before she decided it was a fruitless endeavor.

Boro holds out a hand and she passes the photo to him. He hums as he inspects it, Alta taking another god-awful bite of the carrots as she waits for him to finish.

"Well," Boro passes back to Alta. "It will be a good memory for when we have left these caves."

"Oh definitely," Alta says, "I can't wait to look through my photo album and see the absolute nothing I've taken a picture of."

Boro brightens at that, "Actually, if you are not minding Miss Alta, would you be willing to part with one of your photos?"

"You can even have this one," Alta slides the blurry photo she's holding back over to Boro. He smiles, taking the photo gratefully.

"Boro wants to be sending a postcard to Sylvia! Of course, since this place lacks gift shops and any place to be buying curios, I am having to get creative with this first one."

"You? Creative? I can't even imagine it," Alta mocks as she gets up, stretching. She swears this place is doing bad things for her joints, beyond the unfortunate fact that she's aging. Probably has something to do with being 2,000 miles below what she's used to altitude-wise, along with the damp atmosphere exclusive to the Oil caves.

But then again, being 2,000 miles down in the Luxy caves didn't seem to do a thing to her. She really is starting to favor the Luxy caves, at least she felt like she wasn't walking in a void over there.

"Ready?" She nods at his empty plate, Boro beating Alta for the clean plate award with two sad shriveled carrots still resting on hers.

Boro nods and she pays for their meals. Onward they keep on walking.

Boro is able to drag Alta into two more of the hot spring caves. One of them even boasts two in the same cave, what a delight. She really stops caring for them since the third one, but it makes Boro happy so she suffers through the extra he tags on.

Still, they reach the machines finally and Alta is glad for it. The second they're done with this, they're going to turn back. Her whole body feels like a balloon, each limb disconnected from the fact that she's moving it.

It's an odd sensation, she doesn't like it.

Boro waves to one of the workers near the machine, a young bat wearing a hardhat and hazmat colors. He sticks out ridiculously, being the only thing with color in the vicinity. Combined with the fact that the terrain here is all a pitch black, it feels like Alta's eyes are closed, with the worker an afterimage burned onto her eyelids.

The bat flutters over to the pair, one of his wings working much slower than the other.

"Uh, hello, Is there something you need?" His voice is soft but he speaks confidently. He mostly seems confused at their presence.

"We are tourists, interested in those large machines over there!" Boro points to the huge machinery and the bat looks back, as if he really needs a reminder of what large machines existed nearby.

"Oh, well there's not much to them." The bat rubs the back of his head awkwardly.

"Well, what is there to them?" Alta says when it's obvious the guy needs prompting. He shuffles awkwardly, his wings twitching.

"They're just sensors. For materials specific to our oil caves. Those machines are useless anywhere else, even other places in the Often Farlands."

"Which materials would that be?" Boro inquires and the bat shrugs.

"Just typical things."

"Oh come on, this is going to be just like all those hot springs, isn't it?!" Alta groans, "You ask someone for an explanation for why the pools are magical, or why all the photos turn out blurry and no one has anything to say."

The bat raises his head at Alta's tirade. "You took pictures of the oil caves?" he says, voice taking on a heftier tone.

Shit, is she not suppose to? It's not like she could really backtrack on what she said, so she just nods.

"Could I see?" He asks and Alta shows him the stack of unfortunate photos she has taken. The bat leans in, wings fluttering in excitement.

"Remarkable," he mumbles. He turns around and chitters out some sort of sentence to his co-workers. Immediately they stop their fussing about with the machine and gather around where Alta and the bat are looking at the photos. They all make sounds of surprise and excitement at the photos.

"Remarkable!" "Amazing!" "How remarkable!"

"What's remarkable?" Alta asks, wondering if this is one of those regional dialect things. The bats all swing their heads towards her, as if they've just remembered she's there.

"Uhh..."

The first bat moves forward and places a firm hand on her shoulder, his amber eyes staring into Alta's.

"You have to come sit with us," he says, and who's Alta to deny a request like that?

(She's the perfect person to do so, but it's not like Alta has anywhere else to be.)

They group brings Boro and Alta to their camp, a makeshift thing with crates and tents scattered about. The hazmat bat, called Pip, is kind enough to give Alta some coffee.

"It's the only place where you can drink something like this and they won't give you grief," he says in a low voice and Alta takes the drink graciously. Is it probably way too late to be drinking coffee? Yes. Does that mean she's going to stop? Nope.

Boro is already in an animated conversation with some of the other bats, so it's really just Pip and Alta as Alta explains her problem with the photos.

"The picture looks perfectly clear when I line up the lens, I can see everything. The second I snap it and look at the photo though, it's like I was shaking the camera as I took it."

Pip nods, looking thoroughly at Alta's camera, turning it this way and that.

"We never thought about using a camera, especially because it can be such hell to get these things through regulations," he says in his soft voice, before passing the camera back to Alta.

"I'm sorry no one's been answering your question," Pip says, "We don't do it to be rude, honest. It's just that we don't know much about the liquids ourselves."

Alta blinks.

"You don't?" she asks. She was certain that all the officials knew something about it, but were too stuck-up their own noses to want to tell her or Boro anything.

Pip looks embarrassed, "Well, yes. It's not often the Farlands doesn't know anything about it's own geography. It's how we structure our government. When you have knowledge of things, you can decide best how to make rules for them.

"But these things are new." Pip gestures towards the machines and the liquids they're submerged in, "Pools of magic, we know that much. But where they come from and how they act is more difficult to discern."

"See here?" Pip turns his back to Alta, and she can see his dark brown fur and wings clearly against his bright hazmat.

His smaller wing along with his larger one. It looks awkward and too small to support flight.

"What happened?" Alta assumes it must have happened recently, from the way Pip flew, it's obvious his muscles are used to flying, but this wing is nowhere near large enough to support his weight long enough that he could be comfortable with flying.

Pip turns back to Alta, "It's those there magic pools." He gives Alta a sad smile. "I don't know exactly what it is about this place, but the high humidity is from the liquid in those pools. It means that being here, you are exposed to it all the time. And for whatever reason, the magic in the ponds can affect people."

"But only certain people?" Alta guesses, none of Pip's other coworkers seem to have any drastic changes and Boro hasn't complained once since they've arrived here.

Pip nods, "Exactly. It's different for every person. One of my wings has been growing smaller since I've moved here, I had to quit my job of flier because of it." He grimaces briefly. "It was painful, having such a thing happen to me and not knowing the cause. I mean, none of the doctors knew what to make of it.

"So I started researching on my own. Excavating places and asking questions from the few others affected. Since I've started, I've only found five others affected. Isn't that crazy? There might be more who don't know it, but still."

Pip takes a swig from his own coffee cup, "No matter how small the number, it was still something concerning. I brought it up to the government and they agreed to let me do research, as long as I kept hushed about it. We can't exactly close off a whole region, so rather we've made a show of it. Huge machines and magic pools, people can come to their own conclusions rather than seeing nothing and being more suspicious." He smiles at Alta, "I'm glad you weren't fooled though, the photos were an angle I would have never thought to come upon." He drains his coffee mug as Alta ponders.

You are affected. Yes, I am. Don't tell him. Why the hell not? It's a weakness and he can use it against you, do you want to be weak again Alta-

"I think I'm one of the affected," Alta says, shoving the other part of her into a mental time-out box. Pip brightens.

"Really?" he says, voice wondrous. "What is it? I mean, how do you feel?" He asks as Alta stretches her muscles again.

"I feel like a balloon." Pip looks confused and Alta tries to explain more directly, whatever objects she chooses to compare the sensation to might not exist in the Often Farlands.

"It's like my limbs are being filled with air, or water, or something viscous and without shape. I can still move them, but I feel so disconnected from them, like half the things I'm controlling aren't even a part of my body."

"Remarkable," Pip breathes, and Alta decides to settle on the regional difference thing regarding the word 'Remarkable'.

"And it's only been happening since you've set foot on the Oil caves?" Alta nods and Pip reaches out to touch her.

She retracts, not really sure why. Pip cowers as well, looking guilty. Maybe he thinks she feels like a science experiment with him questioning her and all.

"Sorry, I'm a fighter. When people reach out for me, it's usually not for a good reason." Alta settles on a half-truth to excuse her behavior. Pip's expression clears and he clears his throat.

"Of course, my bad, I had just wanted to study your body, see if there actually was any difference in body mass or anything like that." He scratches the back of his head shyly and Alta sighs, She's going to regret this.

She scoots closer to him, "Two minutes," she says. Pip understands immediately and places his clawed hands on her arms, gently pressing into them.

It really is no different from a doctor's examination. Pip says a few "Remarkable!" and even one "Remarkable..." as he pokes and prods. He backs off after what Alta counts is two minutes and sixteen seconds, but he was polite enough so she'll overlook it.

...And his hands were soft, the paw-pads a different texture than skin, softer, fuzzier. Unlike the piggy-back rides from Boro, this was skin on skin contact. Maybe because it wasn't human skin it didn't bother her as much? Or was it the specific time limit?

Or maybe it's because you don't know him, the other part of her peeps from the time-out box. Which makes *no* sense, but since it isn't some aggressive comeback, Alta decides she could let herself out of the time-out.

"What's the diagnosis?" Alta asks lazily as Pip scoots back to a respectable distance.

"Uhhh...." He seems genuinely flustered that he has nothing to say and Alta waves the conversation off.

"I was just joking. You can't feel anything strange though, right?"

"Yeah," Pip says, relieved to be able to answer something. "It's all normal and fine, no boils or unusual coloring."

Alta guesses that he's one of the few bats who has the night-vision gene if he could see all that. Ironic really, for someone who dressed like a stop sign.

"Why the get-up?" Alta gestures to his clothes and Pip seems bashful.

"This is dangerous work, all the excavating. If something bad happens and everyone needs to fly to safety, the others have to be able to find me easily so they can help me fly. It's a distress marker, of sorts."

"Don't you hate that? Having your weakness paraded around all these people?" Alta asks, thinking only after she says it that it's probably a pretty rude question. Well, she's curious regardless.

Pip shakes his head, "Not at all! It does suck that the others would have to slow their escape to help me, but well," He scratches his cheek, embarrassed. "They believe in me, and this work. They all volunteered for this job, so they're only here because they want to be." Pip smiles, "Of course I don't always believe em, but they've told me as much when I protest otherwise over a drink or two of pellmelon beer," He adds with a laugh.

Pip softens as he speaks more, "Would think it's the pay, but we get nothing. Maybe the curiosity, but that's usually not enough to make others want to stick in a place like this. They're my friends, family even. I guess even if they ever changed their minds, I would still consider them as such." He looks at the group fondly as they all laugh at something Boro says.

"I don't mind them knowing at all, in fact I prefer it. If they didn't know, I would want to tell them even. I know they only have my back and care for my well-being, no matter the weaknesses. And it goes both ways! If anything ever happened to them at this job, I wouldn't hesitate a second to help them. Might give them hell, but it'll all be in good fun, they would know I don't really mind."

Alta nods, her gaze lingering on Boro as Pip talks. Lucky Pip, it's easy for him to say he doesn't mind because he has a choice. Her though? He was the only help around in that forest for miles. Whether she liked it or not, she had to accept, much like how Boro had to offer.

She wouldn't have chosen to have passed out in front of Boro like that no matter what it meant for their relationship, or lack thereof if they never met. It did her some good yeah, but what about poor Boro? Having to help the world's stubbornest girl for no reason other than his kindness.

Friendship, a part of her whispers, because he cares.

Yeah, if she had the choice, she wouldn't have passed out in front of him like that. She thinks.

...She hopes.

The group lets Alta and Boro stay for the night, the trek back down to the bus station a long one to be making. Alta briefly wonders if staying the night would do anything permanent to her body, but Pip assures her otherwise. As they all settle down and chat during breakfast (Thank god, something with flavor), Pip has the idea of them all taking a photo together.

"Since you've given me all of these for research, well I can't let you leave empty-handed!" Pip chirps as he waves the stack of blurry photos Alta had decided to let him keep. Pip's co-workers cheer at the idea and Boro seems excited as well. Group photo it is.

It's an awkward mess, everyone trying to fit in and be seen. The camera doesn't really work well for selfies either, but one of the volunteers has a dipping bird in her tent, so they tie a rope to it, letting go once everyone's in position.

Alta takes the photo and looks at it.

"Huh," she says, "How remarkable."

For once, the photo subject is clear. Alta and Pip, both being shorter, are near the front. There's a strange swirly aura near them, reminding Alta of the way the bubbles from the pools look. Everyone else is blurred though, but because of that same swirly pattern now covering all of their faces.

The group crowds around Alta as she shows them, echoing her remark of "Remarkable!" Alta tries to give it to Pip but he declines.

"Your first clear photo here, you have to take it! You can even remember us all by it." Then he scratches the back of his head, considering, "Well, at least me."

"But your research-" Alta protests and he shakes his head, "I can just write this down, I have all the other photos as proof. Just put it in a nice front. That's what you all do outside the Farlands, right? You put photos in fronts?"

Alta tries to convince him to take another one, though she knows its a moot point. The first one took way more time to set up then they thought it would (thirty minutes) and Boro and Alta have to make it back down to the bus station in time if they actually want to have a place to rest tonight. Still, she tries and when Pip declines again, she gives him a firm handshake, promising to come back some other time.

"Maybe it'll be best you stay away, don't need your limbs 'ballooning' up in front of me," Pip says, but he looks delighted at the prospect that Alta would be visiting again, probably because he couldn't wait for a chance to get a bunch of more pictures.

They are led down the mountain with a chorus of "Goodbyes" and "Have a remarkable journey!" As they walk down, Alta turns to Boro.

"Well what do you think, Luxy caves or Oil caves?" Boro laughs but doesn't do his usual sidestepping of choosing, instead stroking his chin in thought.

"Perhaps the Luxy caves for me," he says, "I was very much liking the crystals and their allure."

Alta laughs, "And the teacup contraband."

"And the teacup contraband," he agrees. "How about you, Miss Alta, do you have a favorite to be choosing as well?"

"The oil caves, no question," she says flippantly. Boro claps cheerfully.

"My!" he exclaims, "And what has made them such a glowing moment in your mind?"

Alta doesn't even have to think about the answer, it just flows out, "It taught me some things about myself."

"Oh?" Boro peers at her curiously. Alta nods, mainly to herself as she says,

"Makes me realize how much I like people." Such a tiny thing for her to say, and silly if she thinks about it too hard, but a truth all the same. Boro hums, clasping his arms and telling Alta that that is a wonderful reason to be choosing the Oil caves. As they walk side by side, Alta thinks about how it isn't the truth.

She likes people enough, when they aren't annoying, she knows that. But it was the Luxy caves that made her realize how much she liked spending time with one specific person, as they spent time racing through exhibits. What the Oil caves did for her was make her realize why she disliked liking this person.

Because it's uneven.

Because if things were fairer, if they had met each other at a bookstore or some stupid place where Alta was well, neither of them would have even blipped on the other's radar.

And knowing that soothes her, because when she jerks away from him, puts up that fence, it's only right. Not just right, but it makes sense. They shouldn't even be on this adventure together anyways, why put roots in if she's just to get uprooted?

Why support a friendship that isn't bound to last?

Chapter Text

Overall, their time in the Often Farlands was a strange and unique experience. At least, that's how Alta would describe it. Boro would tack on that it was 'fun!' and 'truly magnificent!'. Alta would tell him to throw a 'remarkable' in there as well while he was at it.

"But truly, I am glad to have experienced the Often Farlands in more thorough manner than the first time," Boro chuckles, getting out the photo Alta had given him to start writing a postcard to Sylvia. "Thank you again for joining me on this journey, Miss Alta. It has been delightful so far to be having your company."

Alta scratches the back of her head. "Uh, well. Yeah," she says elegantly. She tries not to focus on the bitterness that tells her that at the next station, she should end this trip and return home. Hasn't she just realized that there isn't much point in being here? In fostering a relationship that's bound to shrivel?

Right, she should just tell Boro. He himself had said she could leave at anytime, right? Even if it is sudden, this is her kind of thing, saying things forthright, apropos nothing. Just let the words out.

She focuses on Boro, who has started writing his letter. She opens her mouth.

"What the hell is that?!"

Those aren't the words she wants to say. But it feels pretty opportune, considering the messy scrawl of ancient runes Boro is scribbling on the back of the photo.

"My letter to Sylvia!" he says cheerfully, as if anything on that paper could be considered legible enough to be a letter.

"Boro, I can't read that," Alta says frankly, staring at the photo in dismay. She should have given this one to Pip too, she could have saved it from it's fate of whatever art project Boro has taken to inscribing on it.

"Here," Boro rotates the paper so that it faces Alta, as if upside down letters were what's currently wrong with it's legibility.

...It actually does help. Marginally. She could make out the letters enough to understand what's being spelled. It still looks horrendous though.

"Have you ever written anything in your life?" She slides the postcard-photo back to Boro. Boro does his carefree shrug.

"It has been a while since Boro has written anything down, yes. I am thinking to give it a frilly and salacious energy, so the letters are to be emulating that."

Is that what the extra curly nonsense around the words are then? Alta digs out a scrap piece of paper from her pockets—a receipt from one of the Often Farlands restaurants—and holds out a hand for Boro to give her the pen.

She writes the first sentence quickly, severely. With a laser edge focus of concentrating on the next word and it's placement before she even finishes writing her current one. The result is her usual scrawl, ink looping in and out of thickness as she changes the pen's position based on the next letter's need. It's impressive, so she's been told. Alta doesn't really care for calligraphy, so most of the time her scrawls were short form and to the point. Still, it's something she has a talent in, probably because of all her handiwork with swords giving her a dexterity most lacked.

"Wow!" Boro claps as Alta finishes her last word with a flourish. "Impressive indeed, Miss Alta! Perhaps you should also be sending a postcard to Miss Sylvia."

Alta frowns, "She's already getting one from you. I couldn't say anything different from what you will since we're on the *exact* same trip."

Boro smiles, "Ah, but will we be experiencing it the *exact* same way?"

Before Alta can reply, the train shutters to a stop. Boro and Alta exchange a glance, they aren't anywhere near their next scheduled stop.

The intercom goes off, informing them that there is some debris on the track, but in 15 minutes it would be cleared and the journey could continue.

...That was 30 minutes ago. Alta sighs, resting her head against the window, drumming her fingers on the table. Technically it isn't like there isn't anything she can do with the train moving that she also can't do now, but without the motion of the train, the consistent insistence that she's approaching somewhere with all her time on here, she feels restless. Should she get up and move about? Is that being too impatient?

She finally decides that her patience was exhausted when the staffing went fifteen minutes over their allotted time. She gets up, with a quick word to Boro that she's going to check out the situation.

She hops off the train, immediately bringing a hand to shield her vision from the sun. They've stopped in a sandy place, the bright clear sky only speckled with a fluffy cloud or two, making everything a painful shade of brilliant.

She hears waves lapping against the shore from the other side of the train. They haven't just stopped at a sandy place, but the beach. A pretty decent one, all things considered.

But she isn't here to sight-gaze. She marches on over to the construction crew currently trying to disentangle an absolute giant of a tree trunk from the train tracks and wheels.

Alta crosses her arms, "How's the fifteen minute countdown going?" she calls, "Last I checked, we were approaching forty."

The train crew looks about nervously, each whispering to each other and nudging another forward. Finally, they send in one of their members to converse with Alta. She raises her eyebrows as they just stare at her.

"Um," they finally break, looking at the ground as they mumble, "We don't know how long it's going to be to fix this problem. It's a lot worse than we thought."

Alta stares at them in dismay. Stuck here, on this godforsaken beach for who even knows how long?

The person seems to take Alta's silence as fury, as they quickly scrabble to soothe her, "It's okay though! We will be providing hotel rooms for everyone, and there'll be updates everyday and there's no extra cost on your part at all!..."

Alta waves the person off, telling them it's fine (It is not) and goes to tell Boro.

"An impromptu vacation within an impromptu vacation! Truly, we are in the midst of maximizing vacation time, don't you think, Miss Alta?" He laughs as they haul their packs off the train and check into the hotel, that's an hour walk from the train station.

It gives Alta time to think, and she decides against telling Boro that she's leaving. Not yet at least, anyways. They're stuck for the time being, so it isn't like she could just take off now.

When they finally get checked in and have their rooms, Alta collapses on the bed closest to the door, groaning. Why did things always have to go wayside just when she's finally getting a good grasp on everything? She had a good grasp on her life then fighting had to stop working out for her, she had a good grasp on her current life and then Boro had to show up again, she had a good grasp on why she should leave this journey and now she's stuck here!

Annoying. The world is practically conspiring against her. Or maybe it's collaborating with Boro, it's hard to say. She shifts her face away from the pillow she's screaming into, watching as Boro dutifully places his pack down and claims the other bed. He catches her bleary eyes and smiles softly.

"Perhaps Miss Alta would like to be seeing what snacks this place has to offer? Boro is in the mood for a treat," he says. Alta nods, getting up. She knows a task when she hears one and she's taking it gratefully. She needs something, anything, to distract her from her stupid self-imposed misery.

She leaves the room and the hotel altogether. Would snacks in the hotel probably serve the purpose? Yeah, but she thinks fresh air outside and away from Boro would clear her head more. She glances out at the ocean. The sun had set swiftly, leaving the moon's glow to illuminate the waves.

A beach day. Alta's never really experienced those, going to the beach just for the simple sake of enjoying it. She idly walks up to the shore, dipping a toe in.

Cold. Brisk, the kind of thing she would like. It isn't really any different from regular water though, and she wonders why people toted the ocean as the best place for swimming. Is it the endless boundaries? Isn't that kind of worrisome though? If you aren't a strong enough swimmer, or an accidental tangling of seaweed grabs you, it would be over in an instant. The ocean has no mercy for anyone.

Not that Alta's worried. She's a strong swimmer, the ocean can never bring her down. Still, she keeps her eyes on the glittering waves even as she walks away. The waves, ever so alluring and all the more dangerous.

It's not far from the hotel she sees a stall. Selling ice cream. On the beach. At night. In the middle of summer.

Surprises truly never ceased.

She goes up to the stall, the owner fanning himself from the heat. She loathes to think about how the ice cream is faring if the owner is sweating so rapidly in the stall.

"Are you selling ice cream in a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer?" Alta asks. Don't get her wrong, if it walks and talks like a duck... But something about this just feels too preposterous to not inquire about.

The owner, a well put together man in a pinstripe suit, raises a perfectly plucked brow.

"And what's it to you if I'm selling ice cream in a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer?" he replies back, fanning getting more frequent as he tries to beat the heat.

Alta puts her hands on her hips, "Well, maybe I want to buy ice cream from a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer."

The business owner leans closer, "Well, do you have money to buy ice cream from a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer?"

Alta pulls out some cash. The owner accepts it graciously. Alta inspects the unlabeled cartons, noticing no difference between any of them.

"How many flavors do you sell at this ice cream stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer?" She asks. The owner shrugs, "We only have the one flavor that we sell at this ice cream stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer."

She takes one, a hefty carton bursting at the seams, thankfully not all too melted.

"Enjoy your ice cream from a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer," The owner says to Alta's retreating back. She turns, calling out, "I'll be enjoying my ice cream from a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer at a hotel on the beach at night in the middle of summer."

The owner raises his brows, raising his hand and holding it against his head in a salute, "Well then, enjoy your ice cream from a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer at the hotel on the beach at night in the middle of summer."

Alta raises her hand in farewell, enjoying that conversation more than she should.

Time to see if Boro likes ice cream from a stall on the beach in the middle of summer.

She unlocks the room door to a welcome surprise. Boro had laid out all their stuff, making it looked as though they've been settled in for a week and not just a few hours. Alta's eyes crinkle at the sight of how Boro had laid out her water bottle far from her bed, something that she likes to do to keep herself active, whereas his mug was right next to his bed. He even took the time to consider their little differences. How adorable.

How thoughtful.

(How nice, to be loved from a distance that things you don't verbalize are readily seen from others-)

"I got ice cream!" she hollers, as she hears the shower running. Boro lets out a muffled sound and Alta wonders if he actually heard what she said, or if he's just replying for the sake of replying.

She grabs two spoons and settled down on the couch, wishing there was another shower. She's also sick of the train grime that's been accumulating on her, even with the train's fancy e-z clean system (e-z standing for Excellent Zest, a weird quick hop-in chute that left you smelling lemony fresh.) She grabs the tv remote and flips through the channels, remembering at one point that people in one of her classes from years back used to squeal at how hotel tv was simply the best.

She doesn't get the appeal. Nothing here is interesting, nor particularly better than regular tv. She finally settles on some old-timey melodramatic channel, thinking that at least Boro would find it interesting.

She hears the shower door open and turns to sees Boro wearing a set of short-sleeved white pajamas embroidered with silver clouds. He's patting his bald head dry, brown eyes inspecting Alta curiously.

"My, is that What a Way to Go? It has been a while since Boro has seen it!" Alta turns back to the tv. Is that what it is? She has no idea, she's barely paying attention.

"Uh, yeah. I got ice cream, from a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer." She gestures to the carton and passes a spoon to Boro. He accepts it easily and Alta rips off the cover.

"Was the fact that it was from a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer a selling point for you?" he asks as they both scrape a healthy spoonful. Alta thinks about it.

"Honestly, yeah." She sets the spoon in her mouth, the ice cream melting immediately. The texture reminds her of the way chocolate melted on your tongue when you left it to simply dissolve itself in your mouth. It's nice.

The taste, however, did not remind her of chocolate. In fact, it reminds her of nothing at all.

"What the hell? It's tasteless ice cream!" Alta looks at the labeling all around. No wonder the carton is so non-descriptive, there's nothing to describe!

"Well, it might very well be biteberry flavored-" Boro tries to says.

"Biteberry nothing!" Alta growls, "It doesn't change the fact that there's not even a hint of vanilla! What's the point of this ice cream then?!" She furiously digs into the carton and shovels another spoonful in her mouth, as if the second time would truly awaken the flavors in her mouth.

Boro opens his mouth and she adds, "If you're going to say to cool down, I will *riot*."

Boro wisely shuts his mouth. Alta sighs, taking another spoonful. Despite the lack of flavor, it really does have a fine texture, luxurious even. It's compelling enough to make her keep scooping it even after Boro sets down his spoon. Maybe that's why there's no flavor, so that she can enjoy the sensation of ice cream melting down in her mouth and feel herself genuinely getting cooler.

...Or she has just been in the Often Farlands for too long and now can't stop focusing on meals and their *sensations*.

She finally takes one last scoop and puts the rest of the ice cream in the freezer. She bought it, so she might as well finish it, flavorless or not. But there's only so much ice cream she'd allow herself to eat in a sitting.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she tells Boro, who's attention is fixed on the movie playing on the tv.

"Have fun!" he says and she enters in the bathroom, bemused at his choice of words. But that's just Boro, isn't it? Saying his silly things in utmost confidence.

Boro lets out a contented hum at the tea that touches his tongue. It is Legamia flavored, one special fruit specific to the tropics regions and has the wonderful affect of making someone ever more grateful for their current things in life.

And Boro is already very grateful! The fact that he's sipping this tea right now has already made him full of gratitude before it has even touched his lips! It is a curious thing, drinking tea made by other people. No one person has the same touch. He knew a girl once who loved to put a hint of vanilla in every serving she made, whether it made sense or not! Unfortunately, lots of people would get vanilla poisoning when the tea itself already contained vanilla, but it was still a tasty treat and unique experience.

The tea is made by the hotel staff, someone who isn't really adept at making tea. The flavor had the aftertaste of a tea bag steeped for too long and makes Boro all the more excited at this cup. Someone who tried their best to make a heartwarming tea, who's only folly was that they overshot for flavor. A cup of tea he would never get from 'experienced' tea makers and that just makes this all the better.

But what is really springing to mind, his current gratitude, exists in the form of Boro's friend, Alta. She was surprised Boro was still awake when she came out of the bathroom. When she inquired him about this, Boro had shrugged, simply saying exhaustion had not taken it's hold on him yet. He was not the type to force himself to sleep if it had not come yet, he would simply wait until his body was content enough to rest. Alta warned him that he was going to ruin his sleep schedule that way and he had replied that that sounded like the perfect way to enjoy a vacation.

She's sleeping now, her face open and soft. Earlier, she had been almost scowling, a comical thing to see on a sleeping person's face. It seems that even in her dreams she's fighting to be in control and on top. She has relaxed now, a welcome sight, and what's even more adorable is the soft sounds of sleep emitting from her.

They aren't proper snores and Boro thinks that's hilarious. Alta is the kind of person who commanded attention, to be taken seriously at every turn and always reckoned as a force to be messed with. With an attitude like that when she's awake, she seems like the kind of person who would have snores to bring down a house asleep.

But no, she has miniature snores, soft breathes that could only be heard clearly in the silence of the room. It is a new contrast that Boro has learned about her and consequently enjoys. The trip is giving him a lot of information about Alta, each piece coveted as the treasure it is.

He would not trade their time at Wanderstop for anything, it had been a lovely time that Boro thought back on fondly, but this trip is special in it's own right. Alta had been struggling so badly back then that while enjoyable moments were enjoyable all the same at that time, he knew that sometimes she was too caught up in the darkness in her head to truly be enjoying the experience.

This time though! Years and years after she had resided at Wanderstop and Alta has changed so much! She seems to have a better grasp on herself than ever and it makes Boro so, so proud of her.

Has he told her that yet? How proud he is of her? He should say it again, even if he has. It doesn't get any less true. She's learned how to take things in stride, no matter how wayside they are from her original plans. He knows it's still in some ways antithesis to who she is, but that makes it all the more impressive! Even on this beach trip now, she had been annoyed in the classic sense of someone's plans being halted in a way completely unexpected, but already she was settling in, watching tv and eating ice cream she found at a stall on the beach at night in the middle of summer.

(Boro wonders what it is about that ice cream location and business hours that appealed to her so. Yet another fascinating fact about her that he has gotten to learn from this wonderful trip.)

Between all this though, there is a small part of Boro that mourns this trip. Alta is free to leave whenever she wants, which Boro likes! He doesn't want her to keep on journeying with him if she no longer feels in the mood.

But he also wonders how much of her is simply amusing him. She's kind, warm, like that. Always rising up to Boro's bait and verbally thrashing him just as much in return. She's intense and firm in her convictions, and has a steel trap gaze that once she sets her eyes upon a goal, she is never letting go. All very admirable things and so vastly different from Boro himself. He doesn't think she detests him, perhaps after all they've been through she even holds a type of respect for him, but he knows she enjoys the times she spends with him, rather than Boro himself.

He understands. In her eyes, he's too soft, perhaps even too weak. Whereas it's his general gentle disposition that draws him to her more intense one, for her it's what repulses her. It doesn't bother Boro so much, perhaps once upon a time it might have, but not now. Instead, he's grateful that even with the odds stacked against him, Alta still finds a way to spend time with him. But already he can sense a hesitancy within her. Something about her that refuses to yield completely to the enjoyment on this trip. It's strange, to say the least. At first it was as if that feeling didn't exist at all, apart from the few snarky comments she would let loose.

Now though? Now it's like she can't wait to be done with this trip, to wipe her hands clean. He is certain Alta is tiring of this vacation, that their departure time is coming soon. And because of that, some small part of Boro can't help but to mourn the end.

But that's borrowing grief from the future. An uncertain future, that hasn't even come to pass yet. So Boro would focus more on the certain and the now. Such as his gratefulness that Alta had come on the trip in the first place when he knows how last minute the offer was for anyone, not just self-proclaimed control freaks. The legamia tea really helped with that, reminding Boro how freeing it is to be happy about the now rather than sad about the future.

And is there even reason to be sad about the future? Even if Alta did leave, Boro is so, so glad that she came in the first place, when they very much so could have even missed each other completely at her hometown!

Yes, gratefulness and mindfulness, that is what Boro is focusing on now.

And his ever increasing sleepiness.

As he yawns and makes his way to bed, Boro's last train of thought is his gratefulness to Alta as a friend. A one-sided friendship perhaps, but one that he would treasure forever.

That, he is certain of.

Alta awakes to early dawn and it's gray, overcast skies. It's eight, meaning she's slept in for far longer than she likes or usually would allow herself, but seeing as that she's currently on a side-vacation from her actual vacation which means she has *no* plans whatsoever, she'd let herself off easy this time.

A quick glance at Boro's bed confirms that he's still sleeping, though his loud snores already confirmed that fact from the second she woke up.

She'd let him sleep, it isn't like there's any reason to wake him up anyways.

Maybe it's the whole frivolousness of the scenario, the very fact that it isn't really possible to plan out a trip in an unknown place, but Alta feels some part of her going dormant, relaxing. That ever stringent and vigilant part of her almost subdued from the lack of activity. Enough that she can let loose, so that the first thing she's eating in the morning is a tub of flavorless ice cream as she goes channel surfing.

Or was going to go channel surfing. But while she's wrestling off the frozen over cap on the ice cream tub, she hears what the silly melodramatic channel is going to play next.

It seems that there is a good reason to wake Boro up then.

She goes to him, sitting on the bed and shaking him with what she thinks is gentle enough energy. "Hey. Boro, wake up." His snores stop but he does not move an inch. Unnaturally still. And pretending that he hasn't been roused.

Okay then, he's lost his nice Alta privileges. She shakes him more vigorously, but he seems intent on not stirring.

"Boro, come on, I know you're awake." No reply. "Boro." Not a single muscle twitches. "Boro." His breaths quiet and peaceful. Completely unlike him.

She crawls over him and hovers over his face.

"This is what you get for not sleeping in on time," she whispers. His eyelashes flutter, but otherwise remain firmly closed. Not even the bait of an argument is enough to tempt him, huh? She sits back on her heels, thinking. She supposes she would have to use her ace.

"Come on, they're showing that show you like so much." Silence. "Why am I having so many thoughts about eggs or whatever-"

"How Many Eggs Am I Thinking Of?!" In one swift motion, Boro sits up, plucks Alta and heaves them both onto the couch. It's all so rapid that Alta would honestly swear they teleported there. She blinks, glancing at Boro as he excitedly takes the remote and checks the guide, surprisingly animated for someone who has 'just' woken up.

"What a wondrous day! They are having a marathon, from the very first episode!" He cheers as he settles in more, passing Alta her tub of ice cream."Please, won't you be joining me in watching it?" he asks Alta and she rolls her eyes.

"Why else do you think I went through all the effort of waking you?" Still, Alta copies him, settling in and shoving a spoonful of flavorless ice cream into her mouth. Seems like she would be here for a while.

She doesn't think much of the show. At least, not in terms of something she would watch because she thinks it's a good show.

No, the interest that comes from watching, besides appeasing Boro, is the absolute unhinged manner in which so many people would go crazy.

Over eggs.

"That's a heavy-ass sword to use just to threaten to chop off a finger. You could use a simple dagger or katana if you really wanted to. Especially with his weight class, there's no way he could wield it well enough to even get that precise," Alta comments at the current scene taking place, two opposing contestants threatening each other for information their team might have on the true number of eggs being thought.

"Oh?" Boro inquires, taking his eyes off the screen to gaze at Alta curiously.

"Yeah," she nods, "I mean, katanas particularly have a reputation for being sharp, and they're meant for speed. It'd be a much better weapon to threaten someone with because it's more likely he actually *could* chop off a finger."

"How fascinating!" Boro claps, seeming rather excited at the idea of more streamlined carnage. (Not that Alta's judging, she's the exact same.)

They watch as the scene reaches it's crescendo, the perpetrator lifting his sword and swinging. It's so slow, Alta really refuses to believe that no one could dodge a weapon moving at that speed, but the victim simply raises his hands and screams as if that would protect him from the oncoming blow.

It doesn't. The victim simply lays in a pool of blood, the perpetrator overshooting his aim and chopping his body in half from his shoulder down diagonally.

A simple mistake to make, really.

"Is his group going to get banned from guessing?" Alta asks as the perp panics, trying to shove the shoulder back onto the prone body.

"You're watching like I am watching, Miss Alta!" Boro says cheerfully and Alta sighs.

"You've already seen it, we are *not* watching this the same way," Alta grumbles. Still, she acquiesces, guessing that spoilers, no matter how slight, really would spoil the experience for her, since her current interest rouse from the fact that she's genuinely just surprised how most of these people acted out.

Sometimes it's a good surprise. They're on episode five, each episode an hour long, but so far episode three is her favorite. Two of the contestants from opposing teams were fighters, one a master boxer and the other a street fighter who took to fencing. There had been a whole fifteen minute segment dedicated just to their fight, and Alta tracked it all intently, not even taking the time to make a single remark. Afterwards, she had explained it all in detail to Boro. The goods, the bads, the poses and the techniques. She had been speaking so animatedly that over half of episode four was finished by the time she had reeled herself in. Sheepishly, she had apologized but Boro cut her off immediately.

"This is an experience Boro would not get anywhere else!" He had laughed, "I can see episode four many times and it will never change, but to hear Miss Alta's first time impressions on episode three is a special treat."

It made her feel less silly, so she comments on anything and everything. Some thoughts aren't even fully formed, just spoken for the sake of being said.

But Boro listens to each one intently, joy lighting up his face every time.

It's nice.

Eventually though, Alta wants to get some fresh air. Five episodes seemed like enough time to finally take a break.

"Oh of course, if you are wanting to be taking a break..." Boro trails off, looking sorrowful.

"I promise we can go back to watching after we walk around." Alta gets up and stretches her arms. Ouch, half her bones were creaking. Truly it's the symphony of middle-agedness.

"Yes, I know. It is just that Boro has a particular fondness for episode six, it being one of his favorites..." he looks forlornly at the tv but gets up as well. Alta looks at him and then the tv. She sighs.

"Last one. Then we are going outside," she warns. Boro nods, sitting back down immediately.

"Truly Miss Alta, you will not be disappointed for a second with this one!" he crows as she settles back into the couch as well.

"I'll keep you to that," she says.

Alta wonders if it's cruel that her stance has changed. Her enjoyment for this episode is less so stemming from the fact that she's enjoying episode six *or* because of the insane manner people acted over eggs.

No, her enjoyment is from ribbing Boro.

He has a look of utter shock on Boro's face. It's uncontainable, so comical that Alta half-thinks he's exaggerating it.

"Yeah, I think Shehany and Elizanne are the more interesting pairing. Just look at them," She gestures to the characters on screen who were currently engaging in the very nudity that had gotten the show canceled (Their nudity a way for them to get more in touch with divine spirits who could read the intentions of the host and thus figure out the ballpark of the number of eggs). Boro gasps again, for the fifth time in the row since Alta has first stated this. Or maybe it should just be counted as one continuous gasp, seeing as his mouth really hasn't closed since the first one.

"Miss, are you toying with me?" Boro finally squeaks out a sentence. Alta pops in one of the hotel's complementary mints into her mouth.

"Nope," she says easily. Boro slumps against the couch.

"It is hopeless," he cries, "To have such terrible taste in ships! Miss Alta, can you not see the way love has bloomed so sincerely between Elizanne and Glolivia??"

Alta shrugs, "Yeah but Elizanne and Shehany went into this show together. Obviously they should leave it together as well."

"Noooooo," Boro moans, "Oh Miss Alta, you are a true non-believer." He sighs, "Oh dear, Boro will simply have to educate you in all the ways Elizanne should choose Glolivia."

He pulls out his chalkboard and Alta cannot contain the smirk on her face. When Boro looks up at her after finishing his doodle, she tries to assume a neutral expression again.

"What's point number one?" Alta asks, biting the inside of her cheek as her voice wavers with contained laughter.

"Point number one is that because of Elizanne and Glolivia's compatible nature, they were able to guess the true number of eggs being thought! That is not a feat many couples on this show can claim."

Alta can't hold it in any longer, she bursts out laughing.

"Boro!" she gasps in between heaves, "We haven't even got to that part yet!"

Boro turns back to the screen, seeing that Shehany and Elizanne are still working diligently together to divine the true number of eggs being thought.

"Oh," Boro says, "Oh dear."

Something about his crestfallen reaction makes Alta double over in laughter again.

"So much for 'you're watching like I'm watching', huh?" Alta wipes away tears that form in the corner of her eye, holding her aching stomach. She doesn't think she's laughed this hard in a while. Perhaps it's a mean thing to think, but it's good, novel even, to see Boro so worked up. Especially over something Alta can't care less about.

Alta takes a stabilizing breath and refocuses her attention on the show. She's swirling the last of the mint around her tongue when she asks, "So, do you think you'd be one of the people who could guess the number correctly?"

"Absolutely," Boro says easily. Alta raises a brow at his confidence.

"By yourself?" She implores and Boro laughs.

"Miss, if I did have anyone on my team, it would be for their benefit, not mine."

"Bold words," Alta remarks, tossing another mint into her mouth.

"How about you, Miss Alta? Do you think you could guess it?"

"Yeah sure," Alta waves a hand dismissively. "How hard could it be?"

Boro laughs again, "Miss, I refuse to be believing you have watched six episodes of this show and think that guessing the correct number of eggs is an easy affair."

"Maybe I'd just piggyback off of you then, since you're so certain you can guess it correctly," Alta says. Boro raises a hand to his chin. "Piggyback literally or figuratively?" he inquires, chuckling when Alta gives him a flat look.

They watch the show in silence for a little bit before Boro turns to Alta.

"If the show did ever come back, would you want to compete with each other, Miss Alta? As a team?"

Alta thinks on it. A 'yes' would be easy enough. She couldn't ever see herself going on the show for any other purpose than to have fun and she thinks it would be funnest with Boro by her side.

But...

Something about the answer feels too reliant, too foreign to everything she knows. Winning is a goal of hers too, and she's someone who could always win by herself, if she puts her mind to it.

...No wait, she knows that isn't always true. It sucks, but some things are outside of Alta's reach. She had learn that, in all these long hard years after Wanderstop. In fact, she'd be more likely to win with someone by her side

So why doesn't she just say the truth?

(Because that would be supporting this dead relationship)

"I'd want to compete by myself," she says. The mint feels colder on her tongue and she crunches down on it, the sharp shards being swallowed immediately.

"Oh? Do you have a winning strategy of your own, Miss Alta?" She smirks and turns to Boro, "Of course I do," she says simply, "One that I would loathe to share with my competition."

Boro laughs, "Touche!" he says and settles back towards the show easily. Alta does the same.

...Or tries to. Somehow, she swears she feels the shards of the mint poking at her stomach. She doesn't need anybody in order to win or have fun, that much is true.

(But you want, that other part of her insists.)

She's focusing intently on the scene already foretold by Boro. Elizanne and Glolivia and their shining smiles, as they present, for the first time since six episodes, the correct number of eggs being thought.

(You want someone else by your side.)

Maybe because they'd been cooped up in a hotel room for six plus hours it's influencing Alta's opinion, but she swears the sun just feels so good right now.

