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Chapter Text

Beneath the Steam and Starlight is a fan-fiction loosely based off of my playthrough of Palia, a community based MMO that is free to play on console and PC. If you haven’t played it, first of all, why are you reading fanfic about it? Second of all, go play it! This is gonna have hella spoilers, even if I diverge from canon a bit. It’s not like some ‘free’ MMOs that have a pay gate for most of its content *cough cough* Wizard 101 *cough cough* WoW *cough* Whoah, sorry ‘bout that. Started choking on some fucking opinions. 

Anywho, Palia’s characters, locations, and assets all belong to SingularitySix. Which, again, shout out to the devs for making an amazing game whose monetization is almost completely limited to cosmetics. While Palia is rated 13+, this story is not intended for younger audiences. I am an adult writing this with an adult audience in mind. If you’re a minor looking to read this, I’m not responsible for any new vocabulary or activities you learn about. Your parents should really be monitoring your online activity a bit better.

This story includes but is not limited to the following content:

• Profanity (it’s just how I speak. Bite me.).
• PTSD.
• War.
• Spoilers for Palia and Reth’s storyline.
• Physical, emotional, financial, and sexual abuse.
• Severe mental health struggles including but not limited to self harm and suicidal ideology.
• Sex maybe? Idfk yet but at the very least some heavy kissing.

I don’t plan on taking any of these types of content lightly. A lot of the heavier content will be written from my own experiences and the experiences of those I love (with their permission, of course). If you are suffering from abuse or mental health struggles, you are not alone. Shit’s hard, but you can get through it. There are licensed professionals that are way better at being able to help than some stranger on the internet writing fanfic about a video game. (Source: personal experience)

Art Credits:

• Coming soon...

Chapter Text

   Sirens wail in the distance, signalling all who can hear to take cover underground as soon as possible. With how World War III was progressing, bomb raids across the US border states had become almost routine. Wake up, crawl out of whatever ‘safe’ place you have, assess the damage, barter for supplies, beg for foreign assistance, listen for sirens, hunker down underground, try to sleep through the rumbling of the destruction above, wash, rinse, repeat.
    When everything started, I’d been fortunate enough to be studying at a campus built during the Cold War. The architects ensured there was ample space below every building to house not just the university’s students and staff, but the entirety of Champaign, IL in case of nuclear attack from the U.S.S.R. Assuming those guys aren’t still alive, I’m sure they’re rolling in their graves knowing that the reason their safe havens are being used is because democracy fell to fascism and influence from the very powers they wanted to save people from. Either way, the dank environment is doing its job. Who could’ve known my brother and I’s decision to go to the same university for our further education would be the reason we weren’t fragments of corpses littered around a bombed out wasteland.
    That being said, a bunker isn’t the only thing you need to live through months of carpet bombings. You need clean water, food, electricity, hygiene products, and entertainment to keep people from turning on each other. Oh, and you also need medicine and medical supplies. With supply and production hindered by the sheer destruction of war, civilians were quick to raid pharmacies, making it even more difficult to get life-saving medication than it was even before shit hit the fan. Watching my brother die was never an option though, so I did what I had to do. Alex doesn’t ask where I get his Fiasp resupplies, and even if he did, I don’t think I could ever tell him the truth. I don’t think he’d be able to live with himself knowing I was having to sell my body to make up for the deficiencies in his. Hell, that was the whole reason I got into biochemistry to begin with. His immune system’s been attacking him since he was a kid. First went his pancreas, now his thyroid, and even before graduating highschool, he had to face the brutal reality that he may never be able to have children or live to see his 80s. Nobody deserves to have to deal with that shit at such a young age…
    The ground trembles beneath my feet, snapping me back into the present moment. I wrap my jacket tighter around me, praying to whatever higher power may exist that I can get back to the shelter before I’m locked out. When I had left this morning Alex was on his last 100 unit reservoir, and if I died, he’d be shit out of luck. He can go without his thyroid meds without dying, but without insulin he’d die a slow, miserable death. As for my fate, if a bomb doesn’t get me, some looter or rogue soldier would make quick work of me. The thought makes me quicken my pace from a brisk jog to a full-on sprint. “Just one more block,” I mutter, my legs jelly underneath me, “I can do this.” The shrieking of missiles came closer and closer, the steel doors to my- no, our safe haven are within sight, just barely wide open enough for me to slip through. I can hear Alex screaming at whoever’s pulling the doors shut to wait just one moment, but it’s no use. If they don’t shut that door, the dust and debris could put everyone inside in danger. My throat tightens. I’m gonna fucking die. I’m not gonna get there in time. I have to give him his insulin. Hot tears flow down my cheeks, only one option left. Even if I can’t get in on time, the insulin has to. My sprint dies to a jog, I pull the priceless little box from my pocket. Steadying myself, I aim and pray that years of playing softball come through, giving Alex another day to live. 

   SLAM. Just like that, four inches of steel separates me from safety. The slamming of fists against the door is soon drowned out by the thundurus roar of planes and missiles. There’s no point in running now. My mom’s telling me I’m going to be a big sister. I’m holding my baby brother. I’m threatening the kid who tried to rip Alex’s insulin pump from his body. My dad’s holding back tears watching me graduate high school. I’m the loudest one cheering when Alex opens his first choice college’s acceptance letter. I’m holding him, sobbing at the news that a drunk driver killed our parents in a head-on collision. I’m holding my bachelor’s degree, speaking about the importance of family, blood or otherwise, dedicating my achievements to those I love. I’m rushing Alex to the shelter below our dorm building, sirens blaring away. I’m throwing a bottle of Fiasp, desperate to keep my baby brother alive.

   My flesh is boiling against the very doors keeping Alex safe from the heat and shrapnel keeping me from moving. All I can hear is the hum buzz of eardrums too damaged to make sense of anything. For an instant and an eternity all at the same time, every sense is blinded by white, searing pain. Every breath is short and labored, but in spite of it all I can’t bring myself to be upset at the situation. I kept my promise to my parents. I kept Alex safe. I took care of him. If I could speak to him just one last time, I’d tell him just how sorry I am that I’m leaving him behind. I think he knows that already though. The thought is bittersweet, like a summer day at the pool, knowing you’ll be sunburnt to all hell the next day.

    Cool air forces its way into my lungs for what feels like the first time in my life. Eyelids once burned away snapped open as if war were nothing but a bad dream. “I’m so sorry, Alex…” The words leave my lips before I can register my surroundings. Where the ruins of my life once stood, was now a marble room adorned with golden accents. I whip around at the clattering of multiple things hitting the ground at once, eyes landing on a visibly shaken purple… elf?

   “Uhhhh… My name… is Jina? Wait. OH. MY. DRAGON! You’re a human! An actual live human! I mean, I’ve seen humans before but I’ve never had one just… APPEAR. Not right in front of me at least. I have so much I need to ask you.” The woman, apparently named Jina, rushes up and takes my hands. She shakes her head and furrows her brows. “Hold on, before all of that, who’s Alex? Who are you? ” Jina’s nose scrunches, pushing her large, round glasses back into place. The words I need elude me, as do the function of my legs, causing me to hit the floor. “Oh,” Jina shrieks, “Are you ok? I’m sorry if I’ve overwhelmed you. Let’s um- let’s just sit on the floor for a bit, ok?”

   My jaw quivers, throat tightening as the welling of fresh tears threaten to choke me. I’m not sure how long I sat there sobbing, Jina rubbing my back. Eventually, my voice returns to me, even if just a whisper. “My brother…”
“Sorry?” Jina cocks her head, her voice gentle and oddly British.

   Deep breath in, slow exhale. “Alex is my brother. I- I left him…” My voice trails off, my stomach threatening to empty its contents at the thought of what could’ve happened to him. “I didn’t want to. The war… the bombs, his insulin, I…” I turn to Jina, her concerned expression flickering with curiosity, “Am I dead? Did I just end up fucking isekai’d?”

   Her brows furrow again. “I don’t know what that means, but if it makes you feel any better, you feel pretty alive to me.” Jina turns to her satchel, fishing out a handkerchief and extending it towards me. “You know, I haven’t met any humans who remember having any family. I also haven’t met any male humans going by the name Alex. Then again, humans have been re-emerging more frequently lately. If we’re lucky we may be able to find him.” I nod silently, accepting the handkerchief before clearing my sinuses. “You know, I’ve been researching the re-emergence of humans. We can get your name added to the registry in case Alex is out there looking for you, too.”

   “That’d be nice,” I sigh, “My name is Athena, by the way. Athena Hawthorn, for the registry.” Jina nods and begins to stand, extending a hand to help me up. “I- If this place is any indication, Alex is probably long gone. Assuming I’m in the same place, this building didn’t used to be here. Here used to be a university, a Cold War era fallout shelter.”

   “Well, Athena, whatever the case is, we should probably get you settled in for the long haul. The town isn’t far from here, and Ashura, the inn’s owner, he’ll be a lot more helpful in terms of getting your wits about you.” I wave off Jina’s hand as I push myself up off of the ground. “If you want, you can ask me anything on the way there!” 

   By the time we reached the town square, I’d managed to get a wealth of information. Prioritizing the importance of it all feels near impossible. I guess the biggest shock is that humans went extinct long enough ago that they’re considered ancient. That was quickly followed by the fact that in spite of every self-destructive behavior we’ve shown, we managed to advance our technology enough to create true artificial intelligences in hybrid bodies of magical and mechanical engineering durable enough to last millenia without breaking down. Unsurprisingly, these robots, the Galdur, remember humans fondly. That could just be their programming, or, maybe when faced with the death of our kind, we humans actually got our shit together. Not like I was there to find out. The current dominant species of Earth are like Jina. They call themselves Majiri, and they cohabitate with a group of aliens called Grimalkin. Apparently the Grimalkin have been around long enough to have even had contact with the ancient humans.

   Between the sparknotes of the current state of the world I unfortunately had to disappoint Jina with the news that I have no clue how exactly I got here other than the fact that I died, and it wasn’t a very pretty death, either. One second everything was on fire, the next, I was standing in front of her, skin unblemished and wearing clothes fitting to modern Majiri culture. Everything in-between is blank, and quite frankly I still feel a bit violated by how perfectly tailored everything, undergarments included, was to my body. Jina posited that Embra, the deity believed to be responsible for humans, was the one who preserved my dignity. God, human, alien, flaming bird, whatever. The thought of someone or something I don’t know studying me that intensely while I’m unconscious… The thought makes me shiver.

   The only good news I have received is Hekla having knowledge of pop culture in the late 2020’s. For better or worse she wasn’t granted knowledge of the war beyond the fact that it nearly wiped humanity from the planet. I was no closer to knowing Alex’s fate, but hey, as least I knew Dungeons and Dragons- sorry, Magic and Maji- was still around. Found that one out when Hekla clarified that Jina’s kind are called Majiri, not elves. Leave it to humans to be completely incapable of acknowledging the intricacies of its own fuckups, though I guess the Majiri aren’t too different in that aspect. 

   Jina stops suddenly, dragging me back into the present moment. “Ashura may look intimidating at first, but he’s a big ol’ teddy bear. He’ll see to it that you get a good night’s rest,” Jina smiled, “Oh, and Reth probably has some sort of soup on the stove right now, just ignore the flirting. He does that with everyone.”

   I nod and look to the inn, comically large whiskey barrels stamped with Ormuu heads standing guard outside the front doors. “Thank you, Jina. You too, Hekla. I-I really don’t know what else to say right now.” My hand finds its way to the nape of my neck, nervously scratching an imaginary itch.

   “It was my pleasure! If you remember anything else, please don’t be shy!” Jina grinned before skipping off. I guess goodbyes aren’t really a thing here, but maybe that’s for the best. I’ve never really been good at those.

   Hekla turned to follow, craning her head to look at me one last time. “Athena, your presence… has made my Jina! Very happy. I do hope... To see you again... Soon.” With that, her head spins back into place as she clunks along the path Jina found her way down. Her manner of speaking is endearing despite its awkward cadence. Artificial lifeform or not, her fondness of Jina is apparent. It’d be a lie to say I didn’t envy having an immortal mother looking after me.

   The inn is surprisingly cool despite the weather outside. The two story hearth acting as the inn’s focal point is filled with an odd blue flame, its movement more closely resembling the fog from dry ice than the flicker of something burning. Turning nervously I notice two counters, one up front to the left, likely the bar, and one further back to the right. Behind the left, a Majiri with messy auburn locs seems occupied with whatever’s on the stove. The counter to the right remained empty, nothing but a till, book, and a rack of keys adorning the area. I walk up to the left counter and take a seat. Not like I’m in any sort of rush. The stool beneath me is surprisingly comfortable for its looks. I had never really cared for cushioned bar stools before, given how prone they were to mimicking flatulence, but the soft yet firm leather seat silently cradles me in a way that makes me okay with waiting for the cook’s attention.

   Whatever they were cooking, it smelled delicious. Carrots, bay leaf, freshly cracked pepper, and well rendered bacon are distinct enough in their scent to make me want to drool. The cook reaches to the side for a tasting dish, spooning in a taste of the creamy, chunky soup, bringing it to their lips. Unlike Jina, his skin was pale, almost more pink than purple. Lilac. That’s the color I’m looking for, not that it's likely that that flower even exists anymore. I take another deep breath, willing my lungs to relax despite the reminder of just how much I’ll have to re-learn, of how little in the world is familiar anymore. When my eyes open again, there’s a bowl in front of me, its soup’s soft steam hitting my face. “If you’re looking for Ashura, he’s out grabbing some stuff for tonight’s dinner special. In the meantime though, you mind telling me what the soup’s missing? I can’t quite put my tongue on it.”

   Soft chunks of red skinned potatoes and carrots bob in the creamy base of the soup. I bring my eyes up to the Majiri on the other side of the counter. Their eyes are locked on me, a mischievous grin plastered across their face. “I, um… I don’t have any money,” I start, “And this seems a whole lot more than just a taste.”

   A soft chuckle escapes their lips, a hand rubbing the back of their neck. “Don’t worry, first bowl’s on me. Consider it a part of the ‘New Human’ welcome package.” They gesture to the bowl again. “I really do think there’s something missing though.” I flash a smile, still uncertain, and spoon a sip into my mouth. The hot liquid coats my tongue and I struggle to stifle a soft groan. It had been so long since I had had anything to eat that wasn’t from a can, let alone anything warm. “Dragon! I know it’s good but I’ve never gotten that reaction before,” the cook purrs. I glare, noticing that beyond the flirty expression, their ears are flushed a deep magenta.

   “It needs a little bit of minced garlic,” I grumble, “You can’t season with just salt and pepper.” I take my time on the soup, savoring the first hot meal I’d had in months while avoiding giving the cook any more reason to be suggestive. Aside from the soft bubbling from the kitchen and the crackle of whatever’s in the hearth, the inn was silent, painfully so. “You must be Reth, Notorious Flirt of Killima.”

   “Whoever told you that must be a fan. Usually I get ‘troublemaker’, ‘path traitor’, or ‘stain on my family’s legacy’.” Reth looks off into the distance, spreading his hands as though framing a grand image. The cocky grin matches his tone, though the former fails to reach his eyes. “Garlic, though… I’ll have to grab some more next time I end up in Bahari. Grows wild out there.”

   I nod silently, secretly glad that at least garlic is still around. In my past life I’d considered it one of the holy trinity of any spice mix worth using. “I’ll have to get some for myself. You can never really have enough of it.” I catch the glint of excitement in Reth’s expression before continuing, “When I was broke, I used to make a garlic butter sauce to put on spaghetti noodles. For ten bucks I could make enough to eat off of for a week, and it reheats like a dream.” I push my now empty bowl away from me.

   “I’m not sure how much a ‘buck’ is compared to gold, but ten of them sounds like it’s worth at least another bowl. Trade you some more soup for the recipe?” I snort a little, caught a bit off guard by the enthusiasm on display. I think it’s the first time in our exchange he’s given me a real smile.

   It’s my turn to rub my neck. “I’m actually pretty full right now. I’ll keep that offer on the table, though.” Reth nods, the veil his grin provides failing to shield me from a sense of disappointment. I don’t get much time to think on that though before the inn doors slam open and a mountain of a Majiri storms through with a sack almost as large as him. 

   “Aaaand there’s Ashura. Don’t worry though, if you miss me, I’ll be right here.” With a wink, Reth clears my place and makes his way to the back room. Yeah, Jina definitely understated both Reth’s flirtiness and Ashura’s size. Here I thought the size of the doors were simply for aesthetic purposes. The hulking figure glances our way at the mention of his name, giving a smile and a wave before lugging his haul upstairs.

   It doesn’t take long for the man to come back downstairs with a smaller bag that, judging by the scent, contained freshly picked herbs. “Here you go, Reth. Go crazy,” Ashura smiles, setting the bag down on the counter before turning to me. His right eye is glazed over, the scar running down his face probably a good indicator as to why. “Hopefully I haven’t kept you too long,” Ashura starts. “I know the whole ‘suddenly appearing’ thing can be pretty overwhelming.”

   “Understatement of the year.” Shit, do they even measure time in years anymore? I mean why wouldn’t they? Fuck. I’m overthinking things. I shake my head before letting myself speak again, “Sorry, not trying to be an ass. Being overwhelmed isn’t an excuse. My name’s Athena. Ashura, right?” I extend my hand to the hulking figure next to me.

   Despite his size, Ashura’s handshakes are surprisingly gentle. “I can only imagine. Only thing I’m gonna ask, if that’s okay, is if you were at least able to get a bite to eat.” I nod, shoulders softening. “Good,” Ashura continues, “An empty stomach won’t do you any favors right now.” BOOM! There’s fire everywhere, sirens wailing, my skin fused to the bunker door.

   “No, no, no, no, no, no…” My voice is a pitiful, hitching whimper, my stomach threatening to expel its contents through whichever orifice gives way first. “I’m gonna fucking die. I’m sorry, Alex. I’m so fucking sorry-”

   “Athena,” Ashura’s voice is calm in spite of the chaos surrounding us, “Open your eyes. Tell me what you’re seeing.” I shake my head. I can’t watch my world keep crumbling. “I promise, everything is ok. You’re safe. Take a deep breath, okay? Can you tell me how many stools there are at the counter?”
    Everything is telling me to stay curled up tight in my little ball on the floor, but I listen to Ashura regardless. There are three stools in front of me, and three more to the right. I say as much, unable to stop my shaking.

   “What color are the cushions?”

   “O-orange…”

   “Can you tell me more about the room we’re in?”

   “There’s… There’s a blue fire in the hearth.” My breathing slows just a touch, my muscles loosen just enough to allow me to look around. “There’s a bar. Reth, he’s the cook. I-I think I saw another big barrel back there?”

   Ashura slowly lowers himself to the floor next to me, grunting as he makes his way down. “That’s right. You’re doing great. Can you tell me what Reth gave you to eat?”

   I swallow, relinquishing my shirt from my fists. “Potato soup…” I can hear muttering from the other side of the inn, other humans wearing their judgement like a fashion statement, along with the soft clanking of dishes in a sink. “It needed more garlic…”

   Almost as if on queue, “Fuck yeah, garlic!” can be heard from the back room. I can’t help myself from bursting into laughter. I can almost imagine Reth saying “I can cook under any conditions.” Looking in front of me, Ashura’s face is that of quiet understanding and slight amusement. I wonder if he even gets the joke.

   “Sorry, I don’t know what happened…” I rub the bridge of my nose, pushing up my glasses for just a second.

   Ashura rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, especially since I’m still a stranger, but over the years I found it helps.” I flinch under his touch. I know he’s not trying to hurt me, but the last reason a man put his hands on me… He stands, joints cracking on the way up before he extends his hand out. “We’ve got a free room upstairs if you want to go rest a bit. When I've had similar incidents, they always take it out of me.”

   Unlike earlier, I accept the help standing. My whole body is like a plate of jello during an earthquake, quivering, barely holding itself together. “Is there any work I can do to help cover my stay? I don’t exactly have any money right now, and I’d feel bad taking any more freebies today.” I dust myself off and comb my fingers through my hair. It’s shorter than I remember, and the cherry red fibers that come loose are a welcome surprise. I hadn’t exactly had the time or resources to dye my hair since just before the first air raids targeted my old home, and I had quickly found that short hair wasn’t exactly what ‘customers’ were looking for. “I can cook, clean, and do some pretty basic home improvement projects if needed.”
Ashura shakes his head, a soft chuckle emanating from him. “Even if you did have gold, I’m not charging you when you don’t have anywhere to go. If you’re really that worried about it though, we can get you set up with a good camping kit on one of the old properties back behind the bluffs up on the North side of town. I think one of them has a cabin, but unless Tish has been working on it, you’d be safer in a tent.” He steps over to his counter across the lobby and lifts a large pack out from behind it. “It’s your choice, kid. You wouldn’t offend me either way.”

   “Thank you, really… I’m not exactly used to people being kind without expecting to get anything out of it.” How I haven’t managed to rub the hair off of the nape of my neck at this point is beyond me. “I think I need to work off some of the stress if I want to get any good sleep tonight.” This time it’s my turn to chuckle. “There anyone I need to look out for on my way out of town?”

   The large pack slid towards me, along with a surprisingly well made map. It tingles, a green mark appearing at the edge of its northern border. This is the exact type of nerd shit I’d homebrew back before everything… My thoughts are interrupted by the answer to my previous question. “If you go now, you may find Hodari out there doing some surveying. He can get you a pick and better assess the condition of that cabin. He’s short and stocky, probably covered in grit and coal dust if he’s spent any time in the mines today.” I nod, slinging the heavy pack over my shoulders. 

   “Hey, before you head out,” Reth calls, “can you do one more taste test? I added like seven whole cloves of garlic to the soup.” I oblige, remembering to stifle any reactions lest I find yet another way to embarrass myself today.

   List of things Reth and I have in common: a little bit of garlic equals at least 7 cloves. I raise my hand, thumb and pointer finger making a circle, the rest of my fingers outstretched. In case the gesture isn’t used by the Majiri, I clarify, “Good soup.” Reth mimics my expression and gesture, getting a little snort from me.

   He tosses me a bulb of garlic and waves me off, “Can’t give you too much of this stuff. Gotta give you some reason to come back and see me.” I audibly gag, making sure to over exaggerate my actions. Reth’s hand flies to his chest, miming an arrow sticking out from it, “Ah, my poor heart!” I roll my eyes and walk out laughing, waving goodbye to an equally amused Ashura. 

Chapter Text

   By the time I reached the marked spot on my map, the sun had already begun to tinge the sky shades of red and purple, the air cooling as the sky settled in. Had I come here straight out of normal college life, my legs would have been on fire by now. The months of looting and hauling material around campus had given my feet thick calluses and my calves thick bricks of muscle that make hikes like this feel like baby steps.

   Ashura hadn’t been kidding when he said that the cottage on what was now my property should have probably been torn down ages ago. The building was less of a cottage and more of an unstable gazebo, windows busted, only partially covered frame, and the front door having long been liberated from its frame. I drop the heavy pack from my shoulders and start to take inventory of its contents.

   Utility knife? Check. Sleeping bag? Check. Morels? Gross, but check. Cast iron pan? Check. Soap? Thank fuck. I’m not exactly a fan of smelling like ass. Makeshift axe? More of a hatchet, but it’s there. Stuff to build a tent? Yup. An illustrated survival guide? My lifeline unless I intend to trudge back to town in the dark just to take Ashura up on his offer. I’d probably have to deal with the redheaded fuckboy, too. Big pass.

   I begin to follow the instructions for pitching my tent. I expected more of a lean-to kind of thing that you’d see in old cartoons, but was instead meant with a fifteen foot tall tent that would make most outdoor convention booth owners envious. The pieces of wood making up its frame were expertly whittled to be able to lock into each other, the hand braided rope only needing to be used to secure the waxed canvas exterior to iron stakes. I’d definitely need to find a way to thank Ashura for this.

   “Pardon me, miss. Or er, mister. Whichever you prefer,” A gruff southern voice calls out behind me. Reflex kicks in as my hatchet goes flying, lodging itself in the birch tree about twenty feet away. On the ground is a clearly shaken Majiri matching the description of the miner Ashura said to look out for. “DEAR DRAGON, are you tryna send me ‘cross the veil!?!” I wipe the sweat from my forehead and let my body relax a little before extending a hand out to the poor guy.

   “You should really make yourself known before you sneak up on someone alone in the dark. If that thing was properly balanced you would be dead.” Hodari’s eyes go back and forth between me and the axe before allowing me to help him up. “Aside from the whole almost dying thing, are you okay?” The stocky man rubs at his lower back before meeting my gaze again.

   “Gonna be a bit sore in the morning, but that ain’t nothing new,” Hodari grumbles before continuing, “Hodari Pavel, of Pavel Mining. And you are?”

   “Athena Hawthorn, of ‘who even knows anymore’.” I chuckle, hoping to ease some of the tension. Hodari nods and gives my hand a good shake, his expression still wary. Great. He probably thinks I'm a psycho. 

   The following silence is long and awkward, only being broken by a loud pop and the crackling of color across the sky. I tense a little and take a deep breath. I’d never hated fireworks before. Then again, before was well… before the war. “Oh, uh, sorry ‘bout the incident in town earlier. Ash said something about you havin’ a rough time with loud noises.” Hodari starts. “Apparently one of the newer humans didn’t get the memo ‘bout fireworks in town. I have some spare earplugs if you need ‘em. The mines can get pretty loud n’ all.” Hodari pulls a small pouch out of one of the many pockets in his jacket, handing it to me.

   “Oh, thanks… Sorry for almost lodging an axe in your head.” I shiver, the chill air combined with the lingering sweat on my skin only adds to the overall discomfort of nearly killing an innocent person. “I swear I’m not crazy…” I take a deep breath and look at the night sky above before continuing, “Life before here… I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” 

   “Y’ain’t gotta explain it to me. Ain’t nothin’ about life that’s fair.” Hodari trails off, eyes glazed with unspoken pain. He reaches back behind him and unclips a stone pick from his back, extending it towards me. “Here, you’ll need this to start clearing out some of the rocks ‘round here. Get yourself used to it and we’ll see about gettin’ you something sturdier.” I flash a quick grin, getting a feel for the weight of his gift.

   I set the pick just inside of my tent, safe from the elements. “Thank you, really. I’d offer you a drink but the only source of water I have right now is the pond over there, and I haven’t exactly had the chance to start a fire.”

   “Wouldn’t be able to take you up on it even if ya did. No offense, but if I stay any later, ‘Juma will stay up ‘til sunrise. Oh, that path there towards the back of the property leads straight to Bahari if you don’t feel like running through Kilima to get there. There’s a stable board there too.” Hodari gestures towards what looks like an old mine shaft tucked behind some trees. “You stay safe out here, you hear me? I’ll be popping by tomorrow to get this cottage situated for you, so keep that axe o’ yours holstered.” His gruff grin was enough to keep me from feeling too bad about the situation.

   “Get home safe, man. Don’t worry about waking me up if I’m still out by the time you get here.” I wave to the stout man as he makes his way towards the trail to Bahari. Guess he doesn’t live in town with the rest of the people I’ve met. I wait until Hodari has fully left my plot before bracing my foot against the tree my axe has made itself home in. It pops out with little work, allowing me to readjust my grip and make quick work of the tall, thin, birch tree. I needed wood for a fire and the tree had already made itself the unfortunate victim of my axe.

   Lightning bugs made themselves at home around me, working in conjunction with the moon to give me just enough light to be able to see the small rocks I needed to break for the firepit. I’d be lying if I said the comments about the miner I had heard through the village made no sense. At least in build, he’s exactly the kind of man that dark romance novels are written about. The southern drawl didn’t exactly help, and neither did whatever baggage kept him stuck in his head. ‘Juma’ was probably his kid, with the way he was concerned about her sleep schedule. The nicknames “Ho daddy ” and “ Hot dari” I had heard around town made a bit more sense, both in the sexual and non-sexual contexts. Couldn’t catch me dead making comments about someone real like that. Fictional characters are exactly that: fictional. You can’t hurt or objectify what isn’t real. But an actual person? Those kinds of comments can make someone hate their own body just because they exist. It’s disgusting.

