- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X][Confidant] a girl around your own age.
To ignite a fading star
- Thread starter The Yaski
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Vote closed
- Location
- Colorado
lmao Y'all seem determined to make these votes end in ties, ain't ya?
Well, boy howdy. Guess it falls on me to arbitrate this. And I'm going to go with the 'girl around your own age' option for one reason: It has the largest proportion of 'dedicated' voters. By which I mean people who voted for that choice and only that choice. So a lot of people are passionate about this choice, and while in retrospect I could have made this a ranked choice vote, it's too late now and I'm not dealing with making another poll. So I know the girl option is first place for a large number of voters, and I don't know how many of you had bro as your first choice. Which is my own mistake, but hindsight is always 20/20. It seems obvious in retrospect, but only if I expected another tie.
I will take the large number of votes for bro into consideration when I write him though. He may not be Confidant status but know that your opinion has been noted.
If anyone has any comments they would like to make on this or any other issue, I'm always happy to hear from my readers.
Well, boy howdy. Guess it falls on me to arbitrate this. And I'm going to go with the 'girl around your own age' option for one reason: It has the largest proportion of 'dedicated' voters. By which I mean people who voted for that choice and only that choice. So a lot of people are passionate about this choice, and while in retrospect I could have made this a ranked choice vote, it's too late now and I'm not dealing with making another poll. So I know the girl option is first place for a large number of voters, and I don't know how many of you had bro as your first choice. Which is my own mistake, but hindsight is always 20/20. It seems obvious in retrospect, but only if I expected another tie.
I will take the large number of votes for bro into consideration when I write him though. He may not be Confidant status but know that your opinion has been noted.
If anyone has any comments they would like to make on this or any other issue, I'm always happy to hear from my readers.
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5 - Definitely not a tantrum
New
- Location
- Colorado
[X][Confidant] a girl around your own age.
She was the most outgoing child you'd ever met growing up. She seemed to be determined to make friends with everyone she met, and your attempts at being moody and sullen had only seemed to encourage her. Any time you were down after another round of bullying she would latch onto you and babble in her bubbly way until you couldn't help but cheer up. You suppose she'd learned her way with words from her parents. They run a merchant shop, and they have deals with over a dozen different merchants. They work almost as a one-family merchant guild for the town, communicating between the merchants and the townsfolk, keeping an ear to the rumor mill and a finger on the pulse of the market. They work to ensure that the entire town doesn't get screwed over, keeping the merchants from suckering any one farmer into undercutting their prices relative to their neighbor.
She was the most outgoing child you'd ever met growing up. She seemed to be determined to make friends with everyone she met, and your attempts at being moody and sullen had only seemed to encourage her. Any time you were down after another round of bullying she would latch onto you and babble in her bubbly way until you couldn't help but cheer up. You suppose she'd learned her way with words from her parents. They run a merchant shop, and they have deals with over a dozen different merchants. They work almost as a one-family merchant guild for the town, communicating between the merchants and the townsfolk, keeping an ear to the rumor mill and a finger on the pulse of the market. They work to ensure that the entire town doesn't get screwed over, keeping the merchants from suckering any one farmer into undercutting their prices relative to their neighbor.
You trudge down the hill, each step towards town landing heavily under the weight of the crushed optimism you're carrying; your gait ponderous and plodding as you force your way through the clinging swamp of disappointment.
(You have to straighten up and jog a few steps when the hill gets a little steep and it turns out that your slouch doesn't have the best center of balance, but then that is over with and you resume slumping along once more.)
Why did Garrett have to be on duty this morning? You're certain that any other guard would have been more attentive, would have spotted the great fountain of dirt. Then when you came back they'd be all anxious and worried, and be like 'Oh my gosh Eliana, are you alright!? I saw a scary explosion and it scared me because it was so scary!' And then you'd be all like, 'Fear not citizen, for I, Grand Explorer Eliana Shira Al-Hafiz, have fearlessly confronted the unknown peril. I return to you not only unharmed, but bearing an artifact of ancient power!' And then they'd be like, 'Wow Eliana, you're so cool and brave and amazing! We should totally throw you a festival, and then everybody will sign a petition to the adventurer's guild to have them accept you as an explorer! Not that you'll need the petition when they see how cool and brave and amazing you are!'
Or something like that. You are paraphrasing a little.
Anyways, this is all the fault of that lazy guard. You'd been completely ready to launch into your story more than once, but he kept interrupting you and ruining your momentum. Yeah, this is all his fault, stupid Garrett. You are totally blameless here.
You reach the edge of town proper and begin weaving your way between buildings. There is only one major road through town, and while it technically does pass by the forest, that's only after travelling almost two-dozen kilometers to the west so that it can slip around the edge of it rather than have to pass through. You could go around the outside of town until you reach it, but it wouldn't save you any time to do so.
Not that weaving between the buildings is all that difficult. Verildburg– the closest city –has plenty of cramped alleys and narrow, winding streets due to the nature of cities to try and pack as much into as little space as possible. But out here– even if buildings aren't spaced in the most –orderly fashion it is more important that every street be able to accommodate a farmer driving their horse and cart down it without trouble.
So it's not difficult to make your way to the center of town and then turn onto the main road. You came in from the very north end of town, and your destination is on the south-east side, so it takes a while for your lumbering form to make it all the way there.
Which makes it difficult to maintain a proper aura of despondency all the way there. Not only is all the slumping starting to make your back ache, but each face you pass is another pair of eyes beholding your theatrics, and therefore another battle between your resolve and your social anxiety.
But nay! You shall not be swayed! This slouch of yours is of the utmost importance! You have been slighted in your quest towards your glorious purpose, and to give up on your pouting expression of this indignity to the wider world would be to cast dishonor upon your quest! Yes, these slouching shoulders and clumsy gait are the noble bearing of one acting in defiance of fate itself!
And so, the dauntless bulwark of your grand resolve remaining unswayed by neither back pain nor raised eyebrows, you arrive triumphant at your destination. You enter the building like a malignant black cloud, your dark aura of despair draining all joy and hope from the room. The shop attendant's head lifts to behold your arrival, and they cannot tear their gaze away as their mouth opens.
"Awww, what's wrong Lili? Did the bakery sell out of scones again before you could get one?"
You snarl at her, and you have a pretty good snarl. Comes with being part-dragon you guess. That just makes her mouth pucker in a cute little moue of concern. And when your trek reaches its final terminus, ending with you flopping onto the counter and thunking face-down into the wood, her only response is to reach out and start soothingly petting your hair. "It's a bit more serious than that, Millie."
Your first friend hums solemnly, as if you had just revealed some great wisdom about the universe, and even with your nose pressed into the wood you can picture the grim nod and comically serious expression that must be accompanying it. "I should hope so. I haven't seen you in a funk this bad since… well." Yeah. No need to bring that up.
Your heavy sigh reverberates oddly against the wood, and you let your head flop listlessly to the side, peeking one eye up through your hair at her.
You and Millicent 'Millie' Engberg are a study in opposites. You are a scaled half-dragon with straight black hair. Your mom and dad are both rather normal heights for where they came from, but they'd both been a bit shorter than the average around here, and that has passed on to you. Your build is best described as 'lithe'. You aren't a dedicated warrior or runner, but you still manage to work in some exercises and the occasional sword practice between all your other chores to stay fit. And that is on top of your drake-ish build making you 'slim' from top to bottom in, well, pretty much any area you could name (yes, even those ones).
Millie, on the other hand, is a pure-blood human who has a body shape one might politely describe as 'lush'. Her family is reasonably well off and had never struggled with a poor harvest, lack of clients, or the like. Also, Millie spends even more time behind a desk than you do (nowadays) and these things combined with genetics mean that she carries a bit more… 'weight' on her. A small amount of that 'weight' rests around her waist, but the majority found its way to more… flattering locations.
She is also just a smidge above average height for ladies around here. Just a bit, but it means that when you stand at your full height the top of your head just barely fails to come even with her eyebrows. And that's when you stand at your full height, back straight and legs stretched as long as you can, which you rarely do. Your digitigrade legs like to have some natural bend in them, which drops your height further.
All together, your natural, comfortable posture means that Millie doesn't even need to tilt her head to rest her chin on your head. Something you know she revels in. Oh, she never says so, and would even deny it all the way to hell and back with seeming earnestness. But you could see the amusement and smugness shining gleefully in her eyes every time she towered over you.
Her eyes aren't smug now. When you look up at her round face, her brow is furrowed in over-the-top seriousness and her mouth is pulled into a theatrical frown. But her bright blue eyes are filled with genuine concern that peeks through the act, betraying the questions she is refraining from asking.