As they got further in the day, the gray skies from earlier had disappeared, making way for something nicer. The beach is still boasting amazing weather, blue clear skies with the occasional fluffy cloud. Alta's sitting on the shore, looking out at the ocean while Boro lays supine, looking up at the sky. She entertains herself with the thought that Boro is probably cloud-watching the one singular cloud up in the sky.

He had at first been walking around the beach, pointing out each object of interest, as he's wont to do. Sea shells, seaweed, washed up items. Alta had joked that she was going to ignore all other items he brought her until one of them was a message in a bottle.

He brought her one.

Alta was beginning to think Boro was the magical entity, rather than the forest as he claimed. She had opened it, Boro watching from her side curiously. It was a fortune of sorts, claiming 'When you grasp hold of it, you will feel it's importance.' Alta thinks the fortune is lame, Boro thinks it's wonderful and truthful.

Perfectly balanced, as they should be.

At one point, Boro tries to let them take a swim in the ocean, but Alta declines.

"You do know that this is most likely the Pickle Ocean, right?" Alta says, "I'm not swimming in it."

"But swimming at the beach is a time-honored tradition!" Boro insists and Alta snorts.

"A tradition, for who?" Boro thinks on it.

"For us! Right now. We are creating the tradition now, yes."

Alta shakes her head. "Or we could ignore the water and enjoy the sun," she says. Sunbathing is a weird activity for Alta because usually, being in the sun fills her with energy. It makes her feel vivacious and steady, ready to take on anything.

But at one point in her life, much like coffee, it doesn't do anything for her. Instead, being out in the sun is like indulging in any other activity. Could it push her to train and do something fruitful? Yeah, but it doesn't necessarily equate that on it's own.

Boro brightens and makes to remove his floral shirt (Yes, his wild outfit for today is a white t-shirt, with a breezy, short-sleeved, open buttoned shirt. He has on a sunhat lined with dried flowers on the ribbon that he has already gotten Alta to admit is cute. He's already removed his sandals, discarded somewhere in the sand and claims that it's the beach perfect outfit.

Alta sticks to her black tank + shorts combo because it's the perfect *summer* outfit. Period.)

Then they're just at the shore. Alta sitting and ocean watching while Boro lays down, singular cloud-watching. A peaceful enjoyment of the sun.

After an hour or so of beach gazing, Alta suggests they go get a meal at the hotel. They don't get to eat till fifteen minutes later, having to dig up Boro's sandals. One of them is found quickly, only half-eaten by the sand, but the other falls victim to a hermit crab. Alta has to spend ten minutes poking the crab with increasingly lost patience until it finally goes into one of the many pro-offered shells Boro had gathered for it.

The food at the hotel is fine, but Alta can't believe the scene she gets to catch when a child flings a spoonful of mashed potatoes to hit off a man's toupee. Alta makes some wayside comment about the kid being the next rising archer, and Boro laughs so hard he starts choking on his food. After making sure Boro is alive and breathing, they go back to the room to continue their marathon watching, talking and snacking all the while.

She's not sure when it happens, just that at one moment she makes her usual disparaging comment while letting out a yawn, and by the next...

She wakes up on her bed, covered and tucked in.

They had been watching on the couch, Alta remembers that last, and something in her softens at the fact that she's here now. It makes her nestle in, wanting to sleep in just a bit longer.

Just because.

"Oh dear," Alta hears Boro mumble from the bathroom and she stops combing her hair.

"What?" Alta yells down to the bathroom and Boro sighs, stepping out. His shoulders, uncovered during their romp at the beach, are now a bright pink and peeling.

"I knew this would happen," Boro sighs again. "I am much too used to the covered shade of the forest and am always forgetting proper sun protection. Yes, Boro does love the sun so much in all it's glory, that he forgets of it's more incendiary nature."

"Yikes," is all Alta can say because she really doesn't think she's ever seen a person's skin peel like that before. She makes to prod at the skin in her curiosity, gingerly, and Boro winces at her touch.

"Er, sorry," she says and Boro gives her a pain-tinged smile.

"It is fine! Just still a bit tender, heheh. I am sure it will be healing fine, but I am needing sunscreen. Let's see, did I remember to pack any?" Boro shuffles around in his over-burdened pack while Alta does snooping around the hotel. She finds three of the little complimentary bottles while Boro pulls out an almost empty sunscreen bottle from his pack.

(Borrowed from Sylvia, apparently, because god forbid Boro is actually responsible about his own skin.)

While Alta herself doesn't carry around a bottle of sunscreen, she's worked outside in the blazing sun constantly during training and she'd be damned if a sunburn was ever going to stop her. Out of the two of them, she probably has more experience with skin and sun care in that case.

So it's a no-brainer for her as she gestures for Boro to give her the bottle, and gestures again for him to sit down, so that he's level with her.

"You're applying it for me?" Boro sits down as Alta starts to rub the lotion on Boro.

"Well, I very well can't trust you to do a good job, can I? Mr. 'I've-never-encountered-the-sun before-in-my-life.' "

He chuckles and settles in as Alta gets every part where skin his is visible. She even goes under his clothes in some areas, in case it rode up as he moved around. He's not getting sunburn on her watch, no way.

In fact, she should put on another layer of sunscreen! Sure, most people only seemed to use one layer and are totally fine, but Boro has already gotten burned once, hasn't he? Maybe his skin really is more sensitive than most and for that matter, an extra layer would be fine.

...But what if that isn't enough? What if two layers is actually the bare minimum that Boro needs and three layers is closer to proper protection for him? Boro sits patiently, humming as Alta adds a third layer. There. Good.

Fine.

...She should add an extra layer just in case, shouldn't she? Like a back-up layer for the back-up layer? Better too much than too little, right?

Yeah, she'd add an extra layer...

Two and a half bottles and five extra layers of sunscreen later, Alta finally feels that Boro is sufficiently guarded against the sun.

"Come on, up. Let's go." She taps his shoulder, frowning at the layer of lotion that coats her hand.

"Thank you Miss Alta," Boro says and Alta waves a hand.

"It's nothing..." She turns around to look at her handiwork from the front and trails off.

"Hm?" Boro gives her a smile, head tilted at her unfinished sentence, "What is it?" he asks.

"Um..." Alta scratches the back of her head. "You're just..." She coughs, waving her hand around as if that would make Boro get the idea. He only looks more inquisitive.

"You're very...Shiny." Alta settles on that word.

"Shiny?" Boro echoes, "Ah, you must mean my luminous personality. How kind of you, Miss Alta!"

"Uh-huh, Yup, that is 100% what I am referring to." Alta stares at Boro and his unnervingly slippery skin. "Your luminous personality and not at all your questionably wet skin."

"Let us dally no longer!" Boro says, "Before Miss Alta says we have gone off schedule." Boro makes to open the door but the handle slips from his grasp, not twisting in the slightest. Alta lets him attempt it two more times before she nudges him out of the way, opening it. She lets Boro exit first, glancing at the doorknob and all the residue sunscreen Boro has left on it.

Damn it, she never thought about all the layers that would have rubbed off. She should have added on two more extra layers. Hopefully the current amount would be enough to get him through the day.

When Alta shields her eyes, it's not because of the sun for once.

It's because Boro, in his all shining glory, actually hurts to look at. The bright lights of the outside have magnified the effect and leaves Alta's eyes watering. She's aiming her gaze downwards as she asks "What do you want to check out first?"

This beach is very much so a deserted place. Even as a vacation stop, it isn't very large, the hotel only having so many rooms and there being one or two shops that probably aren't bigger than a thumbnail to explore.

Still, it's something to do and Alta wants to get outside after yesterday had been a mostly indoors day.

Boro points to a distant shack, Alta glancing quickly before averting her gaze again.

"That seems to be a place that hosts many oddities. Boro would like to send another postcard to Sylvia."

"Alright, sounds good."

They trudge along the sand, the sound of shifting grains accompanying their chatter. Many times Alta glances over at Boro only to regret that decision. At least she knows the sunscreen is doing it's job, seeing as it is reflecting literally every beam of sunlight off of Boro.

They reach the shack and enter inside, a bell ringing as the door opens.

Cluttered. The entire place is filled to the brim with odd bits and ends. From the ground to the ceiling, there's objects everywhere.

The owner barely raises a hand in greeting as they sit slumped on the desk. No doubt the stuffy air of the shack getting to them. Alta scans the place, uncertain where to even start.

Boro beelines it for the postcards and she supposes that makes sense. Best for him to get what he came here for first before he gets too distracted.

Alta drags her gaze idly through out the shop. There are beach towels, clothes, newspapers, and books, all of them stacked on various shelves.

Furniture much bigger than Alta herself litters the other end of shack, completely dominating the space.

Then there are multiple boxes of genuine junk. Alta rifles through one of them and pulls out a broken bobble head. The body is long gone, only the head, a creepy petrified smile of a dryad, remains. Alta drops it back into the box and keeps shifting through it idly. She smiles wryly as she thinks about the marketplace back at her home. She could usually squeeze out an item of interest over there, time to see if her powers applied here as well.

She finds a rubber band ball and almost gives it a bounce before she thinks that she probably shouldn't do that in a place this crowded. She drops it back in gently, shifting through some more.

Then she stops, eyebrows raised at her next find.

This is really something that she can't think of as anything other than happenstance. She'll have to buy it, obviously, but it's not something she can buy with Boro here, so she buries the find at the bottom of the box instead, turning to Boro afterwards.

He's already rifling through the book section and Alta joins him.

"What's got your interest so far?" she asks, watching as he flips through a book.

"This!" He shows her the cover, 'Seashells and Their Magic'. A non-fiction book about the different types of seashells and what powers they hold. A cool enough book that Alta could see Boro reading.

What is not cool is the fact that shiny Boro is spreading his shininess onto the book, coating the poor cover and soaking all the pages. Yikes.

"I would buy that now if I were you," Alta says in a half-whisper. Boro nods, seemingly glad that Alta approves of his choice so solidly to advise him to buy it immediately, and heads to the register. Alta takes his place, looking at all the books and wondering if she should buy one. She likes reading through things well enough, if nothing else than because it's a good way to pass the time.

She spots a book with no title on the spine and pulls it out. Seeing the item in full, she realizes it's more of a binder and flips through it.

"Oh!" she lets a little breath, the sound large in the enclosed space.

It's a photo album, perfectly sized for her photos. She flips back to the cover. It's a warm, worn leather brown. The front is soft with age and for a split second, Alta thinks of her father.

Her heart clenches and she doesn't know why.

"You found a photo album, Miss! It is looking like a good size for your photos, I think." Boro's voice brings Alta back and she absentmindedly runs a hand over the cover.

"Uh, yeah. It'll fit them," she says distractedly and Boro claps his hand.

"Then you should probably buy it now," He leans in, hand covering his mouth as he tells her conspiratorially. A pantomime of her earlier advice. Alta cracks a smile and heads off to the register. The owner is ringing it up when she hears Boro laugh with joy.

"Miss Alta, look!" She turns her head to see Boro holding juggling balls, the poor things practically running from his slippery grasp.

"You know, Boro did try juggling once, a while back." Alta turns her body fully now, a smirk on her face as she says, "Let's see it then, juggle master Boro."

In hindsight, it wasn't a smart thing to do. Because of the crowded state of the shack and the fact that Boro was out of practice. If you had to ask Alta what she was thinking, she'd probably say how was she suppose to predict this?

The true answer is that she wasn't. Thinking, that is. Or rather, her thinking is centered around seeing what silly nonsense Boro's planning on this time, and genuine curiosity if his juggling skills are still up to par. Which, while mundane enough, is still a bad thing to encourage because of the aforementioned reasons.

But especially because Boro's slick with sunscreen.

He tosses them up in the air, and for one cycle the balls stay up, Boro tossing them all perfectly. Then they hit cycle two and the first ball eludes Boro's grip, falling to the floor.

The second he grabs but it is yoked out of his grasp due to the slippery state of his skin.

The last Boro also grasps, tighter this time. Which would have been all fine and dandy if he's not oiled up.

The added pressure has the third ball shooting from his grip, pinging around the store in a frenzied state. It knocks over a stack of poorly stacked cartons and sets a leg rest upside down. Alta holds out a hand to catch it, straining to jump in the crowded room.

But the ball ignores her completely, instead aiming for the one, dangling light in the ceiling, and punching the bulb to bits.

There's silence, the creaking of the upset, bulb-less light being the only noise for a bit. Then the owner lets out a heavy, heavy sigh and slides the photo album to Alta as they slump their head again.

"Get out," they say tiredly. "No, no," They raise up an arm, sensing the opened mouths of the duo and their future responses "I don't want or need help, just get out. Please." The last word is a groan, pure exhaustion distilled into it.

Boro and Alta quietly take their leave, the din of the bell almost overshadowing the owner saying "Thank you for shopping by, have a grand day."

"Well, what next?" Alta asks as they walking along the beach coast. Boro gives Alta a look and she raises a hand to the back of her neck.

"What?" she says, feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing particularly. Boro has just noticed that Miss Alta has been following Boro's lead since they've stopped here." Alta shrugs.

"I mean, I did say I was going to stop being a control-freak or whatever."

"Yes, well... I am not minding when Miss Alta takes the lead, not at all. If it brings her joy and makes her satisfied, then it is all fine with me. More than fine, in fact. I am wanting Miss Alta to enjoy this trip after all." This time Alta's not exaggerating when she says that Boro's smile is blinding, and for once she looks away not out of embarrassment but because she genuinely can't bear to look at him when he's that bright.

"Oh." Has she really been conceding that much to Boro? She guesses she has, letting him set what to do for the first day, when she got the ice cream, and the second day when they watched the show.

And today even, as he took her from place to place.

Huh.

It isn't even on purpose or anything. While yeah, she's going to be leaving this vacation and thus anything she'd put forth that they should do doesn't really matter in the long term, she knows that her departure has been far from her mind today.

Really, it's just that this place brought out a relaxed state, where Alta feels even the most high-strung part of her go docile. Is this the so-called power of a beach day? Maybe it is.

"I don't know," Alta finally says at last. "I guess because this place is off-grid, there's no need for me to plan anything. There's not much to plan."

Boro lets out a hum as acknowledgment and Alta can't help but to add one thing, staring down at their exposed feet in sandals, making prints while they walk.

"I am enjoying myself, by the way. Just... hanging out with you. Doing whatever. It's...nice," she ventures, glancing at Boro as she talks.

A genuine smile. One that warms her as much as the sun currently beating down on her.

"I am glad to be hearing that," Boro says, and they continue to walk along the shore, pointing things out and making silly jokes till sunset. Their footprints left behind, a pair with a pair, never alone.

"To bed!" Alta yawns as they round the corner, where the hotel's within view again. Boro smiles and quickens his pace, walking ahead of her, turning around to say, "No Miss Alta! This will be an all night party! A sleepover!!"

"As if you were the kind of person to stay awake during sleepovers!" she retorts kindly and Boro laughs, "Guilty as charged."

"Anyways, you don't even have the keys to the room, you can't stop me from getting to my bed," Alta says as they near the entrance. She pulls the keys out and starts spinning them around her finger. Boro laughs, "Well, I suppose I will simply have to be blockading the door."

The image gets a laugh out of Alta and she stops spinning the keys. "Nah, I won't make you do that. Catch!"

She tosses them quickly, mostly to rib Boro, assuming he'd miss. But he catches them! Smoothly and effortlessly, a simple reach of the hand. Alta's honestly impressed. Her hands are raised for a clap, mouth open to compliment him as he takes a bow.

But his hands.

His slippery, slippery hands betray them both, as the keys go bouncing out of his grip, into the slits of a gutter.

They both stare down, as if that alone would be enough to bring the keys back up.

"Look what you did," Alta says at last, tsking and putting her hands on her hips as Boro makes eye contact with her, "You should have just missed."

"This is not so bad, is it Miss Alta? Boro even thinks he prefers this to the room from before!"

When they informed the hotel staff of the unfortunate key incident, the staff had told them that their local gator had to go over to the next town to help someone else, and he wouldn't be back till morning. That, combined with the fact that there are no more rooms available because all the other passengers have been booked in every spare room, left the two of them one option.

Alta looks up at Boro from where she lies supine on the beach shore.

"You know you're not allowed to say that. You're the reason we're in this mess."

"Am I?" Boro hums, "I do not remember being the one who tossed the keys."

"Yeah, yeah." Alta turns onto her side, hates how the sand coats her hair and ears and shifts back onto her spine. "I know this place is a paradise for you, you don't even have to worry about breakfast, seeing as we're sleeping on it right now."

"Boro only ate sand as a child, Miss! I am being much too old to eat a whole platter now. A spoonful now and then doesn't go amiss though, not one bit," Boro muses and Alta sighs.

"Good night Boro," she says firmly, looking up at the vast night sky and all the stars that littered it. Any of Alta's previous exhaustion had dissipated when they settled on the shore. Maybe it's the sound of the waves, or the energy that comes from being on the wide open beach, but it makes her feel more alert. Not awake enough to go running around the shore, but enough so that she's not closing her eyes, instead letting them trace out shapes in the sky.

"Would Miss Alta care for some sand?"

Boro must be feeling the same way, because he wouldn't shut his trap.

"Didn't I just say good night?" Alta glances upwards with a frown. She can't really see much other than his bald head from this angle, but at least this way he could feel her disapproval.

"Yes I am supposing you did," Boro muses, "But since you have answered me instead of snoring, the 'good night' excuse is no longer valid! How wonderful!" Boro cheers and Alta slings an arm over her eyes.

Come on sleep, take me away. I know you can do it. If there's ever a time Alta wants to pass out, it would be now.

"I am still awaiting your answer, Miss Alta. I am quite curious on your opinion of sand-"

"I'm not. Going to. Eat. Sand." Alta gripes, "I don't even know what you mean on my opinion! It's sand Boro! Saaaaaand. What will I tell you about it that is so different from what you know yourself?"

For a while, only the waves respond to Alta, crashing and receding. Then Boro speaks, his words soft in the grand scheme of things, but perfectly loud for the person who's meant to hear them.

Who is laying right across from him.

"I am always so curious to hear about your thoughts, Miss Alta. You see the world in a very different way from Boro and it never tires to get a glimpse of your view. Sand is something that I have partaken in many times, and each time it is slightly different, slightly new, but always the same as I have come use to.

"But you have never tried sand! So Boro is curious, both on your fresh take and personal opinion, what differs from my thoughts and what surprisingly stays the same."

"Would it be so surprising to have the same thoughts, on sand?" Alta says and she hears the sand shift as Boro shrugs.

"It would be one of the few times we have the same opinion on anything," he says and Alta supposes he makes a fair point.

About them having similar thoughts, that is. Not about the sand! Nope, Alta would never ever eat a spoonful of sand. It is a non-action for her.

But as she removes her arm and opens her eyes again, she can feel the residue sand her arm has left on her face. So if she licks her lips and gets a few wispy particles in her mouth, well that certainly doesn't count as eating sand, does it?

(For the sake of her reputation, she's going to say that of course it doesn't count. Duh.)

"It's... dusty," Alta hears herself say. The sand shifts once again and she assumes it's Boro shifting around to look at her. "And... gritty."

"Anything else?" Boro prods as she trails off and she sighs.

"Boro I really don't know what you want me to say. It's *sand*."

"If that's being all of Miss Alta thoughts then..." Boro also trails off. For some reason it makes Alta feel like a jerk, like she isn't trying hard enough.

But what is there to even try?

"Okay, so it's like really fine," Alta says after a second lick. Boro doesn't shift at all but from the lack of snores she assumes he's listening. "The sand must have been here for a while if it's all ground down that finely." She idly swishes the few grittier pieces around her mouth as she adds, "It's a little salty? Maybe because it's close to the shore, I don't know."

"What else?" Boro breathes and Alta feels like she's a spool in the center of yarn, Boro slowly unraveling all the cloying thoughts trapped inside until her can reach her center.

"Um," Alta thinks. "It makes me think of playgrounds. Like sand in the sandbox or whatever. But also..." she trails off, brows furrowing. There's a knot in the thread, halting the unraveling.

She feels Boro bump his head against hers, a point of connection on this lonely, lonely beach and it sets free the knot, letting Alta's words flow out.

"It just kinda gets caked up in your mouth, you know? Like it dries it out or whatever. And it's like, there's all this water here and everything and you'd think it would just rinse it all away. Or that Maybe the sand sucks up all the water. It doesn't do either, though.

"And the flavor of it just makes me think. Not that it really has much of a flavor, but whatever taste is in my mouth makes me think like 'oh, the ocean spent all this time grinding you down. Ninety percent of you get swept away. But there's those bigger grittier pieces and they just don't go anywhere. How much longer until they get ground down, y'know? How many thousands of years? And when they do get ground down, how long do they get to spend on this beach shore before they're swept away, or made into a sandcastle, or carried away on some kids clothes or stepped on and transported with every step a person takes. All that time and effort to stay at the beach for only a fraction of it. It's just kinda weird, if you think about it."

The ocean's the only response for a while and then Alta hears a snicker. A snicker that soon gives ways to giggles.

"...What?" Alta did what he wanted, right? Why the chuckles?!

"Sorry," Boro gasps between breathes, "I am just thinking about this one time, someone called me a degenerate for eating sand. Seeing as that same person has just eaten sand, I wonder what she would call herself-"

"Boro! You jerk! Is this a way to just get back at me!?" She sits up and turns around, watching as Boro's giggles become full blown laughter.

"Why I oughta!" She raises a fist, but it's all in jest. Boro raises up his arms, weak with laughter, as if to fend off her blows. Alta aims her punches at his palms, light blows that Boro easily takes. At her last two, Boro catches her hands and holds them gently.

"Truthfully, I am wanting to hear Miss Alta's opinion and I am glad to have heard it. Thank you for sharing with me."

"Yeah, well... you asked," Alta says with a shrug and Boro smiles as he looks up at her.

"And you told," he says humbly. She doesn't reply, instead focusing on the sensation of her hands in Boro's. She has scars all over her knuckles, mainly from when she was being a dumbass and punching someone incorrectly, while she can feel his calluses, his tinier scars that she wonders where he gained them from.

Maybe Boro wonders the same thing about her because he strokes her knuckles, both his thumbs going over her respective hands. It's slow, soft, but for some reason entirely too much. She makes a little noise, a soft gasp, and instinctively jerks back her hands. Boro lets go immediately. She settles back down on the sand, and a brief thought of the fact that she wishes he held them for longer passes through her head.

"Well you have to tell me your thoughts on sand now too," she says casually, "Come on, fess up. Let's compare."

He does so and they talk for a while. A conversation on sand that meanders to one on dirt, to bananas, to the color yellow and finally sunsets.

"I guess sunrises are rare when you're not early to wake," Alta muses. She had just told him earlier that she prefers sunrises to sunsets (The untapped potential of a day full of training. It's as much a love for the routine as it's a love for the timing) when he responded that he didn't see sunrises too often nowadays.

"Once upon a time," he had laughed, "When Boro was being more studious about getting up. Now I am preferring the coziness of a bed to an early brain workout."

Which, yeah, sounds like him. But this is vacation time. And isn't vacation time for trying something new?

"What do you say, Boro?" Alta asks. "Getting up at dawn to watch the sun rise on the ocean? Sounds like it'd be your thing."

There's no response, except for a loud snore. It seems that sleep finally took him over.

"So much for our sleepover," Alta whispers, eyes crinkling at the second snore of response. Alta shifts around again, trying to settle on the wide, wide beach shore. Boro had picked the spot, wanting to be near the ocean. Alta was able to rein him in by reminding him about high and low tides and pick a spot further in. God knows otherwise they'd just end up drowning in their sleep.

But something about the view makes the place feel ever more infinite. If she shifts her gaze, she could see the hotel easily, but the other direction is where the moon's glow illuminated the ocean, reminding Alta of those never ending mirrorworlds you got when you reflected a mirror's face to one another. It's hard not to feel lonely, untethered, in this unending world.

Her thoughts are broken when Boro lets out an especially loud snore, that seems to even pull him from the boundaries of sleep for a second before he is grasped back in. Fondness settles into Alta as she shuffles closer to him, until the tops of their heads are touching. Isn't there a fact about this? About sea otters holding hands when at sea so they didn't drift apart? Alta had thought it was so stupid when she read the fact. It wasn't like holding hands would stop the otters from drifting away, they'd just be stuck with each other in a new place was all. What was the point of that?

But she thinks she gets it now, as she closes her eyes, feeling Boro's warmth emanating from his head onto hers. A point of connection, on this ever expansive beach. There's no need to feel lost. There's home, right besides you.

Chapter Text

"Well Mr. Sandman, did you enjoy the sunrise?" Alta asks as the hues of the sky finally sheds off the last of the pinks, to a more pale blue.

The sandman nods.

The good news when she woke up was that Boro was no longer slick and covered in sunscreen. The bad news was the fact that that's only the case because the sand has stolen it all from him. Every point of his body is coated in sand. Only his eyes are spared because Alta hadn't put sunscreen on his eyelids.

"I am thinking a quick walk into the shore should be sufficient enough to get rid of all this." Sandman Boro says, getting up and losing an impressive amount of sand while still retaining the exact same shape.

"The gator should be back by now, you could just take a shower in our room. I don't think the ocean is particularly good for rinsing," Alta says. Boro does not take his eyes off the horizon.

"It would be faster this way, and I would not be tracking sand all over the place, hm?"

Alta thinks he already lost all the sand he's going to lose at this point, but she could tell he is set on this. The nature lover wants a bath in nature, could she really fault him?

"Alright," Alta waves her hand in a 'go ahead' gesture, "Don't say I did warn you," she calls as Boro walks into the ocean.

(Alta then spends the rest of breakfast listening to Boro comment on how everything tasted like pickles, except for the sauerkraut which tasted like olives. That's what he got, for bathing in the Pickle Ocean.)

After breakfast they make their way to their room, one of the staff members telling them that the train would be back up tomorrow. Time to start packing up.

But Alta feels a tickle in the back of her throat, an unusual amount of exhaustion. She wakes up at dawn one time while at the beach and this is what it does to her? She tries to push through it, folding up discarded clothes and making room for her newly bought trinkets, but the exhaustion clings, makes her feel a bit too cold.

She opts for a nap. Maybe the beach is more uncomfortable than she thought and she just needs a pick me up to help her get through the rest of the day.

She lays down on her bed, keeping her body uncovered.

Just a quick fifteen minute nap. After that, straight back to packing.

When Alta next wakes up, she feels hot. The air-conditioned room is like teeth on her skin, nipping at her heated body and stealing her precious warmth. She turns around, disoriented and makes eye contact with Boro, who's sitting on the couch, reading his newly bought book.

"Did you enjoy your rest, Miss Alta?" he asks cheerfully. Then he seems to take her in, the exhaustion on her face and heated skin, "Are you feeling alright, Miss?"

"How long did I sleep for?" Alta croaks, dismissing his question as she moves to get up. Every bone in her body aches but she ignores it, setting feet on what feels like an ice cold floor. How is Boro only wearing a white shirt and breezy over-shirt?

"Hm, two hours I believe, give or take," Boro says.

Shit. Alta grimaces. Yup, she's been getting too complacent, time to get up, now!

She stands up and immediately collapses.

"Oh dear," Boro murmurs, placing his book down to help Alta back up. She groans, some mix of embarrassment, pain and annoyance. Boro guides Alta back to the bed and feels her forehead. She can't help but to lean in, liking the warmth of his skin against her feverish body.

"It seems like you have come down with a fever, Miss." Boro removes his hand and steps back, hand to his chin as he ponders, "Rest and soup should be the keys to recovery, yes."

Alta waves him off. "It's just because I slept outside last night and my body isn't use to it. I should be fine soon enough."

Boro fixes her with that look of his, the one she can't think of any other word to call it other than unimpressed. "Has Miss Alta truly forgotten the importance of rest when one's body is not being in full health?"

"No," she admits sulkily, "But the train leaves tonight. If I rest right now, the fever will only get more intense and I'll be all bedridden."

"It is not a problem!" Boro smiles at her. "The staff has mentioned a second train being on the way in five days, we can wait it out till then."

Five days? That's a lot of vacation time they'd be missing out on.

Wait no, that'd be a lot of vacation time *she'd* be missing out on.

"What do you mean 'we'?" Alta places her hands flat on the mattress, trying to ignore her body's urges to lay down. "I'm the one who's sick. You can continue on the vacation."

"Truthfully so! But Boro cannot be leaving Miss Alta when she is feeling so unwell."

"No you definitely can. You just walk out through the door..." She gestures with her hand, then quickly places it back down when it unsteadies her.

Boro laughs. "Alright, I do not want to be leaving Miss Alta when she is feeling so unwell," He amends, coming to her side and sitting down on the bed next to her. He places his hand on her forehead again and this time it annoys Alta. She scoots back, leaning against the headrest as she says, "I can take care of myself. I've gotten sick many times before and recovered perfectly fine. Go finish packing or whatever and enjoy your vacation."

"This seems like more than a mild fever, I suspect you will not be finding it easy to take care of yourself this time," Boro says and his gaze softens (if that's even possible, seeing as his resting gaze is never harder than dandelion fluff) as he adds, "And last that I recall Miss Alta, this is our vacation."

Alta sighs, "It's not."

"Are we not both here now?"

"It's. Not." she repeats. "Look. I was going to leave after the Often Farlands. We just got stuck here so I had no choice but to stay. But the second I get well enough, I'm going back home."

"Is that so?" Boro gives her a wide inquisitive stare and Alta nods.

"Yes. So there's no point in you taking care of me because I'm not going any farther anyways."

Boro laughs, "What a coincidence! I myself was just thinking how nice it would be to take a break from all this countless exploration! It is good fun, but can be very draining on one's energy. I suspect the five day rest will be doing us both some good then."

"Boro." Alta drags a hand down her face, the fever making her tetchy. "I'm not joking. I am leaving afterwards. There is no point in you staying because I am not going to join you. So you will just be wasting your time here."

Boro hums, "Time spent with friends is never wasted time."

The sentence annoys her more than it should.

"Out." she growls. "You want to do me a favor, as the sick person you're taking care of? Get the hell out of here unless you're packing. I don't want to see you in here at all."

She flops down finally, yanking the blanket over her as her exhaustion hits a peak. Boro gets up silently and picks something up. With her eyes closed Alta can't tell what it is, but she hopes it's his pack.

"Good night, Miss Alta," he says softly as he exits the room. The door shuts and it's just Alta in this cold, cold room.

She wraps the blanket tighter around herself and drifts off into a fitful sleep.

...It isn't even night, what is he going on about?

When Alta next wakes, she can't tell what time it is. Her eyes are tearing up, presumably from the sickness and her mind feels hazy. She distantly notices that there's no one else in the room and feels some sort of hollow victory.

But mostly she feels like trash. Wrung out and stomped on and soiled just to be tossed away again. She wonders how much of that feeling comes from her ailment and how much of it comes from how she treated Boro.

But it's for a good reason! He shouldn't have to sacrifice his little bits of vacation time for her. It would be too similar to what he's always been doing, taking care of her.

...Especially at his own expense.

She would be selfish to demand otherwise, that he waits for her. No, it's better this way.

(Her head aches at the thought and she tells herself it's just the fever.)

She smells something comforting, food of some kind maybe, but she can't find enough strength within herself to locate it. God, she needs medicine. And food before that. But to get up...

She shuffles in the bed, shivering.

Hot, hot, hot. Her skin was burning. Everything was like a distant daydream, an unforeseen memory. She felt like she could barely breath.

There was a presence besides her, saying something. Words, she thought, but she couldn't find the energy to parse them out.

There was something against her lips, the figure's tone encouraging as she opened her mouth.

A nice, warm broth was what greeted her tongue. She swallowed it with difficulty, but opened her mouth again, eagerly awaiting the next spoonful.

It was like that for a while, her swallowing every spoonful that is offered to her, until there's no next spoonful. She's blearily aware of the figure helping her settle back down, tucking her in. A wet cloth is placed on her forehead and more words are murmured. She thinks they're kind ones. Platitudes maybe? It all drifted out of her mind when she closes her eyes again.

She drifted in and out, all in varying stages of consciousness. Sometimes it didn't even feel like she awoken. The last thing she would remember was falling asleep and then suddenly she was having another serving of soup spoon-fed to her or her blankets are changed out from the sweaty ones she clung to, to freshly, nice ones still warm from the dryer.

In all this fogginess, she broadly understood that someone was taking care of her. Which she should hate. Especially because the only options would be room service that perhaps Boro tipped off, or Boro himself.

(And she honestly hoped, in some strange feverish way, that it was room service taking care of her. Not even because it would mean that Boro did continue on his vacation but because she wouldn't have to swallow her words as he took care of her once again.

God, sometimes she didn't understand why she was like this, it was just Boro. He's taken care of her loads of times, what was once more? Not like she could sink any lower.)

But the fever made her too tired to be annoyed and instead some sort of grateful. She was just a backseat passenger to whatever remedies were being thrust upon her in the moment. A lack of control and she was enjoying it.

How unlike her.

After one particularly fitful rest, a nightmare of sorts conjured entirely from the sickness, Alta wakes with a panic. She feels that steady, warm hand on her forehead and it keeps her from losing it completely. Oh, warmth of familiarity.

The hand places a new damp cloth on her, holding it against her forehead for a while. It feels good.

Then the hand lifts itself, as if to retract. And Alta, in all her feverish glory, clings on.

"Don't leave," she begs. She's aware that her words might be slurring, that the fever might be confounding them so what she thinks is coherent is just utter nonsense that she's spewing. She's aware too, that this might be some poor room service worker who she's harassing to watch over her.

Even if it's who she thinks—hopes—it is, after she told him to bugger off, she really has no right to be asking him to stay again.

But she does so anyways, uncertain if it's the fever that makes her eyes tear up as she rambles on repeat: "Don't leave, don't leave, don't leave, please..."

I'm tired of being alone.

The hand settles on her head again and Alta relaxes, lets go. She doesn't have anywhere near enough strength to grasp on again and knows that she couldn't even put up a semblance of a fight if the presence made to leave again.

It doesn't though, sits on the bed and keeps it's hand on Alta. There's not a word said, just the sounds of it's unhurried breaths. Like a lullaby, Alta finds herself pulled to sleep by them.

It seems that night is the worst of the fever. The next time Alta wakes, she feels decently clear-headed, though still a little cold. She has her blanket clutched around herself as she gets up and heads for the door.

Boro sits right outside their room, reading. He's about a quarter of the way through his sea shell book. Boro looks up at the door's opening and smiles at seeing Alta's face.

"Good morning Miss Alta! How are you feeling?" He scoots over so she can sit next to him, her back against the door.

"Terrible," she says, already out of breath from her little walk and Boro laughs, "Yes, it was an intense fever you were having. I am not at all surprised you are feeling this way."

"Why are you outside?" she glances at him, taking him in. Maybe he was worried he'd get sick too?

"Oh, Miss Alta last told me to get out. Unfortunately, I am still waiting for her to be well enough to let me back in," he says with a little shrug.

Alta stares at him.

He smiles at her.

She shifts her gaze off of him and he returns to his reading. She knows it's not the fever making the words come slowly to her as she says, "It's not like that stopped you. You were the one taking care of me."

"Yes," he says simply, not looking up from his book as he flips another page.

"...Why didn't you get on the train?" Alta asks softly, staring down the hotel's gray carpet flooring. She hears the book shut as Boro takes in a slow, unhurried breath.

"I was not being sarcastic when I was saying I think a couple of slow days would be benefiting me as well. When vacationing, it is the time people forget about rest the most. They are wanting to be seeing everything and to be doing it all as well. Most think a full night's rest is all that is needed for the day to day excursions. But as we both know well, you cannot be performing at 100% all the time without breaks. The body simply collapses.

"But the mind is needing rest too, Miss Alta. In some ways, even more so than the body. It is a lot to take in, different cultures and people and places. It is nice, to have a quiet day, or five, after so much to intake. The mind can rest and wake up again, ready to see new things!"

"I really hope your brain doesn't rest. That just sounds like you're dead," Alta deadpans and Boro laughs, "Well Miss, perhaps we are needing our brains to die and revive, like zombies!"

"Gross," Alta frowns. She really did not like the mental image of a rotting piece of meat as her brain. Boro hums in acknowledge, and there's silence again. Silence that makes Alta reflect on how despite Boro insisting that he needed a rest, he took care of her first.

She knows it's in his nature, he's always drawn to wherever he's needed or whatever, but after she had been all terrible to him too.

Just because of the inner turmoil she's dealing with. He stuck through with her again. And she still doesn't think he should in some ways, that Boro really isn't gaining anything from being friends with her, but if he's going to keep doing so...

"Thanks."

...Then she should thank him for such.

"Hm?"

"For taking care of me. It was nice of you, so, um...Thanks."

"Of course Miss Alta! It was being not a problem!"

And she doesn't know why, she'll blame it on the stupid fever 100 times over before she'll even consider her body betraying her like this, but as she leans away from the cold door and onto Boro, feeling his warmth in comparison as he shoulders her weight easily, her eyes start to water.

They slip down her face and probably get all over Boro and why on earth is she crying this is so so stupid.

But she's in a warm grip, finding some part of her start to care less. Boro's started reading again and while he doesn't stop, he places an arm around her. That warm, comforting arm.

'When you grasp hold of it, you will feel it's importance.'

As she thought, the fortune was wrong.

It wasn't when she grasped hold of him.

It was when he grasped hold of her.

It turns out that Alta had only been sick for three days. So the last two days has her doing absolutely nothing, a perfect little angel of relaxation.

Of course that's the cover story, she's not Boro. She skips rocks and watches the ocean and ultimately does waste time during those two days, but one of her little self-imposed side-quests has her going back into the compounded shack.

The owner is a little more lively this time, face propped up lethargically on an arm. They don't seem to recognize Alta and she takes that as the blessing it is.

First she buys a random postcard. It has these purple, five-petaled flowers that make her think of Jan for some reason. Then she thinks it's not so random that she bought it for Jan if it made her think of Jan.

Whatever.

Then she gets her second buy. She had noticed the two cassettes when she came here the first time with Boro, but they had gotten kicked out and it slipped out of her mind completely when she was sick.

She can't help but to think of this as anything other than serendipity, as she pays for her postcard and the two seasons of 'How Many Eggs Am I Thinking Of?' on cassette.

She's ready this time, taking out her camera as she slides the (very lightly wrapped, she does not want to sit through five minutes of Boro avoiding tearing the wrapping paper again, thank you very much) gift bag towards him. The joy on his face is astronomical and she really doesn't think she could have ever gotten a better shot.

"How on earth did you find this? Boro had believed that reruns were all one could do to be watching this!!" He clutches the cassettes to his chest, making Alta laugh.

"It was at the shack, the odds and ends one. I guess maybe before they got canceled they made a couple of cassettes. Could explain why it's so hard to know about." Alta says and Boro excitedly turns to the tv.

"Wonderful! We can be watching the episodes we have missed and work onwards to season two! I think you will particularly like the turn it takes, Miss Alta-"

"Yeah we can watch it *after* we settle in Speria. We still have a train to catch, remember?" Alta says.

Boro puts a hand to his chin, "We could always be taking another couple of rest days."

"Absolutely not," Alta crosses her arms. "I am vetoing it because I am in good health and you are fully rested up and not at all because I am trying to be a control freak about maximizing vacation time."

Boro laughs—no this is a cackle, he's being mischievous—and says, "Miss Alta! It seems you are forgetting the importance of not rushing rest. Boro just happens to need a couple more days at this hotel to have fully rested his brain."

Alta raises an eyebrow, "Your rotting brain? The one that's already zombified?"

"Indeed!"

"Nah, they got zombie cures in Speria, I think that would help out more."

Boro sags melodramatically.

"Thwarted by logic! It is a poor day for me indeed!"

"Says the man who just got the entirety of his favorite show on cassette."

Boro nods sadly, "Yes, can you not see how sad this is all being?"

Alta smirks. "Poor you," she says mockingly. She takes her pack and heads towards the door, Boro on her trail.

To say their relationship has changed since Alta's fever wouldn't really be the right term. It's still the same but more... Lackadaisical? Unburdened?

No, neither of those terms really captured Alta's whole feeling on the thing that is their dynamic, but she does think she feels more solid, in regards to Boro. She guesses it has something to do with thanking him, maybe it makes the whole taking care of her thing feel less like pity?

(And maybe, just maybe

A small maybe

An absolute baby of a maybe

Maybe it also feels changed because she had cried in front of him. Alta can barely even remember the few times she has cried, and she knows that most of them are from instinctual tearing. Technically the most recent one is too, but if it was tangled up in emotion as well, Boro didn't judge her, or say anything. He just let her stay there until she felt good enough to stand again.

Typical.)

They get on the train, watching as the landscape changes from the familiar beach to the unfamiliar hilly terrain of the next region they were going to.

Boro wanted to make a side trip before exploring Speria. It's a well-known tourist spot and sure to be bustling. Of the places that were on the way to Speria, there's Vyndia and a little small town known as Scorca.

Alta had vetoed Vyndia immediately, feeling some sort of wrong hearing it. She knows she probably won't see him there, and that not everyone who was a warrior went to Vyndia at some point so no one would expect anything of her, and that the empress probably wouldn't have time for a stroll down the street just to see a tourist who doubled as a warrior who she wants to honor. But it still makes her feel queasy all the same. Maybe one day she'd feel ready to tackle it all, but she didn't feel like it now.

Boro agrees easily, doesn't push her on the matter, and she's grateful for that. During the ride to Scorca, Alta writes on the postcard she got for Jan, using her long-form, frilly script to decorate the pages.

'Hey. I hope you're doing well.

Well obviously you must be doing well it's not like you're going through any momentous life-changing trips like I am.

How are Chip Chip and Vreetle? Dammit those aren't their actual names

I think I made a mistake sending this to you you probably have too much to deal with and hate the fact that I took off from my job without any warning even though this isn't even actually 'my job' and'

Alta sighs. She hates writing letters. Especially when they're just for the purpose of 'checking in'. Like, it's all fake pretenses anyways! If she's having a horrible time she should just keep it to herself, and if she is doing great, all she's doing is rubbing that fact in everyone's faces. What's even the point? Any fun trips she has she could tell Jan about them back in person, so why send a letter now? So she could delay-react to all the things Alta haw to tell her??

She looks at Boro writing another postcard to Sylvia, her eyes idly following along the sentence-

"Wait, you can write!" Alta bellows. Boro startles, ending his last word with a sudden jerk.

"Was there ever being a moment where I had said I could not?" Boro raises the postcard and shakes it slowly, trying to dry the ink faster.

"The picture you made me, the handwriting there was perfectly fine!" Alta accuses and Boro blinks.

"Yes. It was being legible, I hope?" Boro still seems confused and Alta points to the postcard in his hand.

"You were writing an alien language on the last postcard you sent Sylvia. Why'd you make the script all unreadable?"

Boro lets out a chuckle and places down the postcard. "Ah, now I am understanding."