   By the time I had enough stone for the kind of firepit that’d make Smokey The Bear proud, the rough pick was nearly broken. At least Hodari would be back tomorrow so we could address it. I’m not sure about getting my axe fixed just yet though. My nails dig into the palms of my hands, recalling just how close I had gotten to hurting someone. I’d need a better axe eventually. There’s only so many young trees I can use to keep myself warm at night. For now though, I let the fire dry the icy sweat soaking through my clothes and into my skin before curling up in my tent.

 “You’re bartending now?” Alex quips, “I thought the two things you hated most were alcohol and creepy guys, you know, two things you’re guaranteed to be able to find at a bar?” He hisses as I press the button that launches his infusion site into his side.

   I roll my eyes. “Look, they offer benefits even with part time hours. Benefits I can enroll you in.” I gesture to the mess of supplies littering his side of the dorm, “The state doesn’t exactly cover this shit, and the boss-man said I can always threaten any rowdy customers with something sharp.”

   “Two part time jobs, plus your masters, and helping me with all my shit? Are you even leaving any time for yourself? When are you sleeping?” My brother’s brows furrow in frustration as he fiddles with the tubing on his pump, ensuring there’s no air bubbles before clicking the tube onto his fresh site. “You need to take care of yourself, too, you know?”

   I take a deep breath, trying to hide my frustration and failing.  “Look, you’re all I have left-”
   “Yeah, that’s my point! WE are all WE have, dude. You spend so much time on me that you don’t have any time for yourself! You haven’t even drawn since the accident…” Alex hooks his pump back to his belt loop and pulls his shirt back over his head. “Please, Athena… promise me you’re taking time for yourself…” 

   I pause, eyes familiarizing themselves with the decades old dorm carpeting. “I put in my two weeks at the casino. I’ll only be working the one job now. You’ll get the insurance you need, and I’ll have somewhere to take out my frustrations. They have axe throwing, you know.”
   “Great, drunk assholes and axes? That's totally safe for a young woman late at night.”
   “I can handle myself, Alex. Honestly I’d have a lot more time for myself and probably way more money if you’d just let me-”
   “STOP!” Alex yelled, “Fucking hell, you’re not my mom. You’re my sister. I can focus on my studies and work, too, you know? Plus, do you have any idea how many of my classmates already make lewd comments about you?”
   Hot liquid blurred my vision before leaving my eyes. Alex never yelled. In all his life I could probably count the amount of times he’s raised his voice on one hand. I grit my teeth, battling the urge to fight fire with fire. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know the comments I get? Not just from people near our age, but way fucking older?” My voice cracks, “Why do you even think I suggested starting an Only Fans to begin with.” I raise my head to check on my brother. He’s sat on his bed, head buried in his hands, taking deep and slow breaths. “Look, I’m already meeting you half-way by not getting into any sort of sex work. There’s no need for both of us to have to struggle with school and work at the same time. If you really think you have to make it up to me, bring some of your non-pervy friends by. I can get y’all a discount on the axe throwing, and you can make sure I make it home safe, ok?” 

   Alex wipes his hands over his face and back through his hair before nodding. “Tau soon does your shift start?”

   “What?”
   “I said, TAU-!”

   “TAU, get your furry little ass out of that tent right now !” an unfamiliar voice shouts from outside. I open my eyes to see a blue wolf curled up outside just outside of my sleeping bag, belly up, tail going a million miles a minute.

   “Uhh… hi buddy…” I mutter groggily. A dog was hardly the worst thing I had ever woken up to. “Do you like belly rubs?” The pup’s tail wags even harder, causing his whole body to wiggle like a furry little worm. Yup. Could definitely get used to being woken up like this.

   I hear a soft rapping at the corner of the tent’s frame. “I’d like to apologize for my hunting partner’s rude behavior,” The voice from earlier speaks softer, making a jab at the happy little baby invading my privacy, “He’s a skilled hunter but an absolute menace to others.”

   Sitting up in my sleeping bag, I reach out and pet the fluffy tummy presented to me. “No harm, no foul here. This little hunter was chasing away a bad dream, weren’t you, Tau?” I cood. Tau’s tongue licked at my hands as I pulled away to step outside. I didn’t exactly have a change of clothes, so I was still in my sweaty garb from the night before. “Literally, your dog is more than welcome to say hi whenever. I love dogs.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Twice in a day has to be some kind of record. “He’s a plumehound. An intelligent beast worthy of more than being referred to as a ‘dog’,” The pissy hunter chastises, “and he doesn’t belong to me. We just hunt together.” The darker man in front of me huffs and crosses his arms tight across his chest. Unlike the others I had met, his features were much more blue, as was his attitude.

   “Damn, sorry. Didn’t realise the name for man’s best friend was so derogatory. Haven’t even been here an entire day, you know.” My voice is defensive, my hands held up defensively. Tau nudges my leg and whines, tail not stopping for a second. I scratch between his ears before continuing, “The only derogatory term for a canine I’ve ever heard, I think I’d use to better describe you .” I snap.

   Somehow the hunter’s brows manage to furrow more than they already were. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that then?”

   I puff my chest out and grin, “You telling me nobody’s ever told you that attitude of yours makes you a fuckin bitch?”

   “Sounds like someone wants to be a vegetarian.”
   “Sounds like someone else is overcompensating.”
   “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

   “CHILDREN! I already had a fight with ‘Juma this mornin’. I ain’t need you two goin’ at it, too.” Hodari grumbles from the back of the property. 

   My eyes don’t break away from the hunter. Despite his height I’m not intimidated by him in the slightest. Those who use ranged weapons tend to be pretty shit at hand-to-hand combat. “Hmph. Tau, come on.” Tau gives my hand a lick before walking over to the broody Majiri who was already making his way towards Kilima.

   “Well ain’t he sunshine and rainbows?” I laugh.

   Hodari sighs, pulling a notebook and a pencil from his coveralls. “So what was all that ‘bout?”

   “Tau decided to say hi. Broody-mc-broodface over there got pissy with me for calling Tau a dog and I wasn’t about to let some jackass give me shit for not knowing what specific member of Carnivora Canidae he hunts with.” I twist around, causing my back to recite the Rice Krispies slogan. The relief is instant. “Do I need to go apologize?”

   Hodari smirks, “Hassian sure is protective of that hound for someone who refuses to acknowledge that he’s his pet.” So that was his name . 

   “Seriously, I wasn’t even mad at Tau. If anything, that was the best wake up call I’d had in ages!” I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling it away from my face. “Do I need to say sorry though?”

   The stout man wipes the sweat away from his face before flipping open to a blank page in the hand-bound notebook. “Only if you feel bad. He’s got a way of getting under people’s skin. T’ be honest with you, his ma’ will make him say sorry, even if you don’t.” Hodari’s focus is once again on the run-down cabin we were eyeing the previous night. “Land’s a helluva lot clearer than it was when I left. Depending on how much you managed to gather, you may already have enough supplies to fix this old shack up.”

   Alex and I used to joke about how efficiently the world would be run if we put the Amish in charge of shit. Driving through the countryside you’d see barns built from start to finish over the course of a day or two with nothing but basic tools and a bunch of men wearing clothes way too warm for the weather. We’d joke about how we struggled to work together to put a tent up in a reasonable amount of time. If Alex were around I'd be able to show him that he was the problem, not me, like he always used to insist.

   Hodari assessed the decrepit cabin, insisting I keep clearing the land while he did so, pushing me to try making a sawmill for planks, before taking his report into town to the carpenter. She made her way up and introduced herself, insisting on leaving me with detailed instructions on how to create some basic furniture. “The bed is easy enough to make that even my brother can pull it off,” Tish giggled, “When he first decided to get into cooking, he managed to set a pot of water on fire! Like, not the pot, but the water itself.”

   Days later I’m still reeling over the bombs dropped in that conversation. Sweet, hardworking, intelligent Tish was the younger sister of Reth. Unlike the older villagers, she was supportive of his decision to change paths. The way she described him had me double-checking that there didn’t happen to be two cooks in town with the same name. The siblings didn’t even look alike! And on top of that, the man the town depends on for a bite to eat has managed to burn probably the least flammable material in existence. Apparently his furniture making was even more atrocious. “If he hadn’t switched paths, Kilima would probably be known for exporting furniture fit for a torture chamber.”

   “And what’s Kilima known for now?” I quizzed.
   “I mean, we have a lot of ancient human ruins. That’s about it. I’d ask if you knew anything about what they were like in their prime, but it seems like y’all don’t really remember anything from before you reappeared.” Her expression darkened just a little before she continued, “I can’t imagine how scary this all has been for you.”
I had to take a second to remind myself to pick up my jaw. “You’re telling me so far nobody you’ve asked remembers their past?”

   “You do?!?” Tish nearly hit her finger hammering a nail into the plank we were putting up. “Oh my dragon, we can figure out your star stone!” The rest of the next two days went similarly. Tish would bring soup from the inn, we’d eat, I’d process material, she’d secure the build, and we would talk about our lives. Tish had come from a long line of successful carpenters, I had come from a military family. We both have a brother we love dearly. She hugged me when I told her I had no clue where mine was. I had to bite my tongue every time she sang her brother’s praises. Just because I couldn’t stand the fucker doesn’t mean she had to hear it. The rest of the town gave him enough shit.

knock knock knock

   I nearly jump out of my own skin at the sound. I’m not expecting anyone. I slip on my robe and be sure to grab my axe for safety. Nobody had given me reason to feel unsafe aside from Hassian, but I’d rather be paranoid than dead. I peep through my window and sigh in relief. The hatchet goes back onto my side table as I open my door. “Ashura!” I yawn, “Can’t say I was expecting you. If you give me a sec to get dressed I can actually have you for tea! I found some quality sweetleaf over near the Pavels’ place.”

   The hulking man smiles down at me. “I appreciate the offer, kiddo, but I’m afraid I’ve gotta get back to the inn soon. I hadn’t seen you in a while and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

   “Yeah, yeah, I’m holding up well, all things considered. I’d actually planned on going into town today. We can catch up if you're willing to let me get dressed first.” Ashura nods and gestures for me to go inside. Thank fuck for practical clothes prevailing over the years, and thank fuck for my having decided to shower the night before.

   I duck back outside, clipping my axe to its new home against my thigh. I notice Ashura staring at the holster. “You know, there’s some interesting rumors going around town about you and that axe of yours,” he starts, “Dari said you almost took his head off.”

   “I- I really didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but…” I find myself at a loss for words, reaching for the nape of my neck for relief. “Why didn’t you or Jina say anything about the other humans not remembering their pasts?” I’m deflecting and we both know it.

   Ashura goes to pat my shoulder, stopping just inches away before brushing his hands against his pants. “Sorry, almost forgot you’re not really someone who cares for being touched. To be honest with you, I thought knowing your oddity would make you more upset.” I nod. I hate that he's right. About the touch and my miraculous memory . “You know, I took to foraging to help get my mind off the war. Not many people understand how cathartic, or deadly, an axe can be.”

   The mention of war makes me tense a little bit. “Where I came from, axes this size were more used for survival kits and drunken entertainment. I don’t know if y’all have darts, but the place I worked at before hosted an axe throwing league, and the scoring worked similar to that.”

   “Well that explains your aim.” Ashura's hearty laughter filled the air, bouncing off of the cliff faces lining the path into town. “Drop by the inn we can see about getting you a recipe for a sturdier axe. And maybe a better sawmill.”

   “Honestly, that’d be great. The head on this is way too light. Makes it harder to aim properly, swinging or throwing.”

   “Haha! You’ve got that right. It gets the job done for beginners though.” I nod at Ashura’s statement. It had in-fact been the axe to fell the trees sacrificed in the name of restoring my cabin to its former glory. “You know, if it makes you feel any better, Tish says you’re a treat to be around. If she isn’t complaining to me about how much Reth’s overworking himself, she’s talking about how quickly you’ve taken to crafting.”
I take a deep breath, its release taking the form of a sigh. “That’s good at least. I take it Hassian’s been bitching to whoever’s willing to go near him?”

   Ashura’s brows furrow in confusion, “He hasn’t mentioned you. Did something happen?”

   “Called him a bitch.”

   Once again, boisterous, full-bellied laughter filled the air, Ashura grabbing his belly due to the sheer force of his amusement. “Did you, now? You’re a spitfire, you know that?”

   I raise my hands defensively. “Part of why I’m coming to town is to apologize. Don’t get me wrong, he earned it, but like, I’d rather patch things up than stay on bad terms with someone who could snipe me.” Ashura nods, barely managing to suppress more laughter.

   As we enter town, Ashura points to the windmills to the eastern side of town. “He usually spends some time out in those fields observing the sernuk populations before deciding what to hunt for the day.”

   “Thank you, Ash. I’ll have to stop by the inn later and let you know how things go.” I give the man a pat on the shoulder. The smile on his face tells me his tendencies to offer others physical affection is a reflection of his own need for touch. “Oh, and that axe recipe! If it uses copper I already have a good chunk of it!” I shout, trotting off in the direction of the vast field littered with windmills. 

   The sunny sky was barely light enough to allow me to make out the movement of the grumpy hunter and his partner making their way exactly to where Ashura said they would be. I had managed to find a nice, large stick for Tau during the construction on my home. I haven’t had the chance to get any other sort of treats or toys, but every canine I had met couldn’t resist a good stick.

   Hassian’s expression turns from bitchy to smug as I wave him down. “Coming to beg on your knees for forgiveness?”

   I roll my eyes, “You couldn’t afford to get me on my knees.”
“What?” The broody man’s face flushes at the implication.

   “Sorry, that was crass,” I start, “Look, I want to apologize for the other day. I meant no disrespect to Tau's name.”
The hunter eyes me, folding his arms across his chest. “And mine?”

   “You snapped at me for using the only word I knew to use.” I mimic his behavior, “I think I’m allowed to clap back in those sorts of situations.”
Hassian huffs, refusing to look my way. “I can’t say I’d have reacted much differently. If that’s all, I have a long day ahead of me.”

   “I mean, I could use some meat. If you’re willing to teach me to hunt it’d mean keeping me out of your hair in the long run.”
   “You don’t even have a bow.”
   “Hodari gave me Najuma’s.”
   “Hmph. And?”
   I reach into my pack, pulling out the aforementioned bow, as well as the stick for Tau. “And, I have a good stick for Tau so he doesn’t get bored watching me miss easy targets.” I wave the stick around, the young plumehound’s eyes wide in anticipation. “You want it?” I ask, the hound, not the Majiri. Tau barks and braces himself for a good run as I bring my arm back and throw the stick out into the field. “Fetch- wait, that isn’t inappropriate to say to him, is it?” 

   Hassian lets himself smile a little bit. “Nah, he loves it. Doesn’t matter if it's a stick or a fresh kill. He’s a good boy like that.” Damn right he is. Hassian releases his bow from his back, eyeing something behind me. I knock an arrow as I turn to face whatever beast awaits. “I’ll let you get the first shot. The arrows you have won’t kill it in one go, but trust me, these little bastards deserve to suffer.”

   “I’m not too sure that’s a good idea. This is my first time ever using one of these things. It’d probably be smart for me to practice on a stationary target away from other people.” In spite of my words I’m still attempting to aim, mimicking the poses I had seen in movies growing up.

   “Dragon, you’re going to hurt yourself standing like that.” Hassian grumbles, knocking my feet into a better stance. “And you should be holding your bow away from you a bit.” He moves behind me, taking my arms in his hands as he adjusts my posture. 

   “Good girl, just like that.” My ‘client’ purrs, pinning me against a scratchy brick wall. Rough hands grasp at every exposed piece of flesh. My breaths quicken as I fight the urge to puke or just push him off of me. He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. As if anything about hoarding supplies could ever be right. His lips smash against my face as he gnaws at my lips. His breath tastes like liquor and nicotine. I gulp.

   One hand makes its way to my throat while the other drags mine to his groin. “You don’t think I’m ‘paying’ you to make me do all the work, am I?” I struggle to breathe as his grip tightens. The grin on his face grows larger, as does the anatomy I want nothing more than to rip from his body. I don't want him to use it for this sort of shit again. I’m shoved onto my knees, the hand that once held mine using the length of my hair as a restraint. 

   The hand around my throat makes its way to his pants as he unbuttons them. “You fuck this up and you get nothing, you hear me, slut?” I nod, eyes watering. This is the only way to keep Alex alive…

   A cold, wet, nose presses itself against my cheeks, followed by slobbery kisses and soft nips at my nose. Tau attempts to wriggle himself between my arms and knees, pawing at my hands, before giving up and dropping the stick I gave him at my feet. His big yellow eyes look up at me with concern. He boops my hand and paws at the stick again. I slowly unfurl myself just enough to pat the pup and reacquaint myself with my surroundings.

   Hassian’s sitting a distance away, a pained expression painting his face. “I’m sorry…” he starts, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “Say the name and you won’t have to worry about them anymore.”
I shake my head. “I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” My eyes were burning and my cheeks sticky. Tau presses himself against me, nuzzling me any time I stop petting him.

   “You didn’t. I’m serious, though. I’ll kill the bastard.” Hassian’s voice fluctuates between reassurance and thinly veiled rage. “Nobody who does that to someone deserves to be around.”

   “It was another life. The odds of anyone from then being here, let alone remembering…” I trail off, wiping my face on my sleeves.
Hassian nods solemnly. Tau tugs on my sleeve, attempting to bring me closer to his handler. “Tau, let her go.” His voice is soft, but firm. “I’m sorry… For being an ass, and for not asking before-”
   “It’s not like you had any way of knowing,” I start, cutting off the hunter, “It’s not like I knew about your history, either.” Hassian’s jaw tightens, like his teeth are the only things barring a flood of information from making itself known. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We’re practically strangers.”
The grim hunter scoots over to me, leaving just enough of a gap that we aren’t touching. “I can’t. I physically can’t say anything bad about her, no matter how badly I could ever want to. She always makes sure people have nice things to say about her. Even if I could talk about it, it’s not exactly like people believe men can be… taken… like that.” His voice drops low, barely audible above the wind. “You’re- you’re the only person who's put it together…”

   “I-” I stop myself, unsure of what to say. Just the other day, we were ready to rip each-other’s throats out, now we’re baring our scars like we’d known each other forever. “If you’re able to give me a name I’ll kill the bitch.”
Hassian chuckles, waving me off. “I doubt you could hit a stationary target with that bow, let alone-” The garbled cry of a stray chappa interrupts the man. His eyes follow the noise, widening as they find the corpse of the pest lying yards away, my axe embedded into its spine.

   “Who said anything about a bow?” The scent of iron in the wind causes Tau to yip excitedly, head turning between us, waiting for the call. “Fetch!” The plumehound tears towards the kill like a bat out of hell, securing the large rodent in his mouth and returning, his golden eyes gleaming with pride. The axe hasn’t budged an inch from the chappaa’s limp little body. I look at Hassian, the man uncharacteristically quiet, his jaw slack with a combination of fear and awe. Yeah this isn't helping the crazy axe lady accusations.

   Tau drops the furry corpse at Hassian’s feet and sits patiently, tail causing his whole body to wiggle. “Did you just- where did- you can use an axe for that?!? ” I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find Hassian’s struggle to formulate a coherent thought uncharacteristically adorable. “I thought you couldn’t hunt?” He finally stammers.

   I feel my face flush. “I said I’d never used a bow. I used to throw axes as a sport back before I ended up here.”
“So you’re telling me that humans used to throw axes at small animals as entertainment?!?” Hassian questions incredulously.

   I shake my head, moving to yank the hatchet out of its mark. “No, we used wooden targets. To be honest, I’m surprised I hit this little guy.” I wipe the blade on the grass next to me, passing the chappaa and the axe separately to Hassian. “The blade and handle aren’t very well balanced, so it’s a bit difficult to get a good throw. Ashura said he’d be getting me a recipe or two my way to fix that though.”

   The hunter’s emerald green eyes locked onto my axe as he judged its weight. The chattering of another chappaa rang across the plain. “May I try?” I nod at Hassian’s request. Unlike mine, his throw landed square in the dirt. “You made that look so much easier…” The targeted rodent hadn’t even seemed to notice its peril as Hassian swapped to his bow, launching an iron arrow through its skull. This time Tau didn’t wait to grab the kill. The unspoken bond between the two was admirable. 

   “I could say the same about you and that bow.” I playfully nudge his shoulder with my fist. Hassian grinned shyly before standing up, reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry, by the way.”
Hassian’s brows furrow, “You don't need to-”
“I'm talking about calling you a bitch.”

   The statement causes us to break, losing ourselves in laughter long enough for my cheeks to start aching, gaining us some looks from some of the others going about their business. I let Hassian pull me up before going to collect my axe. Hassian tucks our kills into his sack, pulling out a dried piece of hide out for Tau. The canine tears into his treat like it's the only thing that matters. “I’ll let it slide if you can help me take out a few chappaa dens.”

Chapter Text

   By the end of the day, not only had Hassian and I snuffed out about 100 chappaa, but he’d managed to teach me to properly shoot a bow. Don’t get me wrong, my aim is pure ass still, but I’m not hurting myself by trying to channel my inner Katniss Everdeen, and my aim is accurate enough that I’m not gonna kill someone walking through the woods. Between the two of us, Hassian’s bag was more than overflowing. 

   “Get your axe, aim for the neck.” Hassian whispers, slowly lowering his bag and reaching for his bow. Following his gaze, I see our latest mark, a silvery sernuk with the occasional blue marking on its face and back. Hassian and I had managed to kill a similarly colored chappaa earlier in the day. This must’ve been the proudhorned sernuk, a flow-infused variant of the elder sernuk that Hassian says does more to harm the Bahari ecosystem than it helps.

   My motion is equally slow as I unclasp my weapon’s holster and prepare myself to throw. “Who’s hitting it first, me or you?” I’m sure to keep my voice low and calm, despite my heart pounding out of my chest with anticipation. According to the hunter, catching one of these beasts is ‘nigh impossible’ to do alone. And he’s trusting my noob ass…

   Hassian knocks his arrow, different from the one he had used on the chappaa dens, if only because this one had a purple sheen and a blue mist enveloping its iron tip. “I shoot. Tau chases. You throw before this thing gets its magic back.”
  I notice the hound making his way around the clearing, fully prepared to herd our target back at us. “Understood. Is the neck that vulnerable?”
  “I want to mount its head. Its antlers are pristine.” 

   “Got it. Get the grumpy hunter his trophy.”
  “You’re grumpy?” I can barely make out Hassian’s smirk in the blurry periphery of my vision. This bitch…  

   The shrieking of his arrow ripping through the air interrupts my thoughts. The sernuk cries out in pain and bolts straight towards Tau. The plumehound snarls, mouth frothing as he makes chase, nipping at the deer-like creature’s legs. I follow the pair of animals, waiting for the right moment to hit my mark. The sernuk has other plans, though, veering from the course Tau had worked so hard to keep it on, headed right towards me.

   “Athena!” Hassian cries out as I switch my stance, fully intending to stand my ground. I’m unsure of what’s pounding harder, my heart or the hooves of the grand buck in front of me. I lock my eyes on the white space between the blue branches etched into the proudhorned’s fur and swing.

    Cra- POP!!! The old wooden handle splinters in my grip, the leather grip being the only thing preventing the shrapnel from embedding itself in my palms. The sernuk’s guttural screaming is dampened only by the sound of gargling. Its pace began to slow, allowing Tau to get a firm grip on the beast’s hind leg. Once on the ground, I straddle its back, wrestling the buck into a headlock before pulling in just the right way to make him go limp.

   I turn to Hassian, my eyes wild with pride. I’m expecting an equal amount of excitement, but instead, his emerald green eyes show pure rage. “What. Were. You. Thinking?” His voice is level, dripping with the venom of his emotions. “You could’ve been trampled. Gored. Do you have ANY idea just how lucky you are right now.” Tau relinquishes the leg in his grasp and barks at me, matching his companion’s sentiment.

   My chest tightens as my body begins its process of emotional shutdown. “I don’t know…” I allow my eyes to glaze over, now looking through the hunter instead of at him. “I don’t know…”

   Hassian stomps over to me and kneels right in front of my face. “You never put yourself in that position on a hunt, you hear me?” His voice cracks a little towards the end. “Athena. Promise me.”

   “I just-”

   “Promise me you won’t have me dragging you nearly dead all the way to Chayne’s.” Hassian’s eyes are wide and watery, his jaw quivering.

   “Hass-”
  “ Athena. ”

   “I promise.”
  “Good.” Hassian huffs, his tone taking a turn for the soft again. “I’m sorry I yelled… I- I need to remember you don’t know any better yet.” 

   “Water under the bridge.” Hassian’s eyes go even wider as I pull my hair out of my face. I look at my hands and realise they weren’t as unscathed as I had thought. Well, there goes my plans to go mining.

   “The grove isn’t far from here. I can get you patched up there. If I put it on your shoulders, can you carry the sernuk?” I nod, confused. “Muujin will come tearing this guy apart if we leave it alone.” Yeah, that makes sense .

   Hassain’s home is beautiful. The grove provides shelter from the worst of the weather Palia provides, while granting a level of privacy that puts my plot to shame. Despite his sleeping arrangement being a tent, it’s furnished with a simple, yet sturdy dining set you’d expect to find in a log cabin. Tau’s dusty home sits next to Hassian's tent, and only appears to hold half-chewed toys. It wouldn’t surprise me if the pup spends more time curled up with Hassian than actually using the houndhouse.

   I’m directed to a large stone, faintly stained reddish brown. I allow the sernuk to roll off of my shoulders and onto the flat surface. Hassian drops his bag and his weapons nearby. “Come to the tent. My supplies are in there.”

   I do as I’m told, eyeing the Majiri as he aggressively searches his pantry for bandages. Plopping myself onto one of the dining chairs, I let myself stop and observe the man in front of me. Hassian hadn’t stopped grumbling at me for the past couple of hours, his face being painted with worry and anger like Big Nose and the Pink Panther painting a pillar. I hadn’t been able to say anything past simple apologies and promises to be more concerned about my own safety. Hassian sits directly in front of me, setting his tweezers, bandages, and a jar on the table before flicking on a small lamp. How the fuck is this thing even powered?

   “I’ll have to hold your hands and inspect them closely. If you start to feel uncomfortable, you tell me.” Hassian’s words are as firm as his furrowed brows. I silently offer him my hands, and he begins to wipe them with a wet rag. “And tell me if anywhere in particular feels tender.” I nod as he continues. Despite the calluses on his fingers, his touch is soft. I close my eyes for a bit and let him work.

   Even with my eyes shut, I can see him working diligently, a thin, leaf green cloud taking his form, concentrating most where I can only assume his heart is. As Hassian starts whispering, some of the glow from his chest moves to the red mist of my palms through his fingertips, the color muddying to a clay brown as it transitions. My eyes shoot open as the salve he’s applying touches my palm, and the pain in my hands fades. “What the fuck?” I stare incredulously at my hands, wiggling my fingers.

   “Are you okay?” Hassian’s eyes are wide as they go back and forth between my hands and my face. I nod.

   “What were you just whispering?” I cock my head to the side.

   The hunter blushes a little, preparing the gauze for its new home around my hands. “Momma used to say a little prayer when she had to patch me up. It didn’t… hurt you, did it?” 

   I chuckle a bit. “No, the exact opposite, actually.” I use my bandaged hand to scratch at the nape of my neck, “Prayers were just words before I came here. Just platitudes spoken by hypocrites to the masses of sheep beneath them.”

   Hassian’s face sours a bit. “Maji and Embraa always answer the prayers of the faithful-” 

   “Even if the faith isn’t in them.” I finish for him. “The fact that I’m here, after all the shit I’ve done and been through… It's proof enough for me that they’re real. The gods of my time, assuming they were even real, had abandoned us by the time I was even born.” His emerald gaze meets mine, his hands still lingering on mine. “I’ve been making nightly visits to the phoenix shrine, you know. Usually going back and forth between thanking her for this second chance, and begging her to take care of my brother.”
  “That explains how well you were able to keep up with me on such little food. She blesses her hardest workers with greater endurance.” Any semblance of anger or resentment leaves Hassian’s body and voice. The motion of his thumb on the back of my hand sends shivers up my arm. “Dragon, sorry. I didn’t mean to-” He goes to drop my hand, but I give him a squeeze.