You sigh again and close your eyes, turning your face back towards the counter for a little extra privacy as you take a moment to think. Millie is worried about you, that is clear, but she also doesn't want to push you if you aren't comfortable sharing. You know that if you say you don't want to talk about it, she'll just do her usual routine of being bubbly and cheerful and do her best to cheer you up, no questions asked.
But… you could tell her. About the explosion, the gale, the dungeon, the artifact, that damned suit, and your new armlet. You know Millie can keep a secret, but… you were always the one who craved adventure, not Millie. Millie isn't the one who gets frustrated when work leaves them too busy for sword practice. Millie isn't the one who prefers travelling shows about epic duels and perilous quests over ones about sweeping romances and torrid dramas.
Millie (as far as she'd ever shown you) seems perfectly content with her lot in life (minus all the new shit with the Emperor, of course). She seems to be fully on board with the idea of staying in the store for the rest of her days, seamlessly transitioning from employee to owner when the time comes. She enjoys her work, the economics, the haggling, the rumor gathering, the lot. It is a bit more intellectually stimulating than the average job in this town, but still, the greatest threats she pictures in her future are recessions and swindlers, not dragons and liches.
It would help you to have it off your chest- to open up to someone -but… Millie was concerned for you when all she knew was that you were feeling down and nothing else. Her list of imagined problems you were facing probably didn't include mysterious dungeons or an artifact attaching itself to you beyond your ability to remove it.
Could she handle that worry? Could you handle her worry? What is the right choice here?
[][Secrets] Tell her everything. (The streak of grey, the exploding hill, the crater, the dungeon, the strange doors and flickering lines, the drawer and its contents, how it knocked you out, how you awoke with a splitting headache and a new costume, how the costume made you feel stronger, how it disappeared into the jewelry, how you cannot remove it, and oh, how it's still is on you. She can handle all that, right?)
[][Secrets] Tell her nothing. For now. (You can always tell her later. It'll just be a day or two. Once you have figured out more about your new jewelry and maybe had a chance to visit the dungeon again, then you'll know more. And if you know more, she'll worry less. You'll just take a little bit to test things out, and then you can tell her. Definitely.)
-[][Secrets] Optional write in: Promise a time to tell her later. ("I can't tell you here. I have to show you. Meet me at {Location X} at {Time Y}." Or something along those lines.)
[][Secrets] Something in between.
-[][Secrets] Write in. (What parts do you tell, and what do you hold back? Maybe you admit you found a dungeon, but don't mention the exploding hill part? Or maybe you let her know about the armband, but say you can't tell her where you got it just yet? There are a lot of options here.)
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Hi there everyone. Been a bit.
This week's chapter is a tad short, I know, but it's just where the vote ended up being. I actually had all of this minus 4 sentences and the vote descriptions finished last Thursday, but rather than try and power through the last bit to have it done last week, I thought I was going to do a kind of cut to post conversation, and write a little more about what you do after this convo just to stretch the chapter out a little. Maybe even get to a second vote in one chapter if it turned out to come along quick enough. Like Tinker of Fiction did a lot, wasn't uncommon for them to have, like, 3 different scenes going on at once all on different days of the week.
Yeah, turns out I'm not good at that. I kept tripping myself up over the different things you could do even in a single conversation, and brain broke trying to find a good way of handling them. So I spent the last week only making a little progress on that idea, and then eventually kind of gave up and spent the rest of the time brainstorming how future mechanics will work once they become relevant. So not a total waste of time, but in retrospect, should have just gotten this up last week.
Anyways, yeah, I think that about covers it. I still made my "every other week" minimum requirement, and I could have put this up earlier this week if I wasn't following my system, but it's probably better to have a system that constrains me a little and forces me to spend time on other things rather than write too much all at once and burn myself out. I hope everyone is doing well and that everyone is enjoying this so far!
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[x][Secrets] Optional write in: Promise a time to tell her later.
-Here and now is not the place or time. Anyone could walk in and we already know the bracelet is invisible around other people. We'll talk when we have a "private" moment. She may be able to feel the bracelet :3c or we'll be too preoccupied with smooching that the suits defense mechanisms will relax. Suddenly kissing helmet lol
-Here and now is not the place or time. Anyone could walk in and we already know the bracelet is invisible around other people. We'll talk when we have a "private" moment. She may be able to feel the bracelet :3c or we'll be too preoccupied with smooching that the suits defense mechanisms will relax. Suddenly kissing helmet lol
[X][Secrets] Tell her nothing. For now. (You can always tell her later. It'll just be a day or two. Once you have figured out more about your new jewelry and maybe had a chance to visit the dungeon again, then you'll know more. And if you know more, she'll worry less. You'll just take a little bit to test things out, and then you can tell her. Definitely.)
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X][Secrets] Write in: Tell her that you thought you found something really cool and interesting, only for it turn out to be nothing of actual note. Provide vague but technically accurate details if she inquires about what it was. (That way there's a stated reason for the dramatics, and could potentially provide an actual explanation later, once we have something resembling a legitimate understanding of the situation that doesn't sound completely ridiculous.)
- Location
- Colorado
Just so everyone is aware, I changed up the poll at the top of the thread because I felt the wording was kinda vague. This should give people better granularity. Let me know what works for folks! I might give the currently active vote a little extra time if it turns out the current system doesn't work for a lot of people.
[X][Secrets] Tell her everything. (The streak of grey, the exploding hill, the crater, the dungeon, the strange doors and flickering lines, the drawer and its contents, how it knocked you out, how you awoke with a splitting headache and a new costume, how the costume made you feel stronger, how it disappeared into the jewelry, how you cannot remove it, and oh, how it's still is on you. She can handle all that, right?)
-[x] But not here. Find someplace private you can explain things.
-[x] But not here. Find someplace private you can explain things.
Vote closed
New
- Location
- Colorado
Hmmmm, not exactly a conclusive vote, but at the same time, the votes rhyme enough with each other to find a resolution. Well, that will be the plan for now, unless the poll gets an overwhelming majority for a different timeslot, in which case I would consider opening up the voting again (briefly) for extra votes in that timeslot.
Oh, and do keep in mind that regardless of what day wins, I'm not thinking of changing up the hour of the day that I post. It's a very convenient time for me.
Oh, and do keep in mind that regardless of what day wins, I'm not thinking of changing up the hour of the day that I post. It's a very convenient time for me.
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The Froggy Ninja
The Blade Will Never Die
[X][Secrets] Tell her everything. (The streak of grey, the exploding hill, the crater, the dungeon, the strange doors and flickering lines, the drawer and its contents, how it knocked you out, how you awoke with a splitting headache and a new costume, how the costume made you feel stronger, how it disappeared into the jewelry, how you cannot remove it, and oh, how it's still is on you. She can handle all that, right?)
-[x] But not here. Find someplace private you can explain things.
Tiebreaker
-[x] But not here. Find someplace private you can explain things.
Tiebreaker
6 - Secrets and Rumors
New
- Location
- Colorado
In the privacy of your fortress of Having-Your-Face-Pressed-Into-the-Wood, you frown lightly and your brow scrunches up as you think about what to tell Millie. You do want her to know, to have at least one other person in on the secret with you. But… you really don't know what the secret you're sharing is yet. All your adventure yielded you was a big pile of questions and not a single answer. Every moment from that first streak to your final step out the dungeon's door was just confusion and unexplained mysteries. The greatest discovery you'd managed to make with any certainty was the existence of drawers, and that isn't exactly enough to build a theory off of.
Being honest and sharing with people is important, but so is taking their feelings into account first. If you drop all of this into her lap at once it'll probably keep her up tonight just as much as it is going to keep you up. And also… even if you go back years together, it's a lot to accept just on your word alone. But maybe…
Millie has resumed petting your hair, but she takes her hand back when you twist your head to look back up at her. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing when you squint up at her, formulating a plan.
Yeah… that could work. Seeing is believing after all, and while Millie wouldn't exactly want to trek all the way out to the forest to see a short hallway and a single abandoned room, you have your armlet as tangible proof of your story. You push yourself up off of the countertop and continue to squint in concentration.
Your eyes flick around the store, which makes Millie's second eyebrow realize it's been left behind and it tries to catch up with its companion. You're alone right now, but someone could come in at any time, and you don't want them overhearing. And if you get Millie to touch your armlet and then someone comes in, who knows if Millie could keep her composure while you both waited for them to leave so you can explain more.
With a soft 'hup' of effort you push yourself up onto the counter enough to lean across it while cupping a hand near your mouth. Millie's eyebrows find the strength within themselves to climb even higher, but she doesn't hesitate to lean in given your obvious intent. "I can't tell you, I've got to show you. Can I pull you away for a bit?" you whisper.
You lean back with a sharp toothed grin, tail flicking. The prospect of getting this off of your chest, the thrill of sharing a juicy secret, has brought back the excitement from earlier and banished the disappointment you arrived with.