"As I was telling Miss Alta before, I am wanting the energy of the card to be different sometimes, based on how Boro feels and where he is traveling to next. To help create that difference, I am changing the font based on what feels right."

"Boro, you are a weird guy." Alta sighs.

"So you have told me, many times!" Boro smiles and Alta shrugs.

"Okay that's all fine and dandy, but how do you know what to write about? Do you just tell Sylvia about everything that's happened?"

"Sometimes! But also I am asking about her day, and replying to any previous questions she has asked on the last postcard."

"Isn't that annoying?" Alta raises an eyebrow, "The whole delayed reacting. Like, by the time she gets the postcard you'll be somewhere else. What's the point?"

"The point is that you care Miss Alta! Even while having fun on a trip away from someone, you cannot help but to think of them and hope they are finding some fun in their life as well."

"That is disgustingly sappy and makes me *not* want to write a postcard anymore," Alta scrunches up her face and shoves the unsalvageable postcard into her pack, next to the other five postcards she has with the same flower in the same color.

...What? She might mess up a lot, okay!? Is it really so bad to prepare for a preemptive mess up?

(No. The answer is no.)

Alta leans back against the seat and looks outside. Admittedly, she's excited for the next stop. Scorca boasted rocky terrain, perfect for hiking and mountaineering and all those lovely things that made Alta's brain spark. It fills her with a restless energy that has her hungrily taking in the landscape, wondering which of those crusted hilltops would be the one she was primed to climb.

The weather is perfect when they get off. Alta hikes her pack's straps against her, making sure the pack held steady. The air feels so cool while the sun still boasts a joyful warmth and the path up the mountain looks delightfully terrifying.

Is she just being overly excited? Maybe. But after being cooped up in bed for so long thanks to her fever, and having nowhere other than three stores to visit at the beach, Alta feels like a boundless ball of energy. She wants to move, to burn off all this excitement.

She tries to keep it casual as she invites Boro to race when they start their climb up the trail.

"Just to see how fast we can complete this, y'know?" she says and Boro gives her a smile.

"I am rather thinking that I would be preferring a slow stroll. Look at the beauty of this place! The trees here boast a different sort of moss than the ones being at Wanderstop!! Isn't that fantastic, Miss Alta!?"

"Sure. If we race, you could see more moss faster," Alta encourages and Boro laughs.

"Ah, I am not being so young anymore, Miss. A slow stroll is much better for me."

"I've aged faster than you, don't use that as an excuse!" she harrumphs. Boro chuckles and bends down to look at some flowers, sniffing at them and enjoying himself.

Alta tries to be patient, she really does. She fidgets with her straps again, taps her shoe against the ground, takes in a breath that probably sounds more like a huff, fidgets with her straps again again, fidgets with her straps again again again-

"I mean, exercise is important on a trip too. A good run up a mountain never hurt anyone. Ever. At all. If anyone says it did they're probably lying-"

"Miss Alta, if you are wanting to run ahead, I will not be stopping you," Boro says gently. Alta frowns, "But this is supposed to be our trip, and if I do that then I'll just be leaving you."

"Worry not! There is this wonderful meeting place called the pinnacle of the mountain," Boro cheers and it makes Alta crack a smile.

She fidgets hesitantly with her pack straps as she asks, "Are you sure?" She doesn't want him to just agree because he's being all kind to her, even if a stroll up a mountain like this is probably the second closest thing to torture for her.

(The first being how she had to take things 'slow' at Wanderstop.)

Boro lays a hand over his heart and gives her his squinted eye smile.

"More than certain! I will be seeing you at the top of the mountain, Miss Alta! Please do not be leaving me waiting for long."

Alta laughs, "It insults me that you think I'd be like the hare who took *breaks*."

But she hefts up her pack, and with a nod to Boro, charges forward.

It feels good, ergonomical, running up the mountain like this. She has to toss her pack over ledges to heave herself over and sometimes gets stuck at one of the fallen tree corners and has to find another pathway up.

It reminds her a bit of her youth, when she was first starting out training and hadn't decided on being a fighter yet. Just doing exercise because of how good it made her feel.

Her chest heaves, and there's sweat pooling all over her face—she's out of shape, not because she's been slacking but the breakneck pace she used to put herself through had pushed her body to heights that while unsustainable, were absolutely legendary—her knees cover in mud and dirt and her hair in complete disarray.

This is the best she's ever felt in a while.

She knows she's slow going, compared to a younger her with a better body and less age-related joint problems. She can feel some part of her whisper insidiously that she's let herself go, that she might as well walk if she's going for the slow world record. And while there is a part of her that mourns the speed she used to be able to climb these things, she also finds that overall, she doesn't care that much.

Speed isn't the goal. This is about reliving an old joy, in a new shape and form.

She reaches the top sometime around midday. Amazingly enough, there's no sight of Boro. Looks like the hare could win the race after all. There's a stone bench and Alta plops down on it gratefully, taking off her pack and chugging down from her water flask. Then she just sits for a moment, taking in the sound of her ragged breathing, the burn in her legs. The way the wind cooled her sweat and made things just a touch more bearable. The pounding of her heart, the gaze of the sun. And the peace in her mind.

"Amazing darling, simply amazing."

Alta cracks open an eye and sees a well-dressed bird standing there. A local, it seems.

"Uh, sorry?" Alta asks, wondering if he's even talking to her. He definitely is, because he gets up in her face, blue feathers covering her vision.

"A-ma-zing!" He steps back and gives Alta a thorough look over. "You devastated that mountain trail with such a beauty and grace that I have not seen the likes of, since the gladiator Penelope was here."

"Uh, thanks." Had the guy also climbed up the mountain? He didn't look like the type.

The bird man sits next to her on the bench, a prim side sit, gabbering on to her all the while.

"There are so few types here that even understand the difference between a blowdown and a boulder field. Not that there's anything wrong with the lack of knowledge, but it does make it so hard to have intelligent talks about trails.

"In fact, you must be very experienced! You were constantly going off trail and on again! To keep up the excitement, I presume. How often have you bushwhacked?"

"Oh, all the time," Alta waves a hand around lazily. "A lot of the trails near my town didn't have the rigor I wanted so I had to constantly make my own."

"I know just the feeling!" The bird swoons, "I myself have always had excellent route finding so sometimes I would prefer even to go off the trail. It would drive my hiking mates up a tree though."

They keep talking and Alta learns three things about her companion.

1. His name is Romario

2. He's the hiking surveyor of this place. There are little scanners he has to keep track of movement on the trail in case someone passed out, so he had seen Alta's heat signature and had watched as she finished the last of trail.

3. He isn't just a hiking nerd, he also knows a lot about fighting.

"The match between Master Winters and Count Rosemary was truly a masterpiece-"

"Yes," Alta breaks in, nodding her head rapidly, "Winters was always more of a heavy hitter so seeing her have to change tactics to favor a more speedy approach-"

"Because of Count Rosemary effective use of range-"

"That was her only real advantage because Master Winters could best anyone in close combats-"

"Such a spectacular match!" He does a little chef's kiss and sighs dreamily, "The art of the physical is such a beautiful one that people rarely appreciate."

This is where they differed. Alta likes fighting because it's conclusive, solid. Yes, you get into your opponents mind and there's a rhythm to it, but she doesn't see it as an art form, nor appreciate it as such. She likes it for the feeling of doing, not imagining, as is so common in the arts.

Romario likes it in the exact opposite way. Alta's right in her original assessment, there's nothing about this man that's physical, but he appreciated the idea of the physical more than the physical itself. He sees it as a work of art.

So Alta waits, for the other shoe to drop, for his words that made sense about fighting from a fighters perspective, to become garble about the arts and what a dodge could truly represent in the grand scheme of things.

It doesn't happen though. In fact, Romario seems to be more enthralled as he talks with Alta and learns more of her fighting past, rather than disgusted at the idea that she loved fighting for it's physical rather than mental attributes.

"You have such a wonderful physique! The kind of body that could only be achieved through hard work and dedication. Maybe if fighting had ensnared me beyond the artistic point, I would have more to my bones than scrawny meat," Romario says with a chuckle. Alta shrugs.

"Well, I've taken every fighting class known to man. I've put in so many hours just because I had to. Not because of a love for the craft."

"Every single one of those hours has paid off, it seems," Romario nods to himself.

Have they? Maybe once Alta would have agreed with that, find the idea that you could come to any other conclusion other than that dumb, but now she wonders how many of those hours were robbing her body of the now. Pushing her past the recovery zone, making it so that she's this slower, less fit, docile version of herself.

...She hates introspection. Why couldn't there just be one deep look inside yourself and then that was it for the rest of your life?

"Alta," Romario prompts and she jolts back to the present. She looks at him questioningly and he repeats his question.

"Would you be willing to visit some of the performances we have around here? You've come at a wonderful time, the amount of artistic endeavors open to the public is at it's highest during this season."

"Oh, uh," Alta scratches the back of her head, "I wasn't planning on staying in Scorca for that long, I don't even have a place to stay."

"Stay at my place!" Romario declares. Alta blinks.

"I'm traveling with someone else as well-"

"They can stay too! I refuse to have such an elegant, entertaining and envisionary person leave so quickly without even another conversation or a closer look at my hometown. I extend this invitation with hope and as a plea, stay in Scorca and experience a few things more. I'll even tell you of some other marvelous trails you can embark on." Romario leans in, his wide yellow eyes capturing Alta.

"Well... I guess a few days delay won't make much of a difference," she says finally and Romario smiles.

"It'll make all the difference here! Tell me, what are your artistic preferences? I'll make you a list of all the spots to visit that may be received favorably by you."

"Uh," Alta's saved from having to make yet another introspective observation as Boro finally comes up the path. He waves at her and Romario, strolling his nice, slow jaunt in their direction.

"How was your jog, Miss Alta?" he greets her. She puts on a false frown. "Terrible! Some tortoise zoomed past me even as I was running at my max speed! It said something about how 'slow and steady always wins the race, even if it doesn't make sense'." Boro giggles and Alta's face shift into one of contentment.

"You must be the traveling companion," Romario stands and gives Boro a firm handshake. "I am Romario, surveyor of this trail, and I was just asking Alta if you would both be willing to stay in our small town of Scorca a little longer. There's so much to do here, and I believe it would be to the benefit of both of you."

Boro gives a little clap and looks at Alta excitedly. She holds a hand up as soon as he tries to open his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, I already agreed," she says, "I know this would be the kind of thing you'd go crazy for."

"I'm hoping for the same reaction from you on some of our activities, Alta," Romario butts in. Boro gives her a self-satisfied smile and she sighs heavily. Great, she's stuck with two Boros.

As the sun sets, Romario leads them to his place.

"I cannot stay myself, the trail needs my supervision especially during these times, but feel free to the place. All I ask is that you stay out of my room," he gestures to a closed door, "I have a project in there very sensitive to air changes, and would loathe to start over again."

He smiles at the pair of them.

"There's a wonderful trail that's good for sights. It's not very rigorous, but it's only worthwhile during this season if you want to see some of our more unique flora. If you are itching for another hiking spot, that would be a good spot to start. I'll work on the list of performances in the meanwhile and shall be able to give it to you the day after."

Alta nods, "That sounds great. Thanks Romario."

He preens, blue feathers fluffing up, "It is no problem, like I said, it's rare to find fellow enthusiasts, we must form friendships when we can." He gives them a quick tour of the house and after they both reassure him that they need nothing else, he leaves.

"What a nice fellow! I am thinking we can be taking him up on his trail suggestion for tomorrow," Boro says and Alta nods.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Alta places down her pack and looks at the one guest room Romario has. The bed is draped in purple and is ridiculously lavish. It looks more like something out of a fairy tale.

"Do you want to take the bed?" Alta asks offhandedly as she takes out a new postcard. She could write about the hike, that's common interest enough between her and Jan, right?

"Boro is thinking it is large enough for us to share," Boro hums and Alta startles.

"Uhhh, you know I'm not Sylvia, right?" Alta says and Boro laughs.

"Very well aware! I am not minding to be sharing a bed with any of my friends. One does not have to be best friends to share a bed."

Well yeah, he's right about that. But Alta thinks about it. Sleeping is her most vulnerable position.

...But this isn't battle, so that shouldn't matter. It's just her going to sleep.

(As if. Sharing a bed is a certain kind of intimacy Alta does not want to give into. The people who shared beds casually like this—siblings, friends, owners and their pets—those are people who already have iron forged bonds with each other.

And yeah, sure, Alta has a bond with Boro that changed her whole life and she technically falls into the category of 'friend' but...

Just that pervasive itch that arose whenever she thinks about being open with someone more than necessary. Just the underlying belief that this intimacy, when she feels it in full and accepts it wholeheartedly, would kill her.)

"I think I'll pass. I don't want to wake up flattened like a pancake because you rolled over me," Alta says flippantly.

"I am not rolling around in my sleep, Miss Alta. In fact, I am rather still! If anything, I am believing that Miss Alta would mistake me for the punching bag in her dreams and see to punching me until I am being more holey than a honeycomb."

Alta snorts, unable to help herself. She hesitates, tries to consider it again.

"You take the bed, I want my space."

...And out comes another excuse. She takes her postcard and pen to the living room, where her designated bed by the name of 'couch' laid. She might as well already get accustomed to it.

Because she isn't going to sleep on that bed.

She isn't going to leave herself open.

She isn't going to let someone see her soft center.

(And she does not want to know the reaction. Whether it is the terrible reaction of someone seeing her weak core and punching it, leaving her hurting.

Or the even worse one of that person holding her gently and caringly as she's without her armor.

Disgusting.)

Boro taps the pen against his lip, thinking. He had told Sylvia about all the sights he had seen on the jog (He mentioned the tree moss three times and wondered if a fourth would really help illustrate how different it was)

He had answered all her questions too.

Well, technically he did.

Boro turns a bit, seeing Alta sleeping on the couch, arms wrapped around herself perhaps for a bit of warmth. With Romario's place having an in-unit washer and dryer, the two of them had decided to do laundry. Of course, this meant Alta's usual tank-top outfit was out of luck, so she was sleeping in a black t-shirt that had the words 'Pain is Temporary. Winning is Forever.' printed on it. Boro had laughed and said it was a very Miss Alta notion. She had flushed, mumbling that she had gotten the t-shirt years ago and she wasn't changing her whole wardrobe just because she had a change in mindset.

(Also because, she argued, it was true on some fundamental level. But that was neither here nor there.)

She has her soft open expression again, not even letting out a single soft snore, and she shifts, eyebrows twitching. Seems like she's having an evocative dream then.

She hadn't protested when Boro said he wanted to bask in her company before going to sleep. She didn't shift away when he leaned on the couch from where he sat on the floor. She had gone to sleep easily as he wrote his postcard right in front of her.

So, when Sylvia asked how things were between him and Alta on this trip, he should reply fine, right?

Boro sighs. Oh dear, it seems like he is at a mental impasse. Just because he wishes Alta wouldn't pull away from him doesn't mean she doesn't like him. In fact, it feels like Boro is just projecting his wants of their relationship on Alta. Perhaps she's just not a fan of physical touch, and that's fine. He truly does not want Alta to be uncomfortable just because of his idea of what their ideal relationship should look like.

It's important to understand people for who they are, not who they could be. It's a fact that Boro has seen over and over again, through many different ways, that he is a huge proponent of.

He loves Alta for her genuine snark. Her grumpy expressions, her unwavering resolve and fierce convictions. He loves her for her elusive smiles and barbed tongue, he loves her for her caring nature that she doesn't always know how to portray and sometimes just awkwardly sits through.

He loves her.

But he doesn't think she loves herself.

Or rather, he doesn't think she likes the idea of being loved. Of being cared for and appreciated. Or perhaps she is unused to affection? Though Boro found it hard to believe, seeing as she had just made a new friend today, in the sparse hours between her reaching the mountaintop and Boro doing the same. There aren't many people who could hold conversations so intriguing as to make friends who liked them so much they let them crash at their place unsupervised. Despite her more non-social tendencies, Alta never has trouble entrancing people, through the simple act of being herself.

It is an amazing feat. It speaks of good character.

And Alta could see none of that.

You can't make people see something if they aren't ready, much in the same way that Boro could advise Alta about her actions during her time at Wanderstop, but he could not force her to do anything she didn't want to do. But *this* scenario is something that confounds Boro. Alta had gotten better at understanding what she wanted and giving it to herself. So even if she saw this friendship of theirs as an indulgence, wouldn't she be giving in by now?

(Or is that just his wishful thinking that she holds him in a high enough regard?)

But also, if she is still enjoying herself despite it all, does it really even matter?

Boro supposed not.

He stands up, knees creaking from sitting down for so long.

As he heads for bed, he thinks about Alta's relationship towards him. She tolerates him well enough, which he is grateful for. He just hopes that this trip is worth it for her, even if she itches for different companionship.

As far as Boro is concerned though, he really couldn't have a better traveling partner.

Alta is doing stretches when Boro comes paddling out of the room with a yawn.

"Good morning," she nods at him. She's stretching her calves, relishing the lactic acid burn as she says, "I made you some tea."

"You did!" Boro cheerfully grabs the mug on the table and takes a sip before Alta can tell him not to. She supposes it makes her look extra guilty when she starts laughing at Boro's crestfallen face.

"That's my coffee mug. Though if you feel like switching over to the better beverage for today, feel free to have it."

"I am being quite fine with staying on the tea train, thank you," He glances at the papers on the tables and gives his little excited clap.

"You finished your postcard to Jan!"

"Yeah, against my better wishes, she's being sent some," Alta says, stretching down to her toes till her spine pops. There we go, that feels good.

Boro picks up the postcard and all her spare messy ones. "We can be mailing them out as we go on our trail today."

"Sounds good," Alta calls out to him as he goes into the kitchen to get his actual tea mug. Boro lets out a pleased little noise, coming out of the kitchen with tea cup in hand.

"Miss Alta has not lost her touch! The tea tastes exactly as I am remembering."

Alta frowns in thought, "I don't think I've ever made that flavor before," she says, stretching her arms over her head.

"You have not," Boro agrees, "But it still has the same feeling as all your previous tea; made with thought and care."

Alta shrugs at that, makes a noncommittal sound. She just thought it'd be a nice thing to do for Boro since she was already making coffee and there was no way he would have some.

Also, she does like the ego-stroking he gives her when he says that her tea is the best (in so few words). She can't help it, flattery's her divine sin.

She lets her arms down and gives herself a shake.

"Want to head out in twenty minutes, give or take?" she asks. Boro sips his tea slowly.

"After I am being done with my tea and have gotten dressed, then yes!" he smiles.

"So in twenty minutes, give or take."

It's actually closer to fifteen minutes.

"I feel like I'm back in Wanderstop," Alta says, taking in the huge metal awning entangled with vines and stems. They had visited Romario so he could tell them directions for the trail he had mentioned yesterday. It was a difficult find, the trail incredibly overgrown to no one's fault; this is simply what it looks like during this season.

"Mm yes, it does have a nice view as well. Boro could never get the two mixed up though."

"Because the moss here is different?" Alta teases as they start to walk up the trail, side by side. Boro's lucky this time because the path here is very sheltered, sunlight only streaming through bits of gaps in the leaves, so no excessive sunscreen for him.

(Alta did not let him leave until he had at least one layer on. He's already gotten burned once, she isn't letting it happen a second time.)

"Yes, that is being true. But also because Boro does not feel a connection to this forest."

Right. The forest at Wanderstop is magical, and Boro and Nana have a special connection with it. Whenever she thinks back on it, Alta supposes she does too. But definitely not to the extent that Boro does.

"Can you still feel it now?" Alta asks, taking out her camera and snapping a picture of the trail ahead. Despite all the overgrowth, the delineated path was still visible through the bits of green. A nice straight path littered with leaves and beams of sunlight, flowers of all kinds growing along the edges.

"I can, yes. The feeling is being dulled though, like hearing a sound from underwater. It is not often that Boro is far from the forest." He looks over Alta's shoulder at the photo, his face brightening.

"A wonderful shot, Miss!"

She nods and places it in her pack. Her next question might be insensitive, but she's curious and Boro never minds when she pokes and prods.

"Do you miss it? The forest, that is." Boro gives her a small smile.

"Always. But I have left it many a times before and it has been fine. It will be fine still even as I leave it again now."

"What about Wanderstop though?" Alta asks, stopping to gaze at a low resting bird's nest. The kids are screaming raucously, and look a lot like pink ugly rats. Boro gasps in excitement and claps his hands at the sight of them though, making Alta sigh as she pushes the camera into his hand.

"The forest will be taking care of Wanderstop while I am gone. That I am being sure of."

Boro snaps the picture and hands the camera back to Alta. She accepts it but backs away when he tries to give her the god-awful baby brat trio.

"I am not putting that in my album with the others, they look terrible," Alta frowns.

"It is nature, Miss Alta! Baby birds in this form are so rare to be seeing. Please, won't you-"

"I will not. Boro, they look like *rats*"

"I assure you, Miss, that they are birds. I am wondering what species they are though, maybe we should be borrowing a birding book when we can."

"Sure, birding," Alta scoffs as they continue to meander again, "Add that onto the list of things that I enjoy."

Boro nods vigorously, "Are there being any artistic endeavors Miss Alta enjoys?"

"Do you *know* me??" she gripes.

"Sure," Boro replies easily, "But many years ago. I am still trying to see all the differences that has taken place since then."

They stop walking, a stream in the pathway. There's large stones that litter the surface of the water, perfect stepping stones. Alta leaps on them with ease. Boro follows behind slower but just as steady. They converse as they leap, the stone's far enough apart that a stride alone can't reach the distance between.

"I don't care for the arts," Alta says, "Paintings are either nice or they're not. My opinion on it wouldn't change the piece."

"But it would! That is being one of the very properties of art, yes."

"Sounds dumb," she says. Then she reconsiders, pausing on one of the stones.

"Okay, it sounds inconclusive," she revises, "It's so....Flimsy. Like, if I see an art piece that looks like a duck and say it looks like a pluffin, then suddenly my opinion's valid and the piece is now a duck and a pluffin. What's the value in something like that?"

"If you are truly seeing a pluffin from a duck, it is giving everyone a different way of seeing something they may have been previously dismissing. That in itself is enchanting.

"Although," he adds with a laugh, "I am believing Miss Alta is too pragmatic to see something like that."

"Mhm."

They cross the river without incident. They're back to walking side by side as Boro continues the conversation.

"There are other arts than just the visual too, Miss. Perhaps the musical variety will be more enthralling to you."

"Eh," Alta shrugs. "There's some songs I don't mind. I wouldn't say I like music as a whole though; those songs are just the outlier of the medium."

"Not just the genre, but the whole medium!"

"Yeah, I'm picky."

Boro laughs, "Indeed! I am beginning to suspect that any art must involve weapons and fist-bashing before Miss Alta will consider it to her standards."

"Better than some people who would watch any show as long as it features drama and love triangles!" Alta shoots back, trying to give him the stink-face, but the expression barely exists before it's banished because of Boro's giggling, a small smile in it's place.

They stop at a sheer rock wall. Something that Alta wouldn't mind challenging, but she also knows that this is a chiller day, especially after she pushed herself so hard yesterday. Whether she likes it or not, her body needs to rest.

The pair of them opt to sit instead, leaves falling on them as they chat. Peaceful comfort at it's finest.

Boro lays down at one point, obviously prepping for a nap. Alta takes out a book she had borrowed from Romario's bookshelf, deciding that now was as good a time as any to read. She's a few pages in when Boro lets out a little sound of surprise.

"What?" Alta asks, finishing the sentence before flicking her eyes over to him.

He points skywards, "There is a simple quash tree above us! The fruits are said to have interesting properties."

Alta rolls her eyes, "Which fruit doesn't have interesting properties." She puts her book away, spotting the tree and it's fruit. It had plenty on the ground already fallen and ripen. "Want to grab one? There's plenty on the floor."

"Ah yes, there is..." Boro trails off and she scuttles closer, tapping at him with her foot.

He smiles at her prompting, "Yes, we can be getting the ones on the floor, it's just said that the effect of the fruit is stronger from the one's higher up the tree. Those ones on the floor might not even be giving the effect, but it is still nice to have fresh fruit."

Boro's barely finishing his spiel before Alta stands up, eyeing the tree. It has a good, thick trunk, though the branches are a little more spindly than she'd like. She taps her toe of her shoe against the ground, prepping. She runs and leaps, bypassing three branches and hanging onto the steadier fourth.

She gets into a rhythm quickly, of which branches to reject, which to climb and which to risk in order to get to that coveted peak fruit. She's straining, three sad twigs away from the upmost fruit. The twig in the middle could probably hold her weight if she's especially quick about it...

She lunges, a single foot on that second twig as she snatches the highest single quash. The second twig groans, a splintering sounding from it. Alta slides down quickly, one hand clutching the trunk as she plummets. She was sliding down too fast. She sticks the simple quash in her mouth as she grasps the trunk firmer with both hands, ignoring the pinpricks of pain it causes.

She slows down, still sliding until her feet can find a firm branch to settle on. From there, it's as it was when she first started climbing the tree, a simple shuffle downwards as the branches get easier to choose, rather than harder.

When her feet touch the ground, she turns to Boro, dropping the fruit from her mouth and holding it up victoriously.

"Well, is this one high enough?" she asks.

They're back at Romario's place, gathered around a table as Alta's palms are facing upwards for Boro to tend to. To no one's surprise, sliding down a tree trunk with reckless abandon tends to give you splinters. How amazing. He's plucking them out diligently, a monocle on his face to help aid him in spotting them. Alta eyes the fruit that caused all this trouble. She doesn't really care about it, just knows that Boro wants it badly and she's in a position to get it for him.

"Ow!" Alta's face scrunches up finally, the pain reaching a crescendo. Boro is now using a cotton ball to apply antiseptic or whatever to the wounds.

"Sorry Miss, I'm trying to be gentle." Boro apologizes and holds the hand he's currently treating even lighter, as if his touch is what's causing pain.

"You, gentle? What a novel idea," Alta snarks, trying to concentrate on something other than the pain. Boro lets out a soft laugh, his face close enough to her hands she can feel the breaths he huffs out. And the pain is lessened.

He finally finishes and puts silly cat-centric bandages on some of the more offending wounds. Alta stares at them idly, noticing that when he had to double up after using all the unique designs, he chose to reuse the grumpy black cat one.

She wonders if she should feel offended or feel seen. Probably both.

Boro's switched tasks now, putting away the first aid kit to getting a small knife and plate to peel the simple quash. He does so with ease and Alta thinks about how Boro could have been a fighter like her in another life. He has the skills, just not the mindset.

And she supposes that's the most important part of any job. Not just having the skills, but the mindset, the ability to lock in and focus on the most minute things invisible to the passerby.

Boro's dicing the fruit when Alta reaches over and spears one of the cubes with the toothpicks he has on the table.

The flavor is overwhelmingly sweet, saccharine to an almost unbearable amount. The kind of sweetness that only candy should be able to reach and is never seen in fruits. Alta sits with it, surprised it doesn't make her gag. It is sweet for fruit, but she wouldn't say sweeter than most candies. She doesn't tend to go for sweet fruit, liked the stronger and hardier tastes of things like bitterloupes, but she doesn't mind this and even reaches over to spear another piece.

"So, what's the property of this fruit?" she finally asks as Boro sets down his knife to try a piece himself. He lets out a surprised noise and laughs.

"How interesting, the flavors in this!" he chews for a few seconds more before answering Alta.

"Simple quash is said to not have a steady flavor. It changes based on what the person is most craving."

Alta pauses, the sweet taste lingering. "Food-wise?" she asks, almost pleading.

"Sometimes," Boro says, "But closer to mood-wise. There are being different interpretations to what flavors represent what. Though sometimes it is the person eating it themselves who can best say what the flavors means they are lacking."

Embarrassing. She's being called out by a fruit. She wonders if it's better to ask Boro first, knowing for certain he's going to inquire her flavor-

"What does it taste like to you, Miss Alta?"

She gives him a look that borders on baleful and Boro laughs.

"I am hoping it is something good and not a terrible flavor, such as old shoes."

"It tastes like sand," she deadpans and Boro starts excitedly.

"Really?!" he says, so happy that it startles a laugh out of Alta.

"No," she says, amusement lightening her up enough that she adds, "It taste sweet. Like candy almost."

"How fascinating! Most have described tasting the sweet taste, yes. Some say the flavor's intensity depends on how much you are craving such things. Though, it may be so strong since it was the utmost fruit." Boro muses and Alta nods, finally popping another one in, thinking that the taste is so obviously candy-esque, but the flavor of sweetness doesn't have to be that strong. Both of Boro's theories are probably right to some degree.

"What are you tasting?" she asks and Boro smiles.

"Something savory and smoky, almost like I am being at a backyard grill."

"Huh," Alta reflects on this. "What do you think you're missing?"

"I haven't the foggiest, Miss! Unfortunately, simple quash does not be giving all the answers, it simply tells you that there is a problem. A good thing for sure, but perhaps very vague in some cases."

Alta nods and Boro tilts his head at her.

"What do you think then, Miss Alta? What is the fruit trying to tell you?"

To enjoy the finer things in life and not just decline them because it feels 'decadent'.

"Um," Boro's looking at her with that eager, open expression of his and she just caves.

"To enjoy the finer things in life and not just decline them because it feels 'decadent'," she says and Boro nods.

"A very thorough introspection! I am thinking we know how to remedy that!"

"We do," Alta's phrases it glumly as more of a statement rather than a question. Boro nods and answers it for her anyway.

"We are having to go to all the artistic programs! Miss Alta is obviously very interested in them but thinks being in the arts is so juxtaposed from being a fighter. Alas, we will simply have to make sure you know that is not being true."

Alta snorts, Boro's reply taking her off-guard.

"Yeah, that sounds good, thanks Boro," she says to him and he gives her a nod.

He is partially right. She probably does avoid some of the arts because they feel too much like a comfort. Fighting is concrete because it's something she knows everything about. The arts are in the same ether as the train cart during the Farlands dive, an unsolvable enigma that required a different state of mind than the one she currently possesses.

What made Alta snort was how Boro had completely missed his own importance in the flavor. She can't think of a more saccharine person and how so many interactions with him feel as if she's spoiling herself, that she shouldn't want nor like a person's company so much.

...Huh. The fruit simply tells you what you're craving. It doesn't tell you if what you want is good for you though.

Yet another messy layer in all her feelings towards Boro.

Chapter Text

Alta's on the floor of the living room, organizing her photos. She told Boro she'd let him keep the baby brat trio in the album for now, but the *second* the trip is over, he would be taking it back. Boro agrees easily, but Alta has a sneaking suspicion that he's betting on the chance that she'll forget all about it in the coming days.

It's just her in the house. Boro left to deliver their postcards (They had gotten sidetracked yesterday and completely forgot to do so), and Alta wants to organize her things before they go prancing off to whatever programs Romario has found for them. She finishes adding all her new photos and closes the album. They've taken a lot more pictures than she would have guessed. The thing's already half-full. She thinks the Often Farlands probably had the most taken so far.

She's hit with a strong emotion (A wave of sadness? Nostalgia?) and flips to the section of the album that contained all the photos from the Often Farlands. She glances idly over her photos of the Luxy crystal and their ponds, her composition fine but sometimes a little too high. She lets out a snort at the occasional photo zoomed in on the ground, Boro taking pictures of even the pebbles beneath their feet. She softens the further in she flips, because she knows soon...

...She'll see the photo with Pip.

The photo is a pristine image of him, the blurring of everyone else making him all the more focal. She wonders if all the extra photos she gave him actually helped or if it just raised further questions, creating a new branch of research rather than finishing off the current one.

The longer she looks at it, the sadder she gets and she puts the album away, on the table for now.

Then she puts it away away, stuffing it in her pack. Stupid feelings and dumb emotions, why couldn't things just exist for the moment and not bother you longer than that-

The album keeps getting caught on something hard and Alta reaches in viciously, ready to toss whatever is keeping her from having to not focus on her feelings. The item catches the light as Alta raises her hand and she stops.

A bejeweled vase. From Sable's friend, who was so glad that she had been kind to Sable.

She hadn't been though! She had just heard the discrepancy between Sable saying they didn't want a crepe salad because of how costly it was, and that even if they did want one, it was for little kids and not big adults like them. Sable was already helping Alta beyond their store duties, she really couldn't fathom not buying it for them.

She puts the vase down and stares at it, the tiny jewels glittering even in the shade of the house.

...She wonders if Sable's doing alright. If their business is on the rise again thanks to Alta's review. She hopes they're doing alright.

(She kinda misses them-)

The front door opens and Alta shoves the vase back inside, almost guilty.

Not that she's doing anything wrong! She definitely is not missing people who she's only had a passing connection with, nope. Isn't her, that isn't like her at *all*.

"They've been delivered!" Boro announces, sitting down on the couch, face red and somewhat sweaty. He doesn't look particularly exerted so Alta guesses that it's just an extremely hot day. Perhaps a good thing then, that they were going to be doing indoor activities.

Alta goes to sit next to him, picking up the list that Romario has left them.

"What should we do first? Romario has specific suggestions on some of these," she says, scanning the list and the comments written alongside each activity.

"Hold on, Miss," Boro reaches into his pockets, getting out an envelope and giving it to Alta. It makes her on alert immediately, as she feels the texture of the paper, only used by Government officials. Has something happened to her house? Perhaps her pluffins have gotten loose.

She tears at the envelope severely, taking the letter out in a fist.

She scans through it at first, skipping every other word.

The tone isn't robotic. In fact, it's friendly. Definitely not from the actual government. She slows down and reads from the top, slowly figuring out who it is over the course of the letter.

'Hey there Alta! I hope you're enjoying your journey c: (That being a face that's drawn sideways) We've made some pretty good progress while you've been gone so I thought it'd be best to update you since we couldn't have done this without you <3 (Now, a heart)

'The officials approved of us getting a camera pretty quickly, and we've tried it at every pool that we know of. The results are always remarkable, but a bit outside my understanding. None of us have experiences with cameras, it's even the first time I've ever seen one! Outside of your camera, of course c:

We're trying to see if we can find someone with a bit more photography experience to help us out. Maybe they'd know what magic does to the focal lens and what it could mean if it's targeting the camera so that only those affected can be shown so clearly.

Of course, you know a lot about cameras so we wouldn't mind having you over! I think we could swing it in our favour to get you to stay for a bit. And even if you don't, well it'd be good to see you again. 'Ballooning' limbs and all.

The crew says hi to Boro also. And to you. I'm saying hi to you too of course. Hence the letter. I'm saying hi to Boro too! Just thought one letter made more sense and since it was your photos I took and I mean he could visit us too if he wanted to

For the last sentence, the pen's touch gets lighter with every word added until it just fades off completely. Alta guesses this is the letter form of word vomit.

'Either of you can join!' The pen states firmly once again 'It would be remarkable to see either of you! But I can't deny that I hope to see you again especially Alta c:

Enjoy your remarkable journey,

~ Pip.

P.S. I would send you one of our photos, but film is the harder thing to get more of. I'll try and send you some next letter!'

"Huh," is all Alta can say. The letter is mostly unexpected. Mainly, she's surprised Pip is still inviting her even though he has his own camera now. What could Alta really add to the experience?

"Pip and the crew say hi to you," she says to Boro, folding the letter and placing it back in the envelope.

"How wonderful! Is everything being alright over there?" He inquires and Alta nods.

"Yeah, they were able to get their own camera. And are inviting us to visit again." Boro smiles.

"That is nice. A shame I cannot be taking on the offer anytime soon but Miss Alta should try and go!"

"I don't really see the point," she takes the list Romario left for them and stands up, feeling restless, "I mean, they already have a camera, they don't really need me there."
"The point is to be seeing you, Miss Alta!" Boro chimes out, "The group is seeming to want another fun adventure together and I cannot be blaming them, it is always good to hang out with Miss Alta." Boro comes to stand behind her, looking at the list over her shoulder. "Which one is piquing your interest, Miss?"

Alta thinks it'll forever be Boro's M.O. to just say the most life-changing things to her and then ask a casual follow-up as if it is so easy to digest things that have never crossed your mind before. She shakes off his first comment, deciding that that is a 'later' thing to unpack and taps at the line at the top of the list.

"Romario says that he thinks I'd like this stage play the most." Alta grimaces as she thinks of actually sitting down and watching something like that, making Boro laugh.

"Well it is a fun thing to be trying and the day is young! Let's go Miss! I'm sure we'll be having fun."

They get nice seats, up above, close to the balconies. Alta settles in, flipping through the program she snatched at the entrance as seating is still taking place. It's an opera, about this guy who meets a girl who's been destined to be a legendary fighter. The guy is destined to be the one who kills her, but he doesn't know that, instead making a pledge to always fight by her side because he's inspired by her awesome destiny. There's lot of scenes where there's stage fighting approved by real fighters, interspersed with the dramatic opera solo or two. In fact, the bar scene where they slide tankards to dunk on people's heads while wailing about how the girl is soon to die is what rocketed this piece up to popularity.

The actors are suppose to be well-known, but Alta genuinely could not pick out any of these people from a crowd. She just hopes it better than the melodramatic crap she's been seeing as of late. The lights start to dim and Boro leans over to tell her that it's started.

"Obviously," she whispers back, but she knows he's just excited. She's filled with intrigue. Maybe Romario did find something in the arts she could enjoy.

"Is that not the most interesting play you have ever seen, Miss?! The drama, oh poor Elena not knowing that Sesal was having to be her doom, and entrusting her sword to him in the final act!" Boro shakes his head, "A true travesty," he says, though the shine in his eyes definitely means he liked it.

He had started crying when they reached the final act. Bawling at the moment when Elena realized she doomed herself. Alta was so bemused she momentarily wondered if he was okay. She decided that he was as he kept making side comments to her even through his tears.

"It was alright. It was just really melodramatic." Alta shrugs. It doesn't really matter if you got professional fighters to coordinate the moves if everything's going to dramatized to hell and back. She ponders on the experience and finally says, "I enjoyed it though."

"Ah! It is seeming that Romario does have good taste! Already Miss Alta is finding a play to her tastes," Boro says, so triumphantly as if he's the one who suggested the play. Alta rolls her eyes and juts Boro in the stomach softly, "Yeah, yeah."

It isn't the play that she likes. She thinks it's middling at it's best parts and a soppy sport at it's worst. What made the experience fun were the sporadic whispers she and Boro passed back and forth to each other in the hushed room. Comments, predictions, questions and jokes, things that transformed an otherwise dull experience into one of the best things Alta's done in a while. She laughed out loud more than once at a joke the story said. Not because she found it funny, but because Boro often said something silly and extended the bit, making it actually funny to her.

Or the teasing Alta would do where every other new place the characters entered she would dramatically gasp and wonder if *this* was the bar scene despite the set showing otherwise, pretending to be so surprised when Boro would say no for one ridiculous reason or another. She thinks they almost get kicked out when they burst out laughing at a set that looks like a garden—Alta already doing the bit and Boro discrediting it immediately—has the backdrop fall away to reveal that, yes, this is indeed the bar scene.

She really likes the experience. She can't really remember the play. She could talk about the actors of course, and say the basic plot-line easily, but the fondness she feels as she looks at the playbill has nothing to do with the play itself.

She'll frame it. She wants to keep the playbill nice so she could remember this moment. The day is still early so Alta decides that she could easily drag Boro around to find a frame for it, along with one for her picture with Pip.

Her stomach growls though and she quickly pivots to the idea of lunch first. They have all the time in the world here, after all.

"Brunch! What an exciting treat!" Boro cheers as the waitress brings his order of french toast, drizzled with syrup and covered with powdered sugar and berries.

"What makes brunch so nice? It's just eating breakfast late." She picks up her knife to cut into the omelette she has gotten, a small noise escaping her. God, the food here is *good*.

"Or eating lunch early," Boro says, copying Alta's noise as he tries his french toast. "Miss Alta, this is delicious! You must be having some."

"Having that much sugar so early is going to kill me," she comments as Boro cuts up another piece, holding out the fork for Alta to try.

Why the hell not? It is after breakfast, so it isn't that early for sugar. Huh, maybe that's the merit of brunch. She leans forward and eats the toast off the fork, sitting back down.

Did Boro just feed me? She pauses in her chewing, blinking. She hadn't even thought twice about how it might look, just wanted to sate her curiosity in the taste.

"Too good for words, yes?" Boro takes her silence as awe for the taste rather than surprise at her own actions. He keeps eating like nothing big just happened and Alta flits her gaze away.

Well, nothing big did happen. Friends do this stuff all the time. And she's conceded that she's friends with Boro, whether she likes it or not.

(...And she does like it.)

(A lot.)

"Try mine," Alta says abruptly, and she doesn't even know if this is her mind's way of making things even, or what. She cuts up the omelette quickly, a nice mix of all the veggies paraded inside of it and holds it out for Boro.

He reaches out his hand to grab the fork, but something in Alta's gaze must stop him as he puts his hand down, leaning over.

"You're going to need to bring it closer, Miss,"

"Oh, sorry." Alta leans over as well, wondering how much shorter her arms are to Boro's if they both need to lean over. He eats it swiftly and brings a hand up in shock.

"My, how savory! Perhaps this is what the simple quash is trying to say Boro is missing. I am afraid it is making the rest of my brunch too sweet for me." He lets out a laugh and sips at his tea, trying to cleanse his palette.

Alta eats at her omelette silently, thinking. There isn't anything particularly spectacular about the motion, he just ate from her hand.

But she thinks about the casualness she had ate from his, how it almost didn't even blip on her mind.

Friendships are weird, but she kinda likes the perks of them.

Alta and Boro argue on where to go next. Well, it isn't much of an argument. Boro suggests they go to a cooking class that's supposed to be a casual take on the competition cooking shows. Alta declines, wanting to go shopping for her frames. When Boro says that the class that is held in an area with lots of local shops, Alta rectifies that she doesn't want to go to the class.

They go to the area still, because the shops there do sound good.

"Maybe this one?" Alta's deferring to Boro on the matter, because of the two of them he has way more frames.

"I am feeling more like this one would be in the mood of Miss Alta." He produces a red frame with gilding along the edges. She frowns and shakes her head.

"It wouldn't fit with the theme of either," she says. Boro grabs some of the pre-packaged matting they have, "Would a mat help tie it all together?"

"That's way too much. I'm not putting frames with matting in my house."

Boro laughs, "She has opinions! Despite saying earlier she has no interest in the arts."

"It might surprise you to know I have eyes," Alta hums and selects a simple black frame, the wooden grain visible, "How about this?"

"You could get something in black with texture, like this!" He gets a black frame with beading all along the edging. Alta frowns, "That looks gaudy."

"Does it? Boro thinks it has a nice flair to it- Oh!" He places the black frame down and gets an eyesore of a red one, the corners of it styled so it looks like roses decorated them. "This screams Miss Alta!" Boro declares.

"It screams at my eyes to start crying. If I place that in my house, the color alone would destroy any feng shui I've built up."