   “I wasn’t protesting.” What the fuck am I doing?!? I can feel the heat creeping across my face just as clearly as it invades Hassian’s, even extending to the tips of his ears. As much of an ass as he can be, the hunter is a big softie. The following silence is comfortable, both of us just sitting together, hand in hand. 

   Eventually Tau trots into the tent, dropping his food bowl at our feet. My stomach echoes the hound’s sentiment. Loudly. When did I get so hungry? Hassian hesitates before releasing my hands and getting up to address his allegedly starving pup. “I’m not too much of a cook, myself, but I’ve been told I supply some pretty good sausage- I mean the preserved meat, not- ugh.” I snort a bit at how discombobulated the normally stoic hunter has become.

   “The stoic and traditional hunter offering his meat to me ? The human who hasn’t even been here a week? How scandalous .” I tease, watching Hassian’s face nearly go purple from embarrassment. “After how well you’ve treated me, how could I refuse?” My eyebrows wiggle at the blushing mess in front of me.

   Hassian finds a breath of confidence to tease back at me. “If I were a less disciplined man, I’d be happy to oblige.” His words go straight to my lower abdoment. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- “Assuming I’m not alone in feeling what I’m feeling, I’d like to be proper.”
  “We barely know each other…” I mutter, almost regretting the words leaving my lips.
  “Right, sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Hassian fusses, nervously pulling his blueberry locs into a topknot.
  “Hass… I just don’t want to rush into things and end up hurting each other. Plus, it’s not exactly like I’ve ever had the time to consider anything like that with anyone.” I step over to the campfire he’s starting. “We both have trauma we need to work around, and you deserve to be more than just a coping mechanism.”
  Hassian nods and gives a quick affirmation before motioning to the metal kebab sticks to my side. The air is filled with the cracking of flames and the mating calls of crickets, cicadas, and frogs alike. Occasionally an owl hoots and I find myself mimicking its call. This makes the hunter smile. His smile’s so pretty…

   As our sausages sizzle over the open flame, I find it in myself to start up conversation again. “Do names have significance in Majiri culture?”

   Hassian furrows his brows at the question. “I’m not sure what you mean. One needs something to go by, do we not?”

   “Well, in my experience, humans have a habit of naming ourselves and others after religious figures and other idol-like figures in our cultures.” The hunter nods, motioning for me to make my point. “I’m named after an ancient Greek goddess. And I’m talking ancient by my standards, so definitely extra ancient by Majiri standards.”

   “Hmm,” Hassian bites his lower lip, “That’s a pretty high standard to be held up to, a goddess.”

   I nod. “Oh yeah, especially when she doesn’t like having others compared to her.” The skin on my sausage starts to split, its juices causing the fire to crackle and hiss. “You know, your name sounds similar to a word in an old human language.”
  “Really? And what’s that.” His curiosity peaked, he takes a bite of his food, straight from the kebab.
  “Hassan.” I follow suit, allowing some of the grease to dribble down my chin.
  The hunter offers me a handkerchief, making it the second I’ve borrowed since being here. “What’s its significance?”

   “Promise you won’t accuse me of being a flirt?” My free hand brushes through my hair. How do I not have a fucking bald spot?
  “Your track record with me so far will make that difficult.” That coy ass grin…
  I push Hassian’s shoulder playfully. “I’m being serious.”
  “As am I.” Hassian’s growl awakens something in me I haven’t felt in a long, long, time. Heat pools in my abdomen.
  “Fine, live without knowing.” I swallow down the lump in my throat, praying he can’t hear just how fast my heart is beating.
  “I promise.” His laughter fills the brisk night air, “I’ll be nice and keep my thoughts to myself.”

   I roll my eyes before sinking my teeth back into my meal. “It means handsome.” I mutter, the sound muffled by the perfectly cooked meat I’m chewing. I close my eyes, refusing to acknowledge how red my cheeks likely are. I can faintly see the shape of my hand in front of my face, a cloudy red smoke taking the place of flesh and bone. How long have I been able to do this?

   “I’m not much one for obsessing over appearances, but it’s endearing to know what my name could mean regardless.” Hassian comments, throwing a steak onto the grate of the campfire.

   I look at the sky, the moon high in the air. “Shit, I should probably go home. It’s getting late and I know I have an early day tomorrow.” I don’t want to leave, but there’s probably some sort of tradition or taboo that would cause Hassian to be uncomfortable with me crashing in the grove.

   Hassian frowns a bit. “Your house is pretty far from here, and some sketchy things go on at night… Can I, or at least Tau walk you home?”

   “I appreciate the thought, but I’ll be okay. I can be sneaky. Thank you, though. For everything today.” I turn and start to head towards the door. “I’ll have Auni deliver a letter letting you know I got home safe.”
  Hassian chuckles at the mention of the local bug enthusiast and mail courier. “I look forward to reading it. If you agree to pay him in cake, he may make sure it gets here before 6.”

    Thump “Hngh-”
  “Keep quiet,” The unfamiliar growl puts me on edge, “Anyone comin’ by investigatin’ and their blood’s on your mitts.” THUMP The accent is familiar, but I can’t quite place it. I close my eyes and trace the sound, hoping I can get an idea of the exact kind of situation I’ve found myself near. Shit… Where the fuck are they? The harder I focus, the further I can see. On their knees is a dim yellow cloud, the flickering of their heartbeat fast. THUMP The noise coincides with a black shadowy foot making its way into the gut of the red, making it dim just a bit more. Where the fuck did that black cloud come from? The darkness behind my eyes makes it impossible to see how many black figures there are, assuming there’s more than just the one.

   I’m frozen in place, heart racing. Someone’s getting hurt. Bad. My hand instinctually goes to my presently empty holster. Empty. My aim’s too shit with the bow to guarantee I won’t hit the person I’m finding myself desperate to help. If I turn around for Hassian, I may end up being heard, or worse, tracked. Deep breaths… Fuck it.

   “Arooooooooooooooo!” I howl, praying I can be passed off as a muujin or a plumehound. Are plumehounds even native to the area? Do muujin even howl? Thank fucking Embra the woods light up with the calls of various howling animals. I shut my eyes again and the forest is alive with various muujin shaped grey clouds, making it easier to spot not just the flickering yellow of a humanoid figure, but of two hulking Grimalkin whose cores are veiled in black. The bipedal felines turn to each other and each give the yellow figure another kick before fleeing.

   I’m not sure how long I’ve been holding my breath, suddenly remembering to exhale when the yellow cloud begins to stand. I pull out my map and mark my current location. I’d need to either scope this place out for better hiding spots, or just steer clear of here at night. My yawns only serve to drive home that I’m far too tired to be thinking about any of this logically.

   I’m awoken by the cry of the peki in the valley. Every morning, way too early, those flightless little bastards screech their empty little heads off, almost as if they’re terrified of their own shadows when the sun rises. My whole body aches. After I had gotten home I fought night terror after night terror, causing my muscles to clench until my blood pressure caused me to pass out again. Yeah, I’m not fucking cooking today. The thought is a mantra as I make my way to town, the emptiness of my holster reflecting the lack of fucks I have for the general pleasantries with the other villagers, human or otherwise.

   I need to talk to Ashura, and I need a bite to eat, preferably not in that order. Ashura has done nothing to deserve my bitchiness and I know I’ll at least feel a bit better after I eat. The smell of tomato soup fills the air as I near the inn. I make my way to my spot at the bar and wait. I’m too tired to find the will to ring the bell for the chef’s attention, and quite frankly, a silent soup delivery is what I’m needing. Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky. “Let me guess. You were just dying to see me.” Reth teases, the same customer service grin plastered across the lower half of his face.

   The split in his lip catches my attention. “Dude, your face.” The chef’s complexion goes white. His hand goes to the back of his head.

   “So, uh, funny story that one,” he starts, “I wasn’t exactly paying attention to my footing when I was restocking the kitchen earlier.” He chuckles, re-tying the end of one of his locs. “What happened to your hands?” 

   “My axe handle exploded. I’ll be fine in a couple of days. I need to get the recipe for a better one when Ashura comes in.” I push up my glasses to rub the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes to see… yellow. “Oh, uh, thanks for the garlic, by the way. I made sure to grab some more on the way home from Bahari last night.” My thanks is genuine, but I monitor the majiri’s reaction as I continue. “I didn’t know muujin could howl like that.”

   Reth’s jaw goes slack for just a moment. “Yeah, it’s really rare unless someone starts it.”
  I wink, reaching into my pack for my coin pouch as well as the extra balm Hassian sent me home with last night. “I’m starving right now, and I have gold this time. How much would tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich set me back?”

   “Normally it’d be 500 gold, but if you don’t mind giving some feedback on an experimental soup, I can drop it to 400.” Reth’s eyebrows wriggle.

   “Oh? And what is this soup made of?” Despite the pain, I tighten my fist, ready to sock him if the answer is what I think it is.
  “Lettuce.” He states plainly, taking me off guard.

   I lose the ability to form words for a second. What the fuck soup just has lettuce in it?!? Eventually, I have to ask, “Like, just… lettuce? The salad ingredient?”
  His whole demeanor changes to that of a hyper child. “Exactly! It’s low calorie, and it has a ton of essential vitamins in it. I could market it as some sort of fitness thing, maybe?”
  “Uh huh…” My voice is dripping with skepticism. Worse care scenario, it’s just hot, bland, soggy lettuce. Best case scenario, I learn something new about lettuce’s capacity as an ingredient.

   “Look, you’ve got a good tongue- nope, that sounds wrong. You have good taste buds.” He rubs the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other crossing his chest. The purple markings on his forearm intrigue me. How did I not notice the tat the last time I was here? The design’s sick. My eyes trace the large chain etched into his forearm all the way up to the eye etched into the back of his hand. They flow together so nicely.
  Inspiration strikes me. “I’ll taste for free if you tell me about the ink.”
  “No can do, fancy pants. I don’t talk about that.”
  “And if I throw in my garlic butter noodle recipe?”

   “Hmm… I’d have to try it first.”

   “Then you’ll have to come over to mine for dinner. After I’m done with Ashura, I’m getting groceries and going home.” It’ll be a lot easier to get him to say the quiet things out loud in the privacy of my home. “You bring the lettuce soup, and I’ll make you my favorite ‘broke bitch’ meal.” I coo, making air quotes around ‘broke bitch’.

   “Can I put it on the menu here?” The chef steps back into the kitchen, peeking his head back through the doorway to signal that he’s still listening.
  The dish is simple and the ingredients are cheap. I’d hate to see it being sold at a significant markup. “So long as you don’t charge more than 100 gold a serving.”

   “Fair enough. We have a deal.” Reth returns from the kitchen, a large bowl of tomato soup accompanied by a perfectly golden brown grilled cheese, the inn’s branding seared into the tops of the bread.

   I slide my payment and the ointment towards Reth. “I won’t accept any protests about the balm. Gotta keep the cook in tip-top condition.” I pull a chunk off of my sandwich and nearly drool at the unbroken cheese pull before dipping it into my soup. “Mmmnn. Especially if it means getting good eats like this.” I know it’s rude, but I can’t help complimenting the man’s cooking, even if my mouth is full.

   Reth smiles, an actual smile this time, pocketing the balm and putting the gold into the register. “You may change your mind later. I haven’t exactly had positive reactions to the lettuce soup.” 

   I chuckle. “Oh, I’m expecting disaster, but I can’t say I’m not curious regardless.” At least he’s self-aware. I keep tearing pieces off of my sandwich and dipping it in my soup. “I really don’t get why people are upset at you for changing your path. You’re clearly a skilled chef.”

   Said skilled chef tenses for a second, turning to polish a piece of silverware. “It’s… complicated. Majiri culture is pretty big on choosing a path and sticking to it, even if you have to make that choice as a clueless teenager.”

   “That one, actually,” I say between bites of soup, “I can understand pretty well. Before I was here, it was expected that we either sign ourselves up for the military or we sign ourselves up for six figures of debt to get specialized education.” I stop to sip from my waterskin. “The more times you change what you want to study, the more debt you end up with. In a sort of fucked up way, I got lucky that I knew what I wanted to be since I was ten.”

   “Really,” Reth asks incredulously, “and what is that?”

   “An immunologist. I wanted to find a cure for Hashimoto’s disease.” I stir my soup, the thought of my brother causing my chest to tighten. “It’s basically when your antibodies, at least one of five types, start systematically taking out the body’s organs. The lucky ones basically only have their hormone-producing organs affected, but in the worst-case scenarios, it can contribute to kidney or even heart failure. Apparently my people cured it before going extinct, though, so I’m kinda back at square one.”

   I look up from my bowl, my sadness reflected in the chef’s big blue eyes. “Someone close to you?…” Reth’s question is quiet, but heavy. All I can do is nod in response. The last thing I want right now is to break down sobbing at this bar again. “I- can I get you a drink? Take the edge off?”
  Shaking my head, I take a deep breath before replying. “I don’t drink.” Reth nods, putting the shaker he had started to pull out back into its place under the bar. “And if you intended to make me something strong, you’d want to stir it, not shake it.”

   “Hmph. Your whole path’s cooking and you’re getting schooled by someone who doesn’t even have their own kitchen yet.” Hassian’s snide remark takes me by surprise. Reth’s eyes seem to make a genuine attempt at viewing his brain with how hard he was rolling them. When the fuck did he walk in?   The hunter turns his attention to me, “I took the liberty of processing your kills and dropping everything off at your place. Wouldn’t be fair to have you walking away hurt and empty-handed.”

   “Thank you, really.” Hassian shrugs at my statement, making his way to the back porch of the inn. I make a mental note to find a more substantial way to show my gratitude. Before I get far into any ideas, the thundering of footsteps takes me by surprise. Auni tears through the inn, narrowly avoiding knocking over any of the furniture with his oversized bag.

   A long sigh is followed by a loud, yet gentle criticism from Ashura, “Auni, you know better than to run through the inn like that.” The gentle giant motions for me to follow him over to his counter, and I oblige.

   “Hey, don’t forget about later!” I shout to Reth, before turning to the Majiri I came to talk to to begin with. “So about that axe upgrade…”
  Ashura rubs his beard, shaking his head. “If I knew the handle would blow like that, I wouldn’t have given that old one to you.” 

   I do my best to facepalm without smudging my glasses or irritating my palms. “To be fair, I was not using that thing for its intended purpose.” My attempts at shifting blame appear to have no effect.
  The man crosses his arms. “You still got hurt. The least I can do is make sure you get a replacement that can actually keep up with you.”
  “Ash-” I start, immediately being cut off by the innkeeper. 

   His tone changes, his inner parent taking over. “No protests, missy. You’re getting a Palium axe and you’re gonna accept it with grace, am I clear?”

   I snap to attention, giving a salute before responding in kind, “Sir, yes, sir. Thank you for the generous gift, sir.” Ashura stifles a grin, shaking his head. I slip out of my soldier stance, holding back laughter of my own. “Seriously, how’d you find out? The only person there for that was Hassian.”
  “You just answered your own question.”

   “ Oh that mother fucker. ” I mutter under my breath.

   For a second I see my father in Ashura, his disapproving look a perfect mirror of when my dad first heard me swear. “I’d refrain from any names like that around Sifuu. She gets protective over her boy, especially when he’s allowed someone to get close to him.”
  I cringe a little. “He’s being nice and not letting me return the favor.” My nervous habit makes another appearance. “I gotta get back at him, you know?” Ashura shakes his head, encouraging me to continue. “Even if he doesn’t think I owe him, I feel like I do, and the more acts of kindness he gives me, the more I feel I owe.”

   Ashura sighs, shifting his weight to one leg. “I see… You two are going to end up in a gifting war if you keep up like this.”

   “Honestly,” I feel my face heating up as I finish my thought, “That doesn’t sound too bad once my hands are in good enough condition for me to be rough with them again.”

   The innkeeper’s posture softens. “You should probably go talk to Sifuu about what specifically you want out of that shiny new axe so it’s done before you’re ready to get back into the swing of things.”

   The pun earns a series of groans from all in earshot, except for Badruu. He couldn’t carrot-all about the bad puns. Ashura waves me off, as if the dad jokes wouldn’t be enough of a motivator.

Chapter Text

   If I had to describe Sifuu in two words, I’d probably say ‘muscle mommy’. Milf isn’t an apt enough descriptor for this beast of a woman, and let’s be honest, any sexual comment towards Hassian’s mother would probably land at least a few of the hunter’s arrows in my side. Not that she needs him to defend her; Sifuu’s muscles were nothing but functional and well-supported by the distribution of fat along her body. Rumor has it that she keeps herself off the market due to fears of crushing a lover between her thighs.

   “Well, if it isn’t the best axe slinger in Bahari!” Sifuu shouts, hammering away at her latest project. Her strikes are powerful and efficient. “You may be the reason I finally get Kenli to give me my weapons smithing permit.” Seemingly happy with her work, she removes her piece from the anvil. A plume of steam fills the open workshop as the steel is quenched.

   I roll my eyes just a bit. “I don’t know, calling me the best seems like an insult to Ashura.” I make myself a seat within the pile of wood in the corner. “But I’m glad I can help get weapons forged by The Greatest Monster Hunter herself back on the market.”

   “Damn, right! Now tell me, what beast did you slay to get my bestest pal to cash in on an old favor?”
  “I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”

   “Shit, kid. All I know is that you and my boy were hunting all day yesterday, your hands are in shit shape, and Ashura decided to promote you straight to the finest axe you could get, made by the finest smith he could get in contact with.” She gestures to my bandaged extremities as she sits on her anvil, her fist supporting the weight of her cheek. “How long are ya gonna keep me waiting?”
  “I swung at a Proudhorn’s throat like it was a flow tree.” I chuckle as Sifuu’s jaw hits the floor. “The damn handle exploded, but I managed to get the head in deep enough to kill it. No damage to the horns either.”
  “Oh, honey, if you were about 30 years older, that’d be enough to get me into your room.” Sifuu purrs, biting her lip.

   I let out a chuckle, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Hass would kill me.”

   “Hass, huh?” Confusion wracks Sifuu’s face before a mischievous grin takes over. “You two fuckin’ already?”

   “SIFUU!” The crass nature of the question lights my face on fire.
  The smith howls in laughter, earning a look from Eshe across the town square. “I’m just pullin’ your leg. You haven’t been here long enough to get him to drop trou.”
  It takes a moment for me to register Sifuu’s statement, and another to gather the resolve to be stern with the mountain of a woman in front of me. “I’m not here to discuss my - or your son’s - love life.”
  “Look, I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be mad if you decided to-”
  “Don’t make me take my patronage to Hodari.” I snap, preparing to follow through with my threat.

   Sifuu stands to stop me, “I’ll drop it! Look. I’m just happy he’s decided to give someone a chance. Now, about that axe?”

   “You have paper and something for me to draw with?”

   When I had interviewed for my spot at the bar, the Boss-Man had introduced himself as Dan, though in the workplace, he preferred his employees use a nickname for him. “Any nickname, so long as it ain’t a slur.” He said.

   “Well then, Boss-Man, it’s going to be a pleasure working under you.” My reply was instinctual, a bit cocky, even. The Boss-Man appreciated it, though, and practically hired me on the spot. 

   During the practical part of the interview (A.K.A.: show that I can pour a drink), I understood why the whole nickname thing was so important. “Now, Athena, this is my lovely husband. I need to sharpen the latest batch of axes, but I’d like you to pour him a drink. It’s on me, obviously.”
  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I extended my hand to possibly the most inked man I’d ever seen, giving him a firm shake.
  The man grinned. “No need to be so formal. Please, call me Dan.” The Boss-Man and Dan watched my poor attempts to keep a straight face. I’d later learn that they do this to everyone.

   Fighting the urge to dig into the lives of Dan Squared, as I’d come to call them, I continue with the task at hand. “Oki-doki, Dan. You see the bear over there,” I nodded over to the Boss-Man, who had moved to start polishing axes, “He wants to buy you a drink. If he’s bugging you, I’ve got an Angel Shot on special tonight, free of charge. Otherwise, what am I slapping on his tab?” Boss-Man stifled a laugh.

   “Wow, how generous! What’s an Angel Shot?” Dan leaned forward, resting his soul patched chin on his hand.

   “Yeah, the fuck’s that? I’ve been slinging drinks since I was twelve, and I ain’t ever heard of that one before.” The boss man chimed from his spot across the room.

   I sighed, hating that I had to break character. “ Okay, I’m answering right now as if you’re you. Safe, non-creepy guys, got it?” I waited for their nods before continuing. “An Angel Shot isn’t an actual drink. It’s a discreet way for someone in an unsafe situation to alert staff to needing help. Need an escort to your vehicle to make sure some dodgy asshole isn’t following you? Order an Angel Shot neat. Need an Uber to get home without alerting a creep? Order it with ice. And god forbid, should the cops need to get involved with a situation, order one with lime. I’ve heard guys refer to them as Johnny Depp Shots. Sounds less ‘frilly,’ I guess.”

   Dan Squared were stuck slack jawed. “And if I were a creep who overheard you telling my target about the special, what would you say?”

   I took a deep breath as I stepped back into the role of a collected bartender. “I’m glad you asked! It’s Crown Apple and pineapple juice. Personally, I think it tastes like heaven.”

   “Wait, I thought you didn’t drink?” Boss-Man cut back out of the scene.

   I shrugged, my hand flying to the back of my neck to scratch that nervous itch. “I don’t, but how else are you gonna open up space for someone to order an actual Angel Shot when the reason they need one is standing right next to them and watching their every move.”

   Dan holds his hand out for a fist-bump. “Smart. That shot sounds really good, though. The cover one, not-.”

   “Don’t worry, I got you. You want me to add lime juice?” I’d already started pulling out the necessary ingredients and tools.
  “Fuck it, why not. You want one, too, babe?” Dan quips, the question directed at his other half. The Boss-Man dropped a quick ‘please’ before continuing to grind his whetstone against the first of many blades to be sharpened that night. 

   Using the scoop, I added ice to the copper shaker along with an ounce of crown, an ounce and a half of pineapple juice, and half an ounce of lime juice. Capping the shaker, I tossed it into the air, catching it with a spin before properly shaking the copper vessel. I use my free hand to pull out two shot glasses before pouring Dan Squared the resulting golden liquid.

   Dan took the second drink over to the Boss-Man, clinking their glasses together before tipping them bottoms up. The two sat in silence for a moment, allowing me to clean up my station. Please please PLEASE tell me I got the damn job. The benefits alone would mean I can drop my other job. After spending what felt like an eternity in silence, the Boss Man spoke up. “When can you start?”

   From there, everything had been on the up and up. Yeah, Alex didn’t like it at first. Then he brought his friends over. I poured them drinks, making sure Alex’s were all virgin. He was their designated driver, after all. I helped them learn the basics of axe throwing. I started drawing in my free time, camping out at the bar in hopes that Dan would drop in and give me some pointers. Having not had time to draw in roughly 7 years, my skills had dulled significantly. Alex caught me once, having decided that the act of chucking an axe at a wall as hard as humanly possible was the best way to de-stress between classes. I swear, he almost suffocated me with how hard he hugged me.

   “Is that supposed to be Hassian?” Sifuu beams, pointing out the stick-figure doodle I had absent-mindedly scrawled in the blank spaces of my axe’s schematics. “You nailed his little pouty face.”

   My hand makes its way to the back of my neck. “Shit, sorry. Not all that professional of me.”
  Once again, Sifuu’s laughter booms through the town center. “Nah, it’s a waste of paper to leave the space empty. You should draw Tau!”

   I nod, scribbling the furry little guy above his majiri companion. He comes out a little more anthro than intended, but I can’t exactly say that the little guy isn’t super expressive in real life. Sifuu hums before commenting again. “Are you gonna add any detail to the head? It seems pretty plain right now. If you don’t have anything in mind, I can totally freestyle.”

   “No, any etchings in the head will affect the balance and aerodynamics of the axe. The pyrography on the handle will be fine though.” My response seems to disappoint the woman.

   “Never seemed to affect the function of a battleaxe.”

   “Those aren’t meant for precision. The specific style of axe I’m having you make is a tomahawk.” I gesture to the back of the axe head on my page, “That flat back allows it to function as a hammer if necessary.” Moving to the blade, I comment again. “The size of the blade may seem small, but it’s actually at just about the max that the World Axe Throwing League would allow in competitions. That’s why I took care to mark out the exact weights needed.”

   Sifuu’s lips extend in an exaggerated frown as she nods. “Ya sure you weren’t a smith in your past life? You’ve got the whole design process down pat.”
  I whip my signature across the page and pass the clipboard to Sifuu. “I just like drawing.” I gesture to Sifuu’s veiny forearms before gesturing to myself. “If I were a smith, I’d be fuckin’ ripped.”

   “Fair enough. I’ll have this to you as soon as possible. Take some firewood home with you in the meantime.” Sifuu holds the schematic up to the light, waving me off.
  “You sure?”

   “It’s all sapwood. I have surprisingly little use for it aside from kindling.”

    Ding DING dang DONG! The bell signalling the end of the working day rings. “Shit. I gotta go.” I hurriedly shove a few logs in my pack before running towards Zeki’s. “Thanks again, Sifuu! You’re the best!”

   The mewing of the general store’s doorbell welcomes me, even if the fat cat himself isn’t even in the store. Fortunately, after hours, Zeki lets the shop run on an honor system. I snag myself some butter and toss my payment into the register, tearing like a bat out of hell towards my plot.

   I damn near take out my gate, and the man standing in front of it, as I get to my plot. “Damn, you trying to outpace Auni?” Reth’s arms are folded confidently across his chest.

   “Sorry, I’m late for our rendezvous. Ashura insisted on getting me a new axe commissioned, and you know how Sifuu is, even when she’s sober.” I open my gate, inviting Reth to follow me.

   He picks up his own bag and a Dutch oven before becoming my shadow. “You’ve really gone crazy on this place. It’s only been a week, and you’ve got another room added already?” I empty the logs from Sifuu’s into my hearth, but wait to light it. “Damn, and a fireplace? You’ve been busy!”

   “Well, when you can’t sleep, you find ways to keep busy, and fortunately for them, my nearest neighbor is at least a mile East.” I gesture across the living room to the extension. “Plus, there’s only so many grilled goods one can eat without learning to hate barbecue.”

   Reth’s eyes follow my lead, landing on my fully equipped kitchen. “You know, Fancy Pants, most people use their first extension as their bedroom.” Laughing, I unload my butter haul into my pantry. I’d noticed that everything in Palia seemed shelf-stable, fish included. At first, I’d questioned it, but hey, you know what they say about looking gift horses in the mouth. I pull a couple of bowls and spoons out, setting them on the counter.

   “Well, I would’ve rather had a bathroom, but I’ve been having some issues trying to procure a toilet or a bathtub. I’ve been having to make do with an outhouse and the pond. But hey, I have a sink!” Reth nods along with my explanation. “Now, I need to re-bandage my hands before I do any sort of cooking or tasting. I swear, every surface in the forge is covered in ash or coal dust.”

   His eyes land on my hands, face twisting with concern. “Isn’t smithing a bit too rough for your hands right now?”
  “That’s why I only drew out the plans for my new axe.” I retort, patting the empty holster at my side. “You should serve us some of your ‘soup’ while I’m cleaning myself up.” 

   For the first time in nearly a whole day, I unwrap my hands. My palms are irritated and red, but the cuts have already scabbed over, sealing themselves shut from any bacteria or acidic juices I’ll be working with. The warm water from my tap only further soothes the tension in my palms. I’d managed to slap together an impromptu nail brush with muujin bristles and a piece of scrap wood left from building one of my prep stations, taking care to scrub any remnants of loose carbon from under my nails before rinsing everything off.

   Reth’s to my left, scooping steaming ladles of what appears to be just hot water and soggy lettuce into the bowls I had offered. “I know it needs some work, but promise not to be too harsh on me, ok?”
  “Don’t worry,” I reply, wrapping my hands in fresh cotton strips, “I only intend on being constructive.” I flex my fingers, making sure I still have the necessary dexterity despite the restraint of the bandages. “So, I’m gonna tell you what I think and what I’d change. Then you’re gonna tell me all about that tattoo of yours while I make us our actual dinner.” I take my bowl, lifting a spoonful of soup to my lips. Salt. Water. Cracked pepper. Cabbage?