Yet once again, the response of the one you are talking with takes the edge off of your excitement. Millie's expression of mild concern is back, but it's not theatrical this time. "Lili, you know I can't do that. We take our business very seriously, and we can't just close up shop on a whim." Her brow furrows deeper. "Speaking of, why aren't you at your shop?" And then she looks like she took a bite out of a lemon. "Surely you aren't letting your dad man the store."
You shake your head. Your grin melts away, but your tail keeps flicking. Your excitement is back under control, but you're still a bit antsy with the prospect of sharing what you've found. "Nah, I closed up for a bit. Had to run to the forest for more supplies."
Millie lets out an 'ah' of understanding, before her brow furrows again– this time in confusion –as she puts two and two together. You nod, preempting her, "Yeah, it has something to do with what I want to tell you so if I could pull you away for just a liiiiittle bit," you say, hoping to entice.
But she holds firm, shaking her head. "No, Elly. Mom and Dad are out having a chat with one of our suppliers. If I step out then there isn't anyone to watch the store, and if the store isn't private enough to show me in here, then you're going to have to take me out into the hills, aren't you? That doesn't sound like it'll only take a 'little' time."
You groan in agony, but don't deny it. Curse her and her reasoning. "Come on, Mills. Pleeeeease? I really need to show you, but I also can't show you here." You are shamelessly whining now. "I promise I'll be as fast as I can!"
You see Millie waver…
…but then sigh and shake her head again. "Sorry Elly, but I really can't." You pout, and the traitor has the gall to smile when she sees it. "If it's really that important, can you show me tomorrow? I'll get mom or dad to man the front tomorrow so you can show me whatever it is that's so important, okay?"
Tragedy. Betrayal. Truly, this is an unjust and cruel world, and it is out to get you. Specifically. Your arms give out and you flop back down onto the counter in despair, letting out a cry of anguish. Millie giggles and tries to pet your hair again, but you slap it away. She's lost privileges.
You huff and fight to keep down a blush. You like to 'let your hair down' and relax around your friends, let yourself forget about all of your (numerous) troubles for a little while. But at the same time you get even more embarrassed acting childish around them. Like you are right now.
This goes double when that friend is Millie. You can still remember how you'd met when you were both little, albeit through the fuzzy and rose-tinted haze of youth and nostalgia. She'd only been 7 and you'd been almost 9. She'd been your cheerful salve against the bullying you'd faced, but in all other ways you'd been her 'big sister'. You'd been the one she looked up to, whose lead she'd followed, who'd given her advice and helped guide and protect her.
And then puberty had happened and your fey/dragon genes had kicked in. While everyone else started shooting up like a zephyr, your development suddenly slowed to a crawl. You'd watched Millie (and all the other kids) growing up towards you, and then even with you, and then leave you in the dust. Millie had 'filled out' years ago, while you'd only recently felt confident you'd stopped growing taller. You are a year and a half older than her godsdammit, but you look like you are twice that amount younger than her.
You are the older one here, and don't need your oldest friend forgetting that. Which means it's time to deflect. "If you aren't going to let me show you, can you at least tell me what's going on so I can take my mind off of it? What gossip have the merchants dragged in this time?"
She has a smirk that says she knows what you're doing, and you magnanimously choose to ignore her continued indiscretion. Then– letting your earlier slump and ongoing secrecy be forgotten for now –she slides right back into her regular persona. Her casual self and her professional self are very similar, both full of unending cheerful energy, except you know her well enough to tell that the one difference is the casual bubbliness isn't forced.
"Well Lili, if there is one shipment that's always on time it's our regular gossip delivery!" She claps her hands together as her grin grows to squeeze her eyes shut. "As I told you already, mom and dad had to go have a talk with one of our suppliers, and that's 'cause they're short on the goods we were promised!" She sounds absolutely delighted by this, once again swept up in her enjoyment of sharing gossip with you while apparently unbothered by the content of said rumors.
"A lot of the merchants have gotten caught up in the war effort, and while there's always plenty of money to be found in a war there's plenty of risks too. War has a habit of either making or breaking merchants, you know?! So our supplier has had a lot of business carrying goods to the warfront, but he's also been losing a bunch of caravans to a pack of Iron Wolves along the north-west road!"
You'd propped your chin up on your hand halfway through, taking in Millie's Millieness with a wry smile. You give her a grunt of acknowledgement, "Huh. I think I heard Alexander say something about that earlier."
Millie's eyes flash open, and they glint dangerously as they lock on you. "Did he?" Gulp. You know that nugget of information had just been snapped up, and would no doubt be dissected later. Knowing Millie's supernatural intuition for gossip, she'd probably be able to figure out exactly why he'd been talking to you from that alone. And if she couldn't, she'd only need an hour or two with the town's rumor mill to figure out the rest.
Mercifully, Millie's eyes release you after only a moment, resuming as if you hadn't said anything. "Now, due to those lost shipments, he doesn't have enough product to satisfy both contracts! He chose to prioritize his contract with the empire, diverting some of the supplies he promised us towards the front in order to make up the difference. Which is understandable! The throne certainly has a lot more money than us and a lot more ability to recollect lost expenses from him, prioritizing their contract is simply the logical move! But that doesn't mean we're just going to ignore that he failed to uphold our contract, no no! We understand his predicament so we won't seek repercussions, but if he can't meet the demands stated in the contract then we'll just need to renegotiate the contract to one he can fulfill! And knowing mom and dad, they'll no doubt get him to make long-term concessions in return for our short-term ones that mean we'll actually come out ahead from all of this!"
You make a small sound of affirmation to signal that you're following, which Millie doesn't even seem to notice as she keeps barrelling along. "Which reminds me, apparently there is a new mercenary group in Verildburg!" You make a more energetic noise of curiosity. Mercenary and adventuring groups were your interest after all. "Or, well, they're new to Verildburg. Word says they have been around a few years, but only recently came up north. No doubt looking for merchants like our supplier who need some extra blades covering their shipments." She shrugs. "Best of luck to them I suppose. By my estimate I'd say most of the merchants either already have guards working for them, or aren't big enough to afford their prices."
You make another noise of interest and stand up a little straighter. "They must be pretty good if they can afford to charge prices that dissuade merchants in a situation that– as you say –'makes or breaks' them."
Another shrug. "I think they're mid level? From the word on the grapevine they at least don't sound like newbies. They're called," Millie pauses, putting a finger on her chin and tilting her head back as she considers the ceiling in thought, "... the Violet Hawks? I think?" She turns large, curious eyes on you and you shake your head. You keep track of the designations of the biggest and/or strongest adventuring and mercenary groups in the empire (as best you can) and you even know the monikers of a few in the neighboring nations, but it's not one that rings a bell.
She shrugs again, "Anyways, they're in the city, and it's apparently big enough that people are talking about it," and leaves it at that, dismissing the subject. Her thinking face returns and the ceiling once again comes under inspection. "Hmmm, aside from that, supply lines to the northern front are still struggling, even leaving out our local suppliers. Our 'esteemed' emperor isn't exactly the best at foreign relations as I'm sure you're aware, and while trade across the borders isn't closed, it's not as healthy as it could be. But the southern empire had a poor harvest this year and they're straining to keep the troops sufficiently supplied. Oh, and apparently the emperor is quite peeved about this and is once again looking for some fingers to point and some heads to roll, so all of the nobles are scrambling across the entire empire. The ones in the inner circle are competing to keep their head off the chopping block, and the minor lords are trying to land some accomplishment that'll let them be the one to fill the inevitable hole in the political house of cards."
"So it's all business as usual in our fine empire?" you drawl sardonically, and Millie giggles like it is all just a joke and you'd delivered the punchline. You sigh. Well, you aren't thinking about your little secret anymore, so at least she'd accomplished that. "And you're all handling this alright? Is it all business as usual for your family, Millie?"
Millie waves away your concern, "Pfft, you kidding me Lili? I only said the south had a poor harvest. We came through just fine up here and so our crops are in more demand than ever! Plus, being so close to the front means that our produce is the freshest stuff they can get and our transportation costs are practically non-existent! Business is booming for our fine town!"
"And as the town rises, so rise the Engbergs?" Millie giggles again, but conspicuously doesn't deny it.
You sigh again, but this time it's in fond exasperation at Millie's antics. You can only hope some of this sudden windfall for the town makes its way through your doors. Maybe people will be able to afford to buy your inks more often?
You push fully off the counter and back to your feet. "Thanks for that Millie, I needed the distraction. I should probably get going though, I don't want to take up all your time."
Millie seems to enjoy that for a second before a cloud of concern passes over her bright smile. "You're really okay, Eliana? I know you said you can't tell me just yet, but if there is anything I can do-"
You shake your head even as you walk back towards the door. "It's okay Millie. I'm feeling better, really. And remember, I'm going to pull you away to show you tomorrow, so that means no excuses! You promised, and a merchant is nothing if she can't keep her promises!"