Boro hums, "It is a good thing that I have been to Miss Alta's home and know she has no feng shui to speak of then."

Alta's about to make a cutting remark that at least she doesn't have ten frames with styles dating back from prehistoric times to the future, and she actually knows about something called *cohesion* thank you very much, when she hears a squawk.

Another customer inside the store is looking at them in absolute shock. She's well dressed and is prim and proper, not really the kind of person Alta would hang out with, so it surprises her that something about the lady feels familiar.

"My heavens, is that you? The tea maker who so astounded me with her gravitas and mastery of tea?"

Well, that solves that mystery.

"Uh, yeah. Hi. Wasn't expecting to see you here," Alta says. The lady preens.

"I could say the same my dear, though I suspect it is because of the cooking competition?"

Boro laughs and Alta ignores the urge to stomp on his foot.

"Well, actually-"

"My goodness, and you're getting one of De'vale's frames? The craftmanship of them cannot be beat, the one you have in your hand is certainly the best of the lot."

"Yeah I am," Alta says, defeated. She doesn't know how, but Boro has remarkable fortune, always getting the universe in on his side.

Though Alta supposes it doesn't help that she always gives into his whims.

Her ex-customer is one of the judges of the cooking competition class. Wonderful. The pressure is not on at *all*.

"So what are we making?" Alta asks as Boro flips through the cookbook. He scratches his head, pondering.

"Shall we be focusing on a dessert?"

"Nope. No baking." Alta holds up her arms in an X. "The dough can smell fear and I really don't want to deal with that."

Boro blinks, "Really? I thought Miss Alta would be good at baking. It requires a lot of math and she is being much better at it than Boro."

"Baking is evil and listens to no one," she insists, "Let's cook a simple meal like fried rice or something."

"A simple meal when we have all these baking tools at our hand? Don't you want to be a little adventurous, Miss Alta?" Boro gestures to their table where as far as the eye can see there is tools of all kinds. Measuring cups, flasks, mixers, whisks, spatulas, a bunch of other things Alta never cared to know the name of.

"Haven't I been nothing but adventurous this entire trip?" she groans, but comes over to Boro's side, her arm pressed against his as she peers at the cookbook.

The whole idea of the cooking class is to make 'something from the heart.' So the cookbook doesn't have any of the recipes available, just the completed meals as ideas to spark the brain. Afterwards, when everyone's made their meal, it would be voted on who has the best meal, and they would teach the class just how they made it.

It's the kind of stupid prize Alta doesn't care for, but she'd be lying if she said she doesn't want to win.

Boro's opened to a random page and Alta reads the title.

"Saint Honore?" she muses. The pastry sounds fancy, the name inspiring a good deal of confidence towards winning. She has no idea how to make it though.

"Oh! Boro has heard of this dessert. It is a treat, with many delicious parts. A most impressive thing to be making."

Boro nods, almost to himself, "It is not too hard to be making, it requires mostly a lot of mixing. Though I am not entirely sure on the recipe..."

"Mixing? Isn't that like the easiest thing you can do in baking?" You just combined a bunch of stuff and that's it. It's a simple enough deal.

"Let's make it," Alta declares. "What does it need?"

Boro counts off on his fingers, "Caramel, Whipped cream, pastry puffs and whipped egg whites."

Alta nods. Just stuff that required mixing. How hard could it be?

"I'm sorry, what did you say you were making?" One of the judges gives them a blank stare. God, maybe the recipe is easy but she doesn't have to act *that* surprised.

Alta's whipping the cream by hand, Boro being busy with the mixer. She doesn't slow down as she repeats their dessert name.

"My goodness, I suppose she was right about you, being one to watch out for..." The judge trails off. Alta guesses she means her ex-customer telling everyone about Alta's supposed prowess.

"So, how are you creating this delicacy?" the judge asks. Alta points to Boro over her shoulder with her whisk hand, "My sous-chef is the one in charge, you should ask him for the details." The judge mumbles, "He's the sous-chef *and* he's in charge?" but passes on by Alta to talk to Boro. Alta takes a look at the cream on her whisk. It's solidified enough that it doesn't go flying and Alta wonders how much longer she should mix it. Maybe two more minutes.

"Uh, is this supposed to happen?" Alta shows Boro the bowl of whipped cream she made. It was perfectly fine before, but after she whisked it for two more minutes, it started getting liquid-y. The cream part is now solidified, a dense thing sitting in a bowl of liquid.

Boro halts his focus on the pastry puffs, eyeballing (as he has been doing for everything the recipe called for) the dough into round mounds. He sticks a clean finger in, letting out a surprised sound at the density of the "whipped" cream.

"Well, it does still taste fine. It will simply be a little harder to pipe is all," He says, licking his fingers and going off to wash his hands.

"Should I get started on the caramel?" Alta asks and Boro nods.

"I am almost being done with the puffs and then the egg whites can be done next."

"Right," Alta nods.

...Damn it, how do you make caramel? She knows it involves heat and sugar. Maybe water to give it that more viscous property. But how much water?

Hm. She thinks to ask Boro, but decides he already had enough on his plate with the puff pastries. Besides, it's just sugar and water, only so many combinations of proportions.

(The combinations being equals parts of both, or one more than the other. A bit broad, but Alta doubts that two thirds of sugar versus three fourths of sugar would make that much of a difference for something like caramel.)

She decides to start off with equal parts of sugar and water. Some of the water probably got evaporated as it was heating up, so it should thicken with time. She grabs a saucepan from under the provided cupboards and sets it on high heat.

Then she dumps a cup of sugar and a cup of water, mixing the two and waiting for the mixture to boil.

It browns quickly, solidifying in some parts and cracking. Alta removes it, wrinkling her nose at the smell. It is definitely burnt. Maybe more water so that the sugar doesn't burn?

And shouldn't it taste more interesting? Sugar water doesn't exactly sound appealing. Alta eyes the little bottles of flavor along the counter. Boro is already using vanilla extract, should she add something like almond extract?

She scrubs the saucepan viciously and adds more part water than sugar this time. She lowers the heat to medium high and adds in some almond extract. The second it browns, Alta takes it off the stove. There's still some solid pieces and undissolved sugar, but it looks a lot closer to caramel this time around.

"How are the puff pastries going, Boro?" she calls out to him.

"In the oven!" he replies cheerfully.

"Good," she nods, things are going smoothly, all things considered. Maybe they do have a chance at winning this.

The crowd lets out a surprised murmur when Alta and Boro announce their dessert. The judges themselves are whispering side comments to each other that Alta only hears snatches of, "....Experienced bakers....A sold win, I'm afraid...."

She guesses that despite the recipe's ease, it is impressive looking. She let Boro handle the presentation and he did well. He had used the thicker consistency of the whipping cream as a binding agent, sticking the puffs together in otherwise an impossible arrangement. The caramel he had poured down in discreet spots, making Alta think of a chocolate fountain as it oozed it's way down the puff structure.

"What do you have to say about your unique take on Saint Honore?" one of the judges asks and Alta scratches her head.

"Uh. It's supposed to be something new. This is a completely fresh take on Saint Honore."

The gasps are multiplied, everyone whispering to each other. Something about it emboldens Alta to play up the aspect even more. She turns to Boro.

"Sous-chef? Would you care to explain more?" she says. The whispers are now surprised, saying something along the lines of "She's letting the sous-chef explain??"

Boro takes the stage gracefully, already picking up on her bit.

"Yes, we are emulating the brevity of life and how refreshing it can be."

"Along with the contrasting forces of the undulating meaning of death-" she interrupts

"-Mixed in with a bit of peace-"

"And violence-"

"To create the best Saint Honore the likes of Scorca has ever seen!"

Someone already claps, but is hushed down. The judges nod amongst themselves.

"Well, let's try it."

They each take a piece of the puffs, dipping it in the caramel fountain and slathering the cream on like butter.

(Actually that's what the whipped cream reminds her of, butter.)

"My, the taste of this," One of the judges puts down her fork and knife. "How did you make the puff pastry?"

Boro laughs, "Through memory!"

She nods, "Yes, that much is obvious, but it tastes... hmmm..."

"It doesn't taste like a saint honore," another judge comments, licking the caramel off his fingers as he pops the rest of the pastry into his mouth.

"No, but it is a refreshing take. It reminds me of those little cake pops you'd get at the quaint little stores." The ex-customer speaks now, as she takes another bite with all three condiments spread evenly on the pastry.

"Definitely," the first judge agrees, "It adds to the duality of contrast between the life and death themes spoken of earlier."

"But the caramel has a very weepy substance. Is this to represent the peace, or the violence?" the second judge interrupts.

It goes on like that for a while, before the judges subsequently agree to finish trying the rest of the desserts.

When everyone's dessert has been finished the judges talked among themselves in low, hushed voices for ten minutes. They finally give the victory to a duo who made these shortbread cookies.

(Later the judges would come to Alta and Boro discreetly to tell them that they thought their creation of saint honore was 'simply astounding' but they doubted that such mastery could be taught so easily in the few hours the class had left.

Boro and Alta just nodded. Of course, no one would understand their artistic genius of just winging it.)

The cookies go badly for them. Alta lets Boro measure out the baking powder. He confuses it with baking soda and uses the tablespoon instead of teaspoon. Really, she should have seen this coming, he did tell her that he's bad with math, and all baking consists of is math.

The cookies explode in the oven and all the other contestants look over. The duo leading the class look guilty, apologizing that their recipe is so simple that when Alta and Boro tried to add their flair to spice it up, it simply confounded the recipe and made it blow up on itself.

...At this point Alta starts wondering if Scorca people are just *like* this, or if this specific class is full of interesting people.

To apologize, the duo gives them their second batch of cookies. And so does the table next to them. And another gives away some of their cookies too.

When they leave the class, it's with three jars filled with all sorts of cookies. And the rest of their saint honore that hadn't been gobbled up by feuding tables.

"I never want to take another cooking class again," Alta says, popping in a caramel covered pastry puff in her mouth. She does like the contrast. She had ended up adding salt because she thinks nothing but sweet in a pastry dessert is bound to get boring, and it's what appeals to her among the sweeter flavor of Boro's puffs. She also likes the crunch her caramel adds, because Boro's puff were completely soft. The judge was right about it being like a cake pop.

"Miss Alta does not sound so against the idea," Boro says. His hands are full with the cookie jars, so he opens his mouth for Alta to toss a puff into.

"Eh. It's not bad per se, but what are we going to do with all these cookies? There's no way we can eat them all."

Boro chuckles, "Good thing Romario can be helping us then!"

"And if he's allergic to cookies?" Alta raises her brows. Boro thinks.

"Then I suppose we would have no choice but to eat them all, to save him from an unfortunate fate!"

Alta rolls her eyes, "Yes, of course. Aren't we so noble."

Boro laughs again, "Indeed! Oh, Miss, near your mouth."

"Cream?" Alta asks as she tries to wipe it off. Boro shakes his head.

"Caramel actually. You are still missing it."

"Where?" She tries wiping at it again but it must be stubborn because Boro gives her another shake of the head. She guesses she could just wait till they got home, but she feels like being a strange sort of bold.

She grasps the cookie jars away from Boro and juts her face up.

"Get it for me," she says.

He steps forward, his hand cupping his face as he tilts it up at a better angle for him to get at the spot. And for once, Alta doesn't feel like a horse stumbling away from his touch. She doesn't feel as self-conscious at the idea of anyone passing by on the street seeing her in such an open way.

Because it wouldn't be about them. In some ways, she doesn't think it's even about her. It's just about this moment of consciousness, the now. The way she just feels...Safe, around Boro. And the fact that she doesn't want to build more shields and defend herself against the feeling, that for right now she's more than content to bask in.

To acknowledge it's existence.

To trust the fact that Boro wouldn't ever hurt her gooey center.

To feel his warm, callused hands and think, 'Oh, this is nice.' without the usual guilt associated with it.

To accept the feeling wholly and truly and for once, to love it.

That's what this moment is about.

The next day, Romario is off, so he joins the two of them as they wander around to sight-see the city. It's old architecture, most of it dating from an era Alta thinks that most fossils are found from. She also probably maxes out the rest of her album with all the photo shoots she does.

They dive into a store, a thrift one, so Alta could find a frame for Pip's photo. She wants something smaller, a photo frame, so she can place it on a table of sorts. She watches in amusement at Boro and Romario picking completely contrasting frames of grandiose and elegance. Neither of them are even close to what Alta would pick for herself, but she supposes Boro had a point about the feng shui of her place being off, especially since she agreed to the rosy eyesore as the frame for the playbill.

The final choices are a rustic metal frame that looks like it's literally corroding (Maybe it is? Alta thinks that would be better than the idea that people actual spent their money on a 'new' frame that looked as old as Scorca itself.) and a chipped one made of alternating blocks of gold and black. Alta lets these two, frankly ugly, frames be the last choices because she thinks both of them are very reminiscent of the Often Farlands.

In the end, she chooses the corroding one, only because the chipped one would be more befitting for a Luxy cave photo. Boro agrees with that and actually buys it for himself. When Alta lets out a comment that he should also buy a frame for his ugly baby bird photo, he suddenly claims that there were so many other places that they should visit before the day ends. Boo.

They go to a vineyard and get to sample different types of wines. Alta doesn't take more than a sip from any one glass, not wanting to have a repeat from that fateful night of the dance club. It does make Alta miss Sylvia though, and she writes a postcard to her as Boro and Romario sample the wines, telling her the different qualities.

Eventually, she'll write a postcard to Sable and one back to Pip, but she forsakes it for now, grinning at Boro and Romario playing wine salesmen trying to sell wine to her without saying the words 'flavor, taste, full-bodied or depth.'

She's not sure how many days pass, just knows that they do and it doesn't really irritate her. Sometimes Romario is there, on others he's busy.

But Boro's always there, a steady constant.

"Alta, there's a letter waiting for you," Romario comes to her, one of the few days he doesn't have to work. The weather is terrible, a heavy thunderstorm that's rare in this area but not so unusual during summer. The trail is closed completely and even if it wasn't, there wasn't much reason to leave the house unless you wanted to become one with the storm. So it's been an indoor day, makes Alta a bit more restless than she'd like, but it isn't like there's much to *do* inside.

Well, okay, there *is* stuff to do, it's just that she was looking forward to another outside day, especially because just yesterday Boro had convinced her for a break day and they spent most of the time half-watching, half-talking over 'How Many Eggs Am I Thinking Of?'

She takes the letter eagerly (letters, actually, there's multiple) glad for something to do that's not just idle relaxing. The first one she scans with surprise but joy.

Omg Alta you can't just take off like that!!

Okay, sorry not the way I wanted to start off this letter:

Hi Alta! Thank you so, so much for the postcard! You even got my favorite flower on it, purple geranium! I didn't think I ever even told you something like that, so it's a real nice surprise. Speaking of surprises, I was so surprised when that lady (Salvia? Uhg, I hate names-) gave me that instruction list you wrote. I was glad you were going off to do something, but would it kill you to give your friends better heads up? Not because of work or anything but because I was wondering where you went! I thought you just quit without notice or whatever and it made me so sad.

I was so happy I got this letter I've read it outloud like three times! Leon said if he heard it a fourth he was taking it away from me, but I think it's because he just wants to read it all for himself! I mean, just look at the penmanship!! I didn't know you had an interest in calligraphy.

I've been taking good care of your pluffins Chip Chip and Vreetle (Why don't you want to make that their names, it's cute!) at least I think so. They don't really emote much, kinda like you haha.

Really, I've spent enough time talking about me, how's your trip?! Where have you been so far? Write me some more, that's all I ask!

Leon wants to say hi but he doesn't trust me to make it 'befitting of his vernacular' (whatever that means.) so I'll pass the pen to him. Miss ya!

Alta groans at some parts of the letter. She had given Boro the stack of postcards, mistake ones included, because she thought he'd just send out the one that weren't crossed out. Leave it to him to not understand the memo. Still, Jan says some nice things and it makes her letter all the longer, so she's not mad. She even learns some things. Alta doesn't think she's ever heard Jan mention geraniums either, she had just gotten it because it felt like Jan. Maybe she does know her a bit better than she thought. Huh. She reads on, past Jan's section.

Leon does write a sizable paragraph, but that's not what really surprises Alta. It's the fact that the whole crew, everyone she works with, is writing things to her. Yeah, there's a few cheeky remarks about bringing things back from all these foreign places, but mostly it's just well wishes. Asking how she is, professing that they miss her. Everyone. Everyone says that they miss her.

Alta scans the letter again, lingering on the part where Jan says she didn't give her 'friends' heads up. She's not naive enough to think everyone at work is her friend, god no, but she really didn't think anyone would notice, would even know her name enough beyond the fact that she's a skilled fighter.

But Leon invites her for a cup of coffee sometime while she recounts her tales. Rosa offers to hold the fort down and also take care of her pluffins on the days Jan is busy. So many little things that really shouldn't mean much, but touched her in the fact that it's people going out of their way, just for her.

Grumpy, standoffish her.

Her who would decline any of the work group outings. Not for any particular reason, but because she didn't see the point. She isn't officially hired like the rest of them, it's not like she really went to the place for any reason other than to get out her explosive energy.

Her who wouldn't call Jan a friend.

Not because she doesn't like her.

But because...

"Vulnerability," she murmurs, almost as if saying it out loud would dispel whatever affliction she's cast on herself and let her feel free enough to enjoy.

To enjoy.

...She's never internalized everything she's learned at Wanderstop, has she?

The lights flicker and Alta looks up. Seems like the storm has gotten violent, winds whipping at trees and sending the limbs flying everywhere. Alta places the letters down and moves the table to the side. Good timing too, because the lights go out.

"Great," she mutters as she stands up from the couch, hearing Romario squawking in his room. Poor guy is probably working on his project, hopefully he doesn't need electricity for any of it.

She doesn't hear any noise from Boro and she goes to his room, knocking on the door (It's open a crack but she's being *polite*). She hears stumbling and a crash. Footsteps schlepping to the door before it opens.

"..."

"..."

"A ghost?"

"Boro, it's me," she says exasperatedly. He chuckles, Alta has to keep herself from stepping back. He sounds close, the lack of light making it hard to judge the distance.

"Miss Alta! Is there anything you are needing?" he asks warmly and she shrugs, realizes he can't see it in the darkness.

"Just wanted to see how you were faring with the power outage," she says loftily. She hears movement, a shake of the head, perhaps a nod.

"Ah yes, that is making sense. I was wondering why it was being so dark. I thought at first I had let the time slip away from me." He laughs.

"Let me guess; you were napping," she says.

"Guilty as charged! I had not noticed it was a power outage, perhaps could have gone the night without knowing. Still, thank you for checking up on me, Miss." Alta nods and there's silence, just the sound of their breaths and the rain lashing at the windows.

"If that is all, I think I will be returning to my rest," Boro says and it makes Alta's brain stutter, fumble.

"Um..." she trails off. What does she still want from him?

"Hm?" Boro, ever the patient guy, waits for her to get her thoughts in order. No poking or prodding, and maybe that's what makes it easy for Alta to entertain the idea that passes in her mind.

"Just...The weather's kinda cold. Um, and the living room has a lot of circulation. The couch isn't the greatest for staying warm." Never mind the fact that Alta doesn't tend to sleep warm anyways. "If the offer's still open, I could join you on the bed?" She makes the sentence so open-ended and it annoys her to no end, but she knows that if she doesn't phrase it that way, she'd feel too much like she's barging in, demanding Boro to make space for her in his life once again.

"Of course! Come on in!" Boro opens the door wider and Alta blinks, trying to make out the shape of anything.

"You don't have your junk scattered across the floor, do you?" She takes a step forward gingerly. She really does not want to be stepping on a stray rock or pen nib today. Or any day, really.

Boro hums, thinks about it.

"Perhaps I should be guiding you?" he suggests and she sighs good-naturedly.

"How many paces to the left?" she teases as Boro steps around behind her. She tries to ignore the dread she feels with someone at her back and takes a deep breath when he places his hands firmly on her shoulders.

"This way." He guides her gently, stopping at random points and even taking some time to think about what the layout was last like and not what it was like three days ago. It reminds Alta of a reverse scenario in the Often Farlands government, with him guiding her.

"Drop," he says finally and Alta does so, glad to meet mattress.

"Uhg, I need to be in a bed after that long dangerous trek from one side of the room to the other," she says as Boro goes around the bed, entering from the other side. It is a pretty big bed, when Boro lays down next to Alta, their arms touch but there's still space, if they really want to make it. He's incredibly warm, as per usual and Alta wonders if she feels cold to the touch, if Boro wishes her further away because of how she chills him.

She tries to discard that line of thought and focus on the bed instead. It really is lavish, plumpy, incredibly soft. Alta feels like she's still sinking into it. It's unnerving.

"Well, is this bed up to standard?" Boro asks. She shrugs, her arm brushing up against Boro's as she says, "I feel like I'm sinking into the center of the earth."

"Mm, yes, I have found myself sinking into the bed a little more than to my tastes as well."

"Really? I thought you would like softer beds like this, seems like your kind of thing."

"I am actually more partial to harder beds," Boro admits with a laugh. "I am not minding the occasional soft bed, but this is being a lot closer to water than anything, no?"

It makes Alta chuckle as well and they keep talking. About little meandering things. It's ridiculous because, in Alta's mind, at one point they should run out of things to talk about, considering how often they chattered on this vacation. There's only so much time they've spent away from each other that they haven't already mentioned to death. And as they're seeing the same things on this vacation, those conversations could only last so long as well.

But still they talked. About anything and everything. And it isn't boring, it's nice.

At one point lightning flashes intensely, filling the room with vivid light. And through it Alta could see Boro's expression. His face is turned towards her, his warm brown eyes trained on her sharper ones, his goofy smile a touch softer than usual, maybe from exhaustion. A softer view of Boro she's not sure she's often seen. That, with their point of contact makes Alta want to burrow in closer, get more contact until this feeling of safety engulfs her whole body.

She doesn't though. She just doesn't know how...She just doesn't know.

But the contentedness she feels in this moment, lulling her slowly to sleep. Well, it's a feeling she won't trade for anything.

Chapter Text

They finally decide to board the train the next morning. Romario even walks them to the station, declaring that he would have to visit them next time so that they could show him around their town.

(The surprised look on his face when they said they lived in completely opposite areas was something. Did they really have the energy of knowing each other for so long?)

They settle on the train, Alta relishing the strange feeling of being back in a train seat. Their stay at Scorca was even more unexpected than their beach stay, but Alta would say she enjoyed it way more. Not even because of the lack of a fever, but just the energy of everything was so much... *better*

Now though, it's time for them to go towards the *real* main event. Speria is always popular, but especially during summer when people want to get as much sun in as they could. It makes Alta skeptical that they could find enough time to see anything when it's going to be so crowded, but she supposes that's also part of the vacation experience.

The train ride is short this time, Scorca only three hours away from Speria. So it's still early morning when Alta and Boro hop off. While Alta definitely liked the air at Scorca better (much fresher with all the plants around) she thinks that Speria has way more cultural spirit to it.

Or maybe it's just designed this way to trick simple tourists like her into giving this place more credit than it deserves.

"What's on your list?" She asks Boro, because Speria has been a location he's been wanting to visit for a while. Boro scratches at his head, pondering.

"I am thinking The Colossal would be an excellent site," he says finally, "Though I am not sure we'll be able to see it till day's ending."

Alta tries to keep her expression neutral, but something in her face must show because Boro gives her a patient smile.

"Miss Alta doesn't want to spend all day in line, hm?"

"It just seems like a waste of vacation time," she shrugs. "Like we could spend the whole day exploring a museum or something but waiting in line for 12+ hours to see The Colossal?" She puts a hand on her hip, "That just sounds like wasting time for no reason."

Boro hums, "Is it a waste though? If we are wanting to see The Colossal then waiting is not a bad price exchange. And seeing as the amount of time we have to wait will not change no matter the day, I am thinking today is a fine day as ever. If you would prefer to wait another day though-"

"No, no. Let's do it today," Alta says.

The line is stupidly long. Alta doesn't even want to pick something to compare how long the line is to, both because whatever she picks would be too short and because cementing it's length would probably make her go mad.

So she keeps her focus on Boro and his chill manner, wondering how he's still so serene after two hours of waiting already.

He had seemed intent on entertaining Alta before, making them play silly little road games like "I spy" (Alta won despite Boro cheating and using one *specific* speck of dirt as the thing he spied.) and "The Alphabet game" (Make a story in alphabetical order, the first word of each sentence starting with it's respective letter. Most of their games went like this:

Alta: A day like any other.

Boro: Beautiful and bright, bubbling with potential.

Alta: Cause...Um... of cacti.

Boro: Delectable creatures, in the dusty wasteland of desert.

Alta: Eating...Water??

Boro: Flora facetious, but flowers foiled their plans not.

Alta:...Gorilla???

Boro:

Alta: Yeah there's a gorilla now. This game is stupid.

Boro: Miss, those don't start with the letter-

Alta: Game. Is. Stupid.

Stuff like this isn't Alta's strong suit, okay? Boro should consider himself lucky that she goes for two more rounds throughout the whole Alphabet.)

Eventually though, Alta claims that she just wants to stand in silence, Boro more than content to do so. Despite the high sun, the weather isn't so bad. And no one in the line is going rabid over the fact that the line doesn't move any faster. It's a peaceful time.

And it bores the heck out of Alta.

She doesn't want Boro to have to entertain her, like she's some wayside kid on a road trip, but she does kinda wish there's *something* to do. She couldn't leave and come back unless she's heading to the bathroom (The security is very strict about that) so she's still stuck here for the next ten years.

She heaves out a sigh and Boro looks at her concernedly. She shrugs, leaning until her head is pressed against his arm, miserable. He takes off his cute little straw hat and places it on Alta's head. She frowns.

"I have hair, my head is fine. Yours will burn." She tries to flap the cap back onto Boro's head but he stands resolutely tall, annoyingly out of Alta's reach.

"But it looks wonderful on you, Miss Alta! And it is nice sometimes, to have the sun off your head, even if it will not be burning you."

She sighs, too lethargic to consider vaulting over Boro and placing the hat back. She keeps it on her head, brushing some stray hairs out of the way.

"I need a haircut," she mumbles, mainly to herself.

"Oh! Boro has always wanted to give a haircut. I can be helping you, Miss."

Alta turns her head towards him and raises an eyebrow.

"You've always wanted to give a haircut??" It's not even the weirdest thing Boro has ever confessed, not by far, but the randomness of his sentences still surprise her.

Boro nods, "Yes! A trim to help a friend look like her preferred self, it sounds happy making."

"Um..." How does she decline this nicely?

"No."

Maybe that's still a little too harsh.

"Thanks. No thanks," Alta finally settles on both words together, bringing a hand up to touch at the ends of her hair. She hasn't comb through it properly and with the weight of the added length, the coiled up ends are no longer and instead tickle at the back of her head. Irritating.

Boro sags, reminiscent of a pluffin. "My, not even a consideration?"

"It's nothing personal," Alta says, "Just..."

Don't like people touching my hair.

Which is the truth, any parts of Alta's appearance are hers and hers alone. But is this too unfriendly? Is this an unnecessary wall Alta is putting up again? If Boro really is her friend as she claims, she shouldn't have any problems with him giving her a haircut, right? She falters, her hand still rubbing at the ends, uncertain. Maybe she should just say yes, even with her discomfort. Friends are suppose to be open with each other, aren't they?

"Er, well...When I think about it, maybe you can-"

She's cut from her sentence when she hears a loud scream from up ahead. Her and Boro exchange a look, leaning past the line to try and see what has happened. Security yells at everyone to stay in line, that nothing worrisome is happening. Alta doesn't feel inclined to believe them, but as the line keeps inching forward bit by bit, she supposes that whatever caused the person to scream really doesn't concern her.

Until it does.

Boro has a hand on her shoulder, maybe trying to steady her, because right now Alta has her glare at max.

"What the hell do you mean we can't see The Colossal?? We waited seven hours to get to this point!" And from where they were in line, they would still have to wait three more.

Security gives her a bored look. "There was an incident, someone released their prize ant farm all over the place. We can't let anyone past until each one is recovered-"

"Who was stupid enough to bring their ant farm?!" Alta considers strangling someone, just to let out steam. She quickly decides that that is a non-action and reels herself in, breathing in slowly.

"So you're saying we can't see the Colossal today, even after all our waiting. You can't or won't give us a voucher to keep our place in line because security isn't liable and that even if you could, because we were exposed to this species of ant, we have their pheromones on us and thus would chase away some of the more skitterish ants near the Colossal?"

"Well look at that, she does have a brain," The security guy drawls and Alta supposes it's for the best when Boro heaves her away as she lunges at the guy.

"I hate Speria," Alta says as Boro carries her over his shoulder, Alta looking at the sights they pass by with fury.

"Miss, to have such rude encounters is a stain on any vacation, but it does not have to define the whole trip!"

"Eh, I've been to Speria before and it's never been anything to write home about," she says flippantly. Granted, she was only there for arena battles and never cared enough to go sightseeing or whatever. It seems like that was a good choice, considering how bullshit everything is here.

"And more than the encounters are the stupid waiting times of everything here," she glares at the sign of a fancy restaurant that claims it has the low, low waiting times of two hours before seating.

Boro finally heaves her away from his shoulder, holding her so that they're eye to eye.

"If you are wanting us to skip Speria, we can. This is Miss Alta's trip too, after all. But I am thinking there is much more to see than just The Colossal. Even if we are not experiencing the things that are being specific to Speria, it is still nice to relax in a place different from one's hometown, yes?"

"Have you ever been?" Alta asks, and Boro shakes his head. She sighs, "Then we can stay," and wiggles out of Boro's grip, landing on the ground easily.

"Only the places that are very popular with tourists are having waiting times. If we look around then I am certain we will be finding something that we could do on the spot," Boro says. His way of compromising with her if they are staying, she supposes. Alta shrugs, a certain kind of misery taking her over as she's now bustling and bumping into the overly crowded streets.

"You can pick *anything* you want," Alta stresses, Just get me out of here being the unsaid second part.

"This place looks sketchy," Alta whispers, or tries to. The huge, empty, worn down lobby of the beautifier echoes her words far beyond Boro's ear. Oops.

"It could be a good experience," Boro says, "It has been a while since I have last been at a boutique like this."

"Yeah and I've never been before and this makes me not want to start." Alta frowns at the dust gathering up on her shoe. There's irony somewhere about a beautifier's place being so dilapidated.

Boro shrugs with an open expression, "You said anything, Miss."

Alta waves him off, "I know."

And I'm starting to regret that decision.

They approach a desk with stacks of binders filled with old, yellowing pages. There's a bell for service and Boro taps it gently, the din ringing out brightly throughout the lobby.

Alta turns to Boro.

"Maybe they're closed- Woah!"

Alta startles back, fists out as an older lady rises up from behind the counter. She's covered in dust and honestly looks like she needs the beautifier more than either of them.

"Customers, how lovely," The older lady speaks, her voice rough as sandpaper.

"Why were you under the counter?" Alta asks, relaxing her pose as she takes the older lady in. The older lady hums, the sound like a fly's buzz and Alta resists the urge to slap at her ears.

"I had dropped some binders by accident and underneath there I found my lost pet rabbit! She had been missing for thirty-five years, so I'm glad to have found her again. See?"

The lady holds up a dust bunny.

And she means that with the double entendre. Alta can't tell if it is a legitimate dust bunny the lady has mistaken for as her pet, or if the shifting mass is just a bunny covered in thirty-five years worth of dust. She's really not sure which one concerns her more.

"We are wanting to have the beautifying experience, if you would please," Boro says and the lady hefts out a binder crinklier than the rest.

"Well, which experience would you like? We have the solo package, the double package, the triple package, the quadruple package-"

"What would you recommend?" Alta interrupts, seeing that the first page alone went to fifty and she isn't going to sit around wasting time again.

"For you two?" The lady thinks on it, stroking her dust bunny all the while.

"Well to be honest with you, none of our beautifiers are here today."

Alta frowns, "Then who the hell are you?"

"Oh, I'm just the receptionist. We're technically closed down for the season, so I'm here to let people know that."

Circles. This conversation is going in circles.

Alta groans and puts her head in her hands. Given how good her time was in Scorca, of course Speria is going to be the most annoying thing she's ever witnessed. The vacation had only been going up, at some point it's going to have to go crashing back down.

"Oh, but you know what?" The lady opens the experience binder to some random page in the middle, tapping at a line so faded it's illegible.

"This right here, is part of the "Do it yourself package!" We provide all the materials and rooming even, if you go for the sleepover deal. The beautifiers already prepared the rooms before they left, if you're interested in that."

Alta exchanges a look with Boro, giving him a shrug. He gives the lady a kind smile.

"We'll take it!"

It's a motel type deal. A small basic room with bare necessities, the most of the beautifier materials coming from a gift basket the old lady had gave them. The place feels humid, with the A.C. going and Alta turns it off, opening the window instead to let in some fresh air. She looks over the place.

Thankfully, compared to the lobby, the room is actually clean. No dust, though the carpet was slightly damp from the humidity and Alta opts to keep her socks on, grimacing at the cold still seeping through them.

Boro is in the bathroom, bustling about in a way that makes Alta doubt he's using it for the typical uses. She sits on one of the beds gingerly, uncertain on what to do with herself until Boro gets out.

A sleepover, huh? She's not really had one of those. Not like the frivolous sort anyways, staying up to gossip and paint nails or whatever. If Alta was ever staying up, it was because she didn't finish her tasks for the day and no way was she letting herself off easy and going to sleep.

...Yeah, she hasn't had a proper sleepover. So when Boro opens the door, frog sleepwear on, she doesn't expect him to toss a pillow at her and to brandish another two with a grin.

"Pillow fight!" he declares, immediately going over to Alta and whacking at her with two pillows, the cheater. She's surprised for a hot second, taking the hits. When Boro gives her a good whack in the face, she breaks out of her stupor and finally attacks him back vigorously.

"Trying to- get the jump- on me?!" She growls, words interrupted by the whacks she's receiving, the grin on her face showing that she doesn't take these offenses seriously.

"Not-! one-! bit!!!" Boro replies in the same staccato manner. He loses his grip on one of his pillows and tries to whack Alta with just the one. Too bad for him, without the extra pillow he loses his (very slight) advantage. He eventually drops his single pillow, raising his arms up in surrender with a laugh. He soon learns that Alta doesn't take prisoners as she starts to attack him with more abandon.

"Nooooo~" Boro's protest are hard to take seriously when he's giggling so hard, face flushed as he's on the ground, curled up on his back like a dead bug, trying to block her blows with his limbs. Personally, Alta's too frenzied up to take mercy on him, so her pillow does the job for her, ripping open after all the blows and unfurling an explosion of feathers all over the two of them.

"Do you yield?" Alta asks, for dramatics really. Her pillow is forfeit and she feels properly flushed with excitement, like her mind and body are now aligned into her usual mood, or perhaps even better than that, with the smile plastered on her face.

"Yes! I have been saying so, Miss!" Boro had been laughing himself red after the pillow broke open. Even now, as Alta finally leaves her position from high above him as she brought the pillow down on him mercilessly to a sitting position by his side, he's still letting out little chuffs of amusement.

"A good start to the sleepover, hm?" Boro says as he finally regains his breath, face now in the pink zone of flushed.

"Exceedingly," Alta agrees, "Though whacking pillows at each other doesn't really seem to be part of the beautifier's experience."

Boro grins, "Rightly so! But Boro was thinking this would be the part that would endear Miss Alta the most and as such should be the starting point. Now, we can get to the beautifying part!" He does a little clap and goes rifling in the gift basket, Alta giving him a look that she's sure borders on fondness.

Leave it to him to make sure she's actually finding something fun about a sleepover. She quickly retracts on the idea when Boro pulls out a whole set of nail polish, a three tiered display that could be rotated to see each bottle in it's sparkly and gaudy nature. Not at all anything Alta would like to put on her nails.

"You're kidding me." She eyes the display warily, trying to see if there is at least a simple black one (The one color she'd settle for having her nails painted in.)

"It is a fun and easy first step to beautifying, Miss! If you are not wanting to have your nails painted-"

"I'm not," Alta interrupts and Boro chuckles.

"Alright, since you are not wanting to have your nails painted, perhaps you could help Boro pick out a color!"

"Yeah sure," she says easily and sizes up the display, scrutinizing Boro and the colors as she decides which one would look best.

"This one," she says finally, taking a rich green one with a slight shimmer, perfectly fitting the darker greens of Boro's frog sleepware. Boro nods and puts the polish to the side.

"Okay! And the other colors?"

Alta furrows her brow, "Other colors?"

"For my other nails, Miss!"

There's silence. A silence soon broken as Alta puts her face in her hands and groans.

"Oh god you're going to make each nail a different color??"

"Is that not the most exciting arrangement? I can be using the same color for polish any day, sometimes only because it is the only color option I am having. But being here and having so many choices, a fiasco of color sounds most appealing, yes." Boro laughs at Alta's scrunched up face and leans over to pick another color, a saucy pink that is just a few shades too much to match the pink tongue of his frog, saying all the while, "If Miss Alta is tired of committing crimes against the art world, she can simply watch Boro instead-"

"No, no, let's get ten different colors," she says. Boro gives her a look, and her shoulders slump inward as she revises, "Okay, let's get twenty different colors."

Boro nods, "Much better!"

Alta tries to stick to the color palette provided by the frog. Boro does not. The colors chosen are a sad combination of what Alta imagines the puke that comes from eating a rainbow looks like. She does get one victory though, picking out the only truly black polish for nail number seventeen.

(The rest are too gray or light, or sparkly or silvery. Boro had tried to make some cheeky comment about how she just couldn't resist picking the one black polish out of all these vibrant choices and she had told him that either he took his one black toenail with grace, or she was repainting all his nails with the black polish while he slept.

He gave into nail seventeen being black very quickly. Success.)

Now Boro holds out his hand as Alta paints his nails diligently, not wanting to mess up even a bit. Boro laughs at each facial expression Alta does as she applies the nail colors, sometimes a neutral face, oftentimes disgust morphing into approval, or just a plain scowl at the color that dries. They then would rate the colors, comparing them to different objects and concepts as they let his current nail dry a bit before continuing to the next one.

Alta's done with his hands soon enough and easily brushes past his first foot and two of the nails from his second foot. She finally grips the black polish for nail number seventeen, shaking it and unscrewing the cap with a flourish. She lays the brush on his nail quickly, a smile on her face at the color that applies.

...Applies way past his nail, that is.

"Shit," Alta mutters, really hoping she could snatch a few towels to rub it off before Boro noticed-

"Oh dear," Boro looks down at toenail number seventeen.

"Not. A. Chuckle." Alta hisses and Boro gives her an open-eyed look.

"I wasn't going to say a thing Miss! In fact, I am being shocked into silence that there is a color that could mess up Miss Alta's perfect record on nail painting."

"Shut up," she huffs, "It was congealed and blobbed way more that the others."

Boro strokes his chin with his, thankfully dry, newly polished hands, "And would you say that reason is being because no one ever uses the black polish so that it's left to congeal for as long as bunnies go missing under desks."

"Oh hush you, now I know you're toying with me." Alta stalks off into the bathroom to get the mini towels and nail polish, holding the towel to the lip of the bottle and turning the bottle upside down as she adds, "There are plenty of people who use black nail polish and *only* black nail polish. I'm not an oddity."

"I never said you were, Miss," Boro says humbly, "But I am thinking it wouldn't hurt for Miss Alta to venture out with a few different colors, while it is just us here. A red would look most ravishing, yes?" He makes to pick at the different red polish, his nails sparkling especially well.

Despite the clash of colors, it does bring nice attention to his hands. Alta sighs as she sits back down in front of Boro, gesturing for him to give her his foot.

"I'm not one who's much for nail polish in general. I'd rather not wear it. But if I had to choose a color, the only one I would tolerate is black," she says as she scrubs at his offending nail, the polish drying exceptionally fast. Boro hums and Alta works in silence as she takes off enough flecks of the black that she can start repainting the nail more cleanly.

"If you don't want to try it at all, then that is fine. A suggestion Boro was merely making," Boro says at last, "But if you are curious for the sleepover experience, then Boro can paint your nails too, so that you can see how it is."

She falters over that seventeenth nail, not because of another potential mess-up. Boro clears his throat and holds her gaze gently.

"Only an idea. Perhaps one or two nails and then we polish it away. Woosh! Like it never happened." Alta cracks a smile at that.

"Or we can do it not at all, it is always your choice to be making, Miss Alta." Boro adds and she nods, painting in the eighteenth nail diligently as she thinks about it.

When she finally finishes off the last nail, she wordlessly hands Boro the black nail polish bottle.

"Just the thumbs," she warns him at his excited gaze.

"Of course!" he crows, putting the bottle down so he can look at her hands. He hums at his inspection and reaches for a nail filer.

"These are indeed the nails of a fighter," he says as he holds her hand and files it down slowly, almost a pantomime of their time in Scorca when he was bandaging her wounds.

Alta shrugs, "They're actually in pretty good shape now, since we've just been traveling," she says, though she can't deny the flicker of pride that goes through her at Boro's words. Her nails aren't pretty. She doesn't bite at them or anything, but picking up swords, scrabbling for purchases on rocky mountains, and her general picking at them made her nails often uneven and chipped. It's also part of why Alta never really cares to wear nail polish besides it not being her thing, she's too rough with her hands to have any of it last longer than a day.

Her hands are shaped by her identity, her identity of being a fighter.

So is it any wonder that when Boro holds her hand in that soft, gentle way of his, it makes her feel so vulnerable?

And cared.

It makes her feel cared about.

Which is stupid, because obviously this is just a small act that Boro himself probably sees no significance in, but to Alta, to have her hands focused on and polished so diligently and caringly...Well, it's something she hasn't felt in a while, if ever.

(Maybe once? When she was younger and her mindset towards her mother wasn't so strained. It's only flashes of things, not full memories, but it's still something worth remarking, she thinks.)

She lets a slow breath out of her mouth, trying to stabilize herself among the feeling. Boro looks up from her hand.

"Too much?" he asks, already lightening his feather-light touch.

"No, no," Alta says quickly, "It's...good. Keep going."

He does, humming some song she suspects he made up in the moment all the while. Finally, her nails pass inspection and Boro lays the polish on in one nice stroke. The black really is duller compared to the other colors, having a matte sheen that doesn't capture the light. Still, it's nice without the flashiness and Alta puts her two thumbs up, making Boro laugh.

"What next?" Alta asks, mindful of her thumbs as she combs through the ends of her hair with her fingers. It really is getting too long, it's tickling her like crazy.

Boro's eyes brighten, "I could be giving you your haircut!"

Oh right. The idea she had sorta agreed to by way of not declining wholeheartedly. She shrugs, trying her best to ignore the pit of dread she feels in her stomach.

"Okay," she says simply. Okay. It is okay, she approves of this wholeheartedly, definitely. Boro guides her to a chair and she tries not to feel like she's on death row.