   The chef forgoes the spoon, opting to gulp down his concoction straight from the bowl. “Now I don’t mind this, but what are your thoughts?”
  I bite my bottom lip, struggling to determine what to do with this soggy green mess. “I’m not gonna bullshit -sorry- ormuushit you. The lettuce in its current state is a texture nightmare that even blending wouldn’t fix. I have an idea, though. That is, if you’re insistent on making a lettuce-based soup.”

   Reth nods, pulling out a notebook. “You’re already being a lot more positive than anyone else I’ve had taste this.”
  “Now, what you guys call lettuce is actually much closer to what I’d call cabbage. The flavor of cabbage is very earthy, and it’s a bit more structurally sound when compared to what I know as lettuce. If you ferment this with spices and maybe look into using an ormuu or chappaa stock with some chili paste…” I find myself trailing off, looking at the poor bruised majiri in my kitchen. How can someone in such rough shape look so happy?

   His big blue eyes beam up at me. There’s an entire ocean in there, fucking hell. “I could drop in some tofu since it’s high in protein while also being low calorie!” Reth finishes my sentence, slamming his notebook shut. My body tenses at the sound. “Sorry… I-”

   “You’re good,” I sigh, rolling my shoulders, “I don’t know why I’ve been so jumpy lately.” Great. I made him feel bad for getting excited.

   “It really means a lot that you’re being so supportive… I don’t exactly have anyone to bounce recipe ideas off of.” Reth rubs at the nape of his neck, nervously shifting his weight between his feet. “Tish will eat anything I give her without complaint, so I never really know if I’m actually serving up something good.” His magenta blush creeps from his freckled cheeks to his ears. Why the fuck is he so cute? “And even when I know I’m serving something delicious, Hassian’s always such a-”
  “Can I give you a hug?” I rush, interrupting the chef mid-insult.

   Confusion wracks his face, his cheeks somehow getting even more purple. “What?”

   “Well…” I start, mimicking his nervous behavior, “You’re starting to crash out, and I’d like to give you a hug. To help?” The silence between us is only slightly uncomfortable once I realize I may be missing something. “Is hugging something reserved just for couples in majiri culture or something, ‘cuz I’m not trying to come on to you or anything like that.”

   By now, both of our faces are hot with embarrassment. “No! No. Hugging’s a normal thing between friends, I just… never really get any.”

   Stepping forward, I snake my hands around Reth’s sides, bringing them up to his shoulder blades before squeezing him. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around my neck, cradling my head against his chest. I can hear his heart racing and his hands trembling against me. Reth’s breathing devolves into hics as his body relaxes into mine, hot tears hitting my shoulder. “Hey,” I whisper softly, “I’ve got you. Until you want me to let you go, I’ve got you.”

   My words seem to erode what little was left of his emotional levee, spilling soft tears before unleashing heavy sobs. I let my thumbs massage small circles into Reth’s back, trying in vain to work out even a single knot that years of working without rest must’ve formed in his back. I shut my eyes and bask in the golden glow that is Reth’s …aura? Whatever it is, it’s a lot brighter than it was last night. “What if I don’t ever want you to let go?” the chef eventually whispers. His stomach answers him before I have the chance, making me smile just a little bit.
  I pull my head off of Reth’s chest. “Anytime you need a hug, or hell, even just want one, I’m more than happy to give you one. I don’t give a shit if you’re an errand-boy for the cartel.” Reth stiffens.

   “What, uh, what makes you think I’m an errand-boy?” the chef stammers, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “Because I’m definitely not one.” His attempts at nonchalance are lackluster at best. 

   I sigh, pushing up my glasses. “Right, and I wasn’t a prostitute in a fucking war zone.” Would it fucking kill this guy to let someone in? Grabbing a bulb of garlic from my pantry, I break it apart, smashing the cloves under the flat of my knife to make them easier to peel. Whic-whic-whic-whic-whic-whic-whic… One clove done, slide it to the side, start the next. Keep calm. Keep cooking. My eyes are watering, and as much as I’d like to blame it on the garlic, Reth and I both know that isn’t true. Why do I care so much that he’s not being honest with me?

   The sounds of my prep-work fill the otherwise quiet kitchen, the tension thick enough that only the sharpest blade could cut through it. I didn’t even want to fucking cook today.  

   Reth eventually breaks the silence, his mannerisms meek. “Do you have noodles made already?”

   “No.” I keep focused on my chopping. I’ve honestly cut up way too much, but it’s all I can do to keep from snapping.
  The chef washes his hands before continuing his line of questions. “You mind if I help?”

   “Sure.” The sooner these noodles are done, the sooner I can get him out of my fucking face.
  This time it’s Reth taking a deep breath. “I owe you the story behind my tattoo. An honest one.”

   “Better be.” I grumble.

   He nudges me out of my prep spot. “Sit. You tell me what to do and I’ll finish cooking. Please don’t fight me on this. You’re hurt, and I’m a mindless idiot.” I oblige, handing over my knife and making my way to the stool on the other side of the kitchen counter.
  “You’ll need about half as much spice sprout as you will garlic. And you’ll need like five pounds of pasta with how much garlic I cut up.”
  “Yes, chef. Now, where do you want me to start?”

   I try to ignore the flush of my cheeks resulting from the nickname. I’m supposed to be mad at him. “I mean, the sauce should really be made last.”
  The majiri boy snorts a little. “I was talking about this.” Reth holds his right arm up where I can see it. I shrug. Reth cracks his knuckles and starts to fold eggs into a pile of flour. “Fun fact about Palian law: children can sign legally binding contracts if they’re orphans.”
  I shake my head incredulously. “Why the fuck?”

   “Rumor has it, if a flow-inclined kid’s parents don’t willingly enlist them, The Order causes an accident, orphaning them. Thanks to the way the laws are written, the kid can enlist after being orphaned without having to have a caretaker or something to approve. If the kid doesn’t, they’re either stuck trying to find other family to take them in, or they fall victim to one of the cartels.” Reth stops to stare at my ceiling, blinking away tears. “What shape do these noodles need to be?”

   “Thin strips. Did… The Order…?” I trail off, hoping the quiet part of my question was loud enough to be understood.

   The chef shakes his head, expertly cutting the dough into uniform ribbons and plopping them into a pot full of water. “No, unless Tish is hiding a secret knack for flow, neither of us are inclined. Our parents were on their way to deliver an armoire to some Inyrevn chief, and their ship was taken out by a rogue storm. After they died, though, we only had so much money to use for living expenses and, of course, Tish’s medicine.”

   “And that’s where the cartel came in.”
  “Ding-ding-ding! Points to Fancy Pants!” Reth’s animated confirmation, wooden spoon mic and all, rips a giggle straight from my throat. “There’s that smile I like so much.” Reth murmurs. That’s not his flirty voice. My cheeks flush from the realization. “Anywho, the Adders wanted to make sure I didn’t try to run off or snitch to The Order, so thirteen-year-old me ended up getting tracking runes as his first tattoo. Any questions?”

   I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or rhetorical, but I ask anyways, “So why were you getting your ass handed to you last night?”

   Reth freezes mid-stir of the noodles. “Late delivery. What all did you see?” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, even for the conversation at hand.

   “I, uh. I don’t really know how to explain without seeming crazy…”

   The chef huffs, setting the wooden spoon down and leaning on the counter in front of me. “Your fucking life depends on your answer, Athena.”

   “When I close my eyes, people are colorful misty clouds of I don’t even know what,” I blurt, “I just saw a yellow cloud getting kicked by legs cloaked in darkness, and said yellow cloud getting dimmer, and I didn’t have my axe, so I howled. I-I didn’t even know it was you until this morning at the inn.”

   Reth sighs in relief. “Ok, that’s good. You’re not in any danger, though you may wanna keep quiet about being able to see flow signatures like that, unless you want to attract a whole lot of attention from the wrong kinds of people.”

   “So that’s what I’m fucking seeing.” I close my eyes and look at my hands, the red glow almost glittering. “I thought I was losing my shit.”

   The bruised majiri leans closer, his eyes sparkling like the night sky, he whispers, “You losing your shit saved the remaining members of the Keita bloodline.”

   I lean in closer until we’re forehead to forehead, lowering my voice to match his. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Reth pulls back, face flushed, muttering something about needing to toast the garlic and melt the butter. “Sorry, made things awkward,” I smile, hand making its way back into my hair, “Seriously, though, I want to help. I can probably use the whole flow-signature thing to avoid people and make the deliveries on your behalf. Just say the word.”

   “No, it’s not awkward- I mean, it is… But not because I’m not into it. I-” Reth sighs, hand raking through his messy locs, avoiding eye contact while his face is so flushed. “Noodles are done, I think!” The chef steps aside to allow me to inspect his work.

   Admittedly, having to make the noodles from scratch has made the entire dish much fancier than I’m used to. “Can you grab the Parmesan and a grater? I’ll get us bowls.” He does as asked while I dish out heaping portions of the finished dish for each of us. “Add however much you want to yours. I, personally, like to add a lot.”

   “Yes, ma’am! Coming from behind!” Reth seems lighter in his movements and in his expression. I don’t even have to tell him when to stop adding cheese to my bowl: he gets the amount perfect. We clink forks before digging in. “Fuck…” Reth growls, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I’m. So. Sorry.”
  I have to set my bowl down to keep from spilling any with how hard I’m laughing at the flustered mess in front of me. I clear my throat, doing my best impression of the chef in my kitchen. “Phoenix! I know it’s good, but I’ve never gotten that reaction before.”

   “Oh, fuck off.” Reth rolls his eyes, smiling widely at me. “Don’t actually, though. Who else is gonna taste test for me?”

Chapter Text

   As much as I want Reth to stay the night and get some rest, he has work to do while it’s still dark. I can at least let him nap for a bit on my couch, so I do, grateful that the clinking of dishes in the sink doesn’t wake him. I find myself scrubbing the same spot in a bowl for at least a minute, distracted by how soft Reth’s sharp features are when he’s resting. 

   Now that he’s not putting on a show, it’s even clearer just how little he’s been taking care of himself. His twists have been in for so long, where sections start and end have become obscure, and you can tell how old a piece of cord in his hair is just by how faded by the sun it's become. There’s an entire selection that has come undone and has just been brushed back for so long that it almost defies gravity. His chef’s coat is stained and tattered, even missing a button at the top. His shorts are probably just as old, darned in various places in order to keep them together.

   My heart aches as I pull my eyes away from Reth and back to what few dishes remain. Is this how Alex felt? From what I had gathered through our conversation over dinner, the days working with Tish, and overall rumors running through town, Reth spends 18-ish hours a day working, and it’s all physically and mentally demanding. The thought makes me flinch. I had to pull similar hours once, much to Alex’s dismay. I’m so sorry, Alex. Doing this to myself was probably more stressful to you than possibly missing out on anything, huh? 

   “Hey,” a sleep-glazed voice calls, “You alright in there?” The worry lines return to Reth’s face, now that he’s conscious. I cock my head in confusion. “You’re crying.”

   I touch my fingers to my cheeks. Well, shit. Those sure are tears. “Sorry, I’m fine. Just thinking about Alex.” I wipe my face clean and check the time. “If there’s anything you need, and I do mean anything, that’ll help with the debt and all that, please tell me.”

   Reth's brows furrow, his pupils narrowing. “I- I can’t be dragging you into cartel shit. It’s already bad enough that you know what you know.”
  I shrug, using a spare towel to wrap up a couple of containers of noodles. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
  “I’m serious, Athena. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.” Reth’s nails threaten to tear through the pillow he’s gripping, knuckles white from the force.

   “I am a fully-grown adult who is more than capable of making my own decisions. If I get hurt helping you, that’s my own damn fault.” Plus, I doubt the cartel could out-do the shit I had to deal with before. “Now, we’ve gotta get you out the door before you’re late for work.”

   It feels like a funeral march, getting Reth outside. Our moods sour just a bit more the closer he gets to leaving. “One last hug?” The chef holds his arms out to the side, making room for me to go about it however I wish.

   “There will be more tomorrow, and any day after that,” I grumble, snaking my arms around the rogue. His embrace is warm and soft, yet firm all the same. I let my head sink into his chest, taking in the smell of spices and wood fire. Reth sighs into my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine in a way I don’t really mind. The orange glow of our embrace when I shut my eyes reminds me of a campfire. If I could stay like this forever, I would. But I can’t, so I pull away, our hands lingering on each other's elbows. “Goodnight, Reth.”

   “I’ll see you in the morning, Fancy Pants.” Reth breaks our embrace, grabbing the leftovers I’d packed for him before jogging back towards town. I shiver as the last of the warmth from his hug leaves my body, but I don’t go inside until Reth’s out of eyeshot.

   Alone with my thoughts for the first time in a day, I slump down against my door frame. Shit around here is fucked . You have a rapist who can drug you into not being able to speak out about it, a predatory cartel battling a predatory government for victims, and obviously wars are still happening. Ashura’s tags and demeanor are more than enough to show that. All these years later and it’s just the same shit happening, but with different weapons, different species, and different illnesses. I wipe my hands up and down my face before pushing myself back up onto my feet and heading inside.

   I yeet a couple of logs into my fireplace, lighting them using my old bandages as kindling. Despite the roaring flame, I still shiver. The memory of his hand in my hair, the spices, his warmth, all of it is overwhelming in a way I can’t bring myself to hate. It doesn’t help that as I’m sprawled out on my sofa, the chef’s scent lingers. What if he stayed the night… The thought sends flames to my cheeks. “Pull your fuckin’ head out of your ass!” I yell at myself. You barely know the guy. Shamefully, I decide to take the throw pillow with me to bed. Maybe it’ll help me sleep.

   A soft, familiar rapping on my front door causes me to stir. Beams of sunlight enter the main room of my home. The clock on my side table reads 7am. It’s the latest I had managed to sleep in since arriving here. I’m usually out in my garden or clearing out my plot by this time. “Are you alive in there? Auni said you weren’t up yet and got worried.” Hassian’s voice is barely intelligible through my door.

   “I’m alive. Give me a sec to throw something on.” I shout out, quickly throwing on a tank top and some pants. “Come on in, just making some tea!” I start a kettle on my stove, rummaging through my cabinets for the sweet leaf and heat root I had foraged just a few days ago. I hear the door click open, but not the footsteps of the hunter I know to be there. Tau gives my leg a nudge to say hello before curling up in front of the dying embers of my fireplace.

   “I see you’ve been expanding on the cottage.” A slight grin can be seen on Hassian’s face.

   I pull down a couple of cups as well as a shallow bowl, filling the latter before setting it on the ground for Tau. “Just doing my best. Everything’s gonna have to go on pause for a bit until these guys,” I hold my hands up for show, “are back in optimal condition.”

   Hassian’s brows furrow. “They should be ok by now if you’ve been salving them and taking it easy.” I unwrap my hands, setting the used cloth to the side. The hunter comes closer to investigate, barely letting his fingertips come into contact with me as he examines them. “Yeah, you should be more than good to use this.” He reaches under his hood, pulling out a package slightly longer than his forearm. “Mother insisted that I be the one to present you with this.”

   I struggle to contain my excitement as I free my new axe from its leather prison. The Palium blade gleams purple, matching the undertones of the infused wood that makes up the handle. The head, though plain, is exactly as designed, with one side acting as a hammer, the other a blade. The handle was not only adorned with the planned phoenix, but a complex pattern of flames and feathers where it isn’t covered by the gold rings clamped down around the soft, silvery leather that makes up its grip. Oh, that hand feel… “Hass…”

   “If it isn’t up to your standards, I am more than happy to deliver feedback, or even take on the crafting process, myself.”
  “No, it’s fucking perfect.” I toss the axe, allowing it to do a full rotation before catching it again. “The fact that I can do that ,” I repeat my trick, “means I can do exactly what I need to with this.” Resisting the urge to test my throws, I tuck my new tool into its harness. “Thank you. For spilling the beans to Ashura, for delivering this…” I trail off, losing myself in the emerald gaze of the hunter. 

   Hassian adjusts his stance. “It’s really no issue. With you around, it’ll be much easier to control the damage Kenli’s done to the local wildlife population.”

   The kettle whistles, taking us out of the moment. “Want some tea? Nothing’s steeping yet, so your choice as to what you’d like.”

   “Oh, um, no thanks.” Hassian’s demeanor stiffens. It’s like watching a clam shut its shell… wait, what did I do? “Tamala makes the best tea. She makes it special.” Hassian grits his teeth making this statement. Despite his praises, his tone is angry and desperate.

   I nod. “My offer still stands to take her head off.” I drop a few sweet leaves into an empty cup with just a pinch of spice sprout before pouring in the near boiling water. I pour a glass of cool water and place it on the bar, nudging it towards Hassian.

   “I would’ve done it myself if she didn’t have friends in low places.” The hunter refuses the water. “Tau, come on. Athena, you are always welcome to join in my hunts, but please stay away from her .” With that, Hassian and Tau make their exit. I sip my tea.

   After Hassian’s long gone, I bathe myself in the secluded pond on my lot before re-dressing and making my way into town. As-per-usual, Kilima is about as bustling as it gets in a small town. I turn into the green-roofed building to my right. “Athena! I’m so happy to see you! How did dinner with Reth go? I haven’t had the chance to pop into the inn and ask him myself.”
  I smile, slinging my bag off of my shoulder. “It went really well. We ended up making a stupid amount of food, so I brought you a container, along with some silk you said you wanted.”

   Tish does a little happy dance, clapping excitedly as I pass her her meal and the soft material. “Wow, this is high quality stuff! Are you sure I can’t offer you anything?”
  I wave the carpenter off. “Don’t worry about it, unless you happen to have a line on where I can secure a toilet.” Tish tenses, setting down her goods and rubbing her hands together.

   “The only way to get something more… sophisticated…” She trails off, shifting weight between her feet in a way that reminds me of Reth. “You’d have to go to the underground. The tech behind toilets is in a legal gray zone. You won’t get in trouble for having one, but the production and distribution of them…”

   I nod, making a mental note. “I take it that you have to know someone to get down there?”
  “Talk to Zeki, but for Phoenix's sake, don’t make any deals with him. His deals are bad news.” Tish’s eyes are wide with concern, and for just a second, I see her brother in her place.

   Picking my bag back up, I flash Tish a smile. “Don’t worry, I think half the village at this point would kick my ass if I decided to do something that stupid.” She nods, relief flooding her features. “I’ll tell Reth you said hi!” I wave, making my way over to the inn. 

   As usual, it’s too early for Ashura to be downstairs, so I make my way to the bar. I don’t even have the chance to sit before Reth comes running out of the back room to his side of the counter. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to see anyone.” Reth states, clearly stressed. He eyes my axe. “Ok, cool, you’re armed. Can you help me back in the kitchen?” 

   I change course to the kitchen door. Why’s it so important that I’m armed? “What’s up?” I drop as casually as I can. Admittedly, Reth’s anxiety was rubbing off on me. The fact that everything in the kitchen is already prepped and perfectly under control only makes the feeling worse.
  The chef’s voice drops to a whisper, “I’m so sorry. I hate that I’m having to ask this, but I was given a pretty last-second cake delivery to make.” Reth gives me a look. We both know this isn’t about cake. “Ashura doesn’t know anything about my side gig, and to be honest, I’m scared that asking to burn some of my time off out of the blue will just make him suspicious…”

   I decide not to question his logic. “Ok, so where’s this cake and where am I supposed to drop it off?”
  Reth takes a deep breath, swiping the un-locced patch of hair out of his face. “You know, the froggy trash can on the dock?” I nod. “Cake’s currently out there in the elements, but it needs to go out to Tamala in Bahari Bay.”

   “Gotcha. I wanted to track her ass down about something anyways.” I crack my knuckles, fully prepared to deck the witch if necessary.
  Reth grabs my hands, gripping them just a bit too tight for comfort. “Please just drop the cake off and come back. She’s bad news.”
  “I know, Reth. That’s exactly why I need to get closer. I promise I’ll keep myself safe.” It takes a lot of effort to keep my voice low. “I’ll be back before your shift here ends.” Reth lets go of me, but doesn’t step away. Take that, Jesus. No room for you here! I curse my thoughts and the flush they bring to my face.

   Almost instantly, Reth’s face takes on a rosy hue to match my own. “When you come back, wait for me in the storeroom downstairs.” He pulls a leather cord with a key attached from under his coat, placing it around my neck. He gulps as I tuck the key between my breasts. “You’re really saving my bacon here. I owe you.”
  “Bacon sounds really good right now… but if you wanna make it up to me, get a nap in at some point today.” I laugh, making my way out of the kitchen, nearly running into Ashura. “Shit, you’re up early! Thank you for the axe, by the way, I’ve gotta go run and test it out, bye!” I rush out of the inn, not giving Ashura any time to ask any questions. Guilt wrecks me at the half-truth I left with him. I did intend on testing the axe, just maybe not on a tree or a wild animal…
  With how many humans have the habit of quite literally running around town, I fortunately don’t stand out too much while making my way down to the docks. Even more fortunate is the fact that Einar gets so focused on fishing that it’s easy to swipe the package from behind his absolutely adorable trash can. I’ll have to ask Tish about getting one of those. I tuck the box neatly into my pack, making sure not to let it be crushed by my containers of food. Phoenix knows I go through so much food trying to get anything done…

   Retrieving my map, I can see I’m headed towards the northeastern corner of Bahari Bay, somewhere Hassian had understandably made a point of steering clear from. The fastest way there is to go home and take the path out the back of my plot. I only stop to pick up some forageables, in hopes of fooling anyone paying attention to me into thinking I just really like foraging. The wild sundrop lilies are Tish’s favorite, and ginger is good for stomach soothing teas, and as much as I hate the texture, I can make a damn good steak sauce with the morels. Worst case scenario, anyone snooping would have to dig through way too many forageables to even see the cake box.

   Unlike Kilima, everything in Bahari is quiet. Any chaos at this time of day would either happen in town or down in the mines before it got too hot down there to work comfortably. I shut my eyes, looking out for any anthropomorphic flow signatures. Najuma’s white one-legged misty silhouette is but a spec in the distance, and Hodari’s blood-red cloud is deep in the mines. I’d have to thank Caleri for her lecture on star stones and who all was born under what moon phase.
  I allow myself to slow down to a casual walk, taking long sips from my water skin as an excuse to shut my eyes and look out for any unfamiliar signatures. I almost miss the cartoonishly feminine figure behind my eyes, the shadow barely darker than the backs of my eyelids. She’s involved with the cartel, I really shouldn’t be surprised that she can cover her signature like this. I pull my map out, double-checking the marked location. Sure enough, the shadow’s in that direction.

   Shoving my map and water skin back into my bag, I keep my pace towards my target, hands trembling. The overgrown cottage ahead looks like something straight out of the stories of Babayaga, minus the chicken legs, of course. The already crisp air is even more luxurious the nearer I get to the front door. Tamala seems to have plants of various types shoved into any nook or cranny that could possibly be used as a planter. Old boots, dresser drawers, empty cans… I take a deep breath before knocking. Shave and a hair-cut.

   The front door swings open, revealing a short and curvy majiri woman. Her hourglass figure is only further accentuated by her placement of accessories. A holster containing various bottles strapped to her thigh, a belt around the smallest point of her waist, and a necklace whose hourglass pendant seemed to serve to draw your attention to her breasts. Despite the wild, salt and pepper waves on her head, she didn’t look a day over 27. 

   I can feel her eyeing me in much the same way I’m eyeing her. “Special delivery.” I set my bag down, cursing the pile of forageables I have to dig through to retrieve the box.

   “Well, well, picking up odd jobs from Zeki, hmm?” Every word from this woman’s mouth is a purr, low and sultry. Male authors would have a fucking field day describing her. 

   I hand her the box, keeping my voice low. “Just doing a friend a favor.”
  She keeps her hand on mine, tracing circles on the back of my hand. “What a good, helpful, discreet friend. I can think of so many ways you can help me.”
  Fighting the urge to gag, I push the box into her chest. “Take the cake.” My jaw tightens as I snip at the witch.

   “Yes, thank you for my ‘cake’. Of course, I ordered this cake ages ago, but I’m not paying Zeki for speed.” Tamala opens the box and smiles at its contents. “It helps that he sent such a cute delivery person this time, though.” She sets her package on a surface inside her home, biting her lip at me. “You’ll have to stop by and share some of this ‘cake’ with me. It gets so lonely out here, after all. The usual delivery boy’s been avoiding me…”

   I shift my weight, crossing my arms over my chest. A purple trumpet shaped flower catches my eye. ”Is that datura metel?”

   Tamala smirks. “You know your plants. Would you like to see what other ingredients I have? I can make you some tea?” She steps to the side, inviting me into her home. I follow her, making sure to keep my hands away from any unfamiliar or dangerous plants. “None of these are illegal to have, by the way. It’s the trade of these plants and the concoctions I make that can be spotty.”
  I nod. “Datura, opium poppies, lavender, chamomile, ginseng, goat weed…” I’m not sure if I’m speaking more to myself or to Tamala, “Interesting combination of plants. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re making sedatives and aphrodisiacs. Hell, I know guys who’ve died trying to experience the hallucinogenic effects of datura.”
  “It’s a good thing you know better, then.” Tamala shuts the door behind her, caressing a poppy getting ready to bloom. “I didn’t know datura could be that interesting, though. How exactly do you know so much about plants?” Fuck. I gotta shut my mouth.
  I take a deep breath, sighing, “Too much unrestricted internet access and too many friends into party drugs.” I sniff again, a familiar scent reaching my nose. “Do you grow cannabis, too?” 

   Tamala smiles and opens what I had thought to be a closet door. That would really help me get some sleep. “Zaza, darling. No potions master or mystic worth their salt lacks it. For a price, I don’t mind sending you home with some seeds. How does ten grand sound?”
  “Like highway robbery. And you’re not a thief or a con, right?” I smirk. Maybe playing to her vanity will get me a better deal.

   Tamala shuts the door and plops herself onto the kitchen counter. “I’m sure not, lamb. Tell me, what do you think is reasonable?”
  “For a dozen?” I raise my eyebrows, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs at the ankles. “Three grand.”

   The witch scoffs, “Eight.”

   “Four.”
  “Seven.”
  “Five. Take it or leave it.”
  “We have a deal.” Tamala sighs, pulling out an envelope from a drawer, presenting it to me for a sniff before allowing me to grab my gold. “I only sell the highest quality of nature’s bounty, so you know.”
  I place the gold on the table beside me, allowing the witchy bitch to count. “I’ll keep that in mind if I need anything.”
  “Good.” She purrs, handing me the envelope. “Oh, and tell Hassian and Reth I said hello. I’d love to have tea with one of them again sometime soon.”
  My face darkens, and I struggle not to crush the seeds in my hand. “Grow a fucking cucumber plant.” I hiss, charging out the front door. If I stay any longer, I’ll be liable for murder on top of other crimes, and I know it.
  The sun is still high in the sky, meaning I have plenty of time before having to get back to Reth. I had intended to come out to Bahari for the heartwood that only seems to grow here, so I take my anger out on the trees. Unlike its predecessor, the Palium axe makes quick work of even the larger trees. By the time my bag is nearly full, a rogue chappaa decides that stealing from me is a good idea. Ignoring the most recently felled tree, I yeet my axe, imagining a certain petite woman as the source behind the garbled cries.
  I had found plenty of pine cones on the ground on my way to the cottage, so I make sure now, to plant them in the places of the trees sacrificed to my rampage. Hassian and Ashura have both been very clear about how important it is to give back to nature more than what you take. It’s not like I needed that lecture, though. Funnily enough, living on pennies had made me pretty decent at making unsustainable practices sustainable. 