That gets a laugh out of her, and it seems it is her turn to smile wryly at your antics. "Right Lili, I won't forget. Say hi to your brother for me!" She waves.
You wave back. "Will do, and tell your folks I said hello. And if you ever want help dying your hair again, just holler for me!" And you step back out onto the street.
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Well hey there everybody. Fancy seeing you all here. Hope everyone is doing well.
We have our first ever roll in the story! And it isn't even your roll, it's an NPC roll. That's right, NPCs are going to get rolls as well using their own stats. Exciting.
You were so close to swaying her too. But even for you it's a tall ask for her to leave the store unattended for that long. I hope everyone is satisfied with the way I chose to handle the outcome of the vote, because the majority seemed to vote in a similar theme, just disagreed on the exact details. I did my best interpretation of the results.
This chapter got churned out real quick. The brain demons cooperated with me this time. I had this all up and ready to post on Thursday, formatted and everything, but at the last minute I decided not to post it. The next chapter is going to be... a lot. There is a fair amount of ground to cover until the next big vote, and trust me, it's going to be a BIG one. So look forwards to that! But while I can't know how long a chapter will be until I put it down, I wouldn't be surprised if I end up chopping it up into two or even three parts. Plus I have another sidestory chapter planned before then. So I held back on posting this for a few days to spread the chapters out rather than dumping it immediately and then having a drought. Hope that makes sense.
But yeah, that's it for now. Big plans coming down the line. I'm excited. Take care.
Being honest and sharing with people is important, but so is taking their feelings into account first. If you drop all of this into her lap at once it'll probably keep her up tonight just as much as it is going to keep you up. And also… even if you go back years together, it's a lot to accept just on your word alone. But maybe…
Millie has resumed petting your hair, but she takes her hand back when you twist your head to look back up at her. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing when you squint up at her, formulating a plan.
Yeah… that could work. Seeing is believing after all, and while Millie wouldn't exactly want to trek all the way out to the forest to see a short hallway and a single abandoned room, you have your armlet as tangible proof of your story. You push yourself up off of the countertop and continue to squint in concentration.
Your eyes flick around the store, which makes Millie's second eyebrow realize it's been left behind and it tries to catch up with its companion. You're alone right now, but someone could come in at any time, and you don't want them overhearing. And if you get Millie to touch your armlet and then someone comes in, who knows if Millie could keep her composure while you both waited for them to leave so you can explain more.
With a soft 'hup' of effort you push yourself up onto the counter enough to lean across it while cupping a hand near your mouth. Millie's eyebrows find the strength within themselves to climb even higher, but she doesn't hesitate to lean in given your obvious intent. "I can't tell you, I've got to show you. Can I pull you away for a bit?" you whisper.
You lean back with a sharp toothed grin, tail flicking. The prospect of getting this off of your chest, the thrill of sharing a juicy secret, has brought back the excitement from earlier and banished the disappointment you arrived with.
Yet once again, the response of the one you are talking with takes the edge off of your excitement. Millie's expression of mild concern is back, but it's not theatrical this time. "Lili, you know I can't do that. We take our business very seriously, and we can't just close up shop on a whim." Her brow furrows deeper. "Speaking of, why aren't you at your shop?" And then she looks like she took a bite out of a lemon. "Surely you aren't letting your dad man the store."
You shake your head. Your grin melts away, but your tail keeps flicking. Your excitement is back under control, but you're still a bit antsy with the prospect of sharing what you've found. "Nah, I closed up for a bit. Had to run to the forest for more supplies."
Millie lets out an 'ah' of understanding, before her brow furrows again– this time in confusion –as she puts two and two together. You nod, preempting her, "Yeah, it has something to do with what I want to tell you so if I could pull you away for just a liiiiittle bit," you say, hoping to entice.
But she holds firm, shaking her head. "No, Elly. Mom and Dad are out having a chat with one of our suppliers. If I step out then there isn't anyone to watch the store, and if the store isn't private enough to show me in here, then you're going to have to take me out into the hills, aren't you? That doesn't sound like it'll only take a 'little' time."
You groan in agony, but don't deny it. Curse her and her reasoning. "Come on, Mills. Pleeeeease? I really need to show you, but I also can't show you here." You are shamelessly whining now. "I promise I'll be as fast as I can!"
You see Millie waver…
Millie is attempting to hold her ground!
Resolve check: DC 10(Exceedingly easy [Millie would almost never entertain this suggestion normally]) + 60(Exceptional friendship bonus) = DC 70
74 > 70: Resolve success!
Resolve check: DC 10(Exceedingly easy [Millie would almost never entertain this suggestion normally]) + 60(Exceptional friendship bonus) = DC 70
44(Roll) + 30(Millie's Noteworthy Resolve) = 74
74 > 70: Resolve success!
…but then sigh and shake her head again. "Sorry Elly, but I really can't." You pout, and the traitor has the gall to smile when she sees it. "If it's really that important, can you show me tomorrow? I'll get mom or dad to man the front tomorrow so you can show me whatever it is that's so important, okay?"
Tragedy. Betrayal. Truly, this is an unjust and cruel world, and it is out to get you. Specifically. Your arms give out and you flop back down onto the counter in despair, letting out a cry of anguish. Millie giggles and tries to pet your hair again, but you slap it away. She's lost privileges.
You huff and fight to keep down a blush. You like to 'let your hair down' and relax around your friends, let yourself forget about all of your (numerous) troubles for a little while. But at the same time you get even more embarrassed acting childish around them. Like you are right now.
This goes double when that friend is Millie. You can still remember how you'd met when you were both little, albeit through the fuzzy and rose-tinted haze of youth and nostalgia. She'd only been 7 and you'd been almost 9. She'd been your cheerful salve against the bullying you'd faced, but in all other ways you'd been her 'big sister'. You'd been the one she looked up to, whose lead she'd followed, who'd given her advice and helped guide and protect her.
And then puberty had happened and your fey/dragon genes had kicked in. While everyone else started shooting up like a zephyr, your development suddenly slowed to a crawl. You'd watched Millie (and all the other kids) growing up towards you, and then even with you, and then leave you in the dust. Millie had 'filled out' years ago, while you'd only recently felt confident you'd stopped growing taller. You are a year and a half older than her godsdammit, but you look like you are twice that amount younger than her.
You are the older one here, and don't need your oldest friend forgetting that. Which means it's time to deflect. "If you aren't going to let me show you, can you at least tell me what's going on so I can take my mind off of it? What gossip have the merchants dragged in this time?"
She has a smirk that says she knows what you're doing, and you magnanimously choose to ignore her continued indiscretion. Then– letting your earlier slump and ongoing secrecy be forgotten for now –she slides right back into her regular persona. Her casual self and her professional self are very similar, both full of unending cheerful energy, except you know her well enough to tell that the one difference is the casual bubbliness isn't forced.
"Well Lili, if there is one shipment that's always on time it's our regular gossip delivery!" She claps her hands together as her grin grows to squeeze her eyes shut. "As I told you already, mom and dad had to go have a talk with one of our suppliers, and that's 'cause they're short on the goods we were promised!" She sounds absolutely delighted by this, once again swept up in her enjoyment of sharing gossip with you while apparently unbothered by the content of said rumors.
"A lot of the merchants have gotten caught up in the war effort, and while there's always plenty of money to be found in a war there's plenty of risks too. War has a habit of either making or breaking merchants, you know?! So our supplier has had a lot of business carrying goods to the warfront, but he's also been losing a bunch of caravans to a pack of Iron Wolves along the north-west road!"
You'd propped your chin up on your hand halfway through, taking in Millie's Millieness with a wry smile. You give her a grunt of acknowledgement, "Huh. I think I heard Alexander say something about that earlier."
Millie's eyes flash open, and they glint dangerously as they lock on you. "Did he?" Gulp. You know that nugget of information had just been snapped up, and would no doubt be dissected later. Knowing Millie's supernatural intuition for gossip, she'd probably be able to figure out exactly why he'd been talking to you from that alone. And if she couldn't, she'd only need an hour or two with the town's rumor mill to figure out the rest.
Mercifully, Millie's eyes release you after only a moment, resuming as if you hadn't said anything. "Now, due to those lost shipments, he doesn't have enough product to satisfy both contracts! He chose to prioritize his contract with the empire, diverting some of the supplies he promised us towards the front in order to make up the difference. Which is understandable! The throne certainly has a lot more money than us and a lot more ability to recollect lost expenses from him, prioritizing their contract is simply the logical move! But that doesn't mean we're just going to ignore that he failed to uphold our contract, no no! We understand his predicament so we won't seek repercussions, but if he can't meet the demands stated in the contract then we'll just need to renegotiate the contract to one he can fulfill! And knowing mom and dad, they'll no doubt get him to make long-term concessions in return for our short-term ones that mean we'll actually come out ahead from all of this!"