"How short?" he muses as he grabs a tiny pair of scissors from the basket, the item looking absolutely minuscule in his large hands. Alta tries to relax into the chair, wishing the dread she's feeling would shrink rather than grow.

"Are you asking me or asking yourself?" Alta says breathlessly. She shifts in her chair, trying not to get a glance at Boro with his scissors at this angle and failing. Or succeeding, because she wants to keep him in view as he had a sharp instrument that is going to be near her neck. But she actually doesn't want to keep him in view! She's not being her paranoid self that can't trust anyone else to do right by her. No no no no no. So she's *totally* comfortable with Boro giving her a haircut. He wouldn't mess up and chop off her neck, or mess up and make her as bald as him. No! Ahahaha.

No.

NO.

Alta leaps out of the chair halfway through Boro chattering about different hair lengths. She's rubbing her nape as she starts competing with him for the chatterbird award.

"Maybe we should do it in the bathroom? So that there's a mirror and I can see and prevent you from messing up. You can see. You. I said so you can see better."

Boro gives Alta that patented patient look of his, "You are not wanting a haircut, are you?"

"I do!" Alta protests. Boro keeps giving her that stare and she rubs the back of her head as she revises, "I should," she mumbles.

"Says who?" Boro asks with an easy laugh, "Boro is not judging you if you don't want one from his hands. I am inexperienced, after all."

Alta shakes her head, "It's not because of you," she stresses, waving a hand around as he tries to explain this peculiar feeling, "I just don't want anyone cutting my hair. Like it's a wall of sorts and I dunno, I shouldn't have this wall around you, it's not like there's any tangible reason."

Boro shrugs, a carefree smile on his face, "Sometimes we are having adverse reactions to things for no particular reasons. Like how certain people are being allergic to dairy or water. It is not a bad thing, just something that makes us all different."

Alta sags, "But I don't want to have this wall, it makes me feel like..." she trails off, her mind completing the rest of her sentence, 'It makes me feel like I don't trust you.'

"You could work on it," Boro offers, "You can be trying to expose yourself, little by little. But if this gives you such discomfort, then perhaps it is not something you should push past. There is no reason for you to be distressing yourself just on account of how things 'should' and 'shouldn't' be."

Alta fiddles with her hair some more, thinking. Finally she ventures, "Maybe another time, you could give me a haircut? But not tonight." Boro nods, "Whatever is making you feel comfortable, Miss."

It doesn't make her feel comfortable, it makes her feel like a bad friend. Especially the relief that flows through her as Boro puts the offending scissors away.

(It's not the scissors that are offending. The scissors didn't do anything. It's her boorish attitude once again destroying any bridges she could build.)

"I am not fond of termites," Boro says, apropos nothing. Alta raises her eyebrows, "Yeah?" she asks.

Boro nods, "Yes. Partly because of their damaging nature to wood and subsequently trees, but to be honest, it is an unbased fear. Even if the world was made of metal, I am doubting I would gain a sudden fondness for them."

Boro gives her a smile as he sits down on the floor, in front of her, "Just to let Miss Alta know she is not alone in her arbitrary fears."

Alta breathes, "Right, yeah. Okay. Thanks." She quickly shifts the conversation off-course, "And here I was thinking you were trying to play Truth or Dare."

Boro gasps excitedly, "Yes!! That is a sleepover staple, let's play it Miss!!"

Alta sighs good-naturedly, "God, what have I done," she laments, sitting down as Boro asks her truth or dare.

"Dare," she says immediately and Boro chuckles.

"I suppose you would never be choosing truth, hm?"

Alta frowns, "I chose dare because I'm not a chicken. Give me a dare."

"Okay! I dare you to change your answer to truth."

"Boro, that's cheating. If it's that easy then the game would just be called Truth or Truth."

Boro shakes his head, forlorn, "All I am hearing is that Miss Alta is too chicken to pick truth-"

"Okay, *fine*. This *one* time I am changing my answer to truth because of the dare. You can't do that again this game."

Boro claps and then muses on what to ask her. Alta thinks to tease him for dogging her to pick truth when he doesn't even have a question in mind, but he finds something soon enough.

"If you could be eating one thing for the rest of your life, what would you choose?"

Alta pauses, furrowing her eyebrows. Not the sort of hard-hitting questions people usually choose for truth or dare, but a very Boro question. She rolls the question around in her mind until she finally decides on strawberries.

"Oh?" Boro inquires.

"They're versatile," Alta says, "Like they can be tart or sweet depending, sometime not too flavorful and other times very bright, so I could have more variety before I get bored. They're pretty healthy and are a good fruit for the body. They're hydrating, so I don't need water to eat with them. And I like them. You can't get all your nutrients from one food, so there's no point in trying to find something like that, so I might as well pick something I like."

"Those are all very good reasons to be picking strawberries! They are not too hard to grow either, there are many regions in which they can be growing, so you would never want for availability."

"See?" Alta nods, "Strawberries are a good choice."

"Rightly so! But perhaps not the choice I would be making," Boro says and Alta raises an eyebrow.

"What would you choose, then?" She asks and Boro laughs.

"No free answers! Unless you are also daring me to pick truth?"

"No," she says hotly, "Because I'm not a cheater." Boro simply laughs at her stink face to him and she lightens up, shifting her seating position to something more comfortable as she asks "Truth or dare?"

"Hmmmm," Boro thinks. "I am feeling partial to truth now too."

"Typical," Alta singsongs but Boro remains firm in his choice. Fine. Alta thinks of what to ask him, not wanting to actually piggyback off his question.

"Is there a chicken-out option?" She asks first.

"Is that your question to me, Miss?" Boro gives her that cherub smile at her flat look.

"Well, it wouldn't go amiss, I think. Either of us might find something we suddenly don't want to participate in," he says and Alta nods.

"So what's the punishment?" Alta asks, "Nothing crazy, but something to boast about."

Boro laughs, "My, Miss Alta is really aiming to win, isn't she?"

"I don't need to aim, it's already in my sights," she says loftily. Boro hums and picks up a stray nail polish bottle.

"How about you add a dot of color to Boro's nails for each of my chicken-outs? A color that clashes with whatever nail you are painting. It will greatly encourage me to answer all questions and dares, I'm sure."

"Sounds good," she says. "Okay, your question is: What's the last lie you told?"

"Haha!" Boro throws his head back and laughs, "Now I see why you were asking about chicken-out options! Already driving this truth and dare to a spicy path, Miss."

Alta shrugs, "I'm curious. You know how you are, I just wanna know if your last lie was like five years ago or five seconds ago."

And Alta feels like this is the kind of question perfectly primed for truth or dare. Boro would easily answer questions like his favorite color, or foods he could eat forever. But questions like these, deep ones that required a bit more of an edge pressed to someone before they answered willy-nilly? That's what's so good about hearing someone pick truth for truth or dare.

...Maybe she's a bit intense, going for something like this off the bat, but nothing else would really interest her but questions in this manner.

"How exactly am I, Miss?" Boro asks and Alta frowns, "Quit stalling and answers the question. You probably lied on this trip, right? When??"

"Okay," Boro agrees, "I've even lied in this very room." Alta blinks. That is a lot sooner than she expected, she would have guessed sometime they entered Speria as the soonest, but not up to this point!

"When Miss Alta asked if I was getting the jump on her with the pillow fight, I was. I had a suspicion she would best me in the pillow fight if it was done head-on, so I had been deciding an ambush was best, along with more plush weapons for my own self."

Alta snorts, "And you lost anyways."

"So I did," Boro agrees. He gives her a clear look, not at all upset by her question, "Truth or dare?"

Alta finds it too on point that Boro's last 'lie' was some line she honestly completely forgot about. It's nothing she couldn't have predicted but something about hearing it from Boro is enlightening.

"Truth," Alta says easily. See, she could pick truth without being goaded.

"What are the elements of a perfect day for you?" Alta sits with it, each word coming slowly as she thinks about what she likes in a day.

"Obviously waking up early. And good weather, like if it's warmer with clear skies but a constant breeze," she nods, "You really can't get better."

Boro chuckles, "Yes, I suppose you can't," he humbles.

"Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Let me be the first to say dare!" Boro says and Alta lets out a faux gasp, hand over her mouth.

"How daring," she intones. "Okay, I dare you to show me what you have in your pack. That thing's bigger than the bed."

It really isn't, but god there's so much *nonsense* in that thing. Alta doesn't even know where Boro gets it all from because she swears that his pack was a normal size, if a little bulging, when he first arrived at her place. Then it somehow grew as they first boarded the train, and from there on, with all his excessive buys it's only grown more.

Boro sighs, "Oh, please Miss, can't I just show you what's in my pockets instead?"

"What I'm hearing is that you're trying to chicken out from the original dare," Alta says idly. Boro groans, getting a little chuckle out of Alta. She doesn't think she's ever heard him like this.

"It's very delicate right now, if I unpack it all I doubt I could fit it all back in again. Just let me show you what's on my person instead."

"Alright, but you're still getting the punishment game with that," Alta warns.

"Of course," Boro says easily, reaching into his pockets and dumping it all out on the floor.

"So much for being daring," Alta remarks as she peers at the junk Boro has scattered on the carpet. Because that's what it really is, junk. She spots a paperclip among the crumpled receipts and discarded pebbles and picks it up, scrutinizing it.

"Is this...Is this a different paperclip from all those other ones you found near my place?" she asks and Boro smiles, "Indeed!"

"Okay, seriously, are you part magnet??" she says as she picks a molting orange polish to dot on a puke green nail Boro has on his index finger.

"Save that question for next round, if I am picking truth," Boro says, holding the dripping dot up and watching as it makes some eyesore of a nail.

"Let me show you how it's actually done, I pick dare," Alta says preemptively as she places down the bottle of polish.

Boro laughs, something about it feeling malign, "Would you still be saying that if I say your dare is to sing your favorite song?"

Oh scratch that, it is *definitely* malign. Alta holds her head high as she makes eye contact with Boro.

"Take your time, thinking of a song. Of course, we can be using this time too to be finding a chicken-out punishment for you-"

"You're the engine that keeps me running," It's rough, her voice scratchy, unprepared to sing. But it comes out boldly. Alta clears her throat, tries the next line with the same bravado, "You're the motor that keeps me coming."

She narrows her eyes at Boro as she sings, "To the road that keeps on winding, coming to the love I keep on finding." 'What was that about a punishment, hm?' Is what she's practically beaming at him with her expression. Boro picks up on it quickly as he bows deferentially, picks up a stick that was dumped out of his pocket and tosses it at her.

"Sing louder for the people in the back," he cheers and Alta obliges as she catches the stick, standing up, feeling in the mood to be a little silly.

"Ain't a road in life I can't travel, as long as I know you're there." She sings into her stick mic, tone somewhat pitchy. Boro takes a bunch of the pebbles from the floor and closes his fist around them, making a makeshift maraca to shake to Alta's imposed beat.

"Ain't no map, I can't unravel, as long as I know you care." Is she flat and screechy at this point, past the usual amount of an untrained voice and moreso from her silly-fit of belting out these words in the most extravagant manner.

Maybe.

But she isn't backing down from a dare, dammit!

"Every time you touch me, starts my motor running. I like the way you keep it humming, keeps my motor running. I like the way you keep me humming, oh." Because this is about the dare, yup. She's just teasing and really getting into it because of the dare, and Boro's cute little cheers as he really tries to act like an audience at a concert, and because she does like this song and because...

"You're my driving wheel. I can't hear ya now. You take me farther than I've been before. Than I've been before." She stops, a sudden shyness overcoming her.

"I uh, do you want me to sing the whole song or...?" She gestures with her stick mic and trails off. Singing for a couple more minutes sounds like torture, actually.

"No, no, you do not have to. You did the dare quite well, Miss!" Boro claps, a resounding noise that echoes in their tiny room. "It seems that you are liking music more than you let on, if you know the lyrics so well."

Alta sits down, laying on her side, one arm propping her head up as the other waves the stick around lazily, "Oh yeah, I do. I was just being difficult earlier. I do like some songs, just not much of a musical person."

Boro sticks a finger in his ear, "No need to be telling me twice," he says, laughing at Alta's petulant frown.

"But perhaps we should go to karaoke at one point, yes? I'm certain there are jukeboxes that cater to Miss Alta's taste in music-"

"Truth or dare, Boro?" she cuts him off, feeling flustered. Just because she isn't the type of person to chicken out of a dare doesn't mean she wants to parade around singing everywhere.

"I am having a feeling that truth is the smarter option to pick now," Boro says and Alta shrugs.

"Okay, um..." She sits up and glances around the room, trying to jog her mind for what to ask him. She's in the mind to give him a lighter question despite her earlier thoughts, hoping that it would temper Boro enough to not keep pressing her on the singing matter.

"What... Is the strangest dream you've ever had?" She asks at last, eyeing the bed.

"Oh, quite frankly this one still gives Boro nightmares." He sighs and reaches over to grasp Alta's hands in his. He's looking at her solemnly as he says, "I accidentally made myself into a cup of tea."

Even if Alta could predict something roughly in the ballpark of what he was about to say, she doubts she'd be able to keep in the mean snort she lets out.

"What?? That's your weirdest dream?? I mean, you deal with tea every day, it's not all that weird that you dream about it."

"No, no, you must understand Miss. I had fallen into the tea contraption and had grabbed the rope hoping to pull myself up, but instead it had somehow released the valve and made me into the next cup of tea. Poured magically by itself through the magic of dream logic."

"O-kay," Alta says slowly, "Following through, still don't see the weird part."

He gives her a look and she shrugs, "What? I mean it. It's not weird enough for you, that is."

"Touche!" Boro hums, "Alright, then a customer had wandered into the shop and taken the cup, meaning to drink it, but he didn't have the time as he would be late for a meeting."

"Not at the boardroom, I hope," Alta quips. At Boro's intrigued look, she shakes her head, "Never mind, keep going. What happens next?" She jostles her hands in his and he continues.

"Then the customer had poured me out, but only halfway so that it would be easier to transport me without spilling tea. My conscious was split Miss! I was experiencing both the journey with the customer and my place in the ground."

"Okay, that is pretty weird-"

"It's not over yet Miss! Tea Boro was sinking into the ground, journeying to the center the earth. There was the me being in the cup, seeing all these new sights, and then there was the evaporation, I was evaporating from both locations and floating up into the sky that way too."

"I get it, point made, this dream *is* weird-"

"Finally, it was raining the tea Boro, and as the clouds moved I was being rained all over the place! I was everywhere at once." Boro shook his head tragically. "The worst part was that I was never even drank! The closest I had gotten was to someone trying to catch raindrops in their mouth, but they had missed all the ones containing me."

"Um... I'm sorry for your loss?" Alta says finally after a moment of furrowed brows. Boro shakes his head again.

"It is being alright Miss, I am more than certain I can never be made into tea, not with the pouramid at least." Boro shrugs, then gives Alta a smile, "What is your weirdest dream, Miss?"

"I promise you that if you're asking me to top that, I can't. I think that wins for weirdest dream *ever*."

Boro laughs, "Yes, perhaps so. But I am just curious about your weirdest dream."

Alta thinks. "I don't actually remember most of my dreams," she confesses.

Boro blinks, "None?"

She ponders further, trying to scour her mind. Eventually she shrugs. "I mean, I remember bits and pieces," she says, "But I couldn't tell you a solid plot of any one dream. The ones I do remember are pretty basic, like forgetting something important or waking up from falling from a great height."

"Interesting." Boro strokes his chin in thought. Alta grabs a fresh water bottle from the bedside table. "You have to ask me truth or dare anyways, I haven't pick my category yet."

"Was that not free knowledge about Miss Alta?" he asks.

She rubs the excess water from her mouth as she considers. "I guess it was,"she finally says. "Anyways, I pick truth."She sits back down in front of Boro again.

"Not even waiting for me to say the patented 'Truth or dare?'" Boro asks dramatically and Alta rolls her eyes.

"It gets old when it's very obvious what you are going to ask. Now come on, what's my question?"

"Hmmm...Would you rather be breaking into song uncontrollably or lose your voice entirely?"

"You're getting your drinks mixed," Alta huffs, "This is 'Truth or Dare', not 'Would You Rather'."

"Yes, well I am finding Miss that when one picks truth for the game, it easily blends into the other! Because they are both questions all the same, are they not?"

"And why'd you give me a singing question?" She complains. Boro smiles, "Why not!"

Fair enough.

"Okay, hold on. Before I answer, I want more context. Like do I break into song every time I talk? Is it based on the length of my sentence or how long I'm talking? Like if I'm saying a one word response is it always going to come out as a song, no matter what?"

"Let's say it is truly random Miss! There is no rhyme or reason to the length of how long you do or don't sing."

"So is it possible for me to sing words for three years straight, if it's truly so random?"

"Mmm... The max is a month."

"No thank you, I'll just write things down or further my signing."

"But you have such a strong singing voice, Miss!" Boro protests and Alta gives him a look.

"I've noticed that you've said 'strong' and not 'beautiful'."

"Well if I did that, then I would have to be changing my answer of most recent lie." It makes Alta bark out a laugh.

"Rude," she huffs, though she's smiling. "Alright, your turn. Would you rather-"

"Didn't Miss Alta just say we were playing Truth or Dare?"

"Don't interrupt," she says, flicking the empty water bottle at him. He catches it and places it down as she continues, "You've already switched games, I'm just following through. Would you rather trust everyone you ever meet, or never be able to trust again?"

Boro laughs, "I believe I am already doing the first one, Miss! Though I do admit, it can be a dangerous thing to trust everyone, especially when your gut tells you otherwise. Still," he sighs, "It would be too much of a travesty to never trust again. To always be looking over your shoulder... No. I suppose I will always be looking for the good in humanity and trust everyone," he smiles.

"Gross, you're so sappy," Alta makes a face.

"Alright then, Miss Alta. Let me ask you a sappy question; would you rather receive kisses or hugs?"

"Neither! Stop with the sap-fest."

"Oh dear, it seems like we'll have to find a chicken out punishment for you then," Boro says mischievously. Alta waggles an accusing finger at him. "Would You Rather doesn't even have punishments!" She growls.

"Didn't someone just argue earlier we were still technically on the Truth or Dare train?" he hums and Alta shakes her head.

"I agreed to switching games! My answer is neither. Ask another question."

Boro puts a finger to his chin, "I think the title of coward is a fitting enough punishment for chickening out. What do you think, Miss?"

Alta glowers at him. He gives her a wide, open smile. Finally she sighs and begrudgingly mutters, "Kisses."

Boro claps, "See? Was that so hard?"

She sighs, "Yes." It was hard because it made her think of why she preferred kisses. Kisses were quick and simple, a peck on the cheek and you were free.

Hugs though? Those are a death sentence. You're being forced into the grasp of another person while in your most vulnerable position ever, an open back. And they tended to last much, much longer. It's the kind of thing that screams against Alta's every instinct of a fighter, and she doesn't really understand what you're suppose to do the whole time. Just stand there? Stand there and let the person squeeze the life out of you??

Nope. She isn't a hugger.

...Thank god this isn't truth or dare, otherwise she would actually *have* to tell Boro about why she prefers kisses. And she's had enough open embarrassment for one night, thank you very much.

"Okay," Alta says, "Would you rather know how you die, or when you die?"

Boro lets out a laugh through his nose. "From love to death, no?" Alta gives him a helpless shrug. "Next time think twice before you pick sappy questions," she says, "So, what's your answer?"

"When I die," Boro says easily. With Alta's intrigued look, he explains, "If I were to know how I die, I would forever be paranoid about the killer. Imagine if I should be dying to something like a fallen tree! It would be very hard to appreciate them then, when I am being in a forest. At least by knowing when, I cannot panic over the time, it will be passing whether I worry or not."

Alta quirks a brow, "Even if the time is five minutes from now?"

"Then I am dying in good company!" He says with a charming smile.

Alta mockingly raises her arms in a choking gesture, "Or from good company," she says mysteriously.

"Mm, yes, I may indeed be dying from good company after asking this question: Would you rather be able to sing poorly but dance very well, or be able to dance very well but sing poorly?"

"No more singing questions! I ban them!!" Alta whines.

"You cannot blame me Miss, now knowing you do have a fondness for music, I am curious to know the parameters," Boro says. Alta sighs and fixes him with a very pointed look.

"Last one. Seriously." She waits for him to nod in assent before she says, "Dance well obviously. If I couldn't dance too well then it'll mean I'm clumsy on my feet, and that wouldn't bode well for sword-fighting."

"A practical answer!" Boro nods and Alta thinks a bit before asking her next question. She kinda wants to see if she could pick a question that's tough for Boro in particular, not just the assorted wonders of tough topics that are difficult for anyone.

"Let's see if you can answer this one in less than two minutes: Would you rather receive a gift or give someone one?"

Boro's look of intrigue melts away into one of horror.

"You can't be asking me that Miss! Both have their own merits!" he protests and Alta shrugs whimsically.

"Tick tock," she singsongs. Boro groans, the second time in so few hours and Alta doesn't even try to hide her grin.

"To give a gift is very thoughtful and caring, but to receive one is the exact same, simply in the opposite direction. Is it not contradictory to then say one over the other?"

"Nope, it's not." Boro flops down on the carpet at Alta's answer. She stretches out and taps at Boro with her foot. "Hey come on, it's not so big a deal. I'm teasing about the time limit. Just wanna see if you can actually decide between one."

He's silent, almost strange compared to how lively the place was a minute ago, before he finally says, "I prefer giving gifts. It is similar to tea, I do love drinking tea made by someone else's hands, but nothing can compare to the feeling that is giving someone a warm cup of tea. Still, the thought that can go through someone's mind as they pick a gift is always enjoyable and gives a lot of wonderful insight into both them and their feelings towards you. Much like the thoughtful gifts you have given me, Miss Alta."

Boro's looking at her with his warm gaze and she looks away, her face burning hot as she aims for a casual tone, "Well, you know. Birthdays and beach days. Yeah."

She's failing at this casual thing. She deflects instead, asking, "Well how about my camera? Did you know you were going to get me something or what you were going to get me even?"

"Neither!" Boro chirps, "I had simply saw it in the Conglomerate and thought that it would be most befitting to be getting for you before I even knew I wanted to get you a gift. Funny how life works, yes?"

Something about it both amuses and softens Alta. She doesn't know what springs to most people's mind when they think of her, but she wouldn't think fighting and swords are an off guess. So is it fitting that Boro had seen a camera and thought of her, or just a silly notion far from her person?

She doesn't know, but she does love the camera. She even snatches it from her bag now, lying next to Boro as they take a picture, him in his silly frog suit and her in her usual black tank and shorts combo.

"Our first sleepover, to remember," she says as she gets up and stretches, off to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"The first of many?" Boro asks in a hopeful tone and she snorts.

"Not again on this trip. But sure, another one. Eventually."

Boro cheers, a yawn interrupting him halfway. Alta smirks and leaves the bathroom.

"I'm saying that for your sake by the way," she says as he goes to brush his teeth as well, "I'm perfectly fine staying up, but you wouldn't last a minute if we did this all the time."

"Miss Alta says so," Boro claims in a garbled voice with the toothbrush in his mouth, "But seeing as she always wakes early, I believe this is the one time I would have the advantage."

"Sure, whatever you say," Alta says loftily as Boro exits the bathroom. She waits till he's at his bed before she flicks the light off.

"Good night Boro," she says and he replies in turn. She's walking gingerly to her bed from a memorized path when something about her hands call her attention.

Green. Her thumbnails are glowing green. Alta blinks, confused for a second before everything falls into place.

"Boro! Check your seventeenth nail!" she hisses. Boro jolts awake, surprisingly close to sleep for someone who *just* got into bed. He raises the blanket and exclaims.

"My! It seems that the black nail polish isn't just black after all!"

Alta nods, even without Boro being able to see her, "Yeah, maybe that's why the polish was so goopy and the sheen so matte. It's glow in the dark polish."

"Well then Miss Alta, it seems you have picked the most exciting nail polish of them all! Do you wish to rub them off?"

"Nah," Alta looks at them and then finishes climbing into her bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin, "I'll keep them till morning like we said."

"That's good. I think I will be changing my nail colors now."

"Now? Weren't you just going to bed??" Alta watches as Boro fumbles around, eyes used to the dark enough to be able to trace his silhouette.

"Well this is when the coloring would be most exciting, yes?" Alta sighs as Boro makes contact with a dresser and uncovers herself.

"Wait there, I'll get the polish." Which is easily located with it's glowing green. She paints his nails in the dark, which really isn't smart because it's not like she could see where his nails started or stopped. But she doesn't really mind if she gets any of them out of the line and neither does Boro, as he doesn't object. She paints in silence, a nice companionable one as she gestures for Boro's left hand and right hand, then left foot and right foot.

She sticks out her feet after finishing with him.

"I guess you should do my big toes, just to make it even with my hands."

She can hear Boro's grin, "Just for the night?" he says as takes the bottle from her.

"Just the night," she agrees.

(She does get rid of it in the morning.

But she'll soon ask Boro to apply it again the next night.)

Chapter Text

They leave the beautifier in the morning. Alta does some sly bargaining to get the old lady to part with the glow in the dark polish (via the amazing haggling of offering to buy the bottle. The lady lets her take it scot-free, claiming that all the registered beautifiers had their own polish set and no one has used the 'Do it yourself' package for years. Alta doesn't argue with that.)

Breakfast has them touring along the sides of the street, both agreeing that the wait of ten minutes at a food stall is much more preferable than the hours of waiting at any established business. They eat doner kebabs as they walk along the sidewalk, people-watching and window-shopping the busy bustling stores that litter the street. It reminds Alta of the afternoons she used to frequent the market back at her place.

They're passing through an especially dense part when someone taps her shoulder. Alta looks over, surprised to see that it's not Boro but someone else entirely. They're dressed in a rumply blue uniform, the cap on their forehead dark with sweat. No doubt they're suffering from the heat, but duty calls and requires the uniform.

"Alta?" The person pants, complexion pallor but eyes focused.

"That's me," she says and the person reaches into their messenger bag, pulling out a postcard.

"Thanks," Alta says as she takes it and the person nods, giving Alta a two finger salute as they turn around, diving back into the crowded streets with ease.

"Ah! The mail deliver found you!" Boro says as he looks over Alta's shoulder.

"Yup. Impressive that they can do this stuff even in Speria," she comments as she flips the card over. It's a cute one, of a greenhouse and all it's flora.

"Yes, I am always wondering how they know where a person is when they are traveling."

Alta shrugs. "Magic, maybe," she says, "Or some huge web of a system. It's good that they exist though. Can you imagine having to wait till you're at home to see all your mail?"

Boro laughs, "That sounds like a nightmare!"

Alta looks around. The streets are too full for her to want to read the postcard here so she gestures forward with her head.

"Come on. Let's go find some event to do. I'll read it afterwards."

Boro's finishing up the last of his breakfast when Alta drags him over to a bulletin board. Surprisingly deserted with how busy the city is, but Alta guesses that if only five people in the world read bulletin boards, suddenly adding in ten thousand other people in the sample size doesn't make them more plentiful, it's still just five people. And she's one of them, specifically for reasons like these, as she tears one of the extra flyers and holds out to Boro's greasy hands.

"What is this?" he asks, taking the flyer only after he uses his napkin to wipe his hands clean.

"An event's list." She scans the densely covered paper, noting which events interest her and checking the bulletin board for whatever pamphlets on said events existed.

"There's a free museum exhibition happening today. Usually you have to pay for it," she remarks, looking the pamphlet over before passing it to Boro as well.

He makes an excited noise, "We haven't done any museums yet!"

Alta waves a hand sideways, "Eh, I think the government building came pretty close. Plus the line might be long."

Boro hums, "The line is long for everything here, Miss Alta. Let us at least be checking it out. If the line is longer than an hour, we can go find another event immediately."

They head over there at a meandering pace, partly because they aren't rushing and partly because the bustle of the street makes it too hard to get anywhere faster than a snail. Alta looks over the event flyer during particularly thick masses of the crowd and sees something else she thinks would be fun. She opts to keep it a surprise, glad that the second event is at night and wouldn't risk the chance of overlap.

They reach the museum eventually, it's doors wide open, and Alta steps inside first, wary. There's no line, which seems too good to be true since they have just barged past what has to be the most crowded street on Speria. Boro comes to stand besides her and looks around curiously.

"Hello?" His voice echoes down the hall but no one comes to the front. Alta puts her hands on her hips and quirks her mouth as she looks at Boro.

"Are we going to look this gift horse in the mouth or just ride it?"

"I am not sure," Boro says, scratching his head. "If this is truly a free day though, we are not needing to buy tickets, so I suppose we can continue on in."

Alta nods and they walk further into the museum, the din from the streets quieting down, a welcome thing because Alta's ears were starting to *ring*. There's an opening on the left of the hall and they turn into it.

"Oh." A small, surprised sound, stolen from Alta's mouth at the quaint cleanliness of the museum layout. It has each item, vases down this hall it seems, nicely displayed on it's own pedestal.

What surprises Alta though, is the lack of any display plates. No names, no descriptions. Just each item all by it's lonesome.

"How interesting!" Boro has already diverged from her side to inspect the many vases. She steps up next to him, arms crossed, as they inspect a pitch black vase, marbled with bright blue chunks. Their reflections in the vase wobble as Boro asks, "What do you think, Miss Alta? What is the history behind this vase?"

"It lived a long, tough vase life of sitting still and looking pretty until it retired here," she snarks and Boro chuckles. "Yes, that is sounding possible. Though I am more fond of the idea that it was the particular favorite vase of a noble who has had it commissioned since birth."

"Yeah?" Alta turns her attention away from the vase, towards Boro, "What's it doing here, then?"

Boro scratches at his chin, "Let's see... There was a disagreement. Between the noble's new spouse and the vase. Yes, the spouse was being jealous of the attention lavished on the vase and sought to have it destroyed."

"But the vase heard what was going to happen and walked away with it's little vase feet," Alta says and Boro claps excitedly, "Yes, an enchanted vase! That sounds delightful. The vase knew leaving would hurt the noble, but it was also knowing that it would hurt the noble even more if they were to see it shattered to bits. So it went into hiding, hmm, let's see..."

"Underground?" Alta offers and Boro furrows his brows in thought.

"Mayhaps, although could a vase dig? Much to be thought about."

The vase can have legs but not the ability to dig?? Alta decides not to comment on that, curious instead on how Boro would resolve this story on his own.

"Okay!" He claps resolutely. "The vase had gone into hiding in a china shop, no one would think it unusual to find such a thing there. In fact, the plan was too good! Someone had saw the vase on display and bought it... Oh dear, how would the vase ever return now?"

Boro pauses, "How did the vase return?"

Alta decides to help him out, "It doesn't," she says. "It knew that such a long journey back could be dangerous and it could be shattered on the way back or whatever. So it, um, decided to go into an antique display instead, where it could see many people pass by and find it's beloved noble there hopefully."

"Oh, but as the years pass it becomes quite apparent that the noble has not found the vase. Goodness, even now as the antique store has become a museum, the vase still lies in wait."

The vase, reflecting Alta's skeptical face and Boro's teary one, does not look as if it is lying in wait at all. In fact, it looks like a vase. But as Boro turns to Alta with watering eyes, she decides that maybe it is a slightly magical vase. An inspiring one, if their story is anything to go by.

"Hey come on, the vase is happy." She gives his shoulder a playful punch. "It gets to see all these new people that reminds it of it's noble."

Boro nods, eyes shining but resolute, "Yes, you are right. My, what a touching story. We must make sure we learn from the vase, Miss Alta. History truly is fascinating."

"Uh-huh. Sure is."

They walk further along, seeing other vases that get their own mini stories (A yellow and black striped vase being a beehive made in the queens image, whilst a purposefully shattered vase is a spy playing at injured to gather more information with it's delicate nature. The stories made by Alta and Boro respectively) but as they finally exit the vase section, there's still not a single plaque.

"We could take a break," Boro comments as Alta peers around at the upcoming sections (still devoid of people. Creepy.)

Alta looks back at him gesturing towards an open aired balcony. There's a bench with little potted plants off to the side, adding a fragrant scent.

"Sure," Alta says dismissively. She joins him on the bench just as a bee is buzzing by. Boro holds out his hand and the creature lands almost instantly. He lets out a yelp of joy and has Alta chuckling.

"What doesn't excite you?" She asks as he lifts the bee upwards towards a dangling flower from the overhang of the balcony.

"Termites," Boro says, grinning at the bee as it takes the flight to the flower, quickly burrowing it's busy body into it.

"Well I already know that," Alta says loftily, "I mean, look, we're not even doing anything and you're all excited."

"Not doing anything??" Boro echoes, "Miss, can you not see the spectacular view we are seeing?!"

Alta was tracing the people walking to and fro place to place disinterestedly before, but she tries to put in a bit more effort to the overall scenery. There are these pink flowers trailing down, framing the view. There are simple buildings in front of them, a street's distance across, in soft, pastel colors. The sky is still bright and blue, though the sun has already started it's slow descent downwards. It is pretty enough, not really Alta's favorite but she sees how Boro could like it.

"We're sitting, and we're sight-seeing. That's about it," she says, deciding to still play devil's advocate.

"Talking as well!" Boro pipes in and she waves her hand lazily, "Okay, fine, yeah we're talking as well. Most people would count this as doing nothing, y'know."

Boro laughs, "And by most people, I am suspecting that you are one of them, Miss Alta."

Alta smirks, "Am I that obvious?"

Boro lets out a little hum. "Well," he says, "I do see your point. Boro is always content to be doing the more energy conserving activities, that is being no surprise to you, I am sure. But even in this midst of calmness, we are still doing something."

Alta's watching Boro's bee friend emerge from the flower as she mumbles, "There's not a thing in this world that doesn't require effort, even rest."

"Indeed," Boro says, and they both watch the bee bumble from one flower to the next.

"I think Miss Alta enjoys this much more than she lets on," Boro adds and Alta tries to force a frown on her face.

"What? No! I hate resting." She tries to act stubborn, but she only succeeds in making Boro laugh.

"I may have been saying this already, but Boro is very proud of you, Miss. You have changed so much since we first met in the forest. All for the best too." Alta blinks at Boro's sudden digression, but she takes it gracefully, in stride.

"Um, thanks. It's not easy, it hasn't been," Alta confesses, "Resting is so hard, especially because working is second nature to me."

"I imagine so. It is tough, trying to change or shift one's second nature. But rest assured, Miss Alta, you have been doing a fine job."

"You would say I'm doing a fine job even if I'm not," Alta protests, but she's still warmed by his words.

"Well, I would only be saying that because I can see how hard you try! Is it not a testament to your perseverance if you keep going on even after falling off the horse so many times?"

"Hush, you're embarrassing," Alta mutters, falling sideways to lean on Boro's shoulder. He lets out a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating through Alta's body. They stay in the stillness of the scene some more, only interrupted by the wind and it's treasures of blown objects. One of the little pink flowers floats over and smacks Boro in the face.

"Bougainvillea! A very delightful surprise, yes," he says excitedly as he holds the flower daintily in his large hands, trying to have a sniff at it. Seeing the flower in his hands reminds Alta of her postcard, the greenhouse one, and she supposes now is as good as a time as any to read it.

She pulls it out.

By the bark of the ancient willow tree I just got a postcard from one of my favorite people ever!! Girl your card was so interesting!! And the font-- don't tell me you're secretly a scribe.

But Scorca huh? I've never even heard of that place. But the views look so pretty. It's enough to make a gardener jealous, if she didn't have plants of her own.

(Which I do. So jealousy be gone!)

I'm doing good, busy season but nothing I can't handle. It's nice to get a card from you, and don't worry about the length, I especially like how brief it is! My other pen pal tends to write novels, haha!!

As for what I want... Hmm, how about a picture including you next time? ;D A treasured memory of Alta having fun~~ Or a phone call!!! Though I'm not sure if phones are plentiful in Scorca, My line is always open if you need some guidance.

Thanks for thinking of me!!

-Sylvia.

Alta snorts and gives the postcard to Boro. He reads it, laughing out loud at some of the parts.

"It seems like Miss Sylvia is only too glad to get a card from you," he says, passing the card back to Alta, "Though I must admit, I have never received such a short card from Miss Sylvia myself."

"Eh," Alta shrugs. "Maybe I should make the next one longer, we haven't really exchanged much information."

"Yesss! Send her another one!!" Boro cheers. "And we can be taking a photo of you here in the museum."

"Ugh, no thanks. I'm not doing that fake smiling thing." Alta gets up. Boro does so as well, grabbing the camera away from her.

"Then I will simply have to wait for a real smiling moment from you!"

They go through a couple of other exhibitions. The layout for all of them are the same as the vase one, no explanations, just displays. Though there was one part with bundles of picture frames that had numbers next to them, almost as if the placards were suppose to represent the title cards and descriptions. Alta eventually settled for weaving the numbers into the story-line of the paintings and said that they were the hierarchy of inheritance for each royal depicted in the paintings. Including the fact that yes, the one with a crowd of ten people were indeed all the 7th in line for the throne.

Boro drags her through one exhibit with her eyes closed and describes each of the items backstories to her in whichever order he preferred. Then, she has to trail back and match the descriptions of the items to their actual appearance. It's a lot harder than she'd like to admit, but a seven out of ten really isn't bad considering how wonky Boro could get with his stories.

Is what they're doing at all close to the proper way to experience this museum? Not even a tiny bit. But Alta's having fun, and she's sure Boro is too. It's also nice because it's slower. Speria's bustling streets almost forced a feeling of urgency even as you take things casually. But in this museum, away from the world, left with nothing but their stories, it's relaxation paradise. The museum is theirs to explore, at whatever pace they want and in whatever way they prefer. A bizarre experience for sure, but one that is quickly solidifying into Alta's favorites.

Huh. Maybe there is more to Speria than what meets the eye.

They eventually reach the last section, which is a tunnel that just leads straight into darkness.

...This seems like the kind of thing that would benefit from the use of placard, but, you know. There isn't a single thing here. The only thing that makes it clear they are even allowed to be here is the fact that it isn't sectioned off and that there are direction arrows pointing at it. Whatever it is.

"Not even a light on?" Boro muses and Alta points to his hands. "Good thing you glow in the dark," she remarks and he gasps excitedly.

"Imagine, being led through the tunnel by the light of my nails! It sounds like a riveting tale, does it not?" Alta nods and says, "Also a very unrealistic one."

Boro hangs his head, "Yes, I guess I have let our stories infect my head a little too well," he says sheepishly. He peers into the tunnel and strains his eyes.

"I do believe I am seeing a faint glow ahead though, if you care to risk it, Miss Alta."

"Why the hell not?" She replies and takes the lead, Boro following closely after.

It's a natural cave, dirt packed and somewhat moist. There's a lantern only every few paces and gives the entire tunnel a creepy vibe. Alta has no idea where this place leads to, or what the significance of it is, but it's otherworldly feel does endear it to her. She has the brief, amusing idea that this seems like the perfect place to give ghost tours if you feel like scaring a bunch of people, and she wonders if she could get far enough ahead to scare Boro.

He's following behind her diligently, so the answer to that is 'definitely not'. Still, the atmosphere puts her in a spooky mood, if not also a loquacious one and she asks Boro for a scary story.

"Hm. Real or fictional?" He ponders and Alta immediately turns to look at him.

"Real?? You have an actual scary story that's happened to you and not just the run-of-the-mill weird dream of being turned into tea??"

Boro laughs, "I personally would not call getting turned into tea a 'run-of-the-mill' dream, but yes. If it interests Miss Alta, I do have a few hair-raising personal stories."

Alta walks backwards, so she can look at Boro with mock shock, "Ah, so that's why you're bald. Too many scary stories."

Boro grins, "Quite a bold statement, Miss."

"Those aren't the same thing," she sighs fondly, turning back around to see the tunnel properly. "But yeah, give me that real scary story. I better have lost half my hair by the time it's finished.

Boro chuckles, "And consequently need no haircut! Alright," he claps his hands together and Alta tilts her head sideways, towards him, seeing him walking silently. Probably gathering his thoughts.

"This was many years back," Boro begins, "Years before you had even been journeying through the forest, Miss. In fact," Boro taps his chin thoughtfully, "I would say that this was closer to the inception of Wanderstop.

"Boro had been doing the routine things. Cleaning tables and mugs, drying tea leaves and adjusting the layout. Between all this, a customer had walked up, with a burlap bag."

"I feel like I can sense where this is going," Alta comments as they pass under one of the few overhanging lights, their shadows cast wide. It makes for a creepy pantomime as Alta watches Boro's shadow reply to her.

"You have also erroneously believed there were plants in that bag?"

"No, of course not. Unlike you, I would rather not trust anyone," she says and Boro lets out a quiet laugh.

"Yes, well, those were hypotheticals. Truth be told Miss, Boro is not always trusting everyone so easily. Some people have an air of nervousness to them that belies any good intentions they may try to present."

"You trusted me easily enough," Alta remarks. Not that she is the type of person that would ever have 'nervous' and her in the same sentence, but she was definitely not giving off good vibes when they first met.

"No, no, Miss Alta was different. How to explain..." Boro trails off, the lack of noise swallowed up easily by the creepy cavern. "Erhm, it is more like the notion of doing something bad consumes them and gives off a feeling of wariness. Miss Alta gave off exhaustion and determination. It is difficult to explain, but sometimes people can be giving off that feeling simply because they feel guilty for one reason or another, so Boro likes to give them the benefit of the doubt."

There it is, Boro's ever-good nature. Alta often thinks about what Nana said about Boro, how he could see the ways in which there was good in people and how much that colored his worldview. He's not ever foolish in his trust in people, he has a good enough head on his shoulders, but sometimes Alta feels as though he's naive in his trust.

Or maybe that's just her scrutinizing nature insisting that trusting people is foolhardy and the only person you could ever truly trust is yourself.

(And here she gently chids herself that that isn't true. Which is something she knows on a fundamental level, but, you know. Habits.)

"So what happened? Did they trip and all the humans heads they severed fell out of the body bag?"

"No, no, quite the opposite in fact. I had curiously inquired about the bag, not out of suspicion, but true intrigue and wonder. The fellow had thrust the bag at me, saying that I could be taking it if I wanted, but I was simply not allowed to open it in his presence."

"Boro, please tell me you did not open the bag at all," Alta groans.

"How could I not Miss?! I was given explicit permission. Anyways, I did not open the bag until he left, just as he said. And inside, Miss Alta..."

Boro trails off, dramatic effect. It's heightened pretty well with the fact that they were in one of the shadowy zones with either lamp behind or in front of them too far to cast light. Alta swears she feels a faint breeze from ahead and *that's* what makes her shiver, not any residue fear from the story.

"...Inside was a dead Orno."

"Oh. Oh?" Ornos are mammals that often get mistaken for insects. Tiny and fuzzy, with dragonfly-esque wings. They have short lifespans and aren't really so surprising to see dead on a sidewalk from time to time. Alta turns around and puts her hands on her hips, staring up at Boro.