   Can’t afford Tupperware? Well it’s a good thing that the turkey I got for Alex’s sandwiches came in a plastic container. Boss-Man give me a soda? That bottle’s getting re-used until my drinks start to taste funny. Glass bottles leftover from patrons’ beer? Well, they could either become watering bulbs, or I can cut them in half horizontally for cups or planters. Don’t even get me started on all the ways I’d mend and update clothes when thrifting got too pricey.
  Now that I’m having to sustain myself completely, I’m doing my best to not follow in the footsteps of the major corporations that had trashed this planet before. For every tree chopped, a new one goes in its place. I’m rotating my crops to make sure I don’t deplete the nutrients in the soil. I follow Hassian’s guidelines about hunting seasons and which creatures are ok to kill, when. I always release any fish I catch that I don’t intend on actually eating or keeping as pets. The worm bin Einar had gifted me allows me to put any food scraps or excess foliage towards more worms for fishing and more fertilizer to keep my land healthy.
  Going home is still the fastest way into Kilima from where I am in Bahari, so I trudge through the seemingly abandoned mining tunnel. Broken tracks, empty carts, and tools long forgotten litter the tunnel, but the supports appear to be almost brand-new. Hodari must be maintaining this place. I close my eyes and look around, suddenly paranoid I’m being followed. Nothing. There aren’t any figures or any places darker than their surroundings. 

   I take a deep breath and enter my plot, dumping my bag’s contents into a chest haphazardly before picking my tools out of the mess. I’ll have to sort through the mess later, but it is what it is. I make sure to bring a bouquet of sundrop lilies and a bundle of heartwood with me to try and butter up Ashura with. It doesn’t make up for the lies, and I know it, but it’s better than pretending it didn’t happen. 

   Reth’s entire demeanor softens as I enter the inn. I give him a wave before stepping to Ashura’s counter. “I’m sorry for rushing out on you earlier. I, uh, made sure to bring back some of the fruits of my labor, though.” I retrieve the bouquet, sheepishly presenting it to the ex-soldier. “They’re Sabine’s favorite, right? Also, I brought back some wood. Do you have a preference on where I put it?”
  Ashura smiles softly. “Sabine would love these. I’ll have to take them to her when I visit tomorrow.” He plucks a vase from behind his counter, allowing me to dump the remains of my water skin into it before placing the arrangement inside. “As for earlier, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t smooch on my cook while he’s on the clock.” My cheeks flush, and I can hear Reth choking on something from across the room. The images flying through my mind keep me in a state of disarray, fumbling for something to say.
  The inn-keeper’s laughter booms across the inn’s lobby. “Reth, you can step off a bit early. Go help Athena bring these logs to the storeroom.” He knows I don’t need the help, but I don’t protest. It makes getting down there alone with Reth much easier. Reth doesn’t seem to care either, with how quickly he yanks me down the stairs by my bag.
  I pull the key to the storeroom from between my breasts and shove it into the lock, pulling the chef into the room and slamming the door shut behind us. “Ok, what the fuck?” I ask, voice kept hushed to avoid any curious ears overhearing.
  “I-I’m so sorry. He asked why you were in the back with me, I said I needed help in the kitchen, he called me on my shit, so I said I needed a hug, and then, that happened, and I totally get it if you want nothing to do with me right now.” At this moment, Reth could have put an auctioneer to shame with the speed in which he regaled today’s events. “Shit, the delivery! Are you ok? Nothing happened to you?”
  I set my bag down and make myself at home on the table across from the door. The storeroom is cluttered with various boxes of produce, fridges full of meat, and extra linens kept neatly on a dusty shelf in the corner. “The delivery went fine. I told her if she’s so fucking lonely, she can grow some cucumbers.” I take a deep breath, doing my best to quell my rage. “Also, I’m not going anywhere. It’s gonna take a lot more than a harmless rumor to push me away.” I remove my glasses, lifting the lower hem of my tank top up to wipe off the lenses.
  Reth’s cheeks somehow flush harder, the blush extending past his earring to the tips of his ears. “It’s not harmless, though. Eshe already makes it difficult enough for humans to get Palian citizenship. I don’t want to make that any harder for you.” He sits in the chair next to me, doing his best to avoid looking at me.
  “Hey, at least polyamory seems to be the norm here.” I laugh, putting my glasses back on.

   Reth’s eyes go wide. “Wait, are you already seeing someone? Not that it’s my business…” Reth hides his hand in his hair, fiddling with the ties at the ends of his locs.
  I snort a little at the flustered majiri next to me. “No, I’m not.” I ruffle my hand through Reth’s hair. “Not like I have any experience in that department, anyways.” He furrows his brows, looking me over.
  “Seriously?” Reth gets up, his expression telling me exactly how full of shit he thinks I am, and goes over to the kitchenette in the corner. He picks out a few carrots from a box nearby and chucks them into a pot with some vegetable broth.
  I find myself kicking my legs like a kid. “It’s not like I had the time between school, work, and making sure Alex was taken care of.” Did I tell him about my parents?
  “I thought Alex was your brother.” Guess not.
  I familiarize myself with the storeroom’s ceiling, hoping gravity keeps the tears in my body. “He is. Long story short, some drunk asshole killed our parents right after I turned 18. The government gave me custody, and yeah. The combined baggage of being orphaned and having a teenager you’re taking care of didn’t exactly make me more appealing, either.”
  Reth sets his knife down and looks at me. Unlike the pity I’m used to getting from others, his expression is understanding and warm. “The things you do for family, right?” We both chuckle a bit. “Is it bad that I’m happy to have someone I can talk to who actually understands?”

   “Why do you think I came back after the lettuce soup debacle?” I quip, sending both of us into a much-needed fit of laughter.

   Reth lets his voice go low and sultry, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just that handsome?” He wiggles his brows while giving me The Smoulder.
  I hop off of the table, closing in on the flirty chef. Fuck it, if we’re being honest with each other... “Maybe I liked your reaction to my noodles just as much as you like my reaction to the potato soup.”
  “Oh, really?” Reth purrs, pulling our bodies flush. My heart jumps up to my throat as he brushes my hair out of my face.
  My reply is barely more than a whisper, “Really.” I close my eyes, bringing my lips closer to Reth’s.
  HISSSSSS. I jump back at the sound, letting Reth pull the boiling pot from the stove. “Shitshitshit Athena, are you ok?” The chef panics, and I nod, rubbing the spot on the back of my neck. Being cock blocked by soup has got to be a first. “I gotta take care of this. Tish’ll get worried if I miss dinner two days in a row.”
  “I better let you take care of your dinner and stuff,” I mumble, “I need to go talk to the fat cat about some illegal plumbing.”
  “Be safe. I’ll miss you.” Reth can only spare a quick glance at me while salvaging his dinner.
  I make an error to flash a quick smile before saying, “You know where to find me,” and dipping out through the storeroom door.

Chapter Text

   The soft echoes of the water in the port under the inn do little to calm me, but little is better than nothing. It at least slows down my internal monologue enough for me to be able to break down my feelings. I almost kissed Reth. Reth. I’ve known him for barely a week and somehow between then and now, we’ve gotten close enough for him to trust me with Tish’s life, and for me to trust him with my body enough to touch me. Fuck, his hands on my hips… Quickly, I drop to my stomach and scoop up a handful of water to splash my face with, praying it drains the blood from my cheeks.

   Maybe it’s for the best that things didn’t go any further. The whole spilling feelings thing wasn’t exactly planned. Then again, neither was the hug last night. I dry my face on my shirt, not giving a fuck who may end up seeing my bra in the process, before heading upstairs.
  It occurs to me that I don’t usually come by the inn at night, the thought hitting me as I register the uncanny view of Ashura manning the bar, along with a very busy dinner rush. It’s loud and full of so many other humans… I’d run into quite a few, but honestly, with this busy of a night, I’m half-tempted to ask Ashura if he actually does need someone to come work nights. 

   I strain my eyes, looking for any familiar faces. Seated at the sable in front of the bar sit Sifuu, Badruu, and Delailah, their banter loud and slightly slurred. Zeki’s propped against the counter, chiming in on the conversation while nursing a dry martini.
  “Athena,” Sifuu shrieks, “Come drink with us! First round’s on me!” She slams her pint down on the table, miraculously not spilling any.
  I shake my head, waving her off. “I don’t drink, but I appreciate the offer.” Turning to Zeki, I gesture outside. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I’ve got some gold burning a hole in my bag, and I’d like to discuss how I wanna spend it.”
  The grimalkin hums, sipping the last of his drink and nudging the glass towards Ashura. “Hey, you can put that trout dinner on the back burner, pal. I’ve got business to attend to.” Zeki attempts to guide me out of the inn himself, stopping when I cringe away from him. “Relax, sweetheart. I ain’t of the Homo sapien persuasion.”
  I glare at the fat cat. “I still don’t want you touching me.”
  Zeki raises his hands ( paws? ) defensively and laughs, “Fair enough, little lady. My office is downstairs below the store.”
  The walk across the courtyard is tense, and I can feel Tish’s worried eyes on me. I give a wave and pat my harness. She should know by now I’m willing to cut a bitch if necessary. “Word has it, you and Reth are gettin’ chummy,” Zeki smiles in that sickly sweet tone I’d expect to hear from a nosy southern woman.

   My face heats up, and my hand makes its way to the back of my neck. Chummy’s one way to put it. “We just have some relatable life circumstances, that’s all. Before I showed up here, it was just me and my brother. He was chronically ill, like Tish. It’s only natural we’d bond over that sort of thing.” I sigh, hoping the fat cat doesn’t realize I know a bit more than that.

    Murr-ow! The doorbell to Zeki’s shop mews as we cross the threshold. He wordlessly motions for me to follow him behind the counter and into the backroom. “He tell you how much shit he’s in?” Zeki pries, pulling a book from a shelf, causing a secret passageway to open up. He walks through, looking back at me expectantly. If grimalkin body language is similar at all to cat body language, the swishing of Zeki’s fluffy tail means I can consider myself more fucked than a porn star.
  “I can only assume, knowing how much trouble I got myself into back before I died and all.” Not quite a lie. Going down a flight of stairs, I’m lead into an almost perfect replica of the store upstairs, but instead of basic groceries and bag upgrades, pieces of furniture and wallpaper samples litter the space. Beyond the shop is a dank dungeon looking area, fit with prize wheels, arcade games, a fully equipped bar, and a series of hotpot tables surrounded by humans messing with what look like mahjong tiles. “I take it this is the underground I’ve vaguely heard about?”
  Zeki nods, leading me through the main area into a hallway, ushering me into an office with a red door. The suave ‘nice guy’ demeanor drops as soon as the door shuts behind us. “Discretion is very important now, you hear? Wouldn’t want something to happen to you, or the hunter’s mutt.”
  “Whoa, no need for the threats, Zeki. I am more than capable of keeping secrets.” I chuckle. Listing off everything I’m not supposed to know would only weaken my argument.
  Zeki’s pupils narrow, “Oh yeah, like how Reth’s a cartel mule?”

   “He’s what?” My tone is serious yet surprised. I massage the bridge of my nose, taking a deep breath.
  Zeki chuckles, drumming his claws against the heartwood desk. “Cut the shit, kid. Tamala bitched about you telling her off.”

   I throw my hands up, slapping them down on my legs. It takes everything to keep from yelling. “Of course I’m gonna tell someone off if they can’t seem to get it through their thick ass head that I’m not interested.”
  The fat cat’s ears go back, tail switching intensely. His voice is low and gravelly. “She was hitting on you?” I can almost hear him growling.

   I take another deep breath, recalling the day’s events. “Yeah. Kept trying to get me to drink tea, too. Call it a gut feeling, but with how many plants she has with sedative properties, I didn’t feel safe drinking it.” That gut feeling was Hassian, but Zeki didn’t need to know that. If he were to question the hunter, Tamala’s little hex will prevent him from answering honestly.

   “Hmm…” Zeki scrawls a note and tucks it into his coat pocket. “I’ll have to do some snooping of my own.” The air in the room is cold and stale, neither of us knowing what all to say. Eventually the grimalkin does the honors. “So why are you really down here?”

    Fuck, I’d almost forgotten. “I need a toilet. Like, one that goes inside my house. I don’t need anything fancy like a bidet or a heated seat.” 

   He raises his eyebrows, skeptical. “Just a toilet? You ain’t tryna pry into Reth’s contract?”

   I shake my head. “I wanna help Reth in any way I can, but in terms of money, I probably barely have enough to buy a toilet right now. It’s not like I’ve had the time to go mining or even smelting down any ore.”

   “Fair enough, kid. As for the latrine, your options are simple. Bellflower or Ravenwood.” Zeki pushes a catalogue towards me, highlighting the two toilets. “As for Reth, though, I can’t have you delivering any more packages. Not until the funny business with Tamala’s sorted.”

   I nod, pointing at the Bellflower Toilet. “I’ll take this one.” I pull my gold out, depositing nearly all of my savings so far into the grimalkin’s paws. I must have a look on my face or something, because Zeki seems almost sad taking my money.
  “Say, kid, what’d you do for work before winding up here?” His eyes glint with curiosity.

   Once again, I’m rubbing the back of my neck. I chuckle, “Funnily enough, I was a bartender at an axe throwing facility.” I pat my axe, “This is actually a replica of the one I used to threaten rowdy customers with. Before that, I was dealing cards at a casino.”

   I’m unsure of how to feel about the mischievous expression on Zeki’s face. He rummages through the belongings in his desk drawer, pulling out a fountain pen and a blank employment contract. “Between you and me, I was never cut out to be a mean ol’ Tom of a boss. I ain’t got the pull or the money though to buy him out completely.” The man scrawls some basic conditions. “Say Reth needs a good night’s rest, or hell, has a lot of deliveries to make,” he starts, eyeing me, “What would you say to covering the bar? Just from midnight to three on the nights Reth needs some extra sleep.”

    The offer seems too good to be true… I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. “That’s gonna depend on whether the pay’s still going towards his debts.”

   Zeki nods, highlighting a chunk of text for me to read over. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I wouldn’t do anything to get him into deeper shit. It’d be just like he’s behind the bar, only I don’t mind if you get a little mouthy with the customers.” He stares expectantly, nudging the pen towards me. 

   Sure enough, the contract is exactly what he says it is. No specified nights to work, only that I cannot be working at the same time as Reth. My pay is to match Reth’s standard pay, and is to go towards his debts. No branding required, no uniform mandated, and a clause allowing me to deal with particularly disruptive clients as I see fit. Not a single loophole in the fine print. Reth’s probably gonna kill me… Picking up the pen, I find the places I need to sign, scrawling my signature where required. “Please let me be the one to tell him. I think he’d have a heart attack if you told him.”

   Weather in the Midwest has always been a bit difficult to predict, especially as spring yields itself to summer. One day you have beautiful 65 degree weather, the next, overbearingly hot and humid conditions that would make Satan blush, only to then be followed by torrential downpours that may or may not drop a tornado or two along the way. Today is a mix of the latter two, unfortunately: overbearingly hot and humid, with the rain only adding to the humidity.

   With my parents out having dinner with clients, Alex spending the night with friends, and a night free from my own fast-food hell, I found it to be the perfect time to make some progress in the main campaign of Smash Ultimate. Yeah, it’s been about a year since its release, but most of my hours have gone into showing Alex up in Smashketball, or messing around with creating custom mii characters. To be honest, being able to kick the ass of a middle schooler didn’t exactly mean much, but it was still fun to rile him up regardless. 

   I’d been stuck trying to unlock Link, the last time I went through World of Light. Statistically, the odds are about fifty-fifty in the competitive scene, but I’d been rolling bad. The reinforcements are distracting, and the extra explosive power made it easier for me to get knocked off of the stage. My choice to main Kirby was specifically to avoid falling off of the stage as much as possible.

   So far this time, I’ve managed not to fall off the stage, and vore most of the reinforcements before they become an issue. I’m down a stock, but Link, possessed by Lilina, is down 2 and at a higher damage percentage. I jump, avoiding Link’s side B before using Kirby’s down B, the damage just enough to send Link flying from the stage into the screen. “FUCKING FINALLY!!!” I yell, startling my cat. I pick up the fluffy little Siamese and squeeze her, much to her dismay. “I finally did it, baby!” I coo, kissing her cute little forehead.

   A knock at the door sends Bong Water flying into the air. She never cared for strangers, and I know better than to try and catch her or restrain her when she’s spooked. Turning to the front door, red and blue lights catch my attention. Did Alex and his friends go do something stupid? I sigh, running my hands through my hair before opening the door. “Excuse me, are you Athena Hawthorn?” A slightly soggy cop inquires. His partner is just behind him, and just as wet.

   My eyes narrow. The cops around here have never been great at the whole ‘upholding basic human rights’ thing. I keep my tone flat and respectful. “That depends on if you have a warrant.”

   The officer’s brows come together, mouth falling further into a frown. “Miss, believe me, I think we’d both prefer if it were something like that.”

   “What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice cracks, panic starting to set in. “Did something happen to my brother? I told him to call me or text me if he needed anything.”

   The second officer chimes in. “He’s not here with you?”

   “No, why?” My heart feels like it’s going to break my rib cage. I can feel my hands trembling, rattling the doorknob I’m somehow still gripping.

   “I’m afraid your parents were in an accident.” I don’t even register who is talking. I’m too busy trying not to puke. The sad expressions, no sirens, but the lights are on, and there are exactly two officers.

   I struggle for words, only barely managing to croak out a question, though it sounded more like a statement. “What.”

   “There was a collision at an intersection downtown. They were already gone when…” Everything seems to freeze. I’m looking down at myself and the two police officers as they continue to explain what’s going on. I don’t even know when I called Alex, or if someone else got a hold of him. My body registers him holding me, screaming and crying, but I can’t feel a fucking thing. No tears, no anger, no sadness. There’s nothing and if I had the capacity for hate right now I know I’d hate myself for not shedding a tear.

   For the next few weeks, I’m on autopilot. Wake up, make sure Alex has food for the day, go to work, come home, apply for better paying jobs, clean up, check on Alex, go to bed. I can’t even remember planning the funeral, just that none of our extended family members offered anything more than criticism for every little detail. An old family friend would sometimes come by with casseroles for us. I’d later found out that he paid months in advance into our utility bills to make things easier on us.

   The state wanted to take Alex away, saying I’m too young, that I’d be ruining my future by trying to parent a teenager while barely an adult, myself. Who are they to make that call for me, though? Alex has always been a good kid. Good grades, active in his school’s chess club, always offering to help out those who need it. By all means, once he had started middle school, the bullying for being diabetic stopped. Alex didn’t want to leave my side. He had a hard enough time while I was working, absolutely terrified that I’d end up getting hurt coming home from work.

   As for me, I’d managed to secure myself a full-ride even with extracurriculars and a part-time job since I turned 16. It wasn’t easy, but what is? With me being 18, I had the ability to get better jobs, even if it’s just becoming a shift lead instead of a normal associate. I’d had a sizable amount of savings, and could prove that I’d been helping with Alex’s diabetic care of my own volition since I could be trusted with a needle. I pleaded with the judge that by taking my baby brother away from me, they’d break me. He’s all I had left, my sole source of drive at this point.

   We continued to share our bathroom, refusing to touch anything in the master suite, lest it wipe our parents away from our lives any more than they already have been. I managed to just barely keep my scholarship. We dipped into our savings and invested in an insulin pump. The doctor said it was top of the line, still in the process of being approved in the US, but it’d been approved for use in the EU for years at that point. Insurance wouldn’t cover it just yet. It was hard enough just getting therapy covered for the two of us past a few weeks.

   None of it was easy. There were nights I’d break down and pull my hair out. I eventually shaved it for the convenience as well as my own benefit. Alex would sometimes curl up in bed with me, unable to sleep without nightmares. I taught him how to drive, just like how I taught him to ride a bike. I let him have my car, and I bought an old motorcycle to fix up. My income got to be too high for the state to be willing to continue insuring us, and I had to start paying for Alex’s medications on my own. Our high school was kind enough to save chairs for mom and dad, allowing us to place portraits of them in their seats next to mine. They’d be so proud of their boy. 

   One day, I collapsed at work. I hadn’t been sleeping well, and on top of school I’d been working multiple part-time jobs. I guess between all of that, I’d forgotten to eat enough. Alex didn’t stop screaming at me for hours, demanding I take better care of myself. “You’re the only fucking person I have left. Please don’t let yourself go. I love you.”

   Tears stain my cheeks, nightmares of some of the worst memories continuing to haunt me in my waking hours. There isn’t anything interesting about my ceiling, despite what my staring would tell you. I can hear Tau barking in the distance, so when Hassian comes to the door, I’m not surprised at all. “Come in,” I croak. I passed out in my clothes last night, exhausted from dragging an entire toilet across Kilima and up into my apartment. It hasn’t even been installed yet. I’m lacking the materials to even start building another room.

   Tau finds me before Hassian does, running around my divider and pouncing onto the bed. He plasters my cheeks and forehead in slobbery kisses, making me laugh, just for a bit. “Are you alright back there,” Hassian asks, “I brought some wood from my muujin hunt yesterday, but if you’re not feeling well, it wouldn’t be any trouble for me to run into town to get you some soup.”

   I have to push the hyper plumehound off of me before I can sit up. “You’ve been really generous lately, thank you.” I stretch and wipe the dog slobber from my face, putting on my glasses before going into the open area of the house. “I’m not sick, though. Just missing my family is all.” Hassian’s leaning against the frame of the front door, eyes glued to the floor. “You’re allowed on my couch, you know?” I chuckle.

   The hunter snaps his head towards me. “Right, sorry. I’ll sit. I’m not all that good with conversation, but if you need someone to listen, I’m here.” He does as he says, resting firmly on the side still missing its cushion. Tilting his head back, his eyes meet mine. “I’m serious. I wouldn’t judge you for needing someone to talk to.” I sit on the back of the couch, gripping the edge as I slide back, allowing myself to sit upside-down. Hassian’s amusement isn’t lost on me.

   “Honestly, I thought that when I died I’d see my parents again. I-,” I sigh, struggling to gather the words to express my thoughts, “Being here has thrown my entire fucking belief system out the window. For all I know, my parents have been here for the past eight years wondering how their kids are doing. Just like I’m stuck wondering if Alex is ok.”

   Hassian nods, staring through my fireplace. “I didn’t realize you had died. I apologize for assuming something else happened.”
  I snort a little. “It’s not like you had any way of knowing without me saying anything.”

   The hunter’s brows crease the skin between them. He hesitates for a second before asking, “Do I have your permission to ask how it happened?” Twice now, I’ve seen him looking genuinely scared.

   “I got blown up. I failed to make it into the bunker in time, a bomb fell, blew pieces of me away and impaled the rest onto a steel door with its shrapnel. Then, poof! I’m here, fully intact and unmarred.” My tone is casual, only because I can’t change what happened. The events have replayed in my head over and over and over. Even just the course of a week it became a lot easier to deal with. It’s like being forced to watch the same horror movie over and over and over until you have every scary noise, every jump scare, and every plot twist ingrained into your memory. 

   I look over to my right, Hassian’s eyes wide with his own horror, jaw slack. He’s still like a sernuk ready to bolt. I reach up, patting his arm in an attempt to console the majiri. “Hey, it’s in the past. Over three-thousand years in the past from your perspective.”

   “But for you, this was only a week ago.” Hassian’s scowl somehow deepens.

   “Correct.” I give finger guns, still trying to lighten Hassian’s mood.

   He snorts, shaking his head. “Well, this certainly explains your disdain towards explosions.” I nod, barely putting the pieces together myself.

   A thought makes me grimace, so I vocalize it.“Honestly, dying wasn’t even the worst part. It was leaving Alex alone. We were all we had, Like Reth and Tish.”

   A darkness cloud’s the hunter’s face. “Except you aren’t a criminal,” he mumbles.
  I swing my legs around, allowing myself to sit right side up. “Not sure which of the two you’re calling a criminal, but prostitution wasn’t legal when I was alive, meaning technically I am a criminal. Had there been any real sort of order where I was, any cop or soldier could’ve arrested me for selling myself. Then again, had there been any sort of order, I wouldn’t have had to sell myself.” I wrap my arms around my torso, unwanted memories forcing their way through my head.

   “I mean, that’s not harmful, though. As long as everyone involved is a consenting adult, there’s nothing wrong with sex work. It’s not like you were trafficking unstable substances likely to blow up and wipe out towns, like Reth is.” Hassian pleads with me. My jaw tightens.

   Being careful to keep control of my voice, I ask, “Ok, well, what if he’s doing it because of Tish’s illness?”

   Hassian shrugs, “I thought that the country air helped. Either way, flow is illegal for a reason.” This motherfucker…
  My eyes narrow, anger starting to bubble in my gut. “Ok, so in the situation where Tish is all he has left, you expect Reth to stand by and not exhaust every option, legal or not, to try and save her?” 

   The hunter puffs his chest out, weighing his possible responses. “As harsh as it sounds, if her illness is so serious that legal medications are unable to help, maybe it’s best that natural selection takes its course.”

   My whole body trembles as I fight the urge to scream at the man. My hands grip the loose fabric of my pants legs, clinging onto them like they’re the only thing keeping me from flying off the handle. I can hardly bring myself to whisper, “By that logic, I should’ve let Alex die.”

   Hassian’s eyes go wide, “Athena, that’s not-”

   I stand and face him, letting my anger be known in full force. “That’s exactly what you’re saying, though. I fucking sacrificed everything to try and keep my brother from dying a slow and agonizing death.” I pace in front of my fireplace, trying and failing to calm myself down. “You know how far I went for Alex and even with the knowledge of how gruesome the process of dying is, I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping him from meeting an early grave.”

   “I’m sorry.” Hassian’s eyes are stuck on the floor, shoulders drooped and his elbows on his knees.

   Taking a breath, I can finally keep a level tone. “You should leave. Spending time together is likely to result in me saying something I may regret. Unless it’s for professional reasons, I do not wish to be around you, and I don’t know if that’s something that’ll change.”

   Hassian scowls and looks away, no doubt hoping I didn’t see his eyes watering. “Right. I’ll respect your boundaries.” He stands, patting his leg, signalling to his companion. “Tau, come on.” The plumehound whines, digging himself underneath my covers.

   I sigh, “He’s fine. I’ll make sure he’s got food and water while he’s here.” 

   Hassian nods, making his way to my door. “You know where the grove is if he’s being too much.” And with that, he leaves.

   Alone again, I curl up into a ball on my floor and let the tears flow. Is this how everyone thinks of Reth? Is this how people were thinking of me and Alex? My sobs get heavier, causing Tau to start pawing at me, planting slobbery dog kisses on my shoulders and the top of my head. Did he have anyone to look after him? Was he able to look after himself? The pain in my chest multiplies, my throat going between tightening and threatening to expel whatever may still be in my stomach. I’m so fucking sorry, Alex. I’m sorry I left you behind. I’m sorry you had to listen to me die. I’m so fucking sorry… Vision blurs, and I can barely register Tau wriggling his way into my arms before my world goes dark.

   A cold cloth presses itself against my forehead, doing very little to soothe the searing headache. I want to jolt up and figure out where I am and what’s happening to me, but my body may as well have been solid lead. I must’ve moved enough to alert whoever is pampering me, though, as the patting of the cold cloth stops for a moment. “Phoenix’s child, are you awake?” The voice is deep, distinctly male, with that gravel that only comes with age. 

   I can barely muster the strength to give an affirmative grunt, “Mmnn.” The smallest sound sends fire down my throat, making me wince.

   “Is your throat sore? One squeeze for no, two for yes.” The man places my hand in his, and I squeeze twice. “If I may help you sit up, I can prepare you a tea to drink to help with the pain.” Yes. The man sets my hand down before shuffling away. I open my eyes, only to be met with wet fabric. “I’m going to remove the cloth from your forehead, now. You may find the room to be a bit bright.” Sure enough, the man does as he says, allowing me time to adjust to the world around me.
  The man is majiri, pale and thin, appearing almost like an alternate universe’s grown Aang, but with small, round glasses that only seem good for reading through. “I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before this, but I have noticed your dedication to the Phoenix. My name is Chayne. I am Kilima’s healer and priest of Maji. Your fluffy friend sought me out.” He gestures to my feet, where Tau is curled up, fast asleep. “You were on the floor, bleeding and unconscious. Your arms are salved and bandaged, but you are feverish and dehydrated.”