You make a small sound of affirmation to signal that you're following, which Millie doesn't even seem to notice as she keeps barrelling along. "Which reminds me, apparently there is a new mercenary group in Verildburg!" You make a more energetic noise of curiosity. Mercenary and adventuring groups were your interest after all. "Or, well, they're new to Verildburg. Word says they have been around a few years, but only recently came up north. No doubt looking for merchants like our supplier who need some extra blades covering their shipments." She shrugs. "Best of luck to them I suppose. By my estimate I'd say most of the merchants either already have guards working for them, or aren't big enough to afford their prices."
You make another noise of interest and stand up a little straighter. "They must be pretty good if they can afford to charge prices that dissuade merchants in a situation that– as you say –'makes or breaks' them."
Another shrug. "I think they're mid level? From the word on the grapevine they at least don't sound like newbies. They're called," Millie pauses, putting a finger on her chin and tilting her head back as she considers the ceiling in thought, "... the Violet Hawks? I think?" She turns large, curious eyes on you and you shake your head. You keep track of the designations of the biggest and/or strongest adventuring and mercenary groups in the empire (as best you can) and you even know the monikers of a few in the neighboring nations, but it's not one that rings a bell.
She shrugs again, "Anyways, they're in the city, and it's apparently big enough that people are talking about it," and leaves it at that, dismissing the subject. Her thinking face returns and the ceiling once again comes under inspection. "Hmmm, aside from that, supply lines to the northern front are still struggling, even leaving out our local suppliers. Our 'esteemed' emperor isn't exactly the best at foreign relations as I'm sure you're aware, and while trade across the borders isn't closed, it's not as healthy as it could be. But the southern empire had a poor harvest this year and they're straining to keep the troops sufficiently supplied. Oh, and apparently the emperor is quite peeved about this and is once again looking for some fingers to point and some heads to roll, so all of the nobles are scrambling across the entire empire. The ones in the inner circle are competing to keep their head off the chopping block, and the minor lords are trying to land some accomplishment that'll let them be the one to fill the inevitable hole in the political house of cards."
"So it's all business as usual in our fine empire?" you drawl sardonically, and Millie giggles like it is all just a joke and you'd delivered the punchline. You sigh. Well, you aren't thinking about your little secret anymore, so at least she'd accomplished that. "And you're all handling this alright? Is it all business as usual for your family, Millie?"
Millie waves away your concern, "Pfft, you kidding me Lili? I only said the south had a poor harvest. We came through just fine up here and so our crops are in more demand than ever! Plus, being so close to the front means that our produce is the freshest stuff they can get and our transportation costs are practically non-existent! Business is booming for our fine town!"
"And as the town rises, so rise the Engbergs?" Millie giggles again, but conspicuously doesn't deny it.
You sigh again, but this time it's in fond exasperation at Millie's antics. You can only hope some of this sudden windfall for the town makes its way through your doors. Maybe people will be able to afford to buy your inks more often?
You push fully off the counter and back to your feet. "Thanks for that Millie, I needed the distraction. I should probably get going though, I don't want to take up all your time."
Millie seems to enjoy that for a second before a cloud of concern passes over her bright smile. "You're really okay, Eliana? I know you said you can't tell me just yet, but if there is anything I can do-"
You shake your head even as you walk back towards the door. "It's okay Millie. I'm feeling better, really. And remember, I'm going to pull you away to show you tomorrow, so that means no excuses! You promised, and a merchant is nothing if she can't keep her promises!"
That gets a laugh out of her, and it seems it is her turn to smile wryly at your antics. "Right Lili, I won't forget. Say hi to your brother for me!" She waves.
You wave back. "Will do, and tell your folks I said hello. And if you ever want help dying your hair again, just holler for me!" And you step back out onto the street.
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Well hey there everybody. Fancy seeing you all here. Hope everyone is doing well.
We have our first ever roll in the story! And it isn't even your roll, it's an NPC roll. That's right, NPCs are going to get rolls as well using their own stats. Exciting.
You were so close to swaying her too. But even for you it's a tall ask for her to leave the store unattended for that long. I hope everyone is satisfied with the way I chose to handle the outcome of the vote, because the majority seemed to vote in a similar theme, just disagreed on the exact details. I did my best interpretation of the results.
This chapter got churned out real quick. The brain demons cooperated with me this time. I had this all up and ready to post on Thursday, formatted and everything, but at the last minute I decided not to post it. The next chapter is going to be... a lot. There is a fair amount of ground to cover until the next big vote, and trust me, it's going to be a BIG one. So look forwards to that! But while I can't know how long a chapter will be until I put it down, I wouldn't be surprised if I end up chopping it up into two or even three parts. Plus I have another sidestory chapter planned before then. So I held back on posting this for a few days to spread the chapters out rather than dumping it immediately and then having a drought. Hope that makes sense.
But yeah, that's it for now. Big plans coming down the line. I'm excited. Take care.
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7 - Campbell: Stage 15
New
- Location
- Colorado
At first you leave the store with purposeful strides, but after only a few seconds you begin to slow, until you are departing the merchant store just as swiftly as you had approached it. Before you had trudged under the burden of disappointment, and now you shuffle with the reserved gait of the inattentive, careful not to accidentally run into anything while your mind is far away, mulling over the conversation in your head.
So, you have an appointment with Millie tomorrow. She was right, the only place that made sense to you for the demonstration was the outskirts of town, but narrowing it down beyond that is tricky. You are surrounded by hills on all sides, so someone might think you are flush with options, but it's a bit more complex than that. Millie probably won't want to follow you a kilometer outside of town, and closer to town there are complications. Finding a spot between the farmlands that is out of earshot and is also out of line of sight of the guardpost will be tricky. Not impossible, but tricky. Maybe I should scout out a location ahead of time?
You glance up absently, and you jerk to a stop, your entire body locking up as your blood runs cold. Oh… right. The sight in front of you drags your mind away from your planning and plotting and gracelessly slams you back into the present.
You're home.
You have made it all the way back. Holding no Dwarf's Beard, down one basket, and up one magic armlet. The sight of your home, looking as you always remembered– comfortable, safe, familiar –gives you a brief surge of vertigo. For a single moment you feel as if you've awoken from a dream, all the thrill and mystery of the last- gods, has it really been less than 3 hours? Wait, how long was I unconscious? It couldn't have been that long, right?
Anyways, your entire adventure suddenly seems impossible when confronted with what your soul recognizes as the final bastion of normalcy. Your last refuge of stability in the face of all the chaos of the world, a small boat weathering the tempest of war and bigotry. For that one heartbeat you feel insane, almost convincing yourself that you have imagined everything that has happened since you stepped out your front door.
You catch yourself as the second heartbeat comes around. The pressure of the armlet suddenly feels comforting rather than infuriating, its presence steadying you. It's tangible proof you didn't make all that up. It's there, on your arm. Even in the face of your home that pressure remains, and that fact makes it feel more solid. More real. It's refusal to fade in the presence of your home dispelling its last traces of fantasy.
Now you just have to take those last few steps. Cross the street, up the stairs, and in the door. Yup, there's absolutely no reason that should feel more daunting than it had to first approach the dungeon opening. Just go home, face your brother and father, and act like nothing is wrong while lugging around an invisible brick strapped to your arm (it's actually surprisingly light). Easy peasy.
You swallow your nerves and stride across the street. You think your movements might be a bit mechanical, but at least your back is straight and your chin is up. You go up the stairs, muscle open the stuck door, and pull it shut behind you.
And you stand there for a few seconds, staring at the door, trying to remember what comes next. You'd been so focussed on getting yourself inside that you've forgotten what you're supposed to do after that.
You hear a slam behind you and nearly jump out of your scales. "Shira, 'zat you?" the slurred voice of your father greets you.
You fight to calm your heartbeat as you glance over your shoulder. Through the door into the living section you can see dad's shadow on the wall, but he hasn't actually come to look through the door. It seems like that was just the sound of him closing a cabinet door a bit too carelessly.
You have to clear your throat before replying, "Uh- um, yeah. It's me, dad! Just… back from my trip! I'll start making dinner in just a minute!"
He gives you a noncommittal grunt, and you see his shadow disappear with the sound of his retreating footsteps. You sigh with relief, untwisting yourself as you catch your breath. You lay one hand on your chest, willing your thudding heartbeat to slow, and glance down at your hand that is still gripping the front door handle.
Your eyes widen. Slowly, you unwrap your fingers from around the handle, and bring your arm up in front of your face. Whoa.