"I feel like I just got pranked into thinking I would hear a scary story," Alta tsks and Boro grins.

"The story is not over yet, Miss!" Boro takes in a deep breath and Alta waits, wanting to have him get a bit further in the story before she starts moving again.

"I thought it not the bit strange, perhaps a dead pet the person was being fond of, yes. So I made to bury the creature, under a tree as Ornos are so fond of staying at. I did so easily enough and went on with my day.

"Only a few moments later had passed and the fellow had returned, with an Orno on his shoulder! I had welcomed him back and told him about the grave, only if he wished to pay respects of course."

Boro's holding direct eye contact with her as he says, "The man was confused as he had never been to Wanderstop before."

Alta feels herself shiver again, and she's definitely confused because this story is making her intrigued, not scared. Alta tugs Boro forwards by the arm, keeping her gaze set on him as she asks what happened next.

"I had been thinking perhaps it was grief that made the man so confused, he had already replaced the Orno so mayhaps he was wanting to forget, so I had let it go, saying that if he did ever want to visit the grave for whatever reason, it was there.

"He agreed easily, if a little surprised. I also told him his burlap sack was available if he still was wanting it."

Boro pulls Alta to a stop. She can feel the breeze now, a constant stirring of warm air. They're reaching the end of this tunnel soon.

"The man saw the sack and asked how I had gotten it. I said he had given it to me. He said that that wasn't possible, that his twin brother was buried with that sack..."

"A ghost." Alta says it as more of a statement, she doesn't think anything else would really explain it. Ghosts are rare though, and to have one appear so suddenly doesn't really make much sense. But considering how strange the forest itself is, maybe it makes perfect sense.

Boro tilts his head, a sign of acknowledgment.

"Apparently the sack was of some importance, embroidered by a grandmother. The twin was never seen without it, so he had been buried with it.

"As we talked, we had been walking towards the grave. Except that when I had arrived-" Boro punctuated his sentence with a clap, the sound, for once, startling rather than amusing due to the creepy atmosphere, "There was an open grave. And right then, Miss Alta, the Orno perched on his shoulder had given a gasp and fell right into the hole."

There's silence, the warm gusts of summer a contrast to the chill that have befallen the pair of them.

"You're punking me," Alta says at last, her voice surprisingly quiet in the midst of the cavern. Boro shrugs, "Perhaps so."

"Wha-?!" She whirls around, marching forwards towards the opening, "Boro did you actually make that up??"

"No, it was real," he confesses, "I had thought saying otherwise would lighten the mood."

"Well, it was a creepy story. Not particularly scary though." She hears Boro chuckle behind her.

"Ah, well then I am curious as to what scary stories Miss Alta has had happen to her."

Alta doesn't reply, because she finally sees the cave exit, and the view actually does take her breath away for once.

They're high above the city, almost on the outskirts it seems. And from where they are standing, there's a clear, aerial view of the Colossal in it's entirety.

"Woah..." Alta says, because really, what else can she say? Boro seems equally shocked, though unlike her, he isn't bereft for words.

"My, what a marvelous view we have stumbled upon!" He lets out a joyous laugh, the bright sound lightening up the night sky. Alta finally breaks out of her stupor, walking as close to the edge as she can, eyes darting this way and that as she scans *everything*.

"I had no idea something like this was even in Speria," she says after finally taking in her fill of the landscape. She's glancing back towards Boro and sees a sign. She walks up to it, squinting to read the old sign and minuscule, faded words.

'At this point in your tour, you will notice there are no numbers and that the audio device will not have anything to say. That's because it is customary to be disconnected from technology when taking these tunnels. Escape tunnels created way back in the.... The Colossal is an amazing feat of the only giant recorded to have worked for humanity. It was her who has carved these tunnels, and through magic, her body is being preserved for generations and ages to come....'

She can barely even read a paragraph before some words are corroded enough that she can't make them out. There's even paragraphs after her stopping point, but she's not particularly in the mood for deciphering. She points the sign out to Boro and converses with him as he tries to detangle the words.

"So, it seems like we were suppose to get audio devices. Hence the numbers." Alta quirks her lips in a wry smile at Boro. He stops decoding long enough to give her one back.

"It seems so," he agrees, "But I am finding our way the much more enjoyable experience, yes."

Alta can't find it in herself to disagree.

Boro makes a strange noise and she raises her brows.

"What?" she asks and Boro taps at a particularly illegible part of the sign.

"Today. Today marks the day the Colossal died. It is customary for the museum to be open for free along with hundreds of other events." Alta blinks, surprised that Boro could make out those words, but she processes what he says and she laughs.

"Boro, look outward!" She tugs him forward and they both are at the edge as she fans a hand over the view.

"Look at how many people are down there. That's why everyone's at the Colossal and this place is empty, they're all busy celebrating!"

"Leaving the museum ours to explore!"

"Yeah."

"Well, what a lucky set of coincidence! We have had such a fun pastime all to ourselves, along with this endearing sight, and we have even gotten to gaze upon the Colossal. Not from up close as is customary, but Boro is finding that he much prefers this view, heh."

"Me too," Alta breathes out. She gazes skyward, towards the night sky that held every twinkling star and she remembers the event she had wanted them to go to afterwards, wonders if they would still be able to make it in time if they left now.

They wouldn't be able to, she knows that. But it seems that life had a funny way of compromising, because from the distance, with her gaze set on the night sky, she watches as a firework blooms into full beauty.

"We can see the fireworks from here!" She turns to Boro, strangely hyped. "I wanted us to go see them after we finished the museum. I didn't know we'd be able to see them here."

"A good thing we had listened to our adventurous senses then," Boro comments and Alta nods, eyes fixated on the colors and their blooming figures. She hears a flash of a camera and sees Boro holding up the photo. Alta flushes at how bright-eyed and *earnest* she looks and she tries to snatch it away from Boro. He keeps the photo high above his head, using his stupid height advantage.

"Come on, I want to pose for the photo I give Sylvia!!"

"Didn't Miss Alta say earlier that she hates false posing for pictures?"

"Whatever, I'm changing my mind. Give me the photo!"

"But what if Boro is wanting a picture of Miss Alta for himself?"

"You can have a photo of me."

"Ah-"

"Just not that photo," Alta stresses, "It's embarrassing."

"Is it?" Boro questions, "I am finding it endearing."

Alta blinks, Boro's tone too truthful to take it as a tease. She turns from him, hoping he can't make out the sudden blush she feels blooming.

"Fine. You can keep it. But I want to send a different one to Sylvia."

(The fact that all Boro has to say is that he likes the photo and she gives in... She does not want to grant that power to Sylvia as well. One person having it is bad enough.)

He lets her face him, the Colossal in the background and fireworks high in the sky as she crosses her arms, a frown on her face. Boro shows it to her and says her smile is cute. What smile? She's definitely frowning. No, that's not her lip curling upwards, and her eyes aren't crinkled in joy. Ugh, whatever, at least Sylvia isn't getting this in person.

With that task done, Alta refocuses on the fireworks and their alluring illumination.

"Do you have a particular penchant for fireworks, Miss Alta?"

Alta finally tears her gaze away, looks at Boro and his enchanted smile. She's acting like a huge dork. But even with that thought, she can't find it in herself to dampen her reaction, her smile still strong as she admits, "Well yeah, fireworks are pretty rare, it's nice to see them when you can."

Boro hums and makes to sit at the edge. Alta joins him, legs hanging off the ledge.

"I uh, got to see the fireworks once when I was younger. My father had just gotten off of work and he and my mother just took me out."

"How was it?" Boro asks.

"Back then?" Alta frowns in thought. "Amazing of course. It was ridiculous though because we had gotten there late, right? And so we were far off in the back and I couldn't see the full thing, only bits and pieces. So my father had lifted me up, put me on his shoulders. And I could see all the fireworks in details which was great. But these older teenagers started complaining that 'a baby was blocking the view.' "

Alta's expression darkens as she thinks about how she had grated on her father, asked him how old he thought she was if he was just putting her on his shoulders without asking. She doesn't even think he heard the teenagers so it must have been extremely out of left field for him. But he didn't argue with her at all, just complied and set her back down, where she could barely see the fireworks again.

"Well, here Miss Alta can block the view all she wants! I will certainly not be complaining," Boro comments and she tunes backs in, gives him a smile. Then she thinks to tease him, raising her arms up with an imploring expression.

Boro doesn't waste a second, grabbing her and setting her on his shoulders. She laughs, the sudden motion making her a good dizzy, full of fizzy energy.

"You're so short! How am I supposed to see the fireworks at this height?!" She's not sure when she started yelling, but she is, that sparkling energy making 'quiet' a foreign word to her.

"Sorry Miss, perhaps you should be lifting Boro up instead," Boro replies, his voice also a yell, "You are being a great deal taller than I am, after all!"

She laughs, leaning on his head. Then she considers it.

"I could, if you want me to," she says, voice a level lower. She feels Boro shake his head.

"That is quite alright, I prefer the steady ground. Thank you for the offer though, Miss."

She hums in assent, enjoying her perch as they continue to watch the fireworks. She doesn't mind the silence, in some ways she enjoys it, leaves her mind free to focus on the sensation in front of her, but she thinks about how she does owe Boro a scary story.

"Mine is more of a creepy story too, but a kid once died at the summer camp I went to."

"Oh?" Boro shifts his head upwards, catching her gaze.

"Yeah. Another kid told me a counselor killed her. Which is such an obvious lie now, but at the time I believed it. So it was like I was in my own personal horror movie as I sized up each counselor, debating which of them had the means to kill me."

Boro doesn't say anything at first and Alta wonders if it was too much, maybe she should have used a lighter tone, deliver her lines more jokingly and not at all like it was a serious matter.

But then he says that he thinks that at least sixty percent of the counselors must have been on the 'beatable' side. Alta huffs and corrects him, tells him that it was actually seventy percent, closer to seventy-eight if they want to get specific with the math. Boro quickly says that's the last thing he wants to do and it makes Alta laugh, feeling light.

"But actually, Miss, if I am not overstepping my bounds..." Boro says as she's catching her breath.

"Yeah?" She looks down at him again, while he's tilted up towards her. He's supporting her legs gently as he says, "That experience must have been very stressful, truly believing that each counselor was a hidden threat. To be on high alert at such a young age."

"I mean..." Alta falters. Doesn't this shit make her sound weak? Or maybe paint her as hyper-vigilant? Which she was, is, but she doesn't want this to affect Boro's view of her.

...God, she's being silly again, isn't she? Boro's first instance of meeting her was due to her collapsing from exhaustion. She definitely passed the whole 'I-can't-let-him-think-I'm-so-easily-defeated' shtick long ago. In fact, it's kind of weird that her mind keeps bringing all this up. She thought she had made good progress over the years, she knows she has, so why is it that every time she's back in Boro's presence, her thought process made her feel so...Icky??

"...I am sorry if that was being too presumptous, Miss Alta. I was simply commenting on how you have always had a very stringent view on things and that it is no wonder you were so exhausted for so long."

"No, you're fine," she waves him off, hoping he can't feel her increased heartbeat from her slight panic, "I mean, yeah, I guess. I don't know, I don't think of it that way, I just knew I had to be ready, so I was. My whole 'You can rest when you're dead' attitude."

She says the last line breezily, hoping to get a chuckle out of Boro, but instead he grabs her legs more firmly and holds eye contact intensely.

"You can rest now, Miss Alta. I will always be giving you a space for rest, no matter the circumstance."

He's saying this and holding Alta firmly, his hands on her bare legs, and she can feel his warmth from her perch on his shoulders. All this overwhelming contact.

It's too much. It is. Something about it is all loud in Alta's mind. But it's also not? Back when Boro would first even hold her hand, she would tell herself to disengage immediately. But now, even with all these points of contact, while she's hyper-aware of it all, it doesn't bother her. She can make away, should make away, but if she just wants to sit and let her body slowly steal all of Boro's warmth, it could happen.

...She's getting distracted, what had Boro said? Something cheesy about always giving her a place to be herself. Not his exact words but his intent, she could tell. She doesn't have to be so high-strung around him, doesn't have to have her mental shield and proverbial sword always at the ready. He would be her steady steed that would guide her safely. Both literally and figuratively.

And is this something Alta wants? Does she *want* to relax around Boro? Try to focus on letting the ever-growling part of her go docile around other people?

She doesn't get it. Why she's still struggling with this. She had figured it out, why rest was important, how to balance it in her life, and then all of a sudden "Rest Master Boro" comes around and makes her feel inadequate.

Except that isn't even his goal! He's just being himself and while it's never bothered Alta before, and she isn't bothered now, something about him is grazing past some part of her that she can't lock in, can't figure out. He's reminding her of a nerve she never knew she had, and it is vastly annoying.

(Is it?)

It is.

(No, sometimes, when he treated her so kindly and her mind wasn't overthinking it, it was lovely. Nice. She could put down her sword and actually dive into this friendship rather than make a half-effort.)

Is it even possible to unpack something you don't know exists? Maybe not, but Alta thinks about what has always worked, in a stubborn sort of way. Keep going forward. This feeling around Boro confounded her, but it doesn't exhaust her, so maybe it is okay to keep charging forward.

So she leans forward, her upper body completely laying on Boro's head. He adjusts easily to her weight shift and they watch the fireworks, every last one of them.

Yes, this is fine. There's no need to unpack anything, she's being hyper-vigilant.

(But for some reason, her mind goes back to Boro's words in the caves, about how you could *sense* something was wrong even without the words to explain it.

But nothing is wrong.

She's just being paranoid.)

"Where to next?" Alta yawns as her and Boro step out of the dwelling they had stayed in for the night. Her mind had been racing in strange circles last night and it had taken her some time to fall asleep.

"Honestly Miss, I had just been wanting to see The Colossal. Everything else I am being very glad to just 'wing it', as it is being said."

Alta nods, taking lead in the crowd as she says, "Then off to the bulletin board."

To neither one's surprise, the board is again a deserted spot in the massive crowd that is Speria's streets. Alta flicks her eyes tiredly over all the different pamphlets, deciding that Boro could pick out what interests him.

He's looking at each flyer with interest, stopping to read a few in more detail before flitting over to the next one. He lets out a sudden whoop and it startles Alta into a half-alert state.

"What? What is it?" She goes over to his shoulder, trying to see what has caught his eye.

"Look, Miss Alta! We may be in luck," he crows as he takes the flyer down for Alta to read. She snatches it, reading the paper quickly.

"The Old Aeon ceremony is coming up soon," she says, that being the gist of the flyer.

"Yes!!" Boro claps excitedly, "And this one is open to the public! We can be journeying there. If we are leaving soon, we can catch it. I am particularly excited to see your reaction to an Old Aeon ceremony, Miss Alta."

She nods, lets out another yawn as she says, "Yeah, but if we go now, we'd have to skip the rest of Speria. We could always hit it on the way back, unless you've had your fill of this place."

She says it teasingly, but all it does is elicit a crestfallen reaction from Boro.

"...What?" Now she's three fourths on alert, scanning Boro's reaction, trying to understand what went wrong. Has she mistaken him and he wants to explore Speria in full more?

"Actually Miss..." Boro sighs, and gives Alta a patient smile, tinged with pain, "I had been thinking whichever place we journey to next would be our last stop."

Alta doesn't say anything, stares at Boro with wide eyes, fully awake now.

Boro scratches the back of his head. "I am sorry, this is not the best way to be breaking the news," he says. He clears his throat and tries looking at Alta with clearer eyes.

"Miss Alta, Boro has been having so much fun on this trip. Especially because you have been by my side! But unfortunately this trip cannot be lasting forever. Already it has gone on for much longer than I ever suspected it would. Which isn't a problem, not one bit, but it does mean that it will be having to come to an abrupt end soon. I have to attend to the shop and while I am certain it is fine on it's own for a little while, I would not want to be testing the limits on which it can be left alone for so long."

"Oh," Alta says lamely, because what else can she say? None of this should be surprising to her, obviously they aren't going to travel the world forever, seeing all these different places as if they don't have a care in the world. Real life still awaits them after all. Both of them. Alta has her own duties, with her pluffins and classes and general existence. As does Boro. They have to return to their lives at some point.

Separated.

Never to see each other again.

Nothing to tie them to this supposed friendship of theirs.

"...I am sorry to spring this up on you so suddenly, Miss Alta. It was not being very kind of me, this is your trip too and I am certain this is not the best way to receive such news on a carefree journey." Boro looks so downtrodden that immediately Alta clenches whatever emotions she's feeling and gives him a flippant wave.

"No, this is fine. It's good even. Like you said, we can't do this forever. As long as you're certain about leaving Speria, we can head to Old Aeon now even."

Boro smiles, soft and patient, "Yes, now would be best so we can enjoy Old Aeon a few days before the ceremony. Still, I believe there is nothing amiss about getting some breakfast before we go, even if it's a two hour wait in line."

Alta makes some teasing response back, follows him easily, responds in kind and seems almost excited as they board the train again.

But inside of her, all she feels is agony.

With this trip of theirs coming to an end, doesn't that mean their friendship is too?

While she wants to hope—wish—not, she knows better. Nothing is made to last, certainly not unstable friendships by two complete opposites. The end was always coming, just now in the form of a destination, getting ever closer with each passing second.

Chapter Text

Old Aeon is two weeks away by train, so they'll arrive there with a handful of days before the ceremony. Alta does the routine things, writes another postcard to Sylvia (she asks about the sandiums and makes sure to send the picture with her in front of the Colossal.), looks at the window and tries to settle into the last time she'll experience the train with Boro.

"What's the history of the Aeon ceremony anyways?" Alta had asked within the first few days of boarding.

"Oh! It is to celebrate the alignment of the stars and planets, a certain formation that only occurs so often. When it does, it is declared the day of the Aeon ceremony and all are invited to partake," Boro replied.

"It's just randomly decided?" Alta scrunched up her nose. Holidays were best when they had steady dates so that plans could be made. While the occasional shifting holiday was nice, she couldn't imagine trying to plan anything when the range of a holiday was six months instead of six days.

Boro grinned, "But it makes things perfect for us. Who knows, mayhaps if it was having a steady date, we would not be vacationing to Old Aeon with a ceremony in our midst."

Our vacation that's almost over, Alta's mind had supplied helpfully and she tried to pivot away from that thought.

"And it's usually closed to the public?" She asked.

Boro hummed, a finger tapping on his chin, "Well, all who are being registered astronomers are invited for certain. Otherwise it is a truly trying process to join. In fact, this is the first time in many years that anyone is being allowed to join." His eyes brightened and he gave Alta that openly excited look of his. "Perhaps this is a special formation even for an Aeon ceremony!" He crowed.

"Cool," Alta replied laconically, because something about seeing Boro's excitement had hurt, knowing that in a few weeks, she wouldn't get it experience anymore.

"Is it not?! The atmosphere at Old Aeon is very interesting, close to the stars yet clouded over many a days. I cannot wait for us to enjoy the weather in full, it will be nice to have a forecast that has something other than sun, heheh."

"Um, yeah," Alta nodded, held eye contact with Boro's bumbling smile. Warm and effervescent and soon to be gone from her life.

And something in her just broke.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said and left before Boro could reply.

(After that, she tried not to talk to Boro more than necessary. She thinks he noticed something was up, because he was soon prodding her for every reaction on the littlest things, even the cows seen from the window as the train sped past farms.

Or maybe that's always how much he tries to converse with her and it was only so much more obvious because of her pain.

Either way, she hates it.

She really really does.

And she hates that she can't tell if it's Boro she hates for insistently interacting with her.

Or herself for always falling for it.)

It's rainy when they get off at the station. A light drizzle, Old Aeon is known for it's constant misty environment. It makes Alta briefly wonder if that's why people from Old Aeon are so fond of sparkles, because it's a spark in the otherwise dull gray visage they see all the time.

They're walking side by side, not talking for once. Maybe because it's their last destination or the sheer size of Old Aeon, but Boro had insisted they rent a room this time around rather than relying on the train for rest. A good central location where they could be nosy tourists at all the nearby shops. Alta agrees, and she doesn't know, she feels morose, restless. Ready to agree to anything so that this underlying feeling of pain fades.

It doesn't.

In fact, the deeper they trudge into Old Aeon, the more the agony seems to spread. Each step made is another second of time ticking down. Another second of this vacation dying down. Another second of Alta having to remember that she always ends up alone. The thought has her breath hitching and the second they reach their room, Alta drops all her stuff off, immediately going to an armchair and sitting in it, staring out the window into the gray, cloudy weather.

She hears Boro come to her side, not close enough that she can see him out of her peripheral vision though.

"Is everything being alright, Miss?" he asks softly.

"Yup," Alta pops the 'p', staring out the window even more determinedly. This is just what she wants to do now, no need for him to act like it's bigger than it actually is.

"I am thinking we could go out for dinner," he says, "There is this restaurant that I believe Miss Alta would like. It's filled with-"

"Go without me," she says tiredly. He's quiet, maybe calculating. Or is that too harsh a word to use on Boro? He's tracking her expressions though, she's sure of that. Probably wondering if this is a sudden bout of melancholy or something more specific.

Is he going to push her into going? She doesn't know. Does she want him to push her into going?

Maybe a little bit.

"I would be enjoying your company greatly Miss, and part of the reason I wish to revisit is because I would like to be hearing your opinions on things. Still, if you want some space..." he leaves the sentence open-ended, letting her decide.

Space.

Finally, some time away from him. Not having this man hound her every hour.

Yeah, some space sounds nice.

She says as much.

And Boro leaves their room without another word.

Outside, the mist is condensing on the windows, making the small droplets imperceptible to the eye consolidate into big blobs that cover the entire view.

Alta thinks she sulks for about thirty minutes, maybe an hour.

Because frankly, that's what it is.

Sulking.

The time apart, which was going to be used for righteous pouting, soon devolved into a missing Boro session, and even worst, an introspective one. She didn't realize it before, but even Boro's simple presence is something she has gotten used to. How easily he offered the chance to always be by her side.

And she's missing out on such precious Boro time because what, because she's all falsely mad? Because she thinks that this trip ending means that Boro doesn't want her, that all their time together means nothing?

Alta knows it's not true. It's just the worst parts of her mind coinciding to make this wonderful event miserable. God, he had wanted to take her out to dinner simply because he thinks *she'd* like the place and she blew him off. He had already been to Old Aeon once before (properly that is, unlike the Often Farlands), if there is any place he really doesn't benefit from visiting, it would be this one. While she doesn't doubt he would easily go there to see the ceremony again, she knows that part of it is him wanting her to experience it all.

He's repeating a trip just so that she could have her first experience. And here she is, making him explore it all by himself.

God, she is the *worst*.

...But it does kinda hurt, to think that everything is ending so soon, when she feels like she *just* started getting a good grasp on everything, on friendship.

On how nice it is to be open with someone.

But does skulking about really solve that? All it does is remind her of her misery and waste what little time she has left with Boro. Is that really how she wants to end the trip? Whether she enjoys it or not, the trip is hers to control. So why let it be centered on misery?

Alta thinks on it. They arrived two days before the ceremony, plenty of time for them to buy outfits to wear.

What does one wear to the Aeon brew ceremony anyways? She supposes Boro would have the answers to that.

She snorts at the mental image of Boro not dancing, getting too carried away making tea and it softens her, makes her pain less vivid, her anger less violent.

Yeah. She'd hang out with him, whenever he comes back. This trip is all about them, isn't it?

Boro takes a while to get back. It makes Alta especially restless after her newfound declaration to herself, to actually enjoy what little time she has left with him. She would run out of the room and find him if she knew where he was, but that would be bull-headed. They would miss each other and waste even more time trying to find each other again.

Nope, she simply just has to wait. Which is fine, she *is* better at being patient.

(But what if she does find him if she runs out? Then she would be saving time by rushing out of the room-

Nope. No, she's shutting down this desperate thought right now.)

She paces. She reads. She looks out the window some more. She paces again. She checks to see if she still needs to write postcards (She doesn't. She sent the last of them out while still on the train). She waits.

And waits.

And *waits*.

Maybe she'd die of Waiting Boredom; Boredom that is caused specifically from waiting. That totally sounds like a real thing and not just something she made up right at this moment. It does give her some perspective though, if she's this bored all by herself, then how must Boro be faring? Sylvia was right, friends really do make trips all the better.

Poor Boro. She will definitely make it up to him.

The door handle finally jingles and Alta's there in a second to unlock it, only having the thought afterwards that maybe it makes her seem a little too eager.

Uhg.

"Welcome back," she says nonchalantly, as Boro walks into the room, mist wafting off of him.

"Thank you!" he says, sounding surprisingly cheery for someone who was just told to go enjoy a dinner by himself. In fact, he looks positively joyful.

"Sorry, uh, for leaving you hanging." Alta supposes now is a good a time as any to apologize. The sooner they make up, the sooner they could get back on track. Boro softens.

"It is no problem," he says, "I am hoping you are feeling better?"

"Yeah," she breathes out. "I am."

She's following him now, as he goes into the kitchen and places a bag down.

"Did you have fun at dinner without me?" She asks, half teasing, half curious. Wanting that verbal confirmation that he is just as miserable as her when they're apart.

Boro instead gives her a mega-watt smile, "Yes!"

...

What?

What??

"What???" Alta says, eyes wide with scrunched eyebrows. Is this his idea of a joke?

Boro seems too caught up in his memories of the evening to notice her expression. "Yes, there was being a group, a band I was thinking from all the instruments they carried. They had noticed me being solo and invited me to dine with them!"

"Oh," Alta says.

Oh indeed.

"They were so friendly, obviously with the passion and intensity common of those from Old Aeon." Boro nods, almost to himself. "There was many a great conversations had and I enjoyed myself thoroughly."

"Cool. Great." Alta scratches the back of her head, confused at the pain that has seized her heart. Boro had fun, that's good, this is his trip, he should be having fun.

"In fact!" Boro claps excitedly, "There is this one person, her name being Meridian. She is a fellow tea maker! We had so many conversations about styles and flavors, I feared I would never want to leave."

"I bet," Alta says, a bitterness sinking into her words. She turns away from Boro, trying to reel in her polarized emotions, "I bet you had fun, I mean. Sounds like a real good time."

"Yes, it is always good to be meeting new people," Boro hums, "Still, Miss Alta's company was missed."

Something about that sentence soothes Alta, makes her realize that she's acting like a cat being rubbed the wrong way. She takes a stabilizing breath.

"Yeah, well, you were missed too," she says, showing that bit of vulnerability. Boro lets out a hum of assent and starts rifling through the bag he brought.

"I have brought back a meal for you! Something that I think you would like, yes."

"Well, let's see if you're right," Alta says, taking the take-out box from him. It does smell pretty good, she'd have to give him that. She digs into it, a rice based dish with spices that makes her mouth hot, along with a heartier under-taste, like tomatoes or something that makes the flavor fuller.

Boro looks at her excitedly as she eats and she snorts. "You look like a dog waiting for a bite," she comments in-between mouthfuls.

Boro laughs, "No, a dog waiting for the verdict!"

She waves her hand in an 'eh' motion, as if the food is so-so. Boro tries to fix her with a look, though she's not sure what expression it's suppose to be, as both his tiny eyebrows go flying high on his head, causing Alta to choke on remnants of her rice from trying to hold back a laugh.

"What was that?" she asks after swallowing a whole bottle of water. Boro's resumed his normal resting face of cheeriness as he says, "An eyebrow raise!"

"Boro, *both* your eyebrows went flying," Alta sighs good-naturedly. Boro strokes his chin in thought, "Really? And I had thought I had gotten the hang of it too."

"Like how you've gotten the hang of winking?" she asks and Boro laughs, "Precisely!"

There's an interlude where Alta tries to show Boro the art of eyebrow raising, one of the few rare art forms Alta has an interest in and has consequently mastered. It goes about as well as expected. She tries to talk facial muscles to Boro but he doesn't seem to understand. Eventually, Alta just settles for holding one eyebrow in place as he raises the other. There, problem solved.

His other eyebrow slips free and he goes from looking comically disapproving to hilariously surprised. It makes Alta laugh. She holds either side of his head, giving him a very thorough stare.

"Have you ever had to look disapproving once in your life?" She can feel his pulse from where she holds his head, near his temple. Boro shakes his head lightly, "Not by raising my eyebrows, no."

"Figures," Alta says, but she doesn't let go. She keeps her firm grip on him, looking into his eyes. He looks back at her in turn, not at all put out. It's one of those moments that should feel entirely weird—it is entirely weird—but it's compelling too. Just taking in Boro, in this quiet room, just because she can. No other reason.

How freeing.

She eventually lets go of his head, her hands exceptionally warm after holding him for so long. She gets up, away from him, almost overcome with a weird sort of peace.

She's throwing away her takeout when Boro exclaims, "Oh, Miss! I almost forgot, here, another piece of mail from the mail deliver."

She takes it, surprised to see that the letter isn't placed in an envelope or written on a regular piece of paper.

Boro, so glad to have met you! Thanks for agreeing to come support our show/see our after party. These are the directions for tomorrow. Remember, it's underground so it's hush-hush!!

Then there's a map that somehow beats Boro for crudely drawn, at least in terms of perspective. She'd be wondering how the person expected anyone to follow a map that poor in scale if something about the note didn't set her gut on fire.

"This is meant for me? Even though it's addressed to Boro?" She tries to keep her voice light as she shows him the note. Boro takes it back sheepishly.

"Sorry Miss, that's the wrong one. This one is for you, and look! It is from Miss Sylvia!"

"Uh-huh, sure," Alta says, "When were you going to tell me you were going to ditch me tomorrow?"

Boro laughs (and it just makes her more annoyed, she isn't joking), "I was not planning on ditching you Miss," he says, "It was simply a gift given to me from Miss Meridian-"

"So it was from your new friends." Alta hates the sting of pain that goes through her, makes her tone all the more biting when she adds, "Figures."

Boro seems to pick up on it, as he gives her a shrug while saying in a more placating tone,"They were simply trying to be polite and invite me to a concert they were having tomorrow. It was their main topic of conversation when I joined so perhaps they were trying to make sure Boro was not feeling left out."

Alta frowns, "So then why is it all hush?"

"An underground party, even I should not be invited, they have no extra tickets to spare, but they were wanting to be kind to me and to do me a favor by inviting me regardless."

"Cool, a ticket *just* for you."

Boro's face falls a bit, his eyebrows drawn in.

(It's not anger, but something about the pinch of his eyebrows makes Alta feel anxious) His mellifluous voice wavers.

"Yes, Miss Alta, because squeezing out another ticket would not have been possible. Not that it is mattering anyways, I was not planning on going if Miss Alta wanted to go elsewhere."

"I dunno," Alta says, hating her own pathetic worry and tries to turn it into something more righteous, boisterous, *aggressive*, "It seems pretty detailed for something they offered and you declined."

Boro lets out a sigh, something about his expression now feeling worn. It gives Alta pause.

Pain.

That's what's etched on his face.

His eyebrows are drawn in pain.

She's hurting him.

...Gosh, what is she doing??

What is wrong with her, that even now, with Boro's pain fresh in front of her, it doesn't feel like she's gotten a solid enough answer to stop her inquisition of attacks. Boro said he isn't going to go, isn't that good enough?

(It really isn't. She can't shake the fact that it feels as if Boro has already seen her as done with this vacation and is moving onto the next, better, companion.

But damn, what friend would she be if she doesn't try to believe him? If she doesn't try to find it good enough?)

"Sorry," Alta says in a huff as Boro also says, "She was insistent that I take it, she wouldn't take no for an answer..."

Alta senses a 'but' and waves her hand for him to continue his sentence. The sooner he finishes it, the sooner they could get over this, frankly stupid, fight.

"I had also been thinking that if Miss Alta really didn't want to go anywhere even tomorrow, then I could support them."

When she hears that, all thoughts of ending this conversation are over.

Because it is true.

She finally sees it, clear as day.

This friendship of theirs really is situational. The second Boro doesn't have to deal with her, it is onto someone else. Someone friendlier and who has much more in common with him. A girl who's a tea-maker and enjoyed music and is always excited to invite him and enjoy his company.

It isn't like Alta envies her, not at all, but...

God, why did she ever think she could actually have a space in Boro's life?

Her? Grumpy grouch that she is, interested only in things if there's a sword and blood involved. She, who liked waking up early to his sleeping in. Her violent tendencies to his soft demeanor.

Not a thing about them connected them to each other. The second they aren't forced to be together, they drifted away. And that makes sense, doesn't it?

"...Alta? Miss Alta?" Distantly, she hears Boro calling her name. She only snaps back into the present when he lays a gentle hand on her bare shoulder. His touch burns her and she jerks back.

"Have your fun at the damn concert. It should be easy, it's not like you have *anyone else* to bring," she growls, walking past him and immediately going to the bed, back facing him.

It's quiet. Not at all like the companionable silence she's gotten used to since starting this trip with Boro. Nor is it like the silence of them walking to their room earlier today. No, this is something more aggressive, a hair trigger of something just collapsing entirely. Perhaps their relationship? Or what is left of it, it's pretty hard for Alta to tell, seeing as she had erroneously believed they had one in the first place.

She feels the bed dip as Boro sits down on it. Right, when Boro had been booking the rooms, he asked if she would prefer separate beds. She had said the single was fine, the location of this place was perfect, and it wasn't like she minded sharing a single bed with Boro.

Back then she hadn't, that is.

Now? Now she minds like a nosy neighbor who minds her own business. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Boro, she doesn't even want to be in the same room as him.

She sits up quickly, severely. Before Boro can even get a word in, she's out the door.

The mist has changed as night has fallen. The microscopic particles of water are thicker now, actually sticking to Alta's face and making her feeling clammy and gross.

Well, grosser than she already feels.

And lonely.

Insanely lonely.

Here she is, walking around in a foreign place, not certain of anything but herself, and feeling utterly tired. It's so reminiscent it's sickening.

The rain starts to pick up and Alta looks up through her wet bangs disinterestedly. Should she take cover? She never minded rain, but she has the distinct idea that it probably makes her look all the more pathetic.

She spots a phone booth and goes inside for refuge. It's good timing, because that's when the sky finally breaks. The torrent so violent it makes the glass all around the booth opaque, water cascading down that it makes her feel like she's on the inside of a waterfall.

She wonders if the power is going to go out. She wonders if Boro would be okay.

Then she decides she doesn't care if he is or isn't.

...Except she does.

A lot.

She cares a stupid amount and that's why she's here in this box in the first place. Hell, it's why she's on this trip.

And what did it get her? Loneliness.

God no, that's putting it lightly, what she got is the *awareness* of being lonely. She was alone before, but now she feels it endlessly, so sharply it's as if a knife is piercing her.

She is alone.

She feels alone.

And she hates every particle of it just as fiercely as every particle of rain clings to her sodden body.

She runs a hand through her hair, trying to get some semblance of style and sight back, looking around at the booth.

It's quaint. A small thing obviously meant for one person. The privacy is off the charts right now seeing as not a single person could be made out sight-wise with the rain pouring down. And there's obviously privacy hearing-wise since she's in an enclosed box.

An enclosure, just for her. The loneliest person on the planet.

As she finally slicks her hair back over her head (she knows she'll hate the way it'll dry but at least she doesn't have to keep pushing it back), she finally catches sight of the phone itself.

It's old, polished black. Maybe functional.

But who the hell could Alta call right now?

She's hit with the idea of calling Jan, but what would she even say? Besides the fact that Jan would barely be able to catch her words, her ears not good enough for purely verbal conversation, how could she even begin to explain to Jan how doomed this friendship was from the start, so it was stupid of her to even indulge in it, but if Jan herself had ever hung out with Boro *once*, she would see just how easy it is to open up to someone like him.

...No. She isn't calling Jan.

Her mind drifts to Pip. She doesn't have his phone number, doesn't even think they have phones in the Often Farlands, but at least he would understand where she's coming from.

At least, she thinks so.

...Would he? He barely talked to Boro and even from the little they did talk, he seems to vastly prefer Alta's company. Hah, isn't that a first?

(It isn't, but it's nicer to murk in this misery and think that it is)

She doesn't even deign to think of Sable, what advice could a child give her?

(Never mind the fact that said child had been the one helping her buy a gift for said non-friend)

...There is Romario. He spent more time with Alta than anyone else on this trip, excluding Boro. In fact, he spent a lot of time with both of them, but had been so enthralled to be around Alta specifically that he had invited them to stay even long. If anyone would get it, it would be him.

...He, who was so confused to learn that Alta and Boro weren't neighbors attached at the hip who had fifteen dogs and twelve cats between them. Maybe he wouldn't get it.

Maybe no one would.

Maybe she's just the kind of person who thrived alone and trying to justify it otherwise made no sense. It would all just lead back to this path.

Boro definitely doesn't need her, even ignoring the new friends he had replaced her with, he already had Sylvia, among others.

...Sylvia...

Alta digs the card Sylvia had sent her out of her pocket. It was one of the few things she had on her person before leaving the apartment.

The card is crumpled and damp now, a few of the cute stickers that are decorating it clinging for dear life. Alta reads the letter for lack of anything better to do.

ALTA~~~~~~~~~!!!!!!!!!!

(It's written big enough to take over half of the card's space. To counteract that, Sylvia then took to writing on the margin of all four sides after she had run out of space in the regular area, making Alta have to rotate the card multiple times to read it fully)

Girl thanks so much for your lengthy postcard! Sounds like you guys have really been living it up!!

My Sandiums are doing good, look at you remembering the names of plants, you little gardener you! Here, this is a picture of us together.

There's an arrow pointing to the back and Alta flips the card over, unable to stop the snort at the photo of Sylvia and her Sandium. She had it pressed close to her face while it looked ready to explode into a million pieces of spikes and thorns. She turns the card back over, somewhat more interested than before in reading it.

And gosh look at the photos you sent me!! With the Colossal in the back too!! You look absolute adorable, I don't think I've ever seen such a huge smile on your face, Miss fight-ah!

(Alta distinctly remembers frowning but whatever, Sylvia could have her delusions)

To answer your questions, yes I am taking good care of everything at Wanderstop. Or I was, I couldn't stay away from my place forever.

Now a question of my own; Is this trip great... Or is this trip GrEaAaAaaaAAAAATTTT!!!!!!!~~~~~~~

Another postcard from you really wouldn't go amiss, darling! But if you find yourself in need for me and my guidance, my line is always open as well ;D

Right.

Sylvia who has gotten her into this mess.

Sylvia who might understand just a bit better where she's coming from with all this.

She finally sits up from her crouch, dry enough that she's no longer dripping water but wet enough that her clothes are awkwardly clammy against her skin. She reaches out for the phone, entering in the numbers inscribed on the card and waiting.

Waiting.

And waiting.

The one thing she hates most, she's been doing a lot lately.

"Hello babes!! This is Sylvia!!! Sorry I'm not at the phone right now, but if you leave me a crazy message I'll get back to you soon. The crazier it is the sooner you'll hear from me! So make it extra good! Current waiting time is actually fifty years- *BEEP*"

Of course, voicemail. But the idea of putting the phone back into the receiver makes Alta feel too pent up. She cradles the phone to her face as she speaks, her voice raspy with the quieter tone she takes.

"Uh, hey Sylvia. Alta here." She has no idea what to say. What do people say on voicemails? She hopes it's the same thing they say on actual phone calls because that's what she plans to do.

"I'm calling you from Old Aeon. I'm in a phone booth right now. Crazy, right? I forgot that Old Aeon has this type of stuff." She's tracing out a pattern mindlessly with her boot and the watery residue stuck to it as she says, "I, uh, had a fight. With Boro."

"A verbal fight," she clarifies quickly, guessing that she would lean towards the idea that when Alta is involved, it's a physical fight.

"We, um... Well..." she trails off, uncertain of what to even say. She leans closer to the phone box until her forehead's leaning on it. "I don't know," she says feebly. "I don't know why I came on this stupid trip or what I'm doing out here with this stupid tea man or why I'm even in damn Old Aeon. I don't know why you gave me the ticket and I don't know why I decided venting in a cold phone box while I'm all wet is the best course of action, but here I am."

Silence. Of course.

"I guess, call me back when you can. If you care to," She doesn't hang up immediately, something like sorrow making all her movements slow.

"...I guess this was a bad time to try my reverse prank call, huh sugar?"

Apparently that was a good move. Alta squints at the phone, melancholy temporarily forgotten.

"Sylvia??"

"Yeah babe, I'm here~!" Sylvia responds, in real time, "I was trying to have a fun joke about being prank called when *you're* the caller, but I guess I could have timed it better."

"You could have," Alta agrees, crossing her free arm over her shoulder as she looks around. The rain is still going but it no longer blocks the booth's windows, letting Alta see through as they keep conversing.

"So what's this I hear about a fight? What happened?"

Alta sighs, "It wasn't even a fight, I just...Look, Boro's only on this trip with me because he had no one else who could come, right? So he indulged me a bit and gave in to my whims but ultimately there's better people for him to hang out with. There's people he wants to hang out with. So he dumped my sorry ass and I acted all surprise when I really shouldn't be and now I'm sitting here, with this *hurt* and I don't even know why I care!"

Her breathing's ragged by the time she finished her tirade. She hears Sylvia as she hums and says, "Alta, do you really think he doesn't want to be on this trip with you?"

"Of course not," Alta snaps, "He would prefer it to be you here with him, for one."

Sylvia lets out a chuckle, not demeaning but almost wizened in manner, "Oh hun, I am perfectly sure he's happy to be there with you and you specifically."

"Sylvia he tried to leave me. He was going to abandon me for this stupid group of people he meshes with perfectly because we don't fit. I mean, the second we're not even around each other he's off with some much better friends."

"...Did he?" Sylvia muses, "Tell me all about it girl."

So Alta recounts the tale from earlier that evening from her melancholy over Boro and her parting, to his arrival with the food, all the way to the fight and her trudging out here.

Sylvia listens to it all, humming in assent to show she's listening, but no actual interjections. When Alta finally finishes, there's a long stretch of silence as Sylvia takes in a deep breath.

"Alta baby," she finally says, "I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to think about it. I mean *really* think about it."

"Yeah, okay. Sure."

"How do you think Boro feels about you?"

That's easy, he sees her as someone to pity.

...Ew, gross, no. Because if she really sensed that from him, she would have left him all the way back in Wanderstop.

Then what is it? He stuck around with her despite not getting anything out of it. If it was pity, sure, he felt bad for her, helping her made him feel better, problem solved. But it isn't that, at least she thinks it's not pity.

Then loyalty? Or obligation rather. After all they've been through, he has to stick through her side and see that she comes out okay. He was the one who first suggested the idea of all this inner healing muck, maybe he'd feel too responsible if he let her wander free with no guidance after all that life-changing nonsense.

...But he himself had said that she's changed, that he was proud of her. So what more guidance could she need?

She's aware that she's been silent while her mind whirs, that Sylvia's probably waiting for an answer, but everything she comes up with seems to have some fallacy of some sort.