   Sure enough, looking at my arms, they’re wrapped up. It takes much effort, but I start to lift myself to a sitting position. Chayne offers his arm for me to use for support, making sure, now that I’m conscious, not to touch me without express permission. Tau pops his head up, glancing at us before returning to his nap. “This tea is made with ginger and brightshroom. It may not have the best flavor, but it is incredibly effective.” The healer hands me a warm mug. It smells like warm ginger, the steam alone providing a small measure of relief. I sip slowly, humming with the sweet relief. Its flavor is unaffected by the unfamiliar mushroom, and I had always loved ginger tea growing up.

   By the time I finish my drink, I can get my voice up to a whisper without pain. “Thank you for taking care of me. I-I think I had a bad panic attack. Like, a really bad one. I don’t think I’ve had one this bad before…” Chayne gives a soft smile, the same way a parent would when seeing their child recovering from a cold. 

   “Speak that which ails you, child of Embra,” the priest soothes, “I'm here to help with whatever troubles you, body or soul.” He takes my cup, replacing it with a cool glass of water before re-seating himself.

   I shake my head and sigh, “I’m just coming to terms with the possibility that I got myself killed, only for my brother to die horribly anyways.” Chayne’s eyes go wide. I give him the much-needed context of my having intact memories of before, as well as how I died. “... and then I was talking to Hassian about everything, and he had the fu-” I stop myself short of swearing, “He had the gall to say that I should have just let him fend for himself, or essentially just let him die.”

   Chayne nods, seemingly disappointed. “I apologize. I thought I had taught the young man better empathy skills. It seems that Tau at least has maintained his large heart.” He pauses, brows furrowed as in lost in thought. “Per-chance, do you happen to be Athena? The human whose skills with an axe rivals their fear of explosives?”

   I freeze. Fuck, I forgot to introduce myself. “Welp, guess I forgot to introduce myself. That is me, though.” I sigh. “I’m surprised I’ve managed to make such an impression already.”

   The healer’s laugh is warm and soft. “This is a small town, and its villagers speak their troubles to me. Ashura has been very concerned for you, and I’m afraid I have to agree with one of his assessments of you.” My stomach drops. Does Ashura know I’m doing some less-than legal shit? Chayne seems to sense my panic, giving a soft smile. “Child, have you ever heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? It’s most commonly seen in soldiers and refugees of extreme violence or destruction.” I nod. “I believe you may be experiencing that very illness. Your behaviors are much like Ashura’s were when he first returned to Kilima post-retirement. This, along with what I have seen and heard around Kilima, makes me believe you may be ailed with the same condition. With time and the right therapeutic measures, the effects can be made less severe.”
  “Yeah, that’d explain a lot. And therapy is definitely a ‘go’.” I glance out the window, realizing the sun has started setting. “It’s getting late. I don’t want to keep you out for too long.”

   Chayne raises a hand. “Worry not. One does not abandon another in need simply because the hours may be inconvenient. If you’d prefer I left you to rest, though, please know that my home is on the path to the right, coming down the mountain. I’ll leave you some more salve and bandages, along with some dried ingredients for tea.”

   I nod. “Thank you.”

   “Of course, Embra-born. May the dragon smile upon you.” With that, the wise old man takes his leave, Tau following behind him.

Chapter Text

   The bar’s slow, as it usually is on a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of the school year. The Boss-Man had given me general permission to fuck around and do what I need to do, so long as all of my tasks are done and customers served in a timely manner, so on nights like these, I’d draw. With the free time this gig had given me, I’d not only been able to start drawing again, but I’d even managed to get some commissions from some furries I met on Discord.
  “Slow night, huh?” Dan laughs, seeing me jump at his sudden intrusion.
  It takes me a moment to catch my breath. “Fucking hell, you need to start wearing a bell or some shit!” I set down my pencil, realizing I’d had it primed to stab a bitch. “Seriously, I could’ve hurt you.”
  The man sits, gesturing to my sketchbook. “Yeah, yeah. Let me see what you’re cooking this time.” I pass him the book, along with my pencil, for him to lightly mark anything he sees flawed in my work. “This a part of a commission?”
  I shake my head. “Nah, just practicing dragons. One of these days I wanna get a tattoo of one wrapped up my arm.” Dan nods, flipping through the pages, including the ones with less-than appropriate art scrawled on them. “Sir, those aren’t for the public eye.” I warn.
  “Kid, you’ve got some major skills. If the whole immunologist shit doesn’t work out, I’d be more than happy to take you on as an apprentice.” Dan’s expression is serious. “You’ve got a real knack for art. It’d be a shame for your talents to get rusty again.”

   My hand makes its way into the hair at the nape of my neck, face flushed. “I’ll keep that in mind. If it makes you feel any better, I’m drawing chemical compounds every day at the very least.” I wouldn’t have admitted it then, but Dan had just offered me my true dream job. I push that thought down, though. My parents wouldn’t have wanted me to drop out, especially after all the work I’ve put into my degree. It’s not that I don’t like what I’m studying, it’s just that the only reason I care is the hope of possibly making Alex’s life easier, and everyone can tell.

   Dan nods. “I can always see if my hubby’d be ok with me poaching you. That way, I can train you up for you to open your own parlor with all the money you’ll make from curing your brother.” I shrug, tucking my notebook back under the counter.
  A shrill alarm rings from our phones. Almost in unison, Dan and I whip them out. My blood runs cold at the message:

📢 EMERGENCY ALERT
Date: September 10, 2027
Time: 18:36 CST

⚠️ NATIONAL EMERGENCY – IMMEDIATE THREAT

MISSILE WARNING: Long-range missiles have been launched from multiple military bases across Canada and are currently en route to U.S. territory.
Impact expected in northern U.S. states within approximately 12–18 minutes. Estimated time of arrival (ETA): 18:48–18:54 CST.

All U.S. citizens are urged to seek immediate shelter . This is not a drill .

Shelter in place, avoid windows, and move to the lowest and most central part of your building. If available, use a basement or reinforced area.

Monitor official news sources and emergency channels for updates.
Further instructions will follow as information becomes available.

Issued by: United States Department of Homeland Security
Integrated Public Alert & Warning System (IPAWS)

   Since the current administration took office, any attempts at keeping the US out of armed conflict with literally anyone became practically impossible. We’d been in Iran in an official capacity for a while. The other nations of the world have been creating alliances and contingencies for should the US start to attack nations presently at peace. There had been an increase in the number of incidents happening basically anywhere someone could legally enter the US. The number of queer or otherwise minority-owned space began to get attacked. A few gay bars up in Chicago fell victim to these attacks. Dan Squared would joke that the only reason our bar was safe was that “Not even the craziest sons o’ bitches would think it’s a good idea to attack a bar full of axe throwing queers.” I’d always thought it was because out of context, both of the Dans looked like they’d be the type to shamelessly throw out slurs to anyone who wasn’t a cis straight white man.
  “Tell Boss Man to meet us at the bunkers under the dorms. I’m calling Alex and telling him the same.” My voice is as icy as the blood in my veins. Dan doesn’t protest, making the command to Siri before I’m even done talking. I grab my helmet from the back room, ditching my leathers. If I don’t die from the slide, I’m gonna be fucking dead from the bombs soon after anyways. I notice Alex’s name pop on my phone right as my helmet’s Bluetooth functions pair. “Hey, I’m headed to the bunker with Dan. I’ll meet you there.”
  The noise on Alex’s end is almost indiscernible. I wave Dan over as my bike’s engine roars to life. “Glad we’re on the same page. Just grabbing my meds n’ shit first. Love you. Bye.” My brother’s voice comes through the chaos, and like that, he hangs up. Love you too, bastard. Dan runs over, his bag containing a couple of axes and some handheld whetstones.
  “Take the side road. The Boss says our usual route is fucked.” Dan directs, effortlessly mounting the bike before wrapping his arms around my torso. My tires squeal as we tear out of the lot. With traffic mostly going towards the school, I turn into the lanes only sparsely carrying drivers going the right direction. Sirens filled the air, wailing louder than the screams of my engines and the people panicking. The police are trying, and failing, to control traffic. Guns fire in the distance. Some with less-than legal firing patterns.
  A car swerves towards us, having the clever idea to copy our tactic, but lacking the ability to check their blind spot. Dan screams, leaning into me hard as I dodge the stupid Mercedes. Tears stream down my face. Traffic only gets worse the closer we get to campus. Strangers trample each other, desperate for the main entrance. We weave through the gridlocked traffic until the cars are too packed for us to go forwards. I don’t even bother turning off the bike before ditching it.
  Instead of following the crowd towards the primary entrance, I pull Dan towards the dorms. There aren’t many following us, just a few straggling students. My legs are on fire. I hadn’t had to run like this since high school, and these shoes were anything but comfortable to run in.

   18:45, we make it into the building. No signal in the bunker. Can’t call Alex. Can’t reach the Boss Man. 18:47, tried looking around for the pair, no dice. Campus Police are ordering the doors be shut. 18:48, Dan and Alex barely squeeze through the doors. 18:49, the ground trembles, dust falls from the ceiling. Power flickers. People scream. Others cry. Couples, Dan Squared included, kiss like it’s the last they’ll ever share. It may very well be. It’s okay, you’re safe. Just this once everyone in my life fucking makes it.

   Sweat beads down my forehead, mixing with tears. My arms sting like hell, scabs limiting my range of motion. I push through the pain, stretching my sore muscles thoroughly, getting a few good joint pops in the process. The sun’s just barely rising. My clock reads 5am. Sighing, I grab my privacy screen, a change of clothes, and my soaps. If I’m gonna be up this fucking early, I way as well get an everything bath in.
  Unsurprisingly, the pond is fucking freezing, not yet having had the opportunity to be warmed once again by the sun. Regardless, once my body adjusts, the temperature is soothing. I lather my shampoo bar in my hair, digging my nails into my scalp just enough to keep from tearing any hair out in the process. Rinsing is as simple as dunking myself under the water and holding my breath, massaging out any potential residue. A makeshift dock I’d built not long after coming here serves as the best place to stop and scrub my body while I let the conditioner set. I rub the wet, soapy cloth against my skin, taking care not to aggravate my scabs while cleaning around them.
  Unlike my dreams, the morning is quiet and peaceful. Just the sounds of birds, the occasional frog, and my morning bath. I’d never been a morning person before. I’m still not, in all honesty, but it’s easier to just get up with the nightmares than to attempt to fall asleep, hoping for sweeter dreams. I shake myself free of some of the excess water clinging to me before drying myself off and getting dressed. I’ve barely gotten my pants on by the time Auni comes trekking up the path from town.
  “Athena! Boy, am I glad to see you. I just caught the coolest bug on the way here. Do you wanna see it?” I smile at his enthusiasm. It’s not like Auni would give me a choice, anyways. He shoves a jar in my face, rambling about some story of a princess long since passed. “You should have it! Reth said you had a drawing of one on your wall!”
  My heart melts just a little. I don’t like handling bugs as much as the preteen before me, but I can appreciate their appearance. I’d noticed one near the docks when I’d been speaking with Einar about getting a fishing rod, and made a small sketch on a piece of scrap paper. The fact that Reth noticed, but didn’t say anything… I’ll have to unpack that later. “I do. I think they’re pretty, and while I appreciate your offer, I don’t think I’d be a very good caretaker for the little guy.”
  Auni shrugs, “That’s fair. If I bring you some cool bugs, can you draw them for me? I’ll pay you!” The hyper kid jumps with excitement. “Oh, right! You’ve got mail!” The large bag Auni carries is dropped to the ground with an unceremonious thud. He riffles through the sack, pulling out multiple letters, thrusting them towards me. “I gotta deliver the rest of this stuff. Let me know if you draw anything cool!”
  As soon as the letters are in my hand, he takes off towards my neighbors’ plots. Most of the letters are thanks containing recipes for pigments to use for stucco walls. There’s the typical advertisement junk from Zeki, as well as general town news. “Maji Market Returns Tomorrow!” The headline grabs my attention, as well as the illustrations of chappaa absolutely everywhere and a notice in bold at the bottom: “No weapons are allowed outside of the Pop-A-Chappa event.” Gee, I wonder who that’s targeted towards.
  I head inside, tossing the junk mail into my kindling bin. The pigment recipes go into my storage, save for one: Citrine Yellow. The color’s the same golden glow I’d started to feel safe in. A sunrise after spending so long in the dark. Almost as if on cue, my stomach growls. I check the shipping bin and almost choke on my own spit at the amount of gold inside. A little over 60,000 gold. I double-check the ledger attached, and as I thought, there should only be about 15k. As I’m fumbling the large sack, I notice the ledger has a note written on the back. “I am not asking for your forgiveness. My words were wildly inappropriate and inconsiderate. If this can do anything to help him, please pass it on. If not, I’m sure you have a good use for it. -H.”
  Too many questions flood my brain. Where did Hassian get the money? Why the sudden change of heart? It’s not like Chayne had enough time to run all the way to the grove, and the damn hunter never stays out late. Why is he giving the money to me, and not Reth? I rub the bridge of my nose, pushing up my glasses in the process. It’s best not to look gift horses in the mouth, I guess. Smaller chunks of change would be easier to carry around and disperse without alerting anyone too high up the chain of command. Anyone higher than Zeki finding out that Reth blabbed will just land him another ass beating.
  I finish dragging the fat sack into my home, stowing it under my bed for now. I take my honest earnings, plus a few thousand gold. I’d planned on going to the Inn for breakfast anyways. Now I can tip Reth extra. I’ll probably end up doing the same in the underground, assuming he doesn’t need me to cover for him. Nothing wrong with me tipping myself, though, right? Anything I’d make would go to his debt anyway.
  I check my bag, making sure that I have everything. Coin? Check. A few logs and some produce? Check. A couple of sundrop lilies for Tish and Ashura? Check. My tools? Check. Some repair kits wouldn’t hurt, either. Satisfied with the contents of my pack, I give myself one more look over in the mirror.
  The clothes that had once fit my form perfectly were now all wrong. My pants are tight around my ass and thighs while the waist is loose. If my shirt had sleeves it probably wouldn’t have fit anymore. My arms had gained a significant amount of muscle mass from all of the labor I’ve been doing. Admittedly, I flex a little bit, awestruck by just how different my body had become since my rebirth. I clench my pectorals and my chest responds. Embra’s flaming ass feathers I can do the chest thing what the fuck?!? I bounce my chest up, one tit at a time, giggling a little bit at the sight.
  I shake myself out of my thoughts, running out into my tent to check my fabric stores. I’d been running my looms on overtime, contributing a chunk to Tish when I could. I haven't had the time to craft the furniture I intend to eventually make, but I can always get more fabric. I’d be shit out of luck if my back seam busts before that happens though. Carefully, I tuck all of my fabric into my bag, along with some lake lotuses. Jel seems to like them, according to the whispers around town. Satisfied that I’ve got everything I’ll need for the day, I jog down the path towards town.

   Not too many people are out and about yet. Zeki gives me a nod from his home in the distance, holding a cup of coffee. Much like with the general store, all the shops in town operate on a system of trust after hours. I drop a sundrop lily in one of the vases in the furniture store along with a note thanking Tish for the standard stucco recipe, after all, I’ll definitely be experimenting with 3D wall designs. Aside from Auni running around and the faint barking of Tau in the distance, nobody really seems to be around yet.
  Jel’s shop is quiet, the record player that usually sends soft melodies into the town hall sitting empty. I look around, hoping to at least find a sign containing the hours of operation. Nothing. I sigh, brushing my hands through my hair. I’d go eat, but if it goes to my ass at all- “Oh, dear Dragon!” A dramatic voice starts from upstairs, “It seems sleep has evaded me for good reason!” The purple haired man rubs the exhaustion from his eyes, readjusting his rose-tinted spectacles. Before I know it, Jel’s down the stairs, pulling a clipboard from a drawer in his desk. “Now, I’m afraid it’s rather obvious that those pants are far too tight in the areas between your hips and knees, but are there any other areas you’re having fit issues?”
  I shift uncomfortably. I know they’re tight, but is it that bad? “I mean, the waist is loose, but I have a belt for a reason.”
  Jel hums, taking notes. “I’ll have to grab my dear muse to take your measurements. It’s a personal policy that I only get that close to female clientele for fittings, for their comfort. Wait, how rude of me. Do you identify as female? If not, I offer gender-affirming undergarments and always make sure my designs can be worn on as many body types as I can.” The tailor rolls his pen between his fingers.
  “My sex is female and I don’t have any issues with it, though I wouldn’t be opposed to a couple of extra bras that hold these,” I gesture to my chest, “a bit closer to my body.”
  “Ok, two, no, three more questions before I fetch my beloved. Do you have any sensory issues I need to avoid? If so, what are they? Also, do you prefer a relaxed fit, or something more form fitting?”
  “Nothing touching the back of my neck, and no preference on fit.”
  A smile creeps up on the tailor’s face. “You’re giving me quite a bit of flexibility. Go ahead and look through my catalogue. If anything strikes your fancy, let me know upon my return. If in any case there’s nothing that catches your eye, I’d be more than happy to discuss a custom design.” He hands me a leather-bound booklet full of colorful illustrations, every outfit drawn on masculine and feminine forms alike.
  My stomach sinks. “We haven’t even discussed payment, yet,” I say dejectedly.
  “You’re one wrong move away from introducing the town to your derrière. If you lack the funds and or the material to barter with, we can work something out after you’re no longer at risk of incurring a fine for public indecency,” Jel rebukes, adjusting his neckerchief in the mirror before exiting the building. Sassy motherfucker, he is. I dig it.
  I turn my attention back to the catalogue. Some of the designs are familiar. I’ve seen some of the other humans running around wearing them. The glittering of the Sylph set can’t possibly be obtained by legal means. The Magic and Maji collection catches my eye, with nods to familiar classes like Rogue and Bard, as well as some unfamiliar. The Stealth design of the Infiltrator set piques my interest. Long sleeves would be nice for the colder weather, and the long coat overall makes me feel kinda like Blade. The pants and boots leave something to be desired, though, so I keep flipping through the pages. Wait, what the fuck are these?
  My attention is grabbed by a large spread. Two outfits, one masculine and one feminine, decorate the page. There’s over double the color options, but wait… Those pants from the masc version would be cool as fuck with the Infiltrator top… and those boots!
  “You didn’t even get her name? Sweetie, you really need some sleep. Don’t make me start calling you Reth.” Tish’s voice jolts me from my thoughts, but she isn’t yet visible from where I’m sitting.
  I can hear Jel sighing before rebutting, “My lack of sleep has nothing to do with this, my dear muse. I’m sure you’d react the very same if a red haired human built like an Umbraan goddess graced your home in the early hours.”
  Slow footsteps turn into the rapid pitter-patter of a sprint. Tish bursts through the entry to the shop, practically throwing herself into my arms. “Athena, I’m so happy to see you!” I laugh, trying to play off just how much the petite woman had knocked the wind out of me. She pulls back, holding me at arms length before giving me a good once-over. She frowns at the scabs on my biceps. “Are you doing alright?”
  I shut my eyes and turn my head in an attempt to avoid the carpenter’s icy blue gaze before answering. “Bad panic attack, that’s all. I’m working with Chayne to get myself in check, I promise.”
  Jel clears his throat. “I’m glad you two are familiar with each other. If you’d be willing to step into a changing room, Tish can take your measurements there.” My brows furrow. Why do I need to be in a changing room for that? Jel strides across the room, snagging a measuring tape from a mannequin in the corner. “Your clothes are too tight for accurate measurements to be taken,” Jel clarifies, almost as if he can hear my thoughts.
  Deep breaths, Athena. Tish is in a committed relationship, and she doesn’t seem the type to share or be shared. I pick the nearest door, pleasantly surprised to find an adjustable bikini as well as some liners inside. “Hey, is the swimsuit leftover from someone trying it on, or…” I trail off, looking back at the couple.
  Tish giggles. “No, If you could put that on before I go in there, though, I’d really appreciate it.” Right. With how much Jel puts into the comfort of his patrons, that makes sense.
  “It’s clean, do not worry. You may take it with you when you leave, though if you don’t want it, I must insist on you using a liner and bringing everything to the counter so that it may be washed.” Jel chimes in, otherwise preoccupied with lubricating his sewing machine.
  Ducking into the roomy booth, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m not exactly keen on anyone seeing me naked right now, regardless of whether they’re into me, which Tish is definitely not. My body shivers with each inch of skin exposed to the air. How is this shop so damn cold? It really doesn’t help that with the mirrors on all walls, I can’t escape the views of my own body. I slip the bottoms on, tying them at my hips, the excess cord tickling at the striped scars on my thighs. With the top, I do my best to spread the material of the cups across my breasts before tying off the strings at the top of them behind my neck.
  “Hey Tish, you can come in, but please don’t freak out. Embra may have stripped the scars from the war, but she didn’t get rid of the others, and I’d rather not talk about them.” I shudder, pushing away the unwanted memories of the last time anyone had seen me in this little.

   The blonde woman does her best to keep the door as close to her body as possible while slipping into the booth with me. “It’s like a fun-house in here, especially when you use a candle for lighting instead of a chandelier. Did they have those during your first life? Fun-houses, I mean.” She smiles, joy radiating from everywhere other than her eyes; the only place she, and her brother for that matter, can’t seem to hide true feelings. I nod, the constant anxiety making my mouth so dry, I may as well have been sucking on a silica packet in spite of its warnings not to consume it.
  “I’m gonna need a lot of measurements, and I’ll need to be in all sorts of places to get them. Thanks to all the mirrors, I’ll always be in your line of sight. If it’s too much, we can take a break, ok? Just let me know. Anything in threes, like knocking, tapping, or snapping, if you can’t speak.” Tish eyes me, seeking some sort of confirmation of my understanding. I nod, and she squats down, first measuring the dimensions of my feet.
  I do my best to stay still, struggling to swallow back my distress. Signal in threes, huh? “I’m surprised that type of signal has lasted this long. That has its origins in morse code.”

   “What’s that?” Tish’s voice is flat, her mind primarily focussed on gathering the necessary numbers.
  “Imagine you can only communicate in dots and dashes. Dits and dahs, if you will. Those are the restrictions that humans were stuck with when delivering long-distance messages in real-time over the radio.” I move my legs apart to allow Tish to measure my thighs. I close my eyes, continuing the story, “The patterns of the dits and dahs were based on the sounds a pen would make when writing letters and numbers. It just so happened that three dits in rapid succession would come to represent the letter S, and three dahs in rapid succession would come to represent O. When traveling the ocean, should a ship start sinking or something, sailors would send out distress signals. ‘Save Our Ship’ would eventually be shortened to S.O.S. Dit dit dit, dah dah dah, dit dit dit. Easy to recognize, even if you don’t know morse.”
  Tish steps in front of me, the silver glow of her signature nearly blinding at first. “Origins in maritime disaster, huh…” She trails off. Good job, Athena. You just had to mention maritime disasters. Probably feels about as great as people talking to you about car wrecks. “I gotta get your in-seam. Can you hold this just below your crotch for me?”
  “Yeah, sorry.”
  Tish cocks her head, wearing her confusion plainly. “What for? You’re standing really well, all things considered.”
  “Feels really insensitive to talk about tragedies at sea. It’d be like if you started talking about car crashes caused by drunk drivers.”
  I can feel her freeze. I open my eyes, hoping to gauge her expression, but her hair hides her face from any angles I can view. “I don’t know whether to be jealous Reth’s opened up to you so easily, or just happy that he’s opening up at all. I know I didn’t tell you how our parents died.”
  The mention of the chef sends flames through my cheeks, but the trauma causes a pang in my chest. “He doesn’t wanna make you feel bad, and speaking from experience, you can’t open up about this sort of thing without making your younger sibling feel like shit.”

   “It’s not like I haven’t thought about how much happier he’d be if I wasn’t in the equation.” My jaw goes slack at just how casual the chipper woman drops this information. “Once, I considered just jumping into the sea and letting the waves take me. I’ve heard that once your lungs stop burning, drowning just kinda feels like falling asleep.”
  Stone faced, I keep my voice as level as possible. “It’s more like everything hurts so bad, your body stops processing the pain, but that period of time when you can feel pain… it feels like infinity.” Tish stands again, wrapping the team measure under my bust. Her touch on my back nearly makes me puke.
  “There, we’re even. We both said something insensitive without thinking.” Only now, with pain in her eyes, does Tish really start to resemble her brother. I wonder if he looks like her when he’s happy. Like actually happy, not the show he’s always putting on for people. The rest of the measurement process is silent, thankfully free from any panic attacks or nervous up-chucking.
  Tish exits when she’s done. I can faintly hear whispering between her and her lover. I shut my eyes, unsure of what to do. Maybe it was the nerves of knowing I was about to be touched while barely covered, but I still find myself wondering how I didn’t notice the orange tinge to Tish’s flow signature. Then again, maybe I only noticed it because the dark blue of Jel’s silhouette contrasts so sharply. Is the flower on her headband how she gets her medicine? Through the wall, I can faintly make out the slightly off area where Zeki’s figure stands behind his counter. The town is also much more populated than before, my vision filled with the colors of the strangers running amuck.
  Tap tap tap. I jump hard enough for my ass to leave the stool I’d been sitting on. “Please try these on. I apologize for the wait. Your current holster doesn’t match either of the items you picked.” Jel hums, hanging my newest outfit over the door. “Your boots are just outside.”
  The fabric is thick and soft, seams all stitched flat against the garment. Replacing the pouch shown in the catalogue is a black axe holster, the head’s guard lined with silvery fur. I hadn’t even asked for this, but it’s perfect… I keep that thought on the forefront of my mind, pushing away the violating feeling of a perfectly tailored undergarment. Someone knowing my body that intimately, even if they had never seen it, sends shivers down my spine. I look in the mirror, licking my lips. Even without the boots, I feel more… myself.
  I step out of the changing room and into the new shoes. They’re a little uncomfortable, but that’s to be expected with shoes that have yet to be broken in. “I don’t know how you managed this, and so quickly, too, but wow. ”
  “Do any adjustments need to be made? Nothing too tight or too loose?” Jel looks me, or more accurately, my clothing over, his rose lensed spectacles gleaming in the light.
  I shake my head. “No, it’s all perfect. Major respect for every seam being flat-felled.” I look up shyly, “Thank you, really. How much do I owe?”
  The edges of the tailor’s lips curl into a smile. “Tish’s measurements are never off, not even by a millimeter. As for payment, since this was an emergency, I will be refusing your payment.”
  Jaw, meet the floor. I shake my head, grabbing my backpack, pulling bolt after bolt of cotton along with the few lake lotuses I’d managed to forage. “No way. There’s rubies on the backs of my boots. Large, flawless rubies. If you don’t give me a number, I’ll dump my entire stock of cotton and silk here every day until this place is overflowing with it.” Further emphasizing my point, I pull my pouch of gold out as well.
  Jel chuckles, softly at first, before breaking into full-bellied laughter. “Dear Dragon, you’re a breath of fresh air. I don’t often find people who have such an appreciation for my craft. If you insist on offering payment, I’ll accept a few bolts of cotton, though I really don’t understand how you fit all of that into your bag.” The man wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye, gaze narrowing just a moment. “It’s a bit warm for that top. May I send you out with something lighter to wear?”
  “Only if you understand you’re getting paid for it.” I glare. “When I have the means to pay for art, which this is, I pay in full, and then some, got it? Too few people value the amount of time and effort it takes to be able to stitch together what you do in as little time as you do.”

   Jel floats across the room, waving me off. “Oh, please, life is far too short to be poorly dressed.” He plucks a few sleeveless options for me. “I think these would look best on you, given your muscle definition and the broadness of your shoulders, but if they’re not to your taste, I have other options that would fit your measurements well enough.”
  “Sleeves would just make my scabs itchy. I’ll take a few tank tops? I’ll definitely be back for some warmer wear as it gets colder.” My gaze softens, fingers caressing the fabric. Despite its simplicity, the love and care Jel puts into his craft is evident in the quality he produces. His machine has a free motion foot, yet every stitch and every seam is uniform. Jel would definitely put the Playtex grannies who sewed the first space suits to shame.