Wood-brown scales emerge from beneath the short sleeves of your dress. The telltale sign of your being startled a second ago, they extend in a uniform sheet up until your arm abruptly stops a centimeter or two below the elbow. But not with the clean line of a blade, no blood or gore or torn flesh. Instead, your arm appears to simply fade out of existence, leaving a sizable gap in the air before the scales rematerialize from your wrist onwards.
You lift your arm and stare straight through where your forearm should be, your disembodied hand floating up with the movement. It's not difficult to guess the cause of your disappearing arm when the missing portion lines up exactly with the part the armlet was resting on. Is resting on, you suppose, as a quick prodding from your other hand confirms the flesh is still there, just perfectly transparent.
Or… not perfectly? Your finger dimples your skin where you poke it, and your view through your arm distorts with it. Is… is it doing this to my scales?! Your camouflage was shit at what it's supposed to do, but this…
Your heartbeat slows as you get distracted by the phenomenon, your curiosity chasing away the adrenaline. Brown scales lose their color, shifting to a pale buttery yellow as the rest of your arm fades back into view to match. It's not alone, as your armlet emerges into view once more, appearing first in the same yellow as your scales, then melting back into the colors you first saw it in, before suddenly blinking back out of existence.
You raise an eyebrow. That was… odd. Both the missing arm part and the way your jewelry had acted while returning (temporarily) to visibility. But this could potentially be helpful? You aren't exactly certain what this thing is supposed to do, but if it can turn you invisible… well, you hope you can figure out how to make it work on the rest of you. If one forearm is its limit, you'll be extremely disappointed in its creators. More than you already are.
A shake of your head helps you refocus. Testing later. Maybe Millie would even have an idea or two. For now, you need to get through the night without spilling the beans, which means you need to act like nothing's up. And that means it's time to start making dinner like you said you would.
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▼▼▼▼▼▼▼
Cooking is going pretty well. You'd always believed you were a pretty good cook whenever you'd used to help dad out as a kid (mom's ideas of what counted as edible were a bit… 'exotic' by human standards). Now, with a few years of having to cook every day, rather than just helping on occasion, you can say with confidence that you know you're a pretty good cook.
You've been getting into your flow state. Ingredients are getting cut, blended, and cooked. Fires are being tended and monitored, and wood is being added as needed. You're not making anything too fancy, but it's still a pleasant blur of activity, something you can let yourself sink into to keep your mind off the hunger gnawing in your brain that wants to drop everything and just experiment with your new mystery. So when something intrudes in your space to interrupt this flow it is both a welcome distraction and an irksome interruption at the same time.
Or, rather, someone. "Hey sis, I'm back. Do you need a hand in here?"
You look over your shoulder at your younger brother. William stands in the doorway, hand on the frame as he looks up at you. He's 14 and only hit puberty a year or two ago, so it's a bit soon to tell if he'll have to deal with the same 'slowed development' as you will, and you often struggle with yourself on if you'd prefer he did or didn't. On the one hand you wouldn't wish upon your brother the things you went through, watching your friends grow beyond you and leaving you figuratively in the past. On the other, if your brother ends up looking 20 before you do then you might just end up burning something.
He's still wearing his 'city outfit'. Wearing coarser, more durable fabrics is only practical for country life, but in the city a certain amount of presentation is needed. His royal blue tunic is difficult to maintain without fading, but he'll only need it for a few years while he can fit in it, and it's worth it besides to present the right image for potential clients. He hasn't removed his chaperon yet.
You take a moment to check the dishes aren't about to burn if you step away for a second, and then walk over and begin removing said chaperon. The headwrap is popular nowadays, which is convenient for your family. Like his tunic, it was chosen very purposefully for the sake of presenting the right image to clients.
First, it's fashionable, and staying abreast with fashion trends costs money. So if you look fashionable, you look like you have money. And if you look like you have money, you look like you do a lot of business, which makes people more willing to do business with you.
Second, it rides the right line between local and exotic. There is no hiding that Will has dad's darker skin tone and that they are both of foreign descent (you are as well, obviously, but it is hard to tell beneath the scales). Luckily, headwrappings are common in dad's homeland as well, so straddling that line is easy. Just by wrapping it in a slightly different style and making it out of a fabric with a pattern reminiscent of your heritage (even if that pattern is usually used for robes and not turbans. Velkines won't know the difference, and it is more about conforming to their stereotypes instead of being historically accurate) Will presents an image that is 'foreign' without being so outside the norm as to make people uncomfortable.
And as you finish unwrapping the cloth and reveal your brother's horns, the third reason presents itself. Being demi-human isn't the type of thing that gets you stoned or run out of town, not even in the capital, but it still is a slight hiccup in most negotiations. A mental stumbling block most people seem to have, even while being ignorant of that facet of themselves. William's tail and patches of scales wouldn't go unnoticed just because you cover his horns, but every bit helps reduce that friction a little more.
Your brother squirms a little at the casual contact, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the action. You smile softly, remembering being much the same way at his age. You hand him the cloth back, looking him up and down, checking for scrapes or smudges, either on him or his clothes. You don't find any, and quietly approve of his efforts to maintain his cleanliness.
Then your smile turns teasing, and your hand reaches for his head again. Only this time it's to roughly tussle his hair. Your brother squawks in protest as you pivot on a silver from being his de facto maternal figure back to being his older sister. "Nah, I'm good in here, bro. Everything's nearly finished. Not that I'd let you step a foot inside the kitchen in your nice clothes anyways."
He swats your hand away and glares petulantly up at your unrepentant grin. You catch his glare turning calculating, and you instinctively drop your center of balance a little. He darts to the side, attempting to get past you, but you're ready for that and move to cut him off. He jukes back the other way, but you'd been expecting that too, maintaining your defense.
This goes on for a few seconds, but it feels longer as you both weave back and forth, one attempting to prove their superiority by bypassing their opponent, the other attempting to maintain their superiority by shamelessly abusing their height advantage. And in the end, you reign victorious and maintain your elder sibling status as he overreaches, and his attempt to slip past you is rewarded with him being lifted bodily and thrashing into the air.
"Muahaha! Foolish William, you should have known better than to attempt to best me! Your defeat was preordained, and my rule is absolute!" You make sure to shift your grip to ensure you've got his arms pinned and he cannot wriggle out of your hold.
"Nngh! Screw you, sis! Put me down! You're going to mess up my nice shirt!"
Oof. Low blow bro, low blow. How dare he bring his shirt into this. What kind of little brother wields your responsibilities against you in an attempt to avoid being tormented by their elder sibling, as is said sibling's gods-given right?
You put him back on his feet shortly after that, but to maintain your regal stature as queen of this household, you pretend you didn't hear him say anything and act like releasing him was all your idea. He pouts in his defeat, taking a moment to straighten out the wrinkles in his tunic from being manhandled.
You let him have a moment of respite, holding back on flicking his forehead like you want to, instead turning back to return to your dishes. You don't need to keep an eye on him, you know his honor won't let him enter the kitchen with your back turned, not when he already lost in a fair fight. "So, everything go alright in the city? Anything I should know about?" You glance over your shoulder at him. "Oh, and Millie says hi, by the way."
He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and trying to look 'cool and aloof'. From an objective point of view he's kind of pulling it off, not that you are objective in the least and you wouldn't ever admit it to him even if you were. "It was so-so. Didn't land us any new customers, but I think I managed to get one or two tentatively interested. Hopefully, with a little more work, I can get one of them to actually sign up for something." He tilts his head to the side. "Also, that's nice, but when did you go see Millie today? I ran into her parents in the city, so she couldn't have come here." He makes a face like he bit into a lemon (deja vu) and glances over his shoulder to make certain the coast is clear before stage-whispering, "You didn't leave Dad in charge of the store did you?!?"
You sigh. No faith, honestly. "No, I had to go to the forest for some ingredients, so I closed up shop when I headed out," you explain with an air of long-suffering, as if this is the hundredth time you've had to explain this and not just the second. You examine the chicken you're cooking and deem it sufficiently cooked, so you start removing it and begin putting platters together. "And I just felt like stopping by for a chat on the way back. It feels like forever since we last got to just hang out without either of our jobs getting in the way." Which is true, even if it isn't the relevant parts of the truth.
"Mmm," he doesn't sound like he buys that completely, but he doesn't say anything about it. "Well, that's about it. I didn't run into any trouble in the city, I didn't manage to reel in any new catches, and I did the necessary shopping before coming back." You give him an affirmative noise.
"Thanks for the help again, bro. And since you are in such a helping mood," you don't have to look to know how he tenses at your overly casual words, "I don't suppose you'd help me out and get Dad to the dinner table, would you?" Your words are far too innocent to be real. Nobody past the age of 6 sounds that innocent and isn't trying something.