"Pity," she says eventually, because she wants to say something to what should be an easy question. Then she backtracks, "Uh, no. Actually it's more like responsibility. Or kindness. You know how he is, he'll be nice to everyone, even those he doesn't really care for."

"Mhm," Sylvia says, "And how do you know who he does and doesn't care for?"

Alta waves a hand around flippantly, "Oh you know, his actions, his words. He doesn't really tend to hide any of his emotions."

"Precisely," Sylvia agrees, "So if he's such an open book of emotions, why don't you show me the lines where he's been saying what a pityfest you are?"

Alta removes the phone from her ear and glares at it before responding, "I see what you're trying to say, and this is completely different-"

"Is it?" Sylvia interrupts, "I'm all for gut feelings as much as concrete evidence darling, but twisting and turning someone's affection just as a bludgeon to beat yourself up with doesn't prove anything."

"I-"

"One more thing," Alta pauses to let Sylvia speak.

"Do you remember the night we all met up, after we went to the dance club and crashed at your place?"

"Vaguely," Alta admits, "It's all kind of fuzzy for me."

"So then you don't recall what you said, about how you felt uncomfortable that entire evening because you were intruding?"

Alta shrugs, "I kinda remember that." She'd still stand by it too.

"Alright cool. Do you remember when you told me that you and Boro weren't friends because there's no way someone like him would be friends with someone like you."

"I- no?" Alta furrows her brow, trying to recall.

Sylvia goes on, "It was the last thing you said before you threw up. You said that Boro tolerated you, or pitied you, or some strange mixture of both and that there was no way you would be friends because he gained nothing out of it." The way she says it sounds like it's being read off. Alta asks her as much.

"Yup, Didn't want to mince you words! Unless I've already forgotten some when I transcribed this down," she's humming, looking over her work, Alta presumes. Alta herself feels her gaze drift downwards as she says softly, "And am I wrong? What does he gain from being friends with me? I can barely get him gifts, while he has no trouble with finding me things, I'd shut down his every idea if it were up to me to not compromise. He's nothing like me in the most basic of sense. He's just a naturally kind and caring person and I'm not.

"And I don't care if I'm not," she continues, "But I can't delude myself into thinking I'm someone who's pleasant to be friends with. People like me just don't make friends, that's just how it is."

This is the part where Alta would add in the fierce stinger of, 'And I don't want friends!' but she's really finding it hard to say.

Sylvia's silent then, and Alta is too. She looks out the booth, watching the people who were walking to and fro. Or conversing with each other, happiness expansive on their faces. All these people enjoying life, while she's just an outsider looking in.

As she's always been.

She hears a deep breath being taken in. She reels her gaze back to the phone box.

"Okay," Sylvia finally says, "I'm not so good with these things Alta, so bear with me, alright hun?"

"Sure," she says, because what else should she say? She was the one who called Sylvia, for reasons she still doesn't even think she understands.

"Do you deserve to rest?"

"Uh, yes?"

"..."

Damn okay, she wants an actual introspective answer and not just trite bull.

"I don't always feel like I do," Alta admits, wrapping a finger around the phone's cord, "I mean, if you push yourself, you should rest. I understand that more now, kinda like balance. You put in effort, you need to recover, rinse and repeat.

"But it's like, sometimes the rest you need after work isn't ever equal. You think an hour of an intense work-out means like an hour of chilling and you'd be okay. But no! It can be like multiple hours or a whole day even. If you walk around all day seeing all this new crap, your brain needs like a week to recover from taking it all in. And the stupid part is that that's part of the balance. There's not like a formulate amount of rest to work, you just figure it out as you go. And I don't always feel like I deserve all the rest that is required, like a whole day compared to half a day, but I do understand broadly that I have to rest."

"Sweet baby corn that was a damn good answer! Thanks for sharing with me, Alta."

"Uh, yeah." Something about Sylvia's words warm Alta, silly as it is.

"I'm not gonna be anywhere near as eloquent, but here's my take:

"Friendships are kinda like that, in the same sense. You'll make friends with wonderful people who you don't think for a second should waste their time with you, and even ignoring the idea that you're a waste of time is an excuse, is it not enough that those people *want* to hang out with you?

"You'll make friends with people because of strange circumstances, sometimes almost like it was forced upon you both. But if nothing is forcing either person to keep coming back to the other, that has to count for something, doesn't it? Something for both people since they *both* keep coming back to each other.

"Friendship is a two-way street! You can't force someone to be friends with you, unless you have them at sword-point I guess, but I digress. People don't tend to seek out things, or other people, who annoy them. And yeah, friendships are weird! There is no precise reason for people to like each other. Sometimes it's easy to pinpoint why you hang out, you like the same media, or have similar hobbies. Sometimes it's just that they're easy to talk to, have something in common in the way you think.

And sometimes, it's two opposite people who have nothing in common who are the bestest of friends. Maybe neither of them could really point out *why* they're friends with the other, but if it makes both of them happy, does it matter? There is no point to friendships, and that's what makes them spectacular. The value of them is that it's always so many little choices that you do to lead you back to this person, to enjoy their presence, their time, their existence. And the magic of them is that it takes two to tango, that if you are making all these unconscious choices to be someone's friend, so are they making these choices to become yours."

When Sylvia finally finishes, Alta can't help but to say, "You and Boro fall in the camp of friends who think in the same way."

Sylvia cackles, "Oh girl! As if I don't know that myself. Then, do you think you and Boro have a camp you fall into?"

Alta shrugs listlessly, "I don't know. I feel like we shouldn't, but like you said..." she trails off and shakes her head, uncertain of what to say. She gets off her previous line of thought, instead saying, "Thank you, by the way. That was good advice. It's just..."

"You don't feel like it applies to you? You feel like there's an exception to every rule and you just happen to be the outlier who no one gains anything from being friends with."

Guilty as charged.

"I'm unpleasant," Alta explains, "Maybe friendships shouldn't be transactional or weighted, but you can't deny there are some people who just aren't meant to be friends with each other."

"True!" Sylvia chirps, "But it's not always only on one person to find out. If you're at the point where you like someone's company, then you have to trust in them to tell you if they don't like yours. Friendships are little happiness bringers. If someone's not happy, then maybe it shouldn't last. But when you're not stressing about the value of it all, aren't you just naturally happy in Boro's presence?"

"I am," Alta breathes out, such a soft sound in the enclosed space. Sylvia hums, "Then there it is. You've done your part, now you gotta trust him to do his."

Yeah, trust.

Just like rest.

You have to trust that you are good enough.

You also have to trust others when they say so.

"Thanks," Alta clears her throat and says it again, stronger, "Thank you, Sylvia. For listening."

"It is no problem! Thanks so much for calling girl, I know it's tough to let these things out."

It is. But she feels all the better for it. Maybe that's another nebulous point in friendships, someone who you can rely on through tough times.

"Um, how are you doing?" Alta asks, not wanting to hang up just yet. Not even for more guidance or whatever, just so she could enjoy Sylvia's presence some more.

Just to enjoy.

"Oh~! I've been great! The Sandiums have been the main attraction this season, but you won't believe what just bloomed up unannounced!"

They chatter for a while, meandering things. It hits Alta at one point that this is kinda similar to her conversations with Boro, talking about things with no rhythm, but it feels good, to share and to listen, and because of that Alta tries to put down that part of her that needed to introspect every aspect of this moment, this relationship and wonder the value.

She just lets herself enjoy the moment. The way her voice gets rawer after talking for so long. The sounds of Sylvia sipping something between every moment of when she stops talking and Alta starts.

Eventually, Sylvia excuses herself.

"My Sandiums wait for no one," she says wistfully, "Even good conversations about moss on trees!"

"Oh no," Alta mocks, "How will you ever recover?"

Sylvia lets out her signature cackle, the sound making Alta's eyes crinkle with joy. She makes to say goodbye, but Sylvia quickly interjects, "Oh! And Alta?"

"Yeah?"
"I like your unpleasantness, I think that's what drives me to be your friend."

Alta blinks, touched and surprised, mind too blank to say anything back.

"OkaybutIactuallyhavetogothesandiumsaregrowlingbutgoodluckwithBorookaybyeeeeeee-"

The phone line beeps as Sylvia finally disconnects. Alta puts the phone back on the receiver. A faint smile on her face. She doesn't think about where she is for the moment, instead thinking about the conversation again and all the little highlights of their mundane chatter.

Then she thinks about why she called Sylvia in the first place, what led her to this phone booth, and her mirth slowly fades, replaced with determination.

She doesn't know what Boro gets out of their friendship, or if he even does get anything out of it. But for right now, she's his guest on this trip. Her only goal is to make sure he enjoys it. And whether she believes it or not, one of the ways would be by being by his side.

Alta takes in a deep breath, eyes closed. She doesn't see the value in herself, but if Sylvia could like her 'unpleasantness', if Pip found some reason to invite her for nothing but the frivolous joy of hanging around her, if Jan had fond feelings for her despite never being near Alta outside of work, if Alta herself could find the vivacity in being around Boro, then maybe it is possible that Boro likes her after all. Just because she is.

She keeps this in mind, as she stares outside the box, the light drizzling mist that falls on all the passerbys. She keeps this in mind as she tries to regain the strength to go back after her embarrassingly emotional breakdown.

She hopes she can keep it in mind when she's in his presence again.

Chapter Text

She's leaning against the side of the building, adjacent to the door. After last night's talk with Sylvia, she had rented out a cheap room, wanting a bit more time apart from him before she tackles this whole relationship thing with more vigor.

...Is tackle too aggressive of a word? Should she be thinking that she is going to sort this out? A nice passive word that does not at all denote the fervor she's going to employ towards this relationship the second she sees him--

The door finally swings open and out comes Boro. Seeing as she's next to the door, she's impossible to miss. There's a brief silence while she fumbles for what to say. The ball is in her court, after all.

"Hey," Alta finally says. She's leaning on the wall, a foot propped up while her arms are crossed. The picture definition of cool, calm and collected.

"Hello Miss," Boro says easily enough. She locks eyes with him and tries to ignore the stab of guilt that runs through her at the hallowness underneath them. Seems like she wasn't the only one with a rough night. She breaks her gaze, glancing off in the distance instead, aware that the ball has been volleyed to her once again.

Is it shitty if she just proceeds like nothing has happened??

God, she's *so* out of her comfort zone here.

"Um, I looked up some thrift stores. If we wanted to just look at a bunch of junk that we could wear to the Old Aeon ceremony. If you still want to go," Alta tacks on the last sentence hastily, really wanting to make sure Boro understood this as a choice he could make.

The choice to be with her or not.

Boro smiles, something soft and gentle, "Yes, actually, that does sound most delightful. If you have already had breakfast we can be going now?"

An exhale from her entire body rushes through Alta at the relief that flows through her. It's a defense mode, the haughty attitude she could take sometimes. Like a porcupine that puffed up it's spikes unintentionally, not for the purpose to hurt others, but to defend itself.

To stay safe.

She finally breaks her gaze away from the nothing she was looking at, unleans from the wall, all pretense gone.

"Yeah, I'm ready," she says, "Let's go."

They're walking side by side, quiet lingering between them. It isn't the tense silence of yesterday, nor the companionable quiet they usually share.

This is a hushedness, one that holds weight but not tension. Alta finds herself walking ahead, too pent up to slow down her usual brisk pace to be in line with Boro.

God, should she just apologize now? Could she even apologize, beyond the fact that she's showing up here and now? Actions are easier, they're concrete. How is she even suppose to verbalize the fact that all the feelings she had felt yesterday were some sickening culmination of the fact that she doesn't think she should even be around him?

Alta doesn't turn her head, but she can hear the soft thunks of Boro's sandals hitting the cobbled road. He's keeping steady behind her. She has no doubt that Boro does understand that this is her way of apologizing, of the two of them he's far more emotionally intelligent, but is this *truly* the best she can do?

Uhg. Well she's here now, against her better wishes. Going to a stupid thrift store-

She stops abruptly, Boro thankfully far enough behind that when he stumbles to a stop it does not push her off balance. She turns around to face him sheepishly.

"I, uh, passed the thrift store. It's back there."

Boro lets out a laugh, "Yes, well, I am supposing we should head back in the correct direction, yes? Can't be doing thrifting without a thrift store."

She backtracks, glad to see they haven't passed it beyond a few steps.

"This is it," Alta says, hands on her hips as she stares down the store entrance. "Or at least one of them. I looked up a bunch of thrift stores," she admits as Boro comes to stand next to her.

"This is looking like a good starting point. Let us enter!"

There's a bell on top that lets out a sweet little hum as the pair enter. The place is quaint, musty with the scent of old clothes but not particularly gross or dirty. The layers of fabric make the space more enclosed, each sound more intimate, poignant, as the cashier ask if they want any help.

"No, though we will be letting you know if it changes," Boro says while giving them a nod and the worker nods back, walking off.

Just them among the piles of clothing.

"So, what do we wear to an Old Aeon ceremony? Is there a dress code?" Alta asks as she rifles through racks of clothing.

"You can always be wearing what you want," Boro comments as he also rifles through stacks of clothing. Alta doesn't even know what size they're in, she just wants to do something with her hands.

"Do you mean that as in 'there is no dress code', or 'that no one can stop you from wearing what you want'?"

"Both!" Boro laughs. "Oh Miss, this is looking like something that could brighten you up, yes."

Boro pulls out a dark red jumpsuit. It has a zipper on the front that stops at the hips, with the seams tastefully visible along the pant legs.

Alta frowns, "That's a little gaudy for my tastes." She pivots away from the rack, goes over to the assorted accessories they have in a bin.

"Well, what do you have in mind, Miss Alta?"

She shrugs, "Something simple, plain. Maybe flairs along the edge. Here," she tosses a plain black sheer scarf with silver tassels on the ends to him, "Something like this."

"So something in black with maybe gray accessories? Yes, that is about what I suspected," Boro muses.

Alta huffs, "That's silver, actually. I don't usually wear silver."

Boro laughs and she's glad he still understands her humor, when she's just ribbing him even with her fierce expressions. It makes her internal worry dissipate.

"Okay, if we're picking outfits out for each other..." Alta spies around. She thinks to grab this gaudy blue sparkly bowtie, but she spots something much more fitting, and thus, much more becoming.

"This is you," she says.

Boro chuckles, "Yes, without Boro's constant flower pin, I have been sorely missing a replacement."

It's a bowtie, completely unraveled, with the ends shaped like leaves and the center boasting a faux flower.

"Come on, sit down," she pats a stool in front of one of the mirrors. Boro does so, his neck now level with Alta's arms.

She inspects the fabric, calculating how to tie it precisely so that the flower is center with the leaves in display on the sides.

"I can tie the bowtie myself, Miss," Boro comments as Alta starts to wrap the fabric around his neck.

"I want to," she says firmly, trying her best not to tackle on "You can barely tie a bowtie on your apron!" because while it's true, it would be insincere.

Or rather, it would deflect on the meaning of the first statement. And while she doesn't doubt Boro would sense it's importance, she wants to lay it out clearly, for both him and herself.

Boro hums, doesn't say anything, but is lax in her grasp as she maneuvers his head around. Acceptance in the slightest form.

It's calming, doing something with her hands for Boro's sake. It almost reminds her of being in a fight, with her mind blank. With all the sensations she can, could—does—focus on, such as Boro's warmth and the skin on skin contact she's making as she adjusted the length till it's satisfactory, she can still feel some part of her recoil, gasp that this is a terrible idea and that she should just leave it for dead before she ruins their relationship even further, she can also just... ignore it. Not even by pushing it down, but to instead focus more on how easily he lets her manipulate his head.

Is it hard? Yeah, of course it is. But the more Alta focuses on Boro's cheerful optimistic face as she starts to tie the bow, the more she feels herself smile.

As she gets to the end, she sticks two fingers in, testing the slack. Alta loves it when things are tight against her, even the slightest bit of slack irking her, but she has a hunch that Boro isn't the same.

Looser then. She thinks the two finger space is enough and she even ties it a little looser than that. There, a dolled-up Boro.

"Voila," Alta pats his shoulders, "What do you think?"

"It is tied to perfection, Miss! Yes I admit, I am doubting that I would be able to tie this bow with such accuracy. Thank you very much, Miss Alta." They both look in the mirror at Boro's extra accessory, the way the flower adds to his soft demeanor, the way the shape draws attention to his face, the way the green plays with his rouge complexion.

...Which seems to be getting rouge-r by the minute.

"Are you okay?" She breaks her gaze from mirror Boro to squint at actual Boro. Boro nods, a shade redder than he was last.

"Perfectly fine," he says with a strained voice.

A beat.

"Just perhaps choking from lack of air is all," he admits, trying his best to pull at the slack of the bowtie and failing.

Alta frowns in thought, "Really? I tied it super loose too."

Boro laughs, which breaks into a cough. "I am afraid to even imagine what your ties are usually like if this is loose."

Alta undoes the tie and Boro breathes, his complexion back to a normal shade of rouge. She frowns as she sticks in four fingers and tries tying it there. Boro says it's good, but he starts to pick at the tie like it's still uncomfortably tight.

Eventually Alta just doubles the slack. It's so disgustingly loose she doesn't even want to consider it a proper tie, but Boro can breathe, and it's not as if the bowtie has actually lost any shape. A small win in the end, she supposes.

Boro soon declares that it's Alta's turn to be dolled up. She grumbles that they haven't even finished dressing him up (an accessory does not count as an outfit, Boro!) but she acquiesces, curious as to what he would pick for her.

Red.

Lots of red.

An ungodly amount of red.

"Why do you keep trying to dress me in red?" she growls finally, batting away at Boro's umpteenth pick of a red shirt/pants/shoes/tie/whatever.

"...I do?" Boro says, wide-eyed, voice so faux that Alta cringes. "What a *remarkable* coincidence. I had not been even *noticing*!"

She stares him down, arms crossed and Boro sighs, caught.

"Well, Miss Alta always wears black. And she does be looking fine in such attire! But Boro thinks she looks dashing in other colors as well, if she were to wear them. Granted, I am knowing there are some colors you would not be partial too, but outside of black you do not seem to be minding to wear red." He jostles whatever clothing article he has in his hand and Alta sighs.

"I'm beginning to think this whole trip is just a way for you to insult my wardrobe color."

"Not insult, Miss!" Boro insists, "Just to expand! You always look rather stylish in black, is it any wonder that Boro is curious into how other colors play with your look as well?"

She sighs again and glares at the red fabric in his hand.

"Okay," she says, "Let's make this into a game."

She dashes down the street, certain that Boro has already picked out half her wardrobe. Too bad, she has speed and knowledge on her side.

She slides into her current thrift store of choice, eyes scanning quickly for the colors she wants.

There we go, suede blue dress pants. They might be a bit loose but nothing a pin can't fix. She's out in a whirlwind, the clerk barely even taking the cash before she's jogging out to find the next shop.

Or so she's trying to do, when she skids to a halt, seeing a florist shop. It's would be a complete divergence, but she thinks that actual flowers would spruce Boro up nicely.

She marches in and pauses, uncertain which flowers to get among the forest that practically grew in here.

She knows that she could just ask the florist, the man already giving her a wave and offering assistance. She knows that she could also just pick random flowers and get on her way. They're just flowers, it doesn't *really* matter.

(But they're for Boro. And she knows it would matter to him, if she's so particular about the types, so it matters to her as well.)

She eyes the section of white and blue flowers. She weighs the looks, smells and meaning of each one before she has a simple bouquet made of lavenders, baby breaths', jasmine, love in a mist and forget-me-nots. She feels solid about her choices, puts them gently in her bag and hopes that her rushing to the next shop won't squish them.

...The next shop where Boro seems to be hurrying to as well. Ew.

"Woah this is my shop, you can't be here." Alta immediately takes on a fierce composition, trying to scare away the competition.

It works about as well as expected. Boro laughs, "I do not remember that being part of the rules of our game."

"Maybe I just added the rule in right now. No one said we couldn't add in any rules," she says. Boro doesn't reply, instead holding the door open for her and catching her gaze.

"Then perhaps I shall be suggesting the rule of a truce? No need for us to bloody the poor wares of this store with our epic battle."

Alta snorts, heading through the door. "How right you are," she says, "I am *so* afraid of all the blood you would make me lose, specifically."

Boro's hot on her trail as they both head for the 'tops' section. She's immediately rummaging through the baskets that held clothes (The fact that this place doesn't attach things up on hangers is *criminal*), trying to find something to make her outfit cohesive and Boro-esque.

She frowns as she finishes rummaging through the basket, not finding any tops that fit those requirements. She idly flits her eyes to Boro on the other side of the room, rummaging through the tops as well. She couldn't see what he has in his bags already, but she thinks she does spot two different logos. He'd been to at least two stores then. The most basic outfit (shoes, pants, shirt) required three. And while Boro is the king of layering and adding extra crap to outfits that should really be a simple affair, *she's* not. So if he is dressing for her, there's a good chance he might err on the side of simple, and therefore caution.

Boro looks up from his basket as well, settling his warm, open gaze on her. Really, that should be a jolt, to get back to her quest of finding his outfit if she still wants to win this silly little game of theirs. But in this moment, all she can think of is teasing him.

She picks up some stuffy black sweater, a bloodied skull with the pooling red creating roses embroidered on it, and waves it around to Boro threateningly.

'This is definitely what I'm picking for your outfit,' is the message it's meant to send.

Boro lets out a laugh, surprisingly soft in this stuffy, enclosed store. Seems like the message hit. Boro holds her gaze as he shoves his hand into his basket, pulling out some bright yellow monstrosity.

...Honestly, it could have been a t-shirt for all Alta cares, she's just already screwing up her face at the color alone. Boro laughs again, his eyes a squint at the joy that they hold. Through it all, he gives her a head tilt. His reply message.

'Go ahead! Pick that sweater, but I'll find something just as 'fitting' for you.'

It makes Alta smile. Now she can turn, go on to find the next part of his outfit somewhere in this store. She just can't help but to tease Boro when they're in the same space, a cat bumping it's head against it's owner anytime they cross paths.

An act of affection.

A sign of love.

She got lucky enough and was able to find shoes from the store she was sharing with Boro. Unluckily for her, he had only needed one more item and finished just as she was finding a top for him.

Boo.

"Now now, Miss Alta! If you are making that face, I will be assuming that you didn't enjoy our game," Boro comments at Alta's sour expression as they wait for seating to open up at their restaurant of choice.

"Maybe I would have enjoyed it more if you weren't an impossible person to dress for. I had to get a thousand and one accessories." Okay yes, that is an excuse and Boro truly did win fair and square but dammit, she really thought she had that victory in the bag!

"You cannot be blaming me for my dressing habits based on my working outfit! I must be carrying around hundreds of things, very important for tea shop maintenance. I am sure you are familiar with this."

Like Alta could ever forget having her pockets shoved the to brim and still not having enough space for every single little (self-imposed) thing she had to do around that place. Still, she ups the difficulty, huffing as she says, "For the longest time all I had to base your sense of style on was your work outfit. And I've seen all your other dressing habits on this trip. There hasn't been a single time where you haven't worn an accessory. Except going to sleep."

"And Miss Alta still was so confident in her challenge towards me! Saying that she could find an outfit much much faster!"

"Whatever. The game was stupid anyways." Alta crosses her arms and sees a waiter flagging them down. Seems their table opened up.

"Are you only calling it such because you lost?" Boro asks innocently. Alta flaps a hand at him, "I refuse to answer that. No more game talk when we're dining."

Alta had picked the place. It's a newer restaurant, so she's sure Boro has never been here. It's a frilly affair, the gimmick of this place, but something that has her training her eyes on Boro immediately when they sit down, already excited to see his reaction. She had opted not to tell him anything, knowing that a surprise would make the whole thing even more enjoyable for him.

There's already menus waiting for them and Alta snatches them. The descriptions would spoil too much.

"Uh, what do you feel in the mood for?" She furrows her brows as she thinks of how to explain any of the meals. The descriptions are based on the whole gimmick, so the surprise factor is going to disappear pretty easily at this point.

"Why don't you pick for me, Miss Alta," Boro says simply and Alta blinks. Well that makes things a lot easier for her, but...

"What if I pick something you don't like?" She asks, eyes scrutinizing each item and trying to imagine what the hell the restaurant is trying to describe with each statement. 'Glitter and dust, powdery feelings and shambling powers.'?? What does that even *mean*?!

"Oho, I am guessing you could make this another game. Find something you think Boro would like! Or don't," he adds hastily at Alta's determined face, "I do not tend to be picky for most foods from here, Old Aeon is filled with a unique cuisine that is always interesting to try even if I am not fond of the flavor."

That still sounds like a challenge to her, it still sounds like he wants her to find the perfect meal. Damn, what should she pick?

"Whimsical," Boro says. He meets Alta's confused gaze and gives her a nod, "I am feeling in the mood for a meal that embodies whimsy."

"How vague," she intones, but it does make it easier. She finally settles on a meal described as 'Floral energy, run through our heart-filled fields and burst out into the stars.' It sounds lighthearted, and therefore whimsical, to her.

She's much more lenient with herself, she picks something about the fire from a volcano, she doesn't put much stock in the description, she just picks something that would be a genuine sight to see.

They're chatting between servers bringing their water and appetizers. They don't quiet down until the meal prepper comes out. A lady with frazzled hair and scars all over her face, though the quality and angle of them makes Alta think they aren't gained from fights.

"Hello, I'll be your enchant chef for the evening." She gives a bow and fixes the two of them with a look.

"No allergies, disliked foods or sensitivities to flashing lights?" She inquires and relaxes when the both of them respond with a head shake. "Good," she says, "then let's get started."

She starts making Alta's meal first.

About five seconds in, Alta acknowledges her choice as a mistake.

Because the enchant chef lays all the ingredients on their table, waves her hand over them, and a huge fireball blooms up from it all.

Alta recoils from the intense heat while she hears Boro whoop, hopefully in joy. She can't take her eyes off of it as the enchant chef chops up multiple of the ingredients with a sword she keeps summoning on and off. Along with her magic shield she also summons when ever she reaches in the fire, it's a skillful dance of sorts as she juggles between masterfully activating on and off each power at the correct time.

She suddenly tosses the flaming bits at the pair of them and Alta has to lock her body to keep herself from trying to deflect them. Third degree burns do not sound nice right now. The pieces stop near her head and she hopes it won't char her bright hair black (an unfortunate thing she had learned could happen to her hair specifically, after experimenting with a lighter when she was younger)

The food circles around them, each piece a flaming comet as the enchant chef then summons an illusionary volcano, the creation rumbling ominously multiple times, smoke rising so hard and fast that Alta can't see anything in it. Her brain is going overtime as she feels the thick smoke attack her lungs. God, this is too much like the train ride to the Often Farlands. No matter how 'safe' she knew she was, panic usually overwrote her more sensible reactions.

She feels something grasp at her thigh, searching. She quickly gives it her hand and it squeezes, holding tight and firmly through this unbearable experience.

Or unbearable no longer. The hand is a comfort, the texture of which she has grown accustomed to over the course of this adventure. Large and calloused, slightly scarred but still warm and gentle. Something that has a lot of bulk and power but is never the least bit threatening. Could the hand crush Alta's easily before she could even react? Yeah, of course, but she knows that this is safety. Not even because of the owner's personality, but because he cares about her.

So stupidly much.

Even if he shouldn't.

The volcano finally erupts, but instead of more flame and smoke, it's... Flowers?

Alta blinks. Yeah, there are flowers and petals and seeds emerging all over the place. Not illusionary ones either, the seeds pelted Alta and chased the flaming foods away. They burrowed themselves into the smoke and feasted on it as they sprouted. Bright, vibrant things that commanded so much joy and cheer.

But then they wilt, weak in their manner. It isn't until the flames came back, shining their fervor and energy on the flowers that they burst back into life.

Literally. The flowers regain their vigor and color and set on fire, exploding into a billion tiny sparkles that got all over her and Boro as they rain down. The sky looks like a starry nebula as the glittery particles float on down to Alta's and Boro's plates as a garnish, covering the meals that are surprisingly already there.

The enchant chef bows, thanks them for their patience and bids them a good meal. There's a moment of awed silence where neither Boro nor Alta say anything, hands still joined.

"...Wow! What a remarkable pick, Miss Alta," Boro finally says and that shakes Alta out of her stupor as she lets go of Boro's hand, grabbing her utensils.

"As in my choice of restaurant, or choice in meals?" She asks as she scoops up one of the flaming bits that she's hoping is just illusionary fire magic.

"All of it! I have never seen such an ostentatious use of magic in cooking like this! Truly spectacular, I am not thinking I will be forgetting this experience for quite some time." Boro also stabs at something in the shape of a star, marveling at it before eating.

"You better not," Alta warns, "This was hell to get a reservation for."

(She definitely lost all her savings with this place.)

Boro softens and looks at Alta. The look is so tender it wounds back into being too heavy and Alta shoves her spoonful into her mouth, trying her best not to break eye contact out of embarrassment.

"Thank you. I know these sort of things are not your speed, but you tried your best to even make a curated surprise for me, something else that you are not fond of."

Alta shrugs, thinks to make a joking deflection of sorts that she actually did it all for herself, don't be so self-centered Boro, but as she opens her mouth, flames jet out of it, shocking her.

Boro gasps excitedly and laughs. "My! It seems this dinner still holds many surprises even for you, Miss!"

"Hush," Alta mutters, the flames licking out of her mouth as she tries to say it through gritted teeth.

Boro eats his meal and has stars sparkling out. He takes a piece of Alta's meal out of curiosity and scrunches up his face. Seems like Boro isn't a fan of her taste, his expression making her laugh more than she should. He doesn't even try to see the effects before he starts dissing it! She tries his meal in turn, the flavor lighter than she would prefer. She does like the sparkly ting it adds however, truly reminiscent of the stars she speaks out, the little novas coming from her mouth.

Boro urges Alta to combine the two, which he refuses to do because he's a "coward who couldn't bear any more of hers even for curiosity's sake", and she does so, even this eliciting a surprised gasp from her at the reaction it sparks from her mouth. Little fireworks, that popped into different flowers. She starts babbling different things, curious if a rose would appear if she does it enough times. Boro suffers through more of her meal to help her in her quest—"When you keep taking portions like that, I don't think you dislike it as much as you claim"—and he does make one, of course. Maybe Alta would be a little saltier at this second victory for him if she isn't so giddy about it.

Tomorrow's the ceremony. So it's an early bed for the both of them, no excuses. Alta's tired anyway, the stress of hoping today wouldn't be marked as 'the day Alta fouled up yet another relationship' chipping away her energy faster than an average day. She steps in to the apartment as Boro opens the door and finds it surprising how...quaint everything is.

It had been so daunting, going back to the place after the last time she was here, that when she imagined what it looked like, well, she thought it was more ferocious.

Boro heads for the bathroom as Alta sits on the bed's edge gingerly. Yeah, okay, they're cool again, but maybe Boro doesn't want to sleep next to her. Maybe he's still kinda annoyed and needs his space. Which is fine! But should she just find another room? The hotel she stayed at last night probably still has spaces open-

"Oh good, you are still awake." Alta jumps at Boro's voice, completely lost in her thoughts. She frowns as she sees he's holding out a box to her and she takes it cautiously.

"What is this?" She narrows her eyes.

"A gift!" Boro says as he sits down next to her on the bed. She's actually noticing for the first time that he has changed into his frog onesie again.

Well, if she still thought he was pissed, she thinks that and the gift proves that it isn't the case.

"Okay, and why the gift?" Her hands fidget over it, unable to open it, something stopping her.

"Because it made me think of you, and it is very fitting too."

Alta shrugs, decides to say her problem point-blank, "You get me too many gifts."

A petulant frown works it's way onto Boro's face, "I am sorry, Miss. I have not even been thinking about space or asking if it is to your liking-"

"No it's not about space or anything. I *like* the gifts you give me, it's just...I dunno. I barely ever get you anything, except for your birthday." She gestures to the frog hoodie and Boro laughs.

" 'Barely get me anything?' Miss Alta, I could fill out a book with all the things you have gotten me on this trip!"

Alta raises an eyebrow and Boro says, "The restaurant we dined at today, for one."

"That one doesn't count," Alta folds her arms, "That was like, collateral for not going to lunch with you yesterday."

"Okay," Boro grins, "And the simple quash?"

"You could have gotten one yourself, I just got you the one you wanted."

"And all the photos you have let me taken even though it is being your camera."

"A camera that you got for me. It would be weird if I didn't let you. And you let me use the camera back at the shop so it's even that way too."

Boro chuckles, "A rebuttal for everything! Alright, how about this: You are doing these things with care. You found a restaurant specifically to my liking even if any old restaurant would do, you had gotten the highest of the simple quash simply because I had hoped for a stronger effect, and you are not always so fond at my photo subjects but you let me take them anyways."

"Speaking of that, when are you taking the baby bird photo back-"

"At any rate!" Boro continues, "Even without your thoughtful gifts, I am inclined to get you some simply because I want to. It is one of my ways of showing fondness and appreciation. If nothing else, would you please be indulging me in that aspect?"

...Actually, when he puts it like that, it does make things marginally easier. It feels less like Alta's making him spend money on her and more like a residual reaction. Spend time around your friends, you start doting on them. In fact, Alta is guilty in the same way if she concentrates on the ways she shows affection.

She sighs and opens the box, unraveling the orange fabric inside.

It's sleepware.

Of an orange dragon.

Complete with a hoodie.

Alta makes to get up from the bed and Boro holds onto her arm weakly.

"Nooo Miss, won't you try it on at least?" he pleads and Alta glares at him.

"Boro, how did you even find this?!" She starts at that gripe first and Boro says, "One of the thrift stores!"

"Okay well, I'm not wearing that. It's demeaning."

"Is Miss Alta saying she got Boro a demeaning gift? For his birthday?!?!"

"Stop the dramatics, you know it fits you. There's nothing demeaning about it at all!"

"Is it because it's a dragon? Are dragons not cool enough for Miss Alta?"

"..."

"???"

"...dragons are cool"

"Aha!"

"But-! The sleepware is not!!"

It goes on like this for a while.

To everyone's surprise, Alta does not give into Boro's whims and is, in fact, able to make him agree that tank tops and shorts are the best sleeping combo.

...Haha, as if.

But it's a nice daydream for Alta to have as she put on the dragon suit.

It's a little big for her, the hoodie covering past her forehead and the fabric around the crotch loosely bunched. It is soft though, and Alta does like the added design of there being built on gloves that she can slide on and have reptilian hands, while her fingertips are still free for manipulating. Cool.

When she comes back to the bed after fussing with the outfit, Boro starts to clap.

"A wonderful fit, in terms of looks! How does it feel?"

"Soft," Alta shrugs, not really sure how he wants her to answer. Is it suppose to feel like something special?

She lays down on the bed, facing Boro and his silly face with the silly frog hood on. Though she supposes she looks just as goofy to him with her overly large dragon hood on. There's an exceedingly long silence until Alta finally shifts and complains.

"This bed is *uncomfortable*."

Boro laughs, "Is it not?! It had been giving me a rough time last night, it was a poor sleeping night for Boro."

"Really?" Alta muses, her eyes drifting away from his gaze as she says, "I thought it was because of our argument that you didn't sleep well."

Boro hums, shifting and placing his hands near Alta's head, brushing back the hood as it starts to obscure her gaze again. "Yes, that had been contributing to the poor night as well. A pea on this already uncomfortable mattress. Or perhaps a pack of them, frozen solid and distracting."

Alta lets out a little noise of assent, uncertain on how to navigate this conversation next. God, she's just so *brash* and she thinks that sometimes it really makes her too harsh for moments like this, unable to properly convey how much someone means to her, how she feels like she doesn't compare to their value in the slightest when it comes to weighing the scales each brings to their friendship. She looks at Boro's hands, which are at the space in between their faces, and brings up a hand, picking at his nails.

The black polish has remained steadfast, stubborn. There are chips here and there, but overall it doesn't look so different from when Alta had first painted them. There are some bits that are on his skin—the parts Alta's picking at now—since she had painted it in the dark, a hard thing to do no matter if it glows.

...That was a nice moment. Quiet and warm and cozy. Like she is now, as Boro let her scrape off all the excess polish with no complaint. The both of them, close and concealed in this tiny uncomfortable bed, in this tiny room in this huge land that is Old Aeon.

That is a simple small speck in the whole world at large.

She doesn't know what she's going to say, just knows that she can't keep this bubbling within her any longer, "I'm not a good friend for you."

Boro doesn't make a fuss or protest loudly. Instead he keeps his steady gaze on her, eyebrows drawn upwards in a slight frown, "And why do you say that, Miss Alta?"

"I mean," she breaks off, trying to collect the few words and thoughts she does have gathered. "I'm just... So awful to you sometimes. And it's not like it's on purpose or anything. It's just who I am." She tries to concentrate on making sure her increased agitation in this conversation doesn't translate into her picking at Boro's nails more aggressively. At this point, she's already flecked off all the excess paint, she doesn't really know why she keeps doing it, just that it's a comfort in this gut-roiling talk.

"I cannot think of a single time Miss Alta has been terrible to me. Certainly not on this trip and I would not be saying so for any point of our relationship."

This has Alta stall at her picking, leveling Boro with a sour gaze. Boro gives her a smile, uneven and messy and quaint and hers, in this enclosed environment.

"I am being serious. I am fond of all our moments together, even if some of them were through troubling times, I am thinking they made those times not so heavy, yes?"

"I am awful," she insists, the words burning her as they escape, but she has to let this out, let Boro hear once and for all the whole truth of this matter, "I'm a friend you never would have made if I didn't crash at Wanderstop for so long, and you know it."

"Is it not nicer that we are friends, then? Despite there being such a rift of chance for that happening."

Alta shakes her head, a noise of disagreement escaping her.

"No," she murmurs, "Because when we're not together, we just...drift away. That's just how it is. If we're left to our own choosings, we wouldn't even see each other."

Boro's silent for a bit, his eyes trained on their joined hands. She has stopped picking at his nails for a while now, her fingertips just grazing the top of his. He moves his hand now, so that it's on top of hers, him gently locking their hands together.

"You thought that me hanging out with Miss Meridian was ultimate proof of that?"

Alta nods, "Yes." She doesn't have it in her to be embarrassed about this anymore, it almost fills her with a certain type of weariness.

Boro laughs, a chuckle so soft that it's more of an exhale, and he pulls her in close, hugging her tight to his chest.

"You can be such a goofball sometimes," he all but whispers in her ear. Before Alta can even think about bristling to the odd insult, he rests his chin on her head, cementing her further in his embrace.

"We may not always be around each other, but I am always thinking of you, Miss Alta. Your mannerisms, your attitude, your personality, you."

Alta thinks to snark him, to say that he was probably always thinking of all the negative parts, but being held so close to his chest stifles any protests she can make, listening instead to his voice as it rumbles out, each word reverberating through her body as well.

"I have had so many conversations with Sylvia about you, before she had even met you. I sometimes find myself drawn to the pictures you had taken around the shop and just look at them, reliving old times. I couldn't stop mentioning you to the band yesterday, they probably know more about you than my own self.

I love you, Miss Alta. I am sorry if I have not always been making that clear, but your company is a great comfort, always."

And in this warm embrace, with words so dear spoken so truly, does Alta have any other choice than to believe him?

(She does. She knows she does.

But she wants to trust him so, so, badly.

More than she wants to punish herself on this self-inflicted crusade of her lack of value to others)

She turns her face away from him, towards the open air, so she can say, "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I have not been attentive to your feelings, perhaps if I-"

"S'not like you knew," Alta insists, and there's an odd silence.

"I had thought, perhaps not so erroneously..." Boro trails off and Alta resists the urge to headbutt him at retreating his words now of all times. "You thought what?" She demands.

A huff, perhaps a laugh, and Boro says, "I had simply thought you did not want my company."

He tries to say it teasingly, but Alta is well-versed in Boro-speak. It's all she could do to pull away from the embrace and to stare at him, sitting back on her heels.

"You thought I didn't want to be your friend," she accuses. Boro shrugs listlessly, "It would not be the first time someone thought me too soft to be worth their time."

And suddenly Alta feels some sort of rage come over her.

"What the hell dude?!" she demands again, cutting Boro off before he could answer her not so hypothetical statement, "Why would you think I don't enjoy your company?? You're annoyingly cheerful yeah, but like, it's your dumb jokes that make stupid things fun. It's your stupid smile that makes things *bright*. You're just, I don't know, yourself! And it's good. It's nice. Um..."

Boro has sat up, looking at Alta with wide eyes and as her tirade dies down, she starts to feel more self-conscious. Is it embarrassing liking someone so much, telling them so straight to their face?

She crosses her arms, grateful for once that the overly large hood falls down and covers her eyes from Boro's sight as she says, "You're you. That's all. You're Boro and I couldn't be happier."

...

She hears him coming closer before she sees him, his knees visible through the little she could see with her gaze pointing downwards. He lifts the hood slowly, giving her the chance to bat his hands away.

She doesn't and he flips the hood off completely, meeting her now exposed eyes.

"Perhaps neither of us have been very fair to the other in terms of perceived feelings, hm?"

She thinks to dissuade him, she was trying to make this vacation worth his time by not spending it with her, but then she falters, really understanding what he was trying to say.

Her, believing she was too unworthy of his friendship, his love...

Well, that was just another way of her saying that she thinks Boro is cruel. That he perhaps despised spending time with her, or saw it as some moral duty rather than his joyous demeanor around her is just that.

Joyous.

"Yeah, I guess not," she concedes instead, and Boro smiles, soft and crinkly and still so stupidly *warm*.

"Well, I am promising you I will be endeavoring to be better in the current time. Miss Alta is here now because she wants to be, yes, I shall be trying my best to internalize this."

Everything feels so much lighter now that Alta can quip, "If you are ever unsure, just see if I'm still by your side. Otherwise, if I left like I did yesterday, then yeah, I stopped wanting to be around you."

Boro laughs, his louder, joyous one, "Yes, I am supposing you are right!" He says, his eyes creases.

Alta nods, breathing in deeply.

"Me too," she says, holding Boro's warm, soft gaze, "I... You like having me here."

"I do," Boro breathes.

"We're friends."

"We are."

Alta sighs, some tension leaving her. She knows herself, knows her mind will always fight her against this truth, would insist she got it wrong and that this is not a friendship that would last.

But damn it all if she's going to make it easy for herself to disbelieve it.

She'll cling to this conversation. Even at her mind's angriest, she'll remember this conversation and this open honesty that has enveloped them. Nothing but the truth was spoken here.

"Forgiven?"

Alta blinks, startled at Boro's question. She guesses that she never did formally say she isn't upset.

Well, not any longer at least.

(Not that it was ever Boro she was mad at.)

"Forgiven," she says firmly. Boro smiles, his own body lax as he lays back down. Alta follows suite, facing him as she mumbles, "Forgiven?"