   He slides the tops towards me, motioning for me to use the changing room before I go. Looking in the mirrors, I can’t help but smile. I’d’ve killed to look this badass way back when. I step out confidently, neatly tucking my excess clothing into my backpack where my material had once sat. “You’ve outdone yourself, Jel. I’ll see you around!” I wave, ducking out the door, a new wind finding me.
  The inn is packed, well, as packed as it gets, lunch rush in full swing. Hodari’s doing his best to enjoy his usual steak despite a gaggle of swooning humans trying to get his attention. Reth wasn’t fairing much better, one girl actively leaning over the counter, pushing her chest out at him. “Come on, please tell me you aren’t actually smooching that red-headed psycho. She’s only been here a week and all she’s done is have meltdowns and throw that stupid axe around,” She exasperates, lips pouty.
  “Ooh, you’re smooching someone?” I chuckle to the chef, planting myself in my usual spot at the counter. The woman’s eyes go wide when she finally notices me. She mumbles something before dropping gold on the counter and running off. “She seemed friendly.”
  Reth quickly drops the gold in the til, wiping his brow in the process. “Thanks for scaring her off, and I’m so sorry you’re getting dragged into the rumors.” His brows furrow, but there’s no smugness in his expression. I can almost feel my heart breaking.
  I shrug, setting my bag down on the now-empty stool next to me. “Acting out won’t exactly help either of us in that regard.” The chef nods, pouring a pint of whatever’s in the giant barrel for a different customer. His eyes are more sunken in than they were the other day. When’s the last time he’s gotten any sleep? He stumbles, tripping on nothing but the air. “Hey, when’s the last time you were able to get some sleep in?”
  Reth blinks hard, scrunching his face for just a moment. “I really don’t need a lecture from you, too. Ash already got on me this morning. I promise, I’m getting sleep.” Bullshit. “Right, you can read me like a fucking book. Three days. I’m fine, though. Tired, but I’m fine.”
  Sighing, I put on my best Tony Montana impression, Italian accent and all, “Well, in that case, I’m gonna give you two options. Either I lecture you ‘til its time to take dinner to Tish and Jel, or you let me take your night shift, no questions asked. Your choice, pretty boy.” Reth’s Adam’s apple bobs, a visible bead of sweat tricking down his face.”
  “Is there a secret third option I could pick?” He tugs at the collar of his coat, the wooden beads of his necklaces clinking against each other.
  I drop the shtick before answering. “I mean, if you’re that much of a glutton for punishment, I can always do both.” His eyes widen at my statement. He’s lucky this isn’t coming from his kid sister. I shiver for just a moment, the memories of Alex’s relentless efforts to ensure I was taking care of myself echoing in my head.
  Reth peeks around behind me, causing me to turn to follow his gaze. Just in the breath of that short conversation, the inn’s activity had slowed significantly. I look back to see Reth putting up a ‘Be back soon!’ sign. He locks eyes with me, nudging his head in the direction of the storeroom.
  Following him into the room, I can’t help but blush just a little. The last time I’d been down here, we were on each other like college freshman at a frat party. Well, maybe not that handsy, but I’d be lying if the memories didn’t spark something in me. Reth clears his throat, pulling me out of my daze. “What do you mean, cover my night shift?” Unlike upstairs, Reth’s very much the one with me under his thumb.
  Deep breaths, Athena. If he tries something, you can take him one on one. Not that he’d try to hurt you, right? “Well,” I start, shifting my weight nervously, “The fat cat may or may not have insisted on talking to me about your contract.” The chef throws himself into his chair, hands clutching tightly at his hair, eyes locked with the ground. I kneel next to him, letting my fingers brush across his hands. “Please let go of your hair. Tearing it out won’t do you any good, trust me. Just stretch your fingers out for me. Open and shut, just like this.” He does as asked, mimicking the open and close of my hands, before eventually looking up at me.
  “So you know just how fucked I am?” He croaks, struggling through tears. I nod. “Then why are you getting yourself caught up in it?” He shakily reaches for my hands, his grip firm and warm. His digits are lankier than mine, but calloused all the same from the labor of kitchen work and axe wielding. Tish had mentioned at some point that Reth brings her flow wood on occasion.
  I bite my lip, letting my thumbs brush against the backs of his hands reassuringly. “A lot of reasons, actually. I think listing them all may be more torturous for you than a multi-hour-long lecture, to be honest. You get real squirmy any time I say or do something nice for you as is.”
  “Tell me.”
  My chest tightens just a little. There’s a very real chance that what I’m about to say is gonna blow this friendship into smithereens. “Well, you already know I’ve been up shit’s creek without a paddle in my past life. Can’t exactly say I’d wish that on anyone, much less someone I care about. And I care about you. It’s not just because of the fucking trauma bonding, either. You make me feel safe and warm and…” I trail off, shutting my eyes to bask in the golden glow that is the man in front of me. Yeah, caring about him is an understatement. I don’t think I’m ready to say that out loud, though. The silence is heavy, but comfortable. Reth slides off of the chair, meeting me on the floor. I open my eyes, heart pounding out of my chest. Big blue eyes stare right back at me. It’s like staring into sapphires in front of an open flame. “You take care of everyone you care about, me included. Please let me take care of you.”
  He leans forward, gently pressing his forehead against mine, eyes on mine the entire time. “You’re putting yourself in danger trying to take care of me.” His words are nothing but a breathy whisper.
  I bring my hand up to wipe his tears. “You’re a pot calling the kettle black.” Almost in sync, he smiles along with me, a soft chuckle trickling through the cold air of the cellar. “We should get you back upstairs before someone accuses us of fucking down here. Talk about a scandal! ”
  Reth snorts a little. There’s that smile… “I’ll talk to Zeki about you covering for me. The inn’s low on butter, so it shouldn’t look too sketchy if I make a random trip over there. Just promise me you won’t get into anything dangerous?”
  “Only if you promise to get some sleep.”
  “I have a delivery to make, but I’ll do my best to get some rest after that.”
  “Here,” I pause, pulling my house key off of my chain and pressing it into Reth’s palm, “You can crash at my place since it’s closer to Bahari Bay anyway. You can give it back to me when I get home, ok? And don’t worry about talking to Zeki. He kinda already recruited me to cover for you for this exact kind of scenario.”
  “What? Why would he-”
  “Don’t look a gift rifroc in the mouth. I gotta go see about getting an add-on for the house before city hall closes.” Before I can realize what I’m doing, my lips brush across his cheek, and I’m running out of the storeroom. Again. The blood rushing through my ears drowns out anything Reth may have said. Why the cinnamon toast FUCK did I do that?!? Kissing him, then running off?

   I lightly acquaint my forehead with one of the pillars at city hall’s entrance. “You’re a fucking dumbass, Athena.” I mumble to myself. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden laughter from inside.
  “Hey newbie, are you just going to stand out there or did you have something to do here? Eshe doesn’t like people loitering.” A short, punky majiri woman calls out to me.
  I rub the likely red spot on my forehead and make my way inside. “Right, sorry. Sleep-deprived and apparently incapable of thinking straight right now.”
  “I can relate to the latter,” She purrs, eyes devouring every inch of my body. You know, maybe the coat’s not too bad of an idea after all… If I drink enough water I won’t overheat, right? “You have a name, or should I keep calling you Newbie?”
  “Athena. I like your ink, by the way. Is there some secret tattoo parlor around here?”
  “Dragon, I wish. I had to sneak out with my cousin last time we were in the city. This was the biggest design I could get, but like, Elder Proudhorns aren’t anything to fuck with. Heard some chick took one on with an axe and fucked her hands up pretty bad.”
  I raise my hands, showing off the faint scars across my palms. “Guilty as charged. I was gonna throw the axe, but if I did that, it wouldn’t have been a clean enough kill to mount.”
  “No shot! That was you?!? Name’s Kenyatta, but I like you, so you can call me Kenny. You got any other cool stories, or are you just here for the boring stuff.”
  “The sernuk’s probably the only crazy thing to happen to me since I’ve been here, so unfortunately, just getting a permit to expand my place a little bit. I’ll definitely keep you in mind if I come across anything scandalous.” I shrug, my hand instinctually resting at the bottom of my axe’s handle. “How much is the permit for a large room?”

   Kenyatta rolls her eyes and groans, clearly annoyed at having to do her job. “Let me check the records.” She turns around, kicking a stool over to a large filing cabinet. “Dragon, I wish I could just plug your name in or something and the file just pops up ready to go.”
  “Man, you would’ve loved the internet, then. The way shit was set up on most programs, you could press control F and be able to search for a word and jump to any iterations of it.” I know I’m just yapping at this point, but what am I supposed to do, just gawk at her while she’s doing her job?
  A smile flashes across her face as she plucks a thin folder from the highest drawer of the cabinet. “I don’t know if that’d make my job more entertaining or more boring. That room’s gonna be ten grand by the by. It has to be in gold, too. Public service members aren’t supposed to barter in goods, apparently. Fuckin’ dumb.” With her statement, she scowls once again.

   The rest of the transaction is simple. I give Kenny my money, she produces a receipt and a permit, I say thanks, she says whatever, we both go about our business. Simple, unlike the process of building the foundation for my room. 

   Measurements are easy enough with the sawmill Ashura set me up with, and it’s not like smelting stone into bricks is too difficult compared to other smelting processes. It’s just all back breaking labor that requires absolute precision. How the fuck the Amish did it with even less tech than I have at my disposal now still beats me, but then again, I guess the tools I have makes up enough for the lack of manpower. The hardest part is determining if the room’s gonna be my bedroom, a large bathroom, or maybe a bit of both? I could always use the hallway blueprint Tish gave me as a little half-bath since I don’t even have a tub yet. Yeah, I think I’ll make this my bedroom.
  The chiming of bells from town jerk me back into the present moment. I’m drenched in sweat, grime, and somehow shivering despite the heat of the sun still bearing down on me and my home. I’m rattling off possible causes internally when my mind wanders back to the inn. Fuck, got so worried about Reth I forgot to eat. I curse myself, hastily throwing together a salad with what vegetables I’d managed to harvest from my garden. Olive oil, spices, and a little bit of vinegar make for a hasty, yet delicious dressing. I don’t even bother with portioning it into smaller servings, wolfing the entire veggie mix down like an ormuu starved, my body no longer screaming in distress.
  Digging my new coat out of my bag, I slap it, and the red long-sleeved shirt it came with over my current outfit. It gets cold at night, and the last thing I’m trying to do is be stuck trudging home in the brisk air, drenched in sweat from a long shift behind a bar. What if someone questions why I’m out so late? My brows furrow as I wrack my brain for possible excuses.

   If I say I can’t sleep, the good-natured Majiri may offer to keep me company. Kilima also doesn’t have any rare night forageables that I’m aware of, though it is a lot easier to see the lake lotuses under the glow of the moon. I could say I asked Zeki to import some ingredients for me out of town? That’d give me good reason to run down through the back room in the general store. Alternatively, I can bring a bunch of tomatoes and potatoes with me and say that I’m bribing Reth with ingredients to cook for me, but it really doesn’t feel great lying to Ashura, and if I’m being honest with myself, the possibility of running into Reth definitely won’t help me pass a persuasion check. Why the fuck did I have to kiss him? I don’t even know if he’s interested in humans, let alone female humans. He flirts with every adult with a pulse, even the fucking magistrate!
  Pulling off my glasses, I splash my face with cold water. Gotta get my head out of the gutter somehow… The sewers. I’d heard rumors of there being an entrance through the remains of some ancient human ruins behind the remembrance garden. Yeah, then I can use clay and lake lotuses as my excuse for being out so late! The only villager I’d likely run into is Jel, and he seems like he understands the whole ‘wanting to brood in solitude’ thing. Plus, there’s no way his clothing doesn’t skirt the line of what is and isn’t legal. Definitely going for the sewer entrance.
  My bag’s packed with my typical gear, axe strapped against my leg, and with my hood up, I almost look like some sort of knock-off assassin’s creed character. I grab a couple of forks, bending their prongs back save for one, walk out my door, and jam the makeshift picking tools into the lock. It doesn’t take much time to get the bolt to slide into its place in the doorframe. Tucking my tools away, I pivot towards the path into town.

Chapter Text

   Sneaking through town is surprisingly much easier than I thought it would be. It seems that once the sun sets, everyone minds their own business. I can’t say I’d ever seen a small town limiting its nosiness to the time of day, but that would partially explain why nobody’s called Reth out on his late-night excursions. Reth. My mind wanders back to the inn, despite my feet carrying me towards the lake.
  For just a split second, a single frame in the movie that is my memory, I was able to see the look on his face after I kissed him. Reth’s features softened just like they did when he had passed out on my couch. His lapis eyes wide, irises barely visible with how large his pupils had grown. Disbelief, joy, and fear all seemed to fight for dominance in his face. I pat my cheeks to at least give a plausible reason to anyone looking as to why my face is so red. Yeah, this all warrants a conversation after we’d both managed to get some rest…
  Despite the moniker of “Sewer Entrance,” the area around the oversized grate smells more like a dark, dank cave. The clarity of the water flowing through the grate indicates that its official offload was no longer contaminated as it likely once was. Another human opens the built-in door, making silent hand gestures at me before waving me in. I wave a silent thank you, cursing myself just a little bit for never taking the time to learn any form of sign language, and for not bringing any form of sketch pad with me to at least write out what I want to say. It isn’t exactly fair of me to ask someone who’s deaf to rely on lip-reading, and with a sketch pad, they could write what they’re wanting to say in a way I can understand, too. Add books on sign language to the list of things I should check out from Caleri.
  The noises of the underground grow louder along with the smell of hotpot. The shriek of a firework causes me to freeze, body shaking in anticipation of the boom that never comes. Instead, I hear someone’s joyful cries about a plushie bag. That must be the rarest prize on the wheel I’d seen just outside of Zeki’s “definitely not illegal but not exactly legal either” store. I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. If the plushies are rare, and the fireworks don’t make a boom, I should be ok for the night.
  I’m barely through the final grate between the sewer entrance and the casino floor of the underground when I hear my name. “Athena, I need you in my office,” Zeki says, skipping his usual pleasantries, “It’s important.” I nod, following him down the hall to the faded red dutch door. Each step causes my stomach to drop. Zeki’s always buttering people up. Why not now? The fat cat opens the door, motioning me to join the two unfamiliar Grimalkin glaring at me. A blink is all I need to recognize their silhouettes.
  “Look, if this is about the howl, I swear, I didn’t know it was Reth getting beaten half-to-death and I was only interested in getting home.” I rush my words, eyes pleading with Zeki to have some mercy for me, my hand moving to my holster.
  The fat cat’s head cocks to the side, confused. “I ain’t mad at ya for that, kid. Those two tend to get a lot more violent with their lessons than I’d like.” He motions for the three of us to sit. The Siamese and the Prussian Blue puff their chests at me, testing to see if I’ll flinch. I don’t. Not like those two could do anything to me that I haven’t already been through. “With that in mind, Zephyr, Zoran, this is Athena. Regardless of what history you all have, you hurt her, you’ll be crying for your mothers by the time I’m done with you. That’s assuming she don’t kill you first.” My brows knit together. Do I have that crazy of a reputation? Regardless, it’s probably better that those two agree with Zeki’s assessment of me. “Athena, I’mma be listening in on everything, so I better not hear you attacking these two without cause.”
  “What, are they training me on the bar? You know I have experience.”
  Zeki shakes his head, his neutral expression turning serious. “Figured you’d want in on punishing the witch if you’re right about her.” The ice in his voice makes its ways through my veins. My face must be betraying that fact. “You do want in, right?”
  I look to my side at the lean felines. Intense slit pupils locking in on my every move. “What’s the catch? You know I’m not willing to get inked.”
  “Pfft. Imagine the look on the delivery boy’s face seeing his beau with runes.” The Siamese chuckles to his peer.
  I snap, “The delivery boy’s name is Reth, and as of right now, unless I missed something, I’m not his beau.”
  “Zephyr,” Zeki sighs, exasperated, “learn how to keep your fuckin’ trap shut.” Zoran chuckles. “Don’t think that order doesn’t apply to you, too. Reth’s delivering a singin’ stone to Tamala as we speak. Now we’re both gonna be havin’ our own tuned to it. Oh, and Zed’s got his ears in on this, too. You three will be going out into Bahari to supervise the delivery. Don’t let anyone notice you. If the witch sniffs y’all out, we’re cooked. As far as a catch goes, there isn’t any unless you’re concerned about Reth seeing you doing this.”

   What would Reth think, seeing me lose my shit on someone? What would he think if he saw me kill her? The thought of taking another life sends a shiver up my spine. Never. Again. “Speaking of people seeing me,” I groan, “How the hell are we gonna keep Tamala from noticing us? It seemed like she saw me coming from a mile away last time I went up that way.” More like, there’s no way in hell she can’t see flow, and right now I’m probably a 5’7” cherry-red giveaway to anyone looking for me.
  “I assume we’ve got the go-ahead to use the good stuff, tonight?” Zoran’s voice is surprisingly smooth and sophisticated despite his tough exterior. Zeki nods, pulling out a bottle of a mysterious black, shimmery drink and three whiskey glasses. Zoran continues speaking, this time to me, “She probably did, given she’s flow inclined. Normally, we use a charm to remove the color from our flow signatures. What the boss-man’s pouring us right now will make it so even an Order-trained Watcher can’t see your signature. Not even a shadow where your signature should be. Just one dosage is worth more than Reth’s contract, so we only ever use this stuff for high-risk assignments.”
  Zeki slides a glass my way. “If you’re going with, you need to drink it. Tastes like shit, but it works.”
  “And who’s fronting the cost of my dose?”
  “Zed approved up to three doses. Didn’t say who had to take ‘em. Now are you in or not?” Zeki’s holding the glass out to me, eyes narrowed. So far, Zeki hasn’t given me any reason to distrust him, but then again, I’ve been screwed over time and time again by smooth talkers.
  I take the glass apprehensively, “I’m in, but I’m not drinking first. If this whole scene comes back to bite me in the ass, I’ll turn your tail into a fucking scarf.” Zephyr and Zoran lunge at me, stopped only by Zeki raising a paw.

   Zeki turns back to me, voice softening, “I ain’t trying to make an enemy of you, kid. I ain’t the type for stealth, but word is that you’ve got experience with stealth, and I know you care enough about Reth to deliver some rage to the witch on my behalf. That is, if you’re right about her.” He passes glasses to the others before making an order, “Now drink up and get the hell out of here. Take the shortcut if you wanna get there in time.”
  The other grimalkin do as they're told, faces scrunching at the taste. Zephyr hacks for a second, running to the sink to get water. Zoran’s fur stands on end for a moment after choking down the elixir. I look down at the potion. It almost looks like Viniq… I take a deep breath before shooting the contents of my glass down my throat, calling upon skills honed during high school house parties. Unlike Zephyr and Zoran, I have no violent reaction to the taste. “This tastes like dark chocolate. Is chocolate nasty to y’all?” I mean, it’d make sense, given that the flavor is supposed to be extremely bitter to cats, but Grimalkin aren’t cats. Just cat-like.
  After a few hefty gulps of water, Zephyr responds. “Shit’s bitter as fuck.” Bingo.

   “Who the fuck puts a portal in a fridge?!?” I hiss, tumbling through a hidden door built into the giant barrel occupying the cave I’m finding myself in. My whole body is shaky, almost as if it's been torn apart atom by atom and reassembled where I currently stand. Zephyr and Zoran ignore me, peeking out of the cave, presumably to check for any potential witnesses. Realizing I have no clue where I am, I pull my map out of my pocket. We’re not far from the grove… That explains how Hassian knew about Reth, not that Reth’s ever been a good liar from what I can tell.
  “Hey, Red, you tell a soul about that flow gate and you’re dead.” Zephyr grunts, motioning me to follow him. Zoran pulls an odd egg-shaped rock with holes in it from a pouch at his waist. That must be a flow stone. He fiddles with it a bit before a quiet static fills the air. “Made it through the shortcut. Tuning over to the payload.” Zephyr speaks into the stone before taking it from Zoran and changing the channel, or at least I think that’s what he’s doing?
  The ruins outside the cave are lit by candles that never seem to burn down, the sounds of lantern bugs and cicadas tearing through the night air. Zoran stops us, eyes focused on a spot up the cliff above the grove’s entrance. “It’d be unwise to harm us, hunter.” He speaks in the direction he’s focused on. I can’t see shit. Closing my eyes, my heart drops. An emerald green silhouette poised to release his grip on his bow’s string, Tau’s silvery signature not far from him.
  “Reth knew about the tea. Hold us up and there’s a chance we’ll be too late to keep him from another dose.” I call up, hoping I’m getting the point across efficiently enough. Zephyr gives me a look. “I promise I’m not gonna get myself killed. These two have orders not to hurt me. Meet me back at my place and I’ll explain what I can.” I blink again, and the bow’s been lowered. Good.

   Zoran seems to relax now that there isn’t an arrow aimed at him. “You two close?” He asks, his tone cautious. He keeps moving forwards, a silent signal to keep going.
  “Close enough to know he’s trustworthy. Given how close your cave is to his home, if he wanted to report y’all, he very much would’ve done so by now.” Zoran huffs at my response. “Does he threaten y’all often?”
  Zoran shakes his head, “This is the first time. How does he know about the tea?”
  “Take a wild guess.”
  “And why didn’t he come forward to someone?” Zephyr scoffs.
  My nails dig into the palms of my hands. Breathe, Athena. Save your anger for Tamala. “Have you ever considered that he may be hexed? Or, oh, I don’t know, scared he wouldn’t be believed?”

   “Fair enough, I guess. This is Tamala we’re talking about.” The cocky dark gray cat relents. Much of the walk is quiet, the soft static of the stone barely audible over the nocturnal insect activity. We passed through the mines without incident, coming out through partially flooded ruins. It’s all gorgeous… I make a note to come back at some point with some sketching supplies. I’m sure Jina would go nuts for some art relevant to her work.
  Just as we’re exiting the area, the sound of knuckles on wood comes through the stone. Door hinges squeak. “I wasn’t expecting another delivery so soon. What’s the occasion, lamb?” The way the words drip from Tamala’s mouth makes my stomach drop.
  “Well, uh, Zeki said he had something useful he wanted to give you as an apology.” Reth replies, uncharacteristically meek. Even when he’s tearing himself down, his voice has an edge of confidence to it.
  The witch huffs, and the fumbling of the box can be heard loud and clear. “If I didn’t know better, between all the late deliveries and the fact that you sent someone in your place, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me.”
  My heart starts to pound out of my chest, the weight in my stomach becoming a knot in my throat. “I-I’ve just had a lot to do. I swear, between prepping for the market, running the bar, and my shifts at the inn…” Reth trails off.
  “Well, since you’ve oh-so-graciously made time for me, have a cup of tea with me, lamb. I’m sure we could both use something to de-stress.”
  Reth’s breathing is audibly shaky through the stone. “That’s a generous offer, but I really shouldn’t.” Without a word, the three of us shift from a power walk to a brisk jog.
  Tamala huffs, “Shame, seems you managed to break the apology delivery. Guess I’ll have to send in another complaint.”

   “What? No. Please, no. I really can’t take two beatings in a week,” Reth bargains, “I’ll never send someone else in my place again, I swear.”
  “Well, I may be willing to forgive this transgression if I’m given some company for tea. Your choice, lamb.” Zephyr jams a finger into a hole in the stone, causing it to go quiet.
  Zoran stops in his tracks. “We need a plan. Who knows how she’s got her house trapped.”
  “We don’t have the time for a plan.” I state, barely keeping my voice level. “If you two are hell-bent on a plan, have fun.” I turn back towards the witch’s house, launching into as fast of a sprint as I can muster. If either of the cats said anything, I can’t hear them over the sound of the blood rushing through my ears.
  If I can’t get into the hut before Reth drinks whatever concoction Tamala’s made, I’ll probably only have like fifteen minutes before Reth’s down and out for the count. Hot, angry tears make their way down my cheeks, the thought of how long this may have been going on only adding fuel to the blazing inferno that is my rage.
  By the time the house is in view, all lights are off, save for the bedroom. I slow down, pulling my hood over my head while moving as quietly as possible under the cover of the trees. By the time I’m at the door, my lock-picking tools are in one hand, the knob in the other. I turn it slowly, double-checking that the door’s actually locked before trying to pick it. A smile creeps across my face. The bitch didn’t lock her door.
  I turn back towards where Zephyr and Zoran should be coming from and shut my eyes. Fuck, that damn drink. Pushing the minor inconvenience aside, I put my tools away before unholstering my axe and slinking into the dark entryway of the witch’s lair. I stick to the shadows, just in case. Unlike before, Tamala’s signature is on full display, the grape purple glow pushing Reth’s golden figure onto what’s probably her bed.
  “Now, little lamb, do tell me when you start feeling the effects. I tried something new, and it aught to yield some entertaining results.” The amusement in her voice makes my jaw clench. Had I said “fuck it,” and barged in guns-a-blazing, I might’ve been able to save him. The thought is a knife to the chest. Had this witch not been such an entitled bitch, I wouldn’t have to be saving him from her.
  I re-holster my axe. With the position she’s in, I can’t throw this at her without risking the chef’s safety. Instead, I pull off the belt to my jacket off, wrapping it around both of my hands just enough to have a secure grip. I take another long blink, double-checking the direction Tamala’s facing. She turns away from the door to her bedroom, moving to touch Reth’s chest. My heart breaks when he whimpers a weak, “Mhhmmn…”

   Fortunately for me, none of the floor boards creak as I close the gap between the hall to the bed, wrapping the remaining length of my belt around Tamala’s neck, cutting airflow. I keep my eyes shut while wrangling the witch out of the room, terrified of what I might see if I open my eyes.
  Potted plants and small tables smash against the ground, courtesy of the witch’s flailing limbs knocking into everything. I pull her tighter, refusing to be taken down by a cunt punt. Everything in my body feels like it’s on fire in the best and worst way with every muscle contracting. My biceps burn as my scabs split. My throat is sore from growling through the strain of controlling the movement of a tiny woman with the fight response of a rabid chihuahua. Somewhere in the entry hall, my glasses get knocked off of my face.