You hear him groan in anguish. "Wow sis, really? I spend all day chasing down clients in the city while you go frolic in the forest and have girl-talk with your bestie. I go shopping and carry everything all the way back from the city, and when I get home I offer to help you cook. And my repayment is you trying to foist the hardest task of the night off on me?" You know he's shaking his head in mock disbelief even as you hear him push off the wall and begin to walk away. "You're lucky I'm such a good, upstanding, selfless guy."
You're grinning where you know your brother can't see it. "Yup, I sure am~," you sing-song, "I love you, little bro~."
"Yeah yeah, no need to make a big deal out of it. Love you too, sis."
In the privacy of the kitchen, your malicious grin melts into a soft smile. He says it like it's begrudging, like he's only saying it out of obligation, but he never fails to say it back, and you know he means it deep down. The teasing and the roughhousing is just a necessary part of being siblings (it's in the handbook) but when you have privacy you have the freedom to get all sappy about it. And you're pretty sure he's doing exactly the same thing right now.
You finish putting the platter together. Your family tradition is the making of a meal platter from a bunch of smaller dishes. Usually only one of them requires any real effort (unless it's a special occasion) and tonight that's the chicken, but you arrange some more small bowls and plates of salad, slices of cheese, flatbread with dips, and some fruit that's in season.
You take one more moment to doublecheck you'd fully tamped the fire, then gather your platter to head for the table. Time for you and your brother to have another dinner with dear old dad.
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Good day everyone, how's it going.
Not posting on my regular day, what a surprise! Well, this is another case of "I've had this chapter done for a while, I just didn't post it" except this time it's just because I've been chewing on it and I just can't get it to a point that I'm happy with. I don't dislike the conversations (they're some of my favorite so far) and I don't dislike the actual events/plot structure I put in, but... there is some intangible quality I'm not totally happy with. The meal is perfectly well cooked, but something is off with the seasoning.
I've been reading and rereading this chapter for a week now, and I've made a few small tweaks that made it better but still not quite to the level I want it. But then again, being an artist means being the harshest critic of your own work, isn't it? I made my last few tweaks midday yesterday, just a bit after my normal posting timeslot, and I had to decide whether to post on the regular day, or the regular hour of the day. I decided to hold off the extra night cause I've said a few times in a few places I intend to keep the timeslot the same, and I wouldn't want to be a liar.
Hopefully you all read this and love it and think I'm being ridiculous, but if anyone has any (constructive) feedback for me, I would love to hear it. To reiterate my AN from last chapter, I've got the rest of the timeline up until the next vote pretty well mapped out. Keeping up the trend so far that one should be churned out pretty quick too, but hopefully I can polish it up to a degree I am happy with much faster.
Until next time, stay safe everyone, look out for each other, and keep your chin up. I'm rooting for you!
So, you have an appointment with Millie tomorrow. She was right, the only place that made sense to you for the demonstration was the outskirts of town, but narrowing it down beyond that is tricky. You are surrounded by hills on all sides, so someone might think you are flush with options, but it's a bit more complex than that. Millie probably won't want to follow you a kilometer outside of town, and closer to town there are complications. Finding a spot between the farmlands that is out of earshot and is also out of line of sight of the guardpost will be tricky. Not impossible, but tricky. Maybe I should scout out a location ahead of time?
You glance up absently, and you jerk to a stop, your entire body locking up as your blood runs cold. Oh… right. The sight in front of you drags your mind away from your planning and plotting and gracelessly slams you back into the present.
You're home.
You have made it all the way back. Holding no Dwarf's Beard, down one basket, and up one magic armlet. The sight of your home, looking as you always remembered– comfortable, safe, familiar –gives you a brief surge of vertigo. For a single moment you feel as if you've awoken from a dream, all the thrill and mystery of the last- gods, has it really been less than 3 hours? Wait, how long was I unconscious? It couldn't have been that long, right?
Anyways, your entire adventure suddenly seems impossible when confronted with what your soul recognizes as the final bastion of normalcy. Your last refuge of stability in the face of all the chaos of the world, a small boat weathering the tempest of war and bigotry. For that one heartbeat you feel insane, almost convincing yourself that you have imagined everything that has happened since you stepped out your front door.
You catch yourself as the second heartbeat comes around. The pressure of the armlet suddenly feels comforting rather than infuriating, its presence steadying you. It's tangible proof you didn't make all that up. It's there, on your arm. Even in the face of your home that pressure remains, and that fact makes it feel more solid. More real. It's refusal to fade in the presence of your home dispelling its last traces of fantasy.
Now you just have to take those last few steps. Cross the street, up the stairs, and in the door. Yup, there's absolutely no reason that should feel more daunting than it had to first approach the dungeon opening. Just go home, face your brother and father, and act like nothing is wrong while lugging around an invisible brick strapped to your arm (it's actually surprisingly light). Easy peasy.
You swallow your nerves and stride across the street. You think your movements might be a bit mechanical, but at least your back is straight and your chin is up. You go up the stairs, muscle open the stuck door, and pull it shut behind you.
And you stand there for a few seconds, staring at the door, trying to remember what comes next. You'd been so focussed on getting yourself inside that you've forgotten what you're supposed to do after that.
You hear a slam behind you and nearly jump out of your scales. "Shira, 'zat you?" the slurred voice of your father greets you.
You fight to calm your heartbeat as you glance over your shoulder. Through the door into the living section you can see dad's shadow on the wall, but he hasn't actually come to look through the door. It seems like that was just the sound of him closing a cabinet door a bit too carelessly.
You have to clear your throat before replying, "Uh- um, yeah. It's me, dad! Just… back from my trip! I'll start making dinner in just a minute!"
He gives you a noncommittal grunt, and you see his shadow disappear with the sound of his retreating footsteps. You sigh with relief, untwisting yourself as you catch your breath. You lay one hand on your chest, willing your thudding heartbeat to slow, and glance down at your hand that is still gripping the front door handle.
Your eyes widen. Slowly, you unwrap your fingers from around the handle, and bring your arm up in front of your face. Whoa.
Wood-brown scales emerge from beneath the short sleeves of your dress. The telltale sign of your being startled a second ago, they extend in a uniform sheet up until your arm abruptly stops a centimeter or two below the elbow. But not with the clean line of a blade, no blood or gore or torn flesh. Instead, your arm appears to simply fade out of existence, leaving a sizable gap in the air before the scales rematerialize from your wrist onwards.
You lift your arm and stare straight through where your forearm should be, your disembodied hand floating up with the movement. It's not difficult to guess the cause of your disappearing arm when the missing portion lines up exactly with the part the armlet was resting on. Is resting on, you suppose, as a quick prodding from your other hand confirms the flesh is still there, just perfectly transparent.
Or… not perfectly? Your finger dimples your skin where you poke it, and your view through your arm distorts with it. Is… is it doing this to my scales?! Your camouflage was shit at what it's supposed to do, but this…
Your heartbeat slows as you get distracted by the phenomenon, your curiosity chasing away the adrenaline. Brown scales lose their color, shifting to a pale buttery yellow as the rest of your arm fades back into view to match. It's not alone, as your armlet emerges into view once more, appearing first in the same yellow as your scales, then melting back into the colors you first saw it in, before suddenly blinking back out of existence.
You raise an eyebrow. That was… odd. Both the missing arm part and the way your jewelry had acted while returning (temporarily) to visibility. But this could potentially be helpful? You aren't exactly certain what this thing is supposed to do, but if it can turn you invisible… well, you hope you can figure out how to make it work on the rest of you. If one forearm is its limit, you'll be extremely disappointed in its creators. More than you already are.
A shake of your head helps you refocus. Testing later. Maybe Millie would even have an idea or two. For now, you need to get through the night without spilling the beans, which means you need to act like nothing's up. And that means it's time to start making dinner like you said you would.
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Cooking is going pretty well. You'd always believed you were a pretty good cook whenever you'd used to help dad out as a kid (mom's ideas of what counted as edible were a bit… 'exotic' by human standards). Now, with a few years of having to cook every day, rather than just helping on occasion, you can say with confidence that you know you're a pretty good cook.
You've been getting into your flow state. Ingredients are getting cut, blended, and cooked. Fires are being tended and monitored, and wood is being added as needed. You're not making anything too fancy, but it's still a pleasant blur of activity, something you can let yourself sink into to keep your mind off the hunger gnawing in your brain that wants to drop everything and just experiment with your new mystery. So when something intrudes in your space to interrupt this flow it is both a welcome distraction and an irksome interruption at the same time.
Or, rather, someone. "Hey sis, I'm back. Do you need a hand in here?"