He really hadn't ought to. For all his shortcomings, he never shoved them onto her, had he? Or maybe he technically did, since it gave him an uncharitable view of Alta herself only being around for kicks?

Well, whether he forgives her or not isn't her choice.

"Forgiven," Boro says, nodding to accentuate his point.

It's his.

And if he says it's all good, then she best believe him and leave it at that.

It's quiet.

Their usual companionable silence that Alta has surprisingly missed. It feels good though, sitting in this silence and watching as Boro's eyes got progressively more lidded.

But actually...

"Boro?" she whispers, half hoping he's asleep. If he's asleep, well she can't ask him to do what he did again, now can she? But he opens his eyes, vision surprisingly focused.

"Hm?" He yawns and Alta hesitates. How does one ask for this, exactly?

Whatever.

"Could you hold me again? Like you were doing a second ago. It felt good and, um..."

Safe.

Boro opens up his arms and Alta wiggles close. He grips her tightly and Alta wonders if this is the miraculous 'bear hug' people talked about.

Doesn't really matter to her.

She feels safe.

She doesn't remember the last time she felt like this, feeling warmth and safety so distinctly she couldn't help but to remark on it.

Wonderful.

It's wonderful.

As Alta's eyes start to droop, she thinks back to Boro's words. She had let them slide by in the grand scheme of things, but even if she hadn't, she doesn't think she would ever reciprocate them out loud.

So she does it in her mind instead, in this quiet cove that held the two of them.

I love you too, Boro.

Chapter Text

Alta wakes first, as she usually does. Boro's snores rumbling deep in her chest as she's still pressed up against him. She doesn't move at first, telling her tense body to relax. The stupid bed is uncomfortable, the ceiling, which she has set her gaze on, is genuinely ugly, and Boro's snores are just a tad too loud to be considered adorable.

And yet, Alta wants to stay in this moment.

She closes her eyes again as her brain tries to tell her she should at least *glance* at the time, what if it's already time for the Old Aeon ceremony?

(There's no way it is, she can feel the sun poking through the curtains.)

Boro's grip is warm, loose enough that she doesn't feel stifled but just that right amount of *tight* that it soothes some part of her brain.

She almost wants to joke to herself that they could have been doing this *all* vacation had she just given in earlier, but even she has to admit it makes her feel a certain kind of clingy that she would never like to sink to, no thank you.

This vacation, which is almost over.

They have today, and tonight, and then by tomorrow morning...

Alta can't help the groan that escapes her as she shifts in Boro's hold, running both her hands down her face. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why does she always have to get involved with people who can't stay in her life, for one reason or another?

She thinks she should be use to it by now. She is.

But it still hurts all the same.

...That's what started this, wasn't it? When she moved so much in her childhood, she just stopped trying to make friends. What was the point? After all, they weren't going to last.

Logically, it just made more sense to not make ties with anyone. To place shallow roots for her foreseeable re-potting.

Maybe there's more to it than that, but Alta can remember standing apart from other kids purposefully, not wanting to get entangled in something as messy as a friendship.

'Wow, that weird kid was right. I am weird,' Alta thinks. Probably not a surprise to anyone else, but hey, it's news to her.

She exhales slowly, focusing on the feeling of all her breath leaving her lungs.

Dumb, dumb circumstances outside of her control. That's all there ever was.

So, will she roil in misery and accept it? Or will she grab this fate and wrangle it into something of her liking?

She doesn't know. God, she doesn't know if this is a back footed approach or something to rush and cling onto. There are always merits and downsides to both.

But, feeling Boro's snores get progressively grainier, she thinks that the best answer is to take things moment by moment. To stop trying to create a streamlined plan and to just...Enjoy.

Yeah.

Wanderstop learning part two; Friendships are like rest.

She snorts. Of course it's Boro who's the centerpiece of this. She doubts she'd have figure it out otherwise.

Silly her, still learning the same lesson years later.

But at least she's learning. Rather than stubbornly sticking to her ideals.

At least she hopes she is.

She lets Boro rest as she sits up on the bed, weaving the flowers she had bought yesterday into a flower crown.

(She finds it amusing that in the time she took to grab the bag, Boro's hands were already searching for her to grasp onto again, the giant nerd. She compromises by sitting close enough for him to wrap an arm around her waist, her hands still free enough to shape the flower crown.)

Around thirty minutes later, she's gently shoving Boro awake.

(She also threatens to shove him off the bed if he tries to pretend he can't hear her again, but that's neither here nor there.)

"Today's the day!" He cheers as Alta gives him the outfit she chose.

"You dress up first. I have a few pins if the pants are too loose, the slack on them was kinda bad." She all but pushes him into the bathroom, strangely excited to see how the outfit turns out. She's always been severe about her own fashion, curated a look that spoke of sharpness and no nonsense. She *likes* the impression her clothes give. So even with their style difference, she wants to add that intensity to Boro's outfit as well, to gift him clothes that makes him like the aura he emits, even if it is much softer than hers.

Boro steps out and she almost starts to clap.

"Wow, you look great- Wait, why aren't you wearing your bow tie?" That piece is the crux of the outfit, it doesn't really pop nearly as much without the flower bow tie, well, tying it all together.

Boro holds it in his hands and smiles, "I was thinking you would tie it for me, Miss."

"Oh yeah sure," Alta flaps a hand around dismissively as she makes him sit on the bed. She ties it as nicely as she can without choking Boro and steps back, taking him in.

She had gotten him blue suede pants, black dress shoes and a button up white shirt. Instead of the usual dress jacket sleeve that went over these, she had opted to go with a dark half-cape swung over the shoulder, embroidered with flowers and enchanted so that with each grand sweeping gesture, it shot out a trail of sparkles. Enchanted clothing is real easy to find in Old Aeon, Alta's pretty sure that this is where it was first invented, after all.

She's fussing with Boro's sleeves so they were buttoned at the halfway point when she thinks he's done. She wanted to give him a more roguish look, something fiercer than he would usually dress as, with cooler colors. As she expected, it made his rosy complexion pop more, drawing attention to his wide eyes and creating a contrast with his more 'playful slacker' outfit vibe. The softest person she can think of in an outfit that screams 'trouble'. Simple, but effective.

At least she thinks so.

"What a wondrous selection, thank you Miss Alta!" Boro spins around as he checks himself out in the small dresser mirror. "It does bring out my smile more, yes."

"Oh good, so we're in agreement about your best quality."

"One of them at least, no?"

"Just the one," Alta says coyly as Boro hands her the bag of clothing for her.

"I better not end up looking like a clown," she mumbles, because why would she ever give Boro free confidence by letting him know that she thinks that his choices are going to be better than hers.

"Wouldn't be so different from how you usually dress," Boro quips and she snorts. She definitely deserved that, she thinks as she gently shuts the bathroom door.

She wastes no time undressing, stripping down to her boxers. She opts to keep off her tank top, depending on how much dancing she would do, she would probably overheat. Then, she gingerly takes out the first article of clothing.

High-waisted pants. Swing pants really, with four silver buttons, two by two, to close them. The fabric's black, and flared out at the end, reminiscent of bell bottoms. The two pant holes have simple white lace decorating the edges all around, some sort of floral-y design. Alta wrestles herself into them, frowning at the height at which the pants start. A lot, lot higher than she would ever go for herself, but the pants are snug, and don't chaff her as she twists her body around, trying to get a feel for moving in them.

Still, they accentuate her legs. Something she hasn't ever care to do herself, but has gotten numerous comments (or were they compliments?) on regardless. She guesses Boro thinks her legs were one of her best features.

The next thing she pulls out is the top. It's a monochrome dress vest, with thick vertical stripes alternating between gray and black, adorned with classic black buttons. Alta does put her tank back on, not particularly vibing with the feeling of the vest against her skin. It's short sleeved anyways, so she doubts she'll overheat. The vest is admittedly a lot closer to something Alta would pick out for herself and she likes the figure she cuts so far, as she looks in the mirror.

She sees the shoes next and lets out a hum of surprise. Black dress shoes, with a silver edge on their heels. When she puts them on and stomps, her thoughts are confirmed.

They're tap shoes.

She snorts, amused. While it could be coincidence, she thinks Boro specifically picked them out for her because of their loud, sharp nature. Nothing like accentuating your presence by making each step attention-grabbing.

Is that everything? Seems like Boro did make things simple. She grabs the bag and shakes it upside down, just to make sure.

Something flutters out of the bag and Alta rolls her eyes so far back she thinks they disconnect.

Well, Boro did make 95 percent of this outfit varying shades of black. She supposes she'll take his five percent of red in the form of a cravat with grace.

Boro is applying something to his eyes when Alta steps out, her exit from the bathroom all the more noticeable with her tap shoes on.

"My! What a delight to see such fine clothing on you!" Boro says, catching her gaze in the mirror. "I am suspecting a picture is in order, I would like to be keeping a memory of this."

"Yeah, yeah, we can take a picture. What are you doing?" She peers at him closely and he turns towards her. His eyelashes are rimmed in a shimmery dark blue, adding to his whole nova-esque aesthetic.

"I found this when I was out and about. Would you care to try?" Boro asks and Alta shakes her head.

"No thanks. You can repaint my thumbs though," she says, unpocketing the nail polish and tossing it towards Boro.

He misses completely and the bottle falls with a 'thunk!'

"I've learned my lesson about catching things from you, Miss," Boro comments as he picks the bottle up.

Alta snorts, "Yeah, *that's* why you missed." She makes her way to the dresser and sits down, holding out her hand to Boro.

He does her nails diligently and her eyes wander to the flower crown adorning his head.

"Comfortable?" She asks, adjusting the slightly sloping crown with her free hand.

"Very! I am rather fond of the scent too." Boro finishes her nails and steps back, nodding.

"Cool. I guess we're all set to go." Alta says, running a hand through her hair and frowning, "Actually, hold on."

She digs through her pack, trying to brush her hair into it's usual style.

No good, her hair's too long, and therefore too heavy to let itself be molded into her preferred shape.

"Uhg," she tosses the comb, annoyance rushing through her. "Might have to stop at a store so I can get scissors."

"Not a fan of long hair, Miss Alta?" Boro questions as Alta tries to put her hair up, frowning at the way it makes her look.

"Not a fan of it being any longer than I usually keep it. I was already due for a hair chop when you and Sylvia visited me, I just sorta forgot about it over the course of this vacation." And now it's at the annoying length she likes to keep at bay, growing past her neck, tickling her and refusing to listen.

Great.

She feels a hand on her shoulder and sees Boro looking at her with questioning eyes. Had he asked her something?

"I am thinking I could be doing a style for you Miss, if it is not overstepping your bounds."

"Oh," Alta says.

Oh indeed.

She shrugs, something like heat crawling up her neck as she tries to say offhandedly, "As long as it's something cool and not something lame, like a bun or whatever."

Boro laughs, already behind her back as he places his other hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

"I am promising to be doing my best," he says humbly and Alta sighs.

"Yeah, well, go ahead," she says in a mumble-y tone, and Boro sets to work.

As far as Alta can tell, he's just combing through her hair.

Running his hands through it, over and over again. Humming something under his breath. It has Alta closing her eyes though, enjoying the sensation. He's at her back, touching the one aspect of herself she never gives others any leeway for, to the point where she just cuts her hair herself, even through the days of scabs and blisters on her hand from training.

And yet, with all these points in mind, Alta's enjoying it. Thoroughly. His hands are warm and gentle against her scalp, and whatever style he's starting to weave into her hair feels nice.

Although...

"Too loose," Alta mumbles, his hands making her a certain type of docile that she feels bereft of a louder voice, "Make it tighter."

Boro chuckles and undoes the strand currently in his hand, pulling it much fiercer this time around. It's still much looser than Alta likes, but she respects the effort.

She almost whines in dismay when Boro finally pulls away. Honestly, she would have been more than content if this is what they did for their last full day in Old Aeon.

Sappy much? She asks herself, finally opening her eyes to see what style Boro had chosen for her.

She still has her front bangs in the same style, which she's grateful for. They're a genuine pain to keep consistent. It's when Alta turns her head that she sees his work. Two cornrows, emerging from either side, coming together to form a ponytail in the center at the back of her head. It lifts a lot of the excess hair from her neck and when she shakes her head from side to side, she feels lighter.

Also she looks cool. It isn't a super frilly style. Usually she would veto something like the ponytail, thinking it a little...Girly, perhaps? Or maybe laid-back? Either way, too off from the way she curated herself. The cornrows make it feel less so, making the ponytail an accessory rather than the main feature. All that, along with her bangs, make her feel good about her current appearance.

It all still screams Alta, just in a different format.

"It's a really nice job. Thank you, Boro," she says, sliding off the seat. Boro nods and peers at her closely, holding her face and inspecting her from side to side. Alta's bewildered, but lets him turn her head this way and that before he finally sighs.

"Goodness, the style's uneven. It has been so long since Boro has had to be styling any hair himself." Alta blinks and looks in the mirror. Is it? She *really* couldn't see anything off about it. And of the two of them, she's way more critical, so what is Boro going on about?

(Is she though, more critical? Perhaps more vocal about it, and more used to it. But Boro had his moments too, of putting himself down, letting everyone but himself off easy.

Alta frowns. Best to shake him out of it, then.)

"Well *I* like it, so it makes it perfect." Boro snaps out of his brooding at Alta's words.

"Is that how it works?" His eyes crinkle, a little half-smile that becomes a full one as Alta says, "Yes, duh," and gives him a glare as if he was silly for even entertaining otherwise.

"Alright then!" He declares, "Miss Alta is Ceremony ready!!"

"And you are too," she says, going towards her pack. Didn't they want to do something before they head out? She glances at the clock idly and does a double-take.

"Shit, we're going to be late. Out, now, now, now!" She pushes at Boro, herding him to the door as he tries to argue that it doesn't *really* matter, being late to an Old Aeon ceremony, but she is having *none* of it.

Her camera sits in her pack, forgotten, as they rush out the door.

It's weird, that she feel nervous about this.

Or maybe apprehensive is the right word? It's not like she doesn't know what she signed up for, dancing at an Old Aeon ceremony. But, like, how does she do it? Is there a certain type of dancing she has to follow? Or is she just getting too into her head right now??

Alta almost stumbles from the sudden jostle Boro gives her. They're linked, arm in arm, so it's not like she would really fall, especially since she's quick on her feet, but she gives him a sour look all the same.

"I am suspecting you are thinking too hard about things. Save all that energy for dancing, no?" Boro says as he gives her another light jostle. She shrugs, "Well I don't know what to expect. Like, am I suppose to be sitting down, watching everyone dance? Or should I help make the tea? Or should I be drinking the tea? Or should I start dancing? Or is there a set routine? Or-"

"It is being entirely your choice to what you want to do!" Boro says with a laugh.

"Isn't it always," Alta mutters, but acquiesces to Boro's request, making small talk instead of focusing on whatever emotion is quelling her stomach.

They arrive soon enough, though they are late to the opening ("Boro, I told you we were going to be late.") and are let inside with a flourish.

Alta isn't sure what she expected, in terms of design. She guessed that it would take place in a planetarium of sorts, so that the sky was on full display as they celebrate the alignment of the planets. And it is, a wide open glass dome above them as the sky does it's own dance with the shifting of each celestial body. But also...

The place is dark. Like only the occasional soft glow from someone's enchanted outfit, or even her own nails, light up the place. It has Alta squinting as she makes her way past the corridor with Boro, glad she at least has him in her grasp.

They reach the room that the ceremony takes place in and she's surprised to just see people chatting for now. Not really any dancing—or maybe 'organized dancing' is the better term to use, as she sees some girl in striped leggings and a floofy dress doing some sort of jig—just lots of loud noise as all the conversations meld into one noise.

A symphony of it's own.

She can feel Boro tugging at her elbow and she almost laughs at the sight of him, craning his head and drifting listlessly towards the cauldron where the brew is being prepared.

"Go on ahead," she says, unhooking their arms. "You're practically being magnetized towards it."

Boro rubs the back of his head sheepishly, black polish glowing.

"It is only the beginning, we can be enjoying other parts of the ceremony-"

"You're the tea man and you want to talk tea. I can't find any fault with that. Go, shoo. I'll be waiting around here after you're done."

Boro nods and bustles towards the tea, an obvious pep in his step. Alta watches with a fond snort. God, he is *so* easy to read.

At least to her he is.

She glances around, wondering what exactly she should do now anyways. More people file in and the room, an extravagant ball room, is steadily getting fuller.

She really hopes there's more space in here. She can't imagine any dancing getting done if the only space available is the two steps you could take in any given direction.

Alta decides to explore. Might as well see what else is available at this place.

Okay, *maybe* this ceremony is cooler than she's giving it credit for.

She's a floor up, above the crowd, and in this darkened state, she can see *everything*.

The flashy outfits, so common of Old Aeon, are sparkling little gems that make everyone look so discernible. The girl practicing dancing earlier, her legging were alit, flames licking up her dress and giving her the intensity of the sun.

Or another person, with their hair styled in a neat bun, has tendrils drifting from it, giving them a faux cape that trails behind them mysteriously.

Alta almost feels under-dressed.

Almost.

Boro is impressive though, she could spot him easily among the tea makers. She has her face propped up on a hand as she watches him make tea, intrigued. She never actually got to see him make tea in all her time at Wanderstop, either because he let her make all the tea she wanted so she had something to do (which she still appreciates greatly. Making tea barely staved off the boredom, imagine if she didn't have even *that*.) or she was too distraught to want to see his tea-making skills in action when he made tea for her.

Much like the simple quash, his ease in skill is easy to see. He's so swift with it, even as he converses with someone else, that Alta has to stop herself from blinking, not wanting to miss anymore than she already has.

Maybe it's a little embarrassing to think this, the kind of the thing she could only begrudgingly allow her mind to say, but...

Boro is kinda cool.

Honestly, the amount of skills he has, while some ultimately silly—Juggling, really?—it's still a pretty large skillset. Any skills Alta has, like her calligraphy, are just residue from her skills of being a fighter.

She wouldn't say it makes her envious of him, but she does long to have another skill, something just as impressive as fighting, but also very juxtaposed with it.

Alta feels a tap on her shoulder and she turns around. She sees a lady with braided hair, flowers intertwined all throughout it as she holds out a rose to Alta.

"Uhh..." Is she suppose to take it?

"Gifts from th' Goddess, ch'love. Happily takes her m'blessings, yes?"

Cool. Years later and she still has no idea what half the things people said meant when it's in an Old Aeon accent.

"I don't need any flowers," Alta tries to wave her off, but the lady is insistent.

"Drawnly 'pon th'image, ya? 'Tis a good favor, in'love with th' style and ta Goddess ch'happily takes upon ye."

"Uh, thank you." Alta takes the rose and holds it awkwardly. The lady places her flower basket down and fusses with the rose in her hand. She sticks it in Alta's cravat, the rose's darker red giving flare to the cravat's light red.

The lady smiles, a vibrant thing, her white teeth and tooth gap all on display, and Alta thinks that with smiles like these, Boro fits in with Old Aeon perfectly.

Alta turns back, to look over the crowd again, thinking the conversation's over. So she's surprised when the lady joins her, standing awfully close next to her and leaning over the railing, looking over the crowd as well.

Alta's staring, probably rude, but she wonders if the lady wants anything else to do with her. She sees a tag on the lady's dress—Calyx—and guesses the lady works here, maybe a different section than the tea-makers.

"Ch'you see? Ta mist'walker of Orgo?" Calyx suddenly says and Alta peers over, eyes passing over the crowd.

"Where?" She asks. Way too many people to be listlessly looking around for someone specific.

Calyx doesn't seem to think so, as she encourages Alta to keep looking, saying, "Giftly'pon th'Goddess. Sights and sees such'es. Try 'gain, from th'heart. Ch'gots it, love."

Sounds like bullshit, but at least it's encouraging bullshit. Alta tries again, thinking that there's too many 'mist' enchantments to really see the right one. She tries to follow Calyx's angle, but she doesn't see anyone with mist.

She's close to giving up, thinking that this is an impossible task, but she tries one last time, letting her eyes wander. Closest she can get to 'looking from the heart'.

Her gaze drifts to two people conversing. One of them is a young man, nothing misty about him. But Alta keeps her eyes trained on him still, insistent.

He walks off from the conversation and Alta juts her chin towards him.

"There. He's the mistwalker. It's only when he steps that it appears."

Calyx gives her bright beam again. "Ch'got it love. Th'gift in ya heart is true, ya. Watches the people such'es and sees from'th gift 'pon thee from th'Goddess. Flames in yer heart, blackened'burn before, ch'yes. Healed to full and ghostly'form available now. Watches the people, sees their different angles, love."

"Oh. Thanks." At least Alta thinks it's a compliment. Having her own angle of seeing things. Even if it makes her difficult.

"Enjoy th' little mercies, keeps the people watching muchly, ta'joy upon thee, ya love? Back to it now, glads to chat with ch'ya, firesoul."

Calyx picks up her basket, curtsies, and is off again. Alta is almost struck with the odd sensation of wishing she stayed. Though a small interaction, it was kinda nice.

Little interactions, somehow always leaving a big impression.

She wonders if she's ever been like that with people herself. Then she realizes that she has, she just likes to be stubborn and pretend otherwise.

She peers over the railing, taking Calyx's advice and continuing to people-watch. She doesn't see anything spectacular; no backflips, or spells cast, no fistfights or levitations. But it's intriguing still. Just... seeing people be people. Seeing them converse and laugh, gasp and cry. The unique outfits and the coordinated. The unsteady dancers and the excited prancers.

Maybe Alta really is always an outsider, looking in.

Seeing the joy and triumphs of others.

But as a smile is drawn upon her face at the rampant enthusiasm in the room, she thinks that maybe that's okay.

She's an outsider, always looking in.

But that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Boro makes his way up to her eventually, face flushed with joy.

"How did you find me?" She asks, going forward and gesturing for him bend down. He does, letting Alta adjust his bowtie as he says, "I only had to look skyward Miss, and there you were! A firework in the sky."

She steps back and gives him an eyebrow raise. He relents with a laugh, adding "I have also asked around. It seems like you are making quite an impression, Miss."

"I am?" Shit, has she already done something wrong? Should she have spent the time warming up dancing??

"Yes!" Boro gives a firm nod, "Many are liking your style, they are saying you are one of the first people to be seen when entering. A welcome proprietor, watching benevolently from the sky! A firework indeed, something to gaze upwards upon with joy."

"Oh." Have that many people actually noticed her, and thought her silly pastime a good thing? She didn't even think anyone down there would notice her. At least, no one had come forward to her to say so.

She eventually shrugs, asking, "Did you tell them who my stylist was?"

Boro grins, "No, Boro cannot be taking credit for your own such beauty."

"Aren't you in a good mood," she tuts. "How was making tea?"

"Oh! It was so wondrous, Miss Alta!" Boro practically swoons at the mention of tea and she laughs, listening intently to his experience with the tea-makers. She says a wayward comment or two and he parries them with ease.

Their silly dynamic, as always.

Then Alta invites him to people watch with her. At first, they're pointing out all the different sights and outfits they see, but eventually, they just people watch in silence.

It kinda gives Alta the same feel as when she was with Calyx. The other person isn't saying anything, and it technically doesn't matter if they're there or not, people watching is easily a solo activity.

But doing something separately, together?

Alta quickly adds that onto the 'good feelings' list.

Outsiders, looking in.

Alone together.

A joy unlike any other.

It's like being woken from a dream when Alta hears a booming voice declare the start of the ceremony. She sluggishly straightens up from her leaning on the railing, yawning. Boro's at her side as they walk down the stairs, into the bustling center of the building.

They're nowhere near the front of course, but through all the shifting and rearranging as some flounce to the back while others preen towards the front, they're closer to it than Alta would expect. There's some words being said, the person's voice carrying loudly without a mic—the acoustics of this place are perfect—but Alta can't make out anything. She almost wants to think it's the accent but the way the words slip through her mind like water even as she tries to parse through them, it has to be something more than that. Maybe it's an enchantment?

Whatever it is, the person then brings forth a cup of brew and says something. He passes the cup to someone in the front and Alta watches bemusedly as the cup keeps getting passed down. On and on and on, going through everyone's hands. No one even takes a sip. Up at the front, the person is still passing more cups of brew. Alta takes the cup with bravado when it comes to her and hands it off to Boro easily.

"What's going on, exactly?" She asks in a hushed tone. Not that there isn't any noise, cup passing is a surprisingly noisy affair when everyone's outfits have fifty layers of fabric, but no one is speaking and while Alta doesn't think it's forbidden, she has a feeling that the air is devoid of words on purpose.

"The passing of the ceremonial brew," Boro responds. Neither of them slow down in their cup passing as he explains, "Before the dancing can commence, every person being here must have a cup of brew so that we may all drink it together. It is important that each cup passes through everyone's hand, up to the current tea-havers, so that we have all together been infusing our own essence in the tea and thus, we have all made it one way or another."

"Oh, Right. Yeah, makes sense." Alta wisely ignores Boro's soft chuckles that seem to insist that she believes otherwise. Still, she gets into the rhythm of it pretty quickly. Get a cup, pass a cup.

Get a cup.

Pass a cup.

Get a cup.

...Keep the cup?

She didn't even realize the cup before was her penultimate one. She stares at the familiar hazy and colorful liquid that was Aeon brew. She actually can't remember the taste of it. To be fair, she had a lot on her mind—and plate—when she drank it, only curious about trying it because Boro's stories of the Old Aeon ceremony had intrigued her.

Who would have guessed she'd be participating in one all these years later?

Eventually everyone has a cup, but instead of drinking it, words are passed down, from one person to the next, similar in cup passing fashion.

She doesn't really know what anyone's saying, despite the grand acoustics and accompanying silence, everyone's words to their neighbor are just that.

It gets to her neighbor next to her and he gives her a smile. He has stars painted all over his face, a constellations of sorts.

"Excitin' time, ain't it love? Glad you could be here for this, likin' your outfit and all."

"Oh thanks." Alta gestures to Boro with her head, "My friend picked it out for me."

The guy laughs, "Oh ch'love! Pickin' out fits for each other?! Grand idea, gives them muchly more spice. Will be my thing next year, fer sure. Cheers love."

He bumps his cup against Alta's and she supposes it's her turn. She faces Boro.

"Um. Thanks for inviting me. I'm glad we reconnected." She shrugs, unsure what else to say.

"Likewise, thank you for joining me on this extended trip, Miss Alta. It is not one that either of us will be forgetting I suspect, heheh."

Alta nods, "Yeah. Cheers."

They clink drinks and now it's Boro's turn to talk to his neighbor.

If you ask Alta about this, she'd say it's weird. But it's also soothing, in this immense way. Thanking someone for being here, at this ceremony. Ending up next to you, for one reason or another. And then just saying something on your mind about them. Wishing them well.

It should really fit into Alta's definition of false pretenses and trite bull, but maybe it's a testament to how she's changed that it doesn't.

Finally, everyone has had words said to them (Alta found it amusing that the last person had their words passed back up to the person in the front, what an interesting way to resolve that) and they're allowed to drink. Alta throws her head back as she drains the cup in one go, seeing in her peripheral as dozens of others follow suite.

Ah yeah, *this* is what Old Aeon brew is like. That whole jiggly and intense feeling. She smells something in the air—incense it seems, with the way everything is getting foggy—and the band starts to crank out some slow drum heavy song.

And then somewhere else another drum starts to beat at an entirely different pace.

And then a third one does it's own thing as well.

"I need another drink," Alta mumbles, blindly reaching behind her to grab at Boro. He chuckles but relents, letting her drag him through the crowd so that she can refill her cup.

She drinks twice more and has her cup filled for her imminent third when she hears strings start and sees lights flashing from up above. The planets are aligning, the stars twinkling. It really is time.

Boro drags her out onto the dance floor, and even with the brew coursing through her, Alta isn't sure at first what she should be doing. The incense is heady, going to her head and she feels more strung up from all these sensations rather than otherwise. She gives Boro permission to lead her, almost feeling like a wayward child as she clings to him.

He starts by dragging them over to the slower drum set, the steady beat overtaking all others and giving Alta something to latch onto. They're waltzing on tempo at first, the pattern of the rhythm inscribing itself onto her brain until she can break away from that stiff dance, and start to work on her own twirling rhythm.

She drains her third cup of brew and places it in her pocket, starting to circle around, stamping her feet.

She accentuates the rhythm with her dance shoes, each movement firm and confirmed with the heavy, resonant clicks she lets out. It feels rewarding, some tangible proof of her dancing actually happening.

There's murmurs as she gets into it, setting her own pace alongside the beat. She hears people start to clap, a steady third beat on top of the one she creates and the one the music sets. And then she has a twin.

Someone else with tap shoes joins in on her beat. Alta can already tell from the way the newcomer prances that they're someone with experience. It almost makes her feel a bit silly, dancing like she has any skill compared to her newfound partner.

But the person flashes her smiles in-between their sets, lets Alta set the place and only accentuates her rhythms, playing around, sometimes stopping their tapping entirely to dance to Alta's beat. Before she even knows it, they've both traveled across the room, to a different sound entirely.

Everyone there is clapping to the rhythm, set entirely by bones and maracas and castanets. She can hear some strings not too far away warming up to the beat. She starts clapping as well, feeling like this is a respite within all the dancing, for the musicians to take charge now.

And they do so, the band snapping out saucier beats to the simple pattern of the claps. It just keeps rising in fervor and pitch as each section of the percussion gets its own solo before joining back in to the main beat. At one point, everyone is just clapping, the sound so loud it echoes and Alta can feel her hands start to sting.

Then, all at once, there's silence.

A lone violin player steps forward and plays a long, drawn out note. Everyone starts scrambling to form some shape.

"Behind me love, let's get in line." Someone says to Alta and she follows through. Others get behind her and soon there's a line. Alta wonders, with a touch of amusement, if they're going to start doing a conga line.

She looks over and sees another line forming on the other side. Boro's in it, similar in place to where she is and she quirks a brow as he catches her gaze.

He smiles at her and she keeps her eyes locked on him as the violin player finally ends his note. The sound barely reverberating before the rest of the band joins in again.

The second the full beat comes back, the lines rush forward, snaking around and accentuating each musical phrase with a quick, two-clap. There's synchronicity in the lines, Alta isn't even sure how, if it's the line leaders making sure of it, or just human nature of being silly coinciding so well in this moment. But they are, moving and pausing at the same moments, all of them clapping at the same time, and climbing up the stairs.

Alta catches Boro's gaze again, a half-smile quirked on her face as she holds her stare, even with him at the opposite staircase. Boro does as well, and it feels like she's looking in a mirror. She can't see herself, but feeling every single movement she makes line up with what Boro does is uncanny in the softest of ways.

The two lines finally meet up at the center and the front people from each line go off to dance with each other. Luck would have it that Boro is her partner.

"Fancy meeting you here," she quips as she gives him a bow. Boro extends his hand gracefully and Alta takes it.

"So, do you come here often?" Boro asks as Alta twirls him around, on her tippy toes to make sure she can actually spin him without breaking contact.

"Oh yeah, loads of times. I practically live here. What about you?" She says and Boro pulls her in close, her head tilted upwards to meet his gaze as he flutters his eyelashes mysteriously, the blue highlights on them especially sparkling as he says, "I've never been here before in my life."

She laughs, Boro dipping her, making her feel a special sort of fizzy. He hums and they keep pace with their rhythm, even as the band switches from one tempo to another.

Boro's surprisingly elegant and she remarks as such.

"I did take dancing classes for some time, but it was being for an entirely separate style of dance," he says, letting Alta roll out from his grasp, and then back in.

"Figures," she replies, and pulls him closer in her direction as another conga line passes from behind him.

They just dance, at first with more fizzy energy until they're just practically swaying. Eventually Boro clunks his head against Alta's shoulder. She pokes his face teasingly.

"More tea?" She asks. She hears a muffled reply that she assumes is 'yes please.'

They fill up their cups and sip on them as they watch from the sidelines. Boro was entirely right when he explained the Aeon ceremony to her all that time ago, there really is too much to focus on. It's like being at a nightclub but with five different DJs.

No dance is coordinated, every single person is a gander to look at and the incense is making Alta feel as woozy as the tea she's drinking, her body too tired to summon up more energy and the jittery feeling just translating into a sort of exhaustion.

She's having fun though. The sort of fun that she would never give into if this was hosted at the place where she lives, god no, but fun in the sense of seeing something different, a new culture, without having to be intertwined in it permanently.

It also helps that she has a good steady companion in Boro.

Who definitely seems to be pass his limit.

It's odd, that for once *she's* guiding Boro back to their room for rest, rather than the other way around. He had protested leaving, insisting they stay the whole time. When she commented that she thinks he'd be a pile of mush by the end of it all, he shrugs and says that he enjoyed his life as a non-mush entity for long enough.

Honestly, Alta's kinda glad that they left early. She was prepared to go through the whole ceremony—honestly even expected it—but now that they're out and away from all the music and infectious energy, she just feels tired. Nothing but Aeon brew and determination holding her together at this point.

"What was your favorite part, Miss?" Alta's surprised to hear Boro talking, thinking him too comatose to say anything as she's currently supporting most of his body weight. She almost thinks to tease him for such, insisting that if he's awake enough to ask questions he could easily stop resting his head on her shoulder.

She doesn't though, tossing his question around in her mind instead. He doesn't rush her as she says silent for an exceedingly long time. Unlike her really, she usually can make her mind up about these things much faster.

So the fact that all she can muster is, "I don't think I have one," after all that waiting? She must be sick from how out of character she's acting.

(Is it out of character?

Or is it simply a change in character?)

"Oh?" Boro doesn't lift his head up, but he does shift his face towards her more. "Aeon ceremonies are not being your thing, I am guessing."

Alta shakes her head. "No, I don't mean it like that," she says, "I mean that..."

...

"It's hard," she states firmly. "It's hard for me to pick a separate moment from all the rest because I like so many little moments, it's more accurate for me to say that I like *all* of it. The whole ceremony. Rather than just picking out a single thing, y'know?"

Boro's silent for a bit too and Alta tries not to wrangle him up from her shoulder so she can see his face and tell just what it is that he's thinking. He gave her space for her thoughts, it's only fair that she gives him time and space for his as well.

"I am glad to hear that," he says faintly. "I have guessed wrong and it is a joyous thing to realize so, in this case anyways." He tilts his head and his nose brushes against Alta's neck.

His nose is cold, the first time Alta has ever associated that word with Boro as he mumbles a bit more clearly, "I am glad you enjoyed this so thoroughly, Miss Alta. Boro too likes this ceremony much more than his first time around, but perhaps only because you were here with me..."

His words trail off as he slumps against Alta's shoulder again, his voice muffed against her skin.

"What? I can't tell what you're saying." She pokes at his face some more, but it seems he's completely spent as he refuses to move.

"We're just going to stay here, until you can at least put one foot forward," Alta says, tapping a foot, the sound all the more intimidating with her tap shoes.

She feels something weakly kick at the back of her knee and she laughs.

"I hope you know that if I go down, you're going down with me," she says, hefting Boro so that she can support more of his weight as they continue their slow mosey to their room.

"My...Foot...Forward..." Boro mumbles and Alta does look over her shoulder to see his clearly worn and exhausted face.

"Oh, I know that was you trying to step forward. I'm just warning you that I'm supporting like, ninety percent of your body mass right now. Trust me, I did the math." She jostles Boro good-naturedly and he whines, bury his face back into Alta's shoulder. Seems like he's too put out for even their usual antics.

That's fine, Alta is still kicking. The streets back to their place are oddly silence, a contrast to the never-ending noise the pair had found themselves in earlier. It soothes Alta, a welcome reprieve from all the other sensations that are currently bothering her.

(Why Old Aeon was built so that the water pooled up in the streets instead of flowing away? Alta would never know, she isn't an architect.

...But she is someone with common sense. Come on. Her shoes are getting soggy.)

She just feels *content*. Not often that a feeling like this comes to her. It's usually either things aren't good enough, or she should strive for them to be better.

(And of course, forever thinking that good things *never* last.)

So it surprises her when she starts humming. Some rhythm that she can't place—maybe from the ceremony, maybe from one of the countless radios she has heard when passing by someone's abode—but can sing confidently.

It almost unnerves her, because how did she not know something like this about herself? How long has she been alive and she's just now finding out that if she's happy enough, she would start to hum??

She doesn't even have it within herself to be embarrassed about her reaction to pure contentedness, she's just surprised. And almost saddened.

Has she been doing this to herself? Depriving herself of something as simple as being okay with what she currently has, rather than constantly being scared of what she still needs?

No, that's not true, she amends. Alta may be tough on herself, but even she has learned over the years to give herself the grace of not having every single thing squirreled away.

This is new.

She's just figuring this out now because she *never* had the opportunity to.

That nerve of hers that she's believes Boro's been poking at, a nerve she wasn't even aware existed.

This is the result of that.

She's still not entirely sure she knows what that nerve is exactly, (and maybe she never will) but she does know it's related to other people. An itch she can't scratch herself.

She hasn't been depriving herself. She couldn't even give this to herself if she *wanted* to.

It's about connections. And others and intertwinedness. A bunch of things Alta could never articulate in a thousand years, but is now keenly aware exists. It's not that she's never been someone who needs people, it's that she never even knew that she had the capacity for that.

To care about others.

And to be cared about in return.

At least, not in this extent. Not for the long-term.

(Her heart seizes as she thinks about that chaotic, rainbow-haired gremlin of a child who just wanted to be seen. How Alta had related to that so strongly, understood her inside and out because gosh, she really was her, just in another skin and fashion.

And they were ripped away from each other.

Alta could care about others. And be cared for in return.

But it was supposed to be fleeting. Stuff like this never lasts.

...Even if her heart protests otherwise.)

And then someone who had met her once for who-knows-how-long-ago, had been the stable one out of the two of them and had no reason to remember her, well, he cared.

He cared even after all these years.

And he craved.

He wanted her stupid attention even if she believed she was no good for him.

He craved and he cared and he just melted out this stupid cage of ice Alta had built with his smiles and questions and jokes and touches.

With his bright, sunny self.

But now she has reached these crossroads again, where they would be going their separate ways.

So what now?

Do things go back the way they were, because while Boro was kind and patient, how many people in this life would be? For cankerous her??

Or does she want to break this routine of hers, this shell, and step into a world, that while unfamiliar, promised many good moments?

This isn't the first time she's had to change her life around from the whole notion she's built it on, after all.

All these damn questions, with no easy rule book on what is the 'right' one.

...

Alta startles as she hears Boro start humming as well. She hadn't even realized she was still humming in the midst of her thoughts. His voice is warm, heavy, reminiscent of those timpani drums he's so fond of, and it adds to Alta's soothed state as she feels it rumble through her, like a massage.

She still can't tell what she's singing, or where she's heard it from, but it must be something she heard from Boro as he's humming it like he's heard it his whole life, while still being comatose.

It fills her with vigor, has her humming with more heft as she takes one rhythm and Boro does another, their parts coinciding and harmonizing on the rare occasion.

They finally reach their room and Alta dumps Boro unceremoniously on the bed. He immediately starts scooting up towards the pillows and Alta tsks at him.

"Take off your shoes first!" she yells from the bathroom as she prepares to do her nightly routine. She hears him grumble in response and knows that he heard her, so she closes the door.

She comes back out to see that he has not done so. Rude.

She smacks down a wad of makeup wipes and sits down next to him, peering over his face.

"Come on Boro, at least wipe off your eyelashes." He curls around and away from her.

"Difficult," she snarks, as she yanks a wipe out, "Keep your eyes closed."

She plucks at his eyelashes and gives his face a good once over, getting some lotion as well to keep his skin from drying out.

Then she goes down to wrestle his shoes off his feet (which were thankfully dangling over the edge of the bed, even Boro knows better than to put shoes on the bed. Probably because Alta would kill him.)

When she places his damp shoes in the bathroom, she sees that he's scooted up more so that his feet are firmly on the bed. She sighs and stands over him, hands on her hips.

"You should really be packing, you have a train to catch tomorrow. In the *morning*," she stresses and Boro doesn't shift.

Dear god, he is the world's *worst* fake sleeper.

"At least change out of your clothes, the bed's already uncomfortable, you're going to wake up with half your skin marked up." Alta tugs at his half cape and he shifts, almost but not quite off of it.

Alta rolls him over more until she can pull his cape off. She shifts him back and rolls his cape up, placing it near his pack. She doesn't trust her ability in trying to find space in the bulging pack that is Boro's, but she could at least make sure everything is tidied up so he could just shove it inside in the morning.

She takes his flower crown off as well, placing it on the little bedside table so it doesn't get squished. The bowtie is unraveled next, the only item she could find a home for in the pack via a very full side pocket.

She starts to unbutton his shirt idly before she pauses. She doesn't really care about being undressed, being seen in her undergarments or whatever doesn't tend to phase her, maybe a result of the thousands of locker rooms she's been in over the course of her career. But she doesn't know if Boro is the same and the last thing she wants to do is make him uncomfortable, even if her reasoning for doing so is for his own sake.

Boro decides to help her out, blindly flailing for her hand and placing it on the next button.

"Shameless," Alta teases as she unbuttons the rest of the shirt. Boro cooperates best as he can as she shrugs him out of the shirt, all the while teasing, "Making me do this for you when you're still awake enough to recognize the fact. What am I, your maid?"

She's shimmying him out of his pants when Boro faintly mumbles, "No, a friend."

Alta's suddenly glad at his lack of consciousness so he can't see the happy flush that makes it's way up her face as she says glibly, "Part-time friend, part-time maid?" She folds up clothes, grabbing his frog onesie. She maneuvers him as she puts it on, a bit more difficultly, seems like he's getting too sleepy to help out, and she hears Boro mumble, "Full-time menace."

She laughs, shock and surprise fueling her joy as she shoves on her own dragon onesie. "Wow, isn't that *my* line? You get so sharp when you're sleepy." She picks up as many of Boro's assorted belongings from around the room as she can spot, placing them all near the pack. She may not be able to pack them for him, but at least he wouldn't have to waste time searching for everything.

She finally collapses on the bed and regrets it immediately. A slab of stone has more cushioning than this thing. She turns to Boro and sees his eyes are slits. She can't tell if he's awake or in the grasp of dreamland, so she leaves him be.

Well, first she wiggles into his arms until he's secure around her, then she leaves him be.

He tightens his grip, so instinctually, and it has Alta closing her eyes immediately.

She's not conscious of the fact, might not even realize it when the time comes, but she's glad that the night ended without fanfare. If she wasn't so weary from the ceremony, maybe the night would have ended differently, Alta's thoughts of their parting keeping her up even with her own insistence to put it out of her mind. It would be an impossible task though, like a child who stayed up all night as if to keep away the dawn. Either sleep would sneak up on the child, or they would stay awake to realize that nothing could stop the march of time, no matter how dearly you wished it to.

It didn't end that way though.

Alta's able to get a restful night in the arms of one of her dearest friend.

A fitting last night, for the pair's last rest together on this trip.