You look over your shoulder at your younger brother. William stands in the doorway, hand on the frame as he looks up at you. He's 14 and only hit puberty a year or two ago, so it's a bit soon to tell if he'll have to deal with the same 'slowed development' as you will, and you often struggle with yourself on if you'd prefer he did or didn't. On the one hand you wouldn't wish upon your brother the things you went through, watching your friends grow beyond you and leaving you figuratively in the past. On the other, if your brother ends up looking 20 before you do then you might just end up burning something.
He's still wearing his 'city outfit'. Wearing coarser, more durable fabrics is only practical for country life, but in the city a certain amount of presentation is needed. His royal blue tunic is difficult to maintain without fading, but he'll only need it for a few years while he can fit in it, and it's worth it besides to present the right image for potential clients. He hasn't removed his chaperon yet.
You take a moment to check the dishes aren't about to burn if you step away for a second, and then walk over and begin removing said chaperon. The headwrap is popular nowadays, which is convenient for your family. Like his tunic, it was chosen very purposefully for the sake of presenting the right image to clients.
First, it's fashionable, and staying abreast with fashion trends costs money. So if you look fashionable, you look like you have money. And if you look like you have money, you look like you do a lot of business, which makes people more willing to do business with you.
Second, it rides the right line between local and exotic. There is no hiding that Will has dad's darker skin tone and that they are both of foreign descent (you are as well, obviously, but it is hard to tell beneath the scales). Luckily, headwrappings are common in dad's homeland as well, so straddling that line is easy. Just by wrapping it in a slightly different style and making it out of a fabric with a pattern reminiscent of your heritage (even if that pattern is usually used for robes and not turbans. Velkines won't know the difference, and it is more about conforming to their stereotypes instead of being historically accurate) Will presents an image that is 'foreign' without being so outside the norm as to make people uncomfortable.
And as you finish unwrapping the cloth and reveal your brother's horns, the third reason presents itself. Being demi-human isn't the type of thing that gets you stoned or run out of town, not even in the capital, but it still is a slight hiccup in most negotiations. A mental stumbling block most people seem to have, even while being ignorant of that facet of themselves. William's tail and patches of scales wouldn't go unnoticed just because you cover his horns, but every bit helps reduce that friction a little more.
Your brother squirms a little at the casual contact, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the action. You smile softly, remembering being much the same way at his age. You hand him the cloth back, looking him up and down, checking for scrapes or smudges, either on him or his clothes. You don't find any, and quietly approve of his efforts to maintain his cleanliness.
Then your smile turns teasing, and your hand reaches for his head again. Only this time it's to roughly tussle his hair. Your brother squawks in protest as you pivot on a silver from being his de facto maternal figure back to being his older sister. "Nah, I'm good in here, bro. Everything's nearly finished. Not that I'd let you step a foot inside the kitchen in your nice clothes anyways."
He swats your hand away and glares petulantly up at your unrepentant grin. You catch his glare turning calculating, and you instinctively drop your center of balance a little. He darts to the side, attempting to get past you, but you're ready for that and move to cut him off. He jukes back the other way, but you'd been expecting that too, maintaining your defense.
This goes on for a few seconds, but it feels longer as you both weave back and forth, one attempting to prove their superiority by bypassing their opponent, the other attempting to maintain their superiority by shamelessly abusing their height advantage. And in the end, you reign victorious and maintain your elder sibling status as he overreaches, and his attempt to slip past you is rewarded with him being lifted bodily and thrashing into the air.
"Muahaha! Foolish William, you should have known better than to attempt to best me! Your defeat was preordained, and my rule is absolute!" You make sure to shift your grip to ensure you've got his arms pinned and he cannot wriggle out of your hold.
"Nngh! Screw you, sis! Put me down! You're going to mess up my nice shirt!"
Oof. Low blow bro, low blow. How dare he bring his shirt into this. What kind of little brother wields your responsibilities against you in an attempt to avoid being tormented by their elder sibling, as is said sibling's gods-given right?
You put him back on his feet shortly after that, but to maintain your regal stature as queen of this household, you pretend you didn't hear him say anything and act like releasing him was all your idea. He pouts in his defeat, taking a moment to straighten out the wrinkles in his tunic from being manhandled.
You let him have a moment of respite, holding back on flicking his forehead like you want to, instead turning back to return to your dishes. You don't need to keep an eye on him, you know his honor won't let him enter the kitchen with your back turned, not when he already lost in a fair fight. "So, everything go alright in the city? Anything I should know about?" You glance over your shoulder at him. "Oh, and Millie says hi, by the way."
He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and trying to look 'cool and aloof'. From an objective point of view he's kind of pulling it off, not that you are objective in the least and you wouldn't ever admit it to him even if you were. "It was so-so. Didn't land us any new customers, but I think I managed to get one or two tentatively interested. Hopefully, with a little more work, I can get one of them to actually sign up for something." He tilts his head to the side. "Also, that's nice, but when did you go see Millie today? I ran into her parents in the city, so she couldn't have come here." He makes a face like he bit into a lemon (deja vu) and glances over his shoulder to make certain the coast is clear before stage-whispering, "You didn't leave Dad in charge of the store did you?!?"
You sigh. No faith, honestly. "No, I had to go to the forest for some ingredients, so I closed up shop when I headed out," you explain with an air of long-suffering, as if this is the hundredth time you've had to explain this and not just the second. You examine the chicken you're cooking and deem it sufficiently cooked, so you start removing it and begin putting platters together. "And I just felt like stopping by for a chat on the way back. It feels like forever since we last got to just hang out without either of our jobs getting in the way." Which is true, even if it isn't the relevant parts of the truth.
"Mmm," he doesn't sound like he buys that completely, but he doesn't say anything about it. "Well, that's about it. I didn't run into any trouble in the city, I didn't manage to reel in any new catches, and I did the necessary shopping before coming back." You give him an affirmative noise.
"Thanks for the help again, bro. And since you are in such a helping mood," you don't have to look to know how he tenses at your overly casual words, "I don't suppose you'd help me out and get Dad to the dinner table, would you?" Your words are far too innocent to be real. Nobody past the age of 6 sounds that innocent and isn't trying something.
You hear him groan in anguish. "Wow sis, really? I spend all day chasing down clients in the city while you go frolic in the forest and have girl-talk with your bestie. I go shopping and carry everything all the way back from the city, and when I get home I offer to help you cook. And my repayment is you trying to foist the hardest task of the night off on me?" You know he's shaking his head in mock disbelief even as you hear him push off the wall and begin to walk away. "You're lucky I'm such a good, upstanding, selfless guy."
You're grinning where you know your brother can't see it. "Yup, I sure am~," you sing-song, "I love you, little bro~."
"Yeah yeah, no need to make a big deal out of it. Love you too, sis."
In the privacy of the kitchen, your malicious grin melts into a soft smile. He says it like it's begrudging, like he's only saying it out of obligation, but he never fails to say it back, and you know he means it deep down. The teasing and the roughhousing is just a necessary part of being siblings (it's in the handbook) but when you have privacy you have the freedom to get all sappy about it. And you're pretty sure he's doing exactly the same thing right now.
You finish putting the platter together. Your family tradition is the making of a meal platter from a bunch of smaller dishes. Usually only one of them requires any real effort (unless it's a special occasion) and tonight that's the chicken, but you arrange some more small bowls and plates of salad, slices of cheese, flatbread with dips, and some fruit that's in season.
You take one more moment to doublecheck you'd fully tamped the fire, then gather your platter to head for the table. Time for you and your brother to have another dinner with dear old dad.
==========================================
Good day everyone, how's it going.
Not posting on my regular day, what a surprise! Well, this is another case of "I've had this chapter done for a while, I just didn't post it" except this time it's just because I've been chewing on it and I just can't get it to a point that I'm happy with. I don't dislike the conversations (they're some of my favorite so far) and I don't dislike the actual events/plot structure I put in, but... there is some intangible quality I'm not totally happy with. The meal is perfectly well cooked, but something is off with the seasoning.
I've been reading and rereading this chapter for a week now, and I've made a few small tweaks that made it better but still not quite to the level I want it. But then again, being an artist means being the harshest critic of your own work, isn't it? I made my last few tweaks midday yesterday, just a bit after my normal posting timeslot, and I had to decide whether to post on the regular day, or the regular hour of the day. I decided to hold off the extra night cause I've said a few times in a few places I intend to keep the timeslot the same, and I wouldn't want to be a liar.
Hopefully you all read this and love it and think I'm being ridiculous, but if anyone has any (constructive) feedback for me, I would love to hear it. To reiterate my AN from last chapter, I've got the rest of the timeline up until the next vote pretty well mapped out. Keeping up the trend so far that one should be churned out pretty quick too, but hopefully I can polish it up to a degree I am happy with much faster.
Until next time, stay safe everyone, look out for each other, and keep your chin up. I'm rooting for you!