   By the time Tamala’s movements are slowing, Zephyr kicks the front door in. His eyes lock on us, and he charges over. I flinch at the fist flying my direction, a clean hit to Tamala’s face knocking her unconscious. As much as I want this bitch dead, something about seeing her flow-signature dim to damn-near invisible makes my stomach drop.
  “You’re fucking psycho, kid.” Zephyr growls.
  I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “If I had a gold piece for each person that’s called me a psycho today, I’d have two gold, which isn’t a lot, but it’s a bit annoying that it’s happened twice.” The Siamese rolls his eyes at me, pulling some cord out of one of his seemingly infinitely spacious pockets. “In all seriousness though, what the fuck took y’all so long?”
  If looks could kill, I’d probably be waking up another three thousand plus years from now. “Not everyone can just fucking use flow to run faster.” My eyes go wide, brows furrowing. I can’t use flow, right? Up until now I’d only ever seen people’s signatures. “You really didn’t see the sparks flying off of your feet? Zoran’s out there getting rid of the damn scorch marks.”
  I release the witch from my grasp, pushing her limp body to the grimalkin in front of me. “I didn’t know I could do that…” My confession brings a look of pure horror to Zephyr’s face, airplane ears and all. “I… I’m gonna go check on Reth. Didn’t really get a chance to yet.”
  My feet carry me through the dark, overgrown home, back towards the candle-lit bedroom. I pull my hood down before peering inside. The man’s half-dressed, semi-curled into fetal position, and sobbing. I shut my eyes. Signature’s still strong. His undershirt is crumpled near the foot of the bed. I pick it up before sitting on the edge of the bed. Reth’s whimpers and uncoordinated scurrying away are daggers straight to my heart. “She’s really got you fucked up, doesn’t she?” I sigh, not really expecting an answer.
  “Athena… why are you, um… You’re here?” He reaches an arm out, seemingly struggling with his own body’s weight.
  I caress his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his hand with my thumb. “Yeah, I’m here. I’ll explain everything when you’re a bit more lucid, ok?” I look away, not wanting Reth to see me cry. Not right now. Not like this. A glass vessel catches my eye, a dark gray powder with a slight blue tinge occupying it.
  After carefully setting Reth’s hand down, I make my way to the vessel, removing the top and wafting the fragrance up to me. Dragon only knows what the witch put in the tea, but even in the worst case scenario, it’s not like some charcoal water would make things worse. I whip out my canteen, scooping in some of the dust before shaking it to thoroughly integrate the powder with the rest of my water.
  “Reth, can you look at me?” He responds with a stare. “I’m gonna need you to drink this. It may be able to counteract some of whatever was in that tea.” I down a large gulp, allowing some of the gray liquid to dribble down the side of my mouth. “It’s safe. Gonna taste a little earthy, but it’s safe.”
  In an attempt to reach for me, Reth ends up flopping onto his side. “Drink… Need help…” the chef groans, misty eyed. I help him sit back up, and tilt the charcoal-water into his mouth, allowing him to swallow when needed. “Dirt water,” Reth states plainly.
  I chuckle and nod, “More like burnt tree water, but close enough. Can you lay down and wait for me? I need to take care of something before I take you back to my place to rest.” Reth flops on his side unceremoniously, humming his response. Squeezing his hand one last time, I say, “I’ll be back, ok?” Reth’s weak smile is the last thing I see before I power walk towards the kitchen.
  Zoran arrived some time while I was with Reth. He and his counterpart had managed to tie Tamala to her own kitchen chair. The charcoal shaded grimalkin stares daggers into me. “How’s Reth doing?” His expression is much more aggressive than his tone. Does Zoran just have the worst case of resting bitch face?
  “He’s really out of it. Likely won’t remember much. I gave him some charcoal water, so whatever isn’t already in his blood stream already should be getting neutralized,” I sigh dejectedly. Zephyr opens his mouth to ask something, but I interrupt, “Charcoal powder binds to toxins and stuff, including beneficial medicines. People used it to detox in my time. Just so happens the witch keeps some in her room.”
  The pair hardly have enough time to process before Tamala stirs, straining against her bindings. “What the fuck are you doing?” She grunts, continuing her futile attempts to free herself.
  I huff, my lips curling into a grin, “Oh, you’re awake! Great, that means we get to ask you a whole lot of questions, starting with this one: what was in that fucking tea?” She looks away, so I grab her jaw, forcing her to look me in the eye. “If you make me ask again, I’ll start cutting into that face you take so much pride in maintaining.”
  The gulp she swallows is satisfying. Is this what it would’ve been like for Chris Hansen if instead of a peaceful confrontation, he went full-blown mob style? “Poppies… Poppies and Belladonna…” Tears stream down her face.
  “Wow, a sedative and a hallucinogen. Someone under the influence of a concoction like that wouldn’t be able to move easily. They definitely couldn’t consent to even a kiss, let alone sex.” I slowly unclip my axe from its holster.
  The witch’s eyes go wide, “I answered you! You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I answered you!”

   “What I said is I wouldn’t start cutting up your face.” I growl, brushing the blunt end of my axe up her torso until it rests under her chin. “Do you really think I’d let a rapist walk away scot-free? Even some of the most vile criminals of my day would make sure that anyone convicted of rape would suffer the same fate or worse . Next question: just how long have you been doing this? You know, he whole drugging and having your way with people thing.” I pull my axe away only to let her answer without her chin pushing the blade into her chest.

   “Fifteen years…” CRACK . Screaming follows the crunch of her kneecap.
  My breathing is ragged, body shaking with rage. “I don’t take it that you waited until that one,” I point back towards the bedroom, “was a legal adult, did you?” Through heavy sobs, the witch shakes her head. “Even worse. You’re a cheater, a rapist, and a pedo?” Heavy laughter erupts from my chest, my free hand raking through my hair.
  “Sick bitch.” Zoran growls, the uncharacteristic profanity startling everyone. Zephyr’s jaw is clenched so tight, I’m almost convinced he’s about to break his own teeth.
  I slam my axe into Tamala’s other leg. “He was a kid! An actual child .” My arms move on their own, continuing to slam into the witch’s body, the smell of burnt flesh being the only thing to pull me out of the violence. Tamala’s body is littered with black and bleeding stamps, roughly the size of my axe’s poll. Bits of singed skin and fabric are stuck to the back of my axe. “Fucking parasite of a majiri.”
  I walk over to the sink, cleaning my trusty weapon. Hot tears stream down my face. “Can you guys handle the rest?” I ask, voice hoarse.
  “With pleasure,” Zephyr grits, extending his claws.
  Zoran takes a deep breath, “Where are you going?”
  “I’m taking Reth back to my place. He needs a safe place to rest.”
  The Prussian blue nods, “I’ll help-”

   “No. You’ll just stress him out. If you’re worried about finding us, my place is the one right on the other side of the abandoned mining tunnel by the outskirts.” I holster my axe, leaving Zephyr and Zoran to do what they need to do. “When you’re done here, I’d appreciate it if you got Zeki to pass on to Ashura that Reth won’t be coming in today; preferably an excuse that’ll still allow him to still participate at the Maji Market.” I shout back, not bothering to wait for a response from the grimalkin.

   Bringing Reth home is easy enough, thanks to this one stupid TikTok trend I saw before my death. I just had to thread his legs into the straps of my backpack before putting the bag on. It holds him close to my body without strain on my arms, and without requiring him to have much in the way of motor control.
  “How you feeling?” I ask, feeling Reth’s fingers running through my hair.

   Reth’s weight shifts to the side, causing me to have to adjust my footing to keep from falling. “Mmmm, like I haven’t hallucinated anyone carrying me back to town before.” I look over my shoulder, realizing Reth’s face is close to my head. He plants a quick kiss to my forehead. “I wanna make you all the chocolates. Do you even like chocolate? I gotta ask you when I see you for real.”
  A blush creeps across my cheeks. Calm down, Athena. He may be more alert, but he’s still drugged out of his mind. “What if I told you this was real? I can tell you something that you wouldn’t know that I know to prove it if you want.” The bells from town are barely audible from the outskirts. Auni’s probably already dropped off the mail.
  “How about you tell me something I don’t know about you,” Reth whispers before re-centering himself. He rests his chin on the top of my head.
  I take a deep breath, entering the tunnel leading back to my plot. “The last thing I drew before we got the alert about the first air raids was a blue dragon surrounded by Fire Pot Dahlias. I wanted to get it tattooed snaking up my arm.” I chuckle to myself, putting the pieces together. “I really wanted to etch Maji and flowers that look like Embra’s flame into my skin, thousands of years before either god was worshiped. What are the fucking odds?”
  Reth tenses, body frozen against mine. “This is real… Oh my dragon; I kissed you,” Reth mumbles, finally having his ‘oh shit’ moment.
  “I do like chocolate, by the way. Dark chocolate with sea-salt caramel was always my favorite. Never had homemade chocolate, though.” I say, hoping to rip the frazzled cook out of his own head.
  He squeezes me just a bit. “You’re not mad at me for kissing you?”
  “I kissed you first, back in the storeroom, remember?” I bring my hand to his, lacing our fingers together. I have to shield my eyes as we exit onto my property, the sun nice and bright in the clear morning skies. Reth hums contentedly.
  Barking rings out, Tau bounding towards us at Mach ten. “Tau! Who’s the bestest boy!” Reth shrieks. The plumehound stops just short of knocking us over, jumping and whining with excitement. How he hasn’t sprained his tail from wagging it so hard, I’ll never know.
  “Hey, Hassian kinda knows what’s going on, by the way,” I rush, hoping to brace Reth for the hunter’s presence, “He can be trusted. The witch got him, too.”
  Tau rushes off towards the front of my home at the mention of his Majiris name. “That… that explains a lot about him.”

   I huff, slightly amused. “There’s a whole lot to unpack there, but right now, we need to get inside and get some rest. I didn’t exactly plan to be out so long, and I am not used to being awake for over twenty-four hours in a row anymore.”
  “And you give me shit for not sleeping,” Reth retorts, carrying an amused tone despite his groggy speech.
  I shake my head, the first happy smile I’d had since the previous day adorning my face. “Hey, you try falling back asleep after reliving being quite literally blown to pieces.” I can feel Reth mumble something along the lines of ‘fair enough’ into my shoulder. Coming around the side of my home, I pull my picking tools out of my pocket.
  Tau runs ahead to reunite with the majiri sitting on my doorstep. Deep bags hang under Hassian’s eyes, puffy from crying. His eyes go wide when he realizes I’m here. “Dragon have mercy!” The volume of his exclamation causes Reth to jump. Fortunately it doesn’t throw off my balance too much, but I do have to adjust my footing a bit. “Shit, sorry. Both of y’all look like hell in a handbasket.” Tau nudges Hassian’s hand, begging for a pat.
  “Yeah, that happens when it’s been too long since you’ve last slept and have had various types of strenuous situations thrown at you.” I take a deep breath, slowly kneeling to the deadbolt, adjusting the tools until the lock clicks back into the door. “Don’t question the lock-picking. I didn’t wanna dig through this one’s pockets.”
  I can feel Reth turning towards Hassian before speaking, “I am so sorry for calling you a tight-ass.” His speech is still slightly slurred, but it’s still clear, even to Hassian if that look on his face is any indicator , that the chef means what he’s saying.
  Hassian shuffles uncomfortably. “I suppose I should apologize to you directly for judging you and your criminal activity.” he starts, helping me to stand again before following us into my home, “Though your methods are… unconventional, I cannot deny that you are devoted to the majiri tradition of acts of service.”
  “Hey, sorry to interrupt y’all’s bonding moment, but could you do me a solid and shove my bed into that empty room?” I grunt, the adrenaline of the previous night’s events starting to wear off. Thankfully, Hassian wordlessly obliges. The toilet will have to wait until I get that hallway addition built. I sit on the bed, shrugging my backpack off of my shoulders, releasing Reth. “You need help getting your shoes off, or can you do that on your own?”
  “I… I can do it. Can you help me to the couch?” Reth sighs. I stare daggers at the drowsy chef. “Please don’t let me kick you out of your bed.”
  I smile, holding his hand. “Please don’t let me deny someone who’s been victimized to hell and back a comfy bed to rest in.”
  Reth squeezes my hand, sighing with defeat, “Fine… I’m gonna get you back though.”
  “I’m looking forward to it. Now get some sleep before I threaten to take over your Maji Market stall.” I chuckle, removing my hand from his and head to the door. I flip the sub-door up for Tau to be able to come and go as he pleases before stepping back into the living room, shutting the bedroom door behind me.

Chapter Text

   Hassian’s at my sink, running a wash cloth under the water. “I take it you aren’t aware that you have blood all over you,” he sighs, turning off the faucet. I shake my head. That would explain why my skin’s been a little stiff. “If you’d like, I can get it out of your hair, otherwise, I prepared this for you to wipe your face off with.”
  “That’d be great, actually,” I start, plopping onto a barstool, “I think the adrenaline’s starting to wear off.” The hunter shrugs, making his way over to me. He’s gentle with my head, moving it only as much as he needs to clean me. “Thank you for looking out for me, and for trusting me.” I shut my eyes, focussing on the green glow surrounding me. My signature is still fully cloaked, so there’s no muddying of colors today. I can see the silhouettes of Reth and Tau curled up on my bed, like a child and their teddy bear.
  Hassian’s hands run through my hair, rubbing the strands against the now bloodied rag. “Is she dead?”
  “I don’t know. I…” Deep breaths, Athena. I struggle to control my breathing, to control my tears. The smell of burnt flesh and excessive amounts of blood chokes my senses. “I left her with Zeph and Zoran. Got the info I needed, beat the shit out of her, and got Reth the fuck out of there.”
Hot tears roll down my face. Hassian sits on the stool to my side. “Fifteen years he’s been dealing with this shit,” I whisper, “He was a kid, Hass. Barely pubescent, having to fend for himself and his sister, made to believe he couldn’t say no without getting Tish killed.”
  The hunter looks back at the closed bedroom, light snoring already emanating from that direction. “You did something good, taking out a monster like that.”
  “Did I, though? I crushed her bones and burned her with a fucking smile on my face. What kind of sicko does that?!?”
  Hassian squeezes my hand, making me look at him through blurred vision. His emerald green eyes pierce my soul. “A sicko wouldn’t feel guilty about hurting someone, even if that person deserves it. Thanks to you, she’s not going to hurt any of us anymore, especially after the conversation I’ll be having with my mother later. Assuming she’s still alive, I’m sure whatever you did to her will pale in comparison to the rage of The Great Monster Slayer Sifuu .” Hassian’s voice drips with sarcasm at the mention of his mother’s former title.
  I take my free hand and wipe away my tears. Yeah, any mom worth her salt would move heaven and earth if someone sexually assaulted her kid. “Embra’s holy guano you can talk about it…” My jaw hangs slack with the realization.

   “I was wondering how long it would take you to realize.” Hassian snorts.
  My body moves before I can register what’s happening, arms wrapping tightly around the hunter’s torso. The tears start back up again, but from a place of elation rather than distress. Hassian’s arms come to rest gently on my lower back. His touch is cautious, but not apprehensive. I jolt upright, wrapping my arms around myself. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. Are you ok?”
  Hassian nods, “Just surprised, is all. I didn’t peg you as a hugger.” He brushes his locs out of his face, a toothy grin taking me completely by surprise. I wonder how many people have had the chance to see this man actually smile…
  “Yeah, hugs are good for emotional regulation. I could go on about the medical implications, but I’m fucking exhausted and I owe you a different explanation.” I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I tipped Zeki off about that cunt back there not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Said I had a gut feeling about the tea, since you and Reth warned me. Come to today, no, yesterday now, and I find out Reth hasn’t slept in like three days, so I told him that I’m taking his bar shift so he can make his deliveries and actually get some rest.”
  Hassian holds his hand up, “Wait, Reth works at the inn, at a bar, and pushes contraband?” I nod. If there was any expression that screamed ‘what the fuck’, Hassian’s face is currently wearing it. “I don’t know whether to be horrified or impressed with his work ethic.”
  I run my hands through my damp hair. “Both, honestly. Speaking from experience, holding three jobs is time management hell, even for the most organized people. Anywho, I head into the underground, and suddenly I’m roped into a sting op to catch the witch in the act. Zeki had Reth deliver a package with a singing stone in it so we could listen in on everything, and gave the three of us some cocktail that completely cloaks your flow signature.” Clenching my fists, I struggle to continue, “We weren’t close enough when Reth got there… He sounded so scared… She threatened to lie to the cartel to get him in trouble if he didn’t agree. For him, it was either drink the tea and let it happen, or get his shit kicked in again.”
  “He chose the option less likely to cause suspicion later…” The hunter’s jaw clenches, a familiar rage behind his eyes.
  I nod. “I ended up running ahead. Got there just before she started going for his pants. It’s honestly a miracle I was able to sneak up on her.” I should’ve been there sooner… I squeeze my eyes shut, the feint shadow of my own signature starting to return. I frown. For being so expensive, this shit sure doesn’t- wait… “I don’t think Reth’s gonna have as bad of a crash when everything wears off at least. I should probably make something for us all to eat. He’s gonna be starving when he wakes up.”
  When I open my eyes, Hassian’s brows are furrowed. “You need rest. Out of the three of us, I’m the one who’s had sleep most recently, so I’ll stay up and take care of you two.” I open my mouth to protest, but am cut off. “Don’t start. I refuse to entertain an argument from someone who looks like they were chased by a pack of muujin.”
  Reluctantly, I nod, making my way to the couch. “Can I at least ask one thing?”
  “Shoot.”
  “What made you pull a one-eighty about Reth?” I fumble with the buckles on my boots, vision fuzzy from the adrenaline crash and leftover tears.
  Hassian plops himself gracelessly onto the floor in front of me, swiftly taking care of the stubborn straps on my boots. “I heard what happened after I left. It gave me a wake-up call to get my head out of my ass. I still don’t necessarily agree with him abandoning his family’s path, but knowing what I know now, I can’t say he’s anywhere close to failing his duties as a son and as a brother.” I nod, giving him the go-ahead to pull off my boots while I unclipped my holster from my leg. Thank fuck Jel had the presence of mind to use button snaps. “I’m not exactly hurting for gold, either. Just sorta figured that outright paying off his debt would raise some red flags with the wrong people.”
  Laying down puts me at eye-level with the hunter, his face flushed. The sight tugs at my heartstrings. “Aww, the cold, hard-headed hunter’s secretly a softie,” I coo, earning a chuckle from the majiri.
  “ Get some sleep. I’ll be outside taking care of your garden and running interference on any visitors. Just shout if you need me,” Hassian smiles, standing and making his way to my front door. I can barely mumble an agreement before sleep takes its hold over me.

   The pounding of hundreds of feet rings through the air, causing the ground to tremble. My focus is on one girl in front of me, ponytail swishing with each stride. I’d been tailing her since the start of the race, making her my rabbit to chase, and chase her I will. Up until the state-wide meet, it’d been far too long since I’ve had someone who could give me a challenge, and now that I had one, I’m fucking living for it.
  Crowds line the roped-off course, all families cheering on their loved ones, mine included. “Come on, slowpoke, you can take her!” Alex screams, struggling to match my pace for just long enough to deliver the message. I can’t help but smile. College recruiters tend to stick near the finish-line, keeping an eye on bib numbers and the uniforms of the athletes wearing them. I just need to overtake this one fucking girl and I’m practically guaranteed some sort of scholarship.
  The large arch looms in the distance, the time on the board barely visible: 23:36. The home stretch is a straight-away, a double-edged sword that could absolutely fuck me if my rabbit’s also been saving some energy. Whether I win or not, I’m setting a personal record for a 5k, but an athletic scholarship would be the difference between being able to study or having to work full-time while going for my master’s and eventually my doctorate.
  Fire rips through my veins, my breathing shifting to a growl. My strides lengthen, legs pumping harder and harder. I’m shoulder to shoulder with my little rabbit, close enough to hear the wheeze in her voice as she forces herself to attempt to reclaim her golden position. The shouts and cheers from everyone are drowned out by the blood rushing through my ears. The announcers struggle to get the ribbon fastened in time. I’m so fucking close.
  Leaning forward more, I focus on putting as much force behind my toes as possible. I can vaguely feel the strain of something across my torso before a camera flashes, temporarily blinding me. Whipping around to see the clock, my jaw drops: 24:06. Spots begin to cloud my vision, so I stumble over to the water table and sit, sipping on the much-needed refreshment.
  The rest of the day is filled with many gross, sweaty hugs. Funny enough, I’d come to learn that the girl’s name was Alice. Apparently she wasn’t even half of a second behind me. We exchanged phone numbers and handshakes. Recruiters approached both of us, appreciating our speed and our sportsmanship.
  My parents said I could pick anywhere I wanted to eat. Cheddar’s, Cheesecake Factory, hell, Fogo de Chao for all they cared. “Sweetie, you’ve earned it. Do you have any idea how crazy an eight-minute mile is for women?” My mom would gush about my time to anyone and everyone willing to humor her. As embarrassing as it was, I knew it all came from a place of love.
  After our parents died, running continued to be a part of my routine. Five miles a day, at least. If I slowed down or broke down, it could’ve cost me my scholarship. Losing that scholarship would’ve meant being unable to afford college while caring for Alex. Giving up on college would’ve meant giving up on finding a cure for him. Alex would tail me sometimes, riding on his bike blasting dumb shit like Eye of the Tiger or the Rocky Theme to try to get me to laugh. It worked. 

   I’d eventually break my personal best again, bringing my three mile time down to 23:30. Alex damn-near burned down the house trying to make a cake to celebrate the occasion. The house smelled like burnt sugar for a month. When he wasn’t looking, I’d change his ringtone for me to the Lil John remix of Cooking by the Book. That year, he insisted on my dressing up as a ginger-bread man for Halloween. I told him he had to dress up as Wilford Brimley, and he did, male-pattern balding wig, mustache, and all.

   For the first time in a long time, I find myself waking peacefully. Despite the violence of the previous night, my body doesn’t ache anywhere near as much as I’m expecting. The familiar citrine glow of the man who should be resting makes its way towards me, holding something small. His touch is cold, the balm being applied to me counteracting the sting of physical contact. Reth freezes. I allow my eyes to flutter open, and a smile creeps across my lips. “Am I that banged up?”
  In the light of the setting sun through my window, Reth’s eyes sparkle like sapphires. It takes him a moment to come out of whatever trance he’s stuck in before responding, “I, uh, sorry…” His balm-free hand rubs at the nape of his neck. “I didn’t wake you, did I? You looked like you were having a good dream.” I shake my head ‘no’.

   “Honestly, I think that’s the best rest I’ve gotten since showing up here. Are Hassian and Tau still here?” I take my time stretching, loosening up every muscle I’d let tense up over the past week. Reth gives me a nod, avoiding eye contact. I can’t help but frown, the look on Reth’s face reminding me of Alex’s when he’d learned I’d considered dropping out to work full-time. “Hey… I won’t push you to talk about what happened, but I need you to know that none of this was your fault, and the only thing I regret was not getting there sooner.”
  His jaw clenches, and he nods again. Lacing his fingers deeper into his hair, Reth mumbles, “I’m sorry you had to get dragged into that to begin with. I shouldn’t have sent-”
  I cut him off. “In no way is anything that…” I pause, fumbling with the best word to describe her, rage ripping through my body. Deep breaths, Athena, You know damn well that this same logic wouldn’t have worked on you back then. “I was gonna make her suffer before I even knew you were involved. You can ask Hassian.”
  “I believe you said you were, ‘gonna kill the bitch’.” I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Hassian’s voice behind me. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to startle you. Nai’o will be here any minute. Figured you two would need to know what the cover story for everything is before people start hounding you for answers.” Tau jumps over the back of the couch, landing perfectly onto my groin.

   The force of an eighty pound plumehound straight to my already bruised pelvis forces a cry from me. “FUCKING-SHIT-MMMHHMMMMmmmm!!!” Stars cloud my vision as I double over. I can vaguely hear a combination of panicked conversation, apologies, and  a reprimand of the over-enthusiastic hound. My breathing is rough and uneven. At some point I’m handed a… smoothie bowl?
  “Here, it’s cold. Might help with the pain?” Reth explains, voice laced with a slight bit of questioning. I shake my head, setting the bowl on the table. 

   I force myself to stand with a grimace. “Hass, is there any reason I shouldn’t use the balm near my bits?” If I weren’t struggling to stay upright, I’d be doubled over, laughing at just how flushed that question has the hunter. He shakes his head no, so I hold out my hand to Reth, silently asking for the balm.
  Once secured, I head into my bedroom, unfastening my pants and pulling them, along-side my underwear, down far enough to expose myself. The balm is like ice against my poor, battered mons pubis. An accidental brush against my clit sends shivers up my spine and a pool of heat deep inside of me. Welp, now’s probably the absolute worst time to learn something like that about myself. I take a second to compose myself, re-dressing my lower half and making my way to my kitchen sink as fast as possible. The pain isn’t gone, but it’s manageable.
  The two men in my home are stiff, faces flushed. “So, what’s the cover story?”
  “Right, the cover…” Hassian trails off, still visibly flustered. “Reth, you were trying to get some flow wood for Tish. Athena, you found him collapsed near a flow tree since this one doesn’t know how to rest. It explains why you’d bring Reth here instead of all the way to town.”
  Reth nods. “Gives me the day off from the inn without keeping me from working the Maji market. Also explains why Tish and Ashura haven’t been beating down the door trying to get to me, though I’m definitely in for a lecture or two tonight.”
  “How does Zeki factor into this, though? He would’ve been the one to tell Ash what’s going on. And how does that explain why you’re here?” I hang the hand towel on the handle of the drawer next to the sink, plopping myself onto a barstool.
  Hassian shrugs. “Zeki has eyes and ears everywhere. Everyone in town knows that, even Eshe. As for me, I was scouting chappaa dens near the outskirts and noticed you struggling to get your boy-toy home.”
  My brows furrow. This story has more holes than Swiss cheese. “That doesn’t explain why I didn’t send a letter explaining what’s going on, or why you didn’t run into town.”
  “We got here after Auni delivered the mail, you were tired as fuck, and our dear hunter couldn’t in good conscience leave us alone just in our states. I mean, respectfully, if you had longer ears, someone could mistake you for a majiri with a severe case of vitiligo.” Reth’s retort is quick, and quite frankly, probably the best lie he’s delivered in the time that I’ve known him.
  Hassian nods. “That part doesn’t even need a lie. It’s just the truth.”
  “It’s a lie of omission, but as long as people buy it, we’re good,” I huff. “I… won’t be able to lie to Tish if she interrogates me. I couldn’t lie to Alex, either.” Reth nods, a silent understanding forming between us. “I won’t give her details. I’ll just say shit went wrong with a cartel deal and I didn’t get there in time to keep you from all the consequences.” My throat tightens at the latter half of my sentence.
  Reth makes his way to me, burying my head in his chest. “Things would’ve been a lot worse if it weren’t for you.” I can hear his heart rate accelerating in time with his arms squeezing tighter around me. “I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll forgive myself for all these bruises you’ve got, if you forgive yourself for not crashing the tea party before it started.”
  I push away, making my way to grab my shoes. “You don’t understand. I can run an eight minute mile, and on top of that, apparently I was shooting flames out of my feet and I still wasn’t there in time.” I inspect the black leather, checking for the tell-tale scorch marks on the soles. My brows furrow, not finding what I’m looking for. Instead, the rubies embedded into the calves seem to glow, just a little.
  Hassian holds out his hand, a silent request to see my boots. I oblige, observing his reactions. While his face stays neutral, I don’t miss the way his pupils blow out. “Since when has Jel worked flow stones into his work?”
  “What?” Reth pushes over, jaw slack at Hassian’s discovery. Realization washes over the chef’s face. “Did Zoran teach you how to use flow?” I shake my head. “Fucking hell, Fancy Pants. If you didn’t have those rubies on you, you could’ve blown your legs off… What in Maji’s name were you thinking?!?” There’s an edge to Reth’s voice that makes me flinch.
  My hand makes its way up to the hair at the nape of my neck. “The only thing on my mind was getting to you before she could incapacitate you… I didn’t even realize I was using flow until Zephyr started tearing me a new one for leaving scorch marks all over the ground.”
  The hunter hands me my boots. Aside from Tau’s panting, the house is silent as I finish dressing myself. I choose to put my long sleeves back on to prevent too many questions. There’s only so many accidents and mental health episodes I can come up with to explain how I keep getting hurt. “Did you have errands to run,” Hassian asks, breaking the silence.

   I shake my head. “Maji Market’s gonna be starting up soon. I’ve got earplugs and I know the only thing I realistically have to worry about is a loose chappaa.”
  “Are you sure? Eshe goes all out on some pretty crazy fireworks. Like, ‘meant to come flying right at you’ level of crazy. I’d be more than happy to whip you up a sampler platter of my stall’s menu sometime if you’re going just to be supportive.” Reth’s brows are furrowed with concern. I shrug.
  Hassian’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head before muttering hostilities towards the invasive little shits the mayor loves so much. “I’ll accompany you just in case. We should head outside. I can hear Sugarfoot coming up the hill already.”
  “Can you give us a sec,” I start, “I’d like to say something to Reth in private if that’s ok?” Hassian gives Reth and I a look before heading out. Reth shift’s uncomfortably on his feet.
  “I’m so-”
  “About yes-”
  We both pause, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Can I go first?” Reth nods, hand making it back up into the hair at the back of his neck. “I…” Anxiety chokes me. What if I’m reading too much into everything? He probably thinks I’m legitimately crazy. Shit, even I think I’m crazy… I find myself resorting to my typical anxious behavior, mirroring the majiri in front of me. “About yesterday… y’know, in the store room…”

   “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” Reth hums, biting his bottom lip.
  I can’t help but reach for him, holding his smooth, yet callused hand. “Are you kidding me? I’m honored you feel safe being vulnerable around me like that. I… I wanted to apologize for taking advantage of that and running off like a big fat peki. You deserve better.”
  Reth releases his hair, wrapping his free arm around my waist, tugging me close to him. “I should be the one apologizing,” his voice is low and serious while maintaining a buttery softness that makes me weaker in the knees than I’d like to admit. “I can’t expect you to know majiri customs, but I know them. I don’t know if people in your time had a similar custom, but if you’re serious about wanting to be romantic with someone, you’re supposed to give them one of two things: a heart drop lily, or a box of chocolates.” I nod, trying to contain myself despite my racing heart. Reth smiles, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. “I know I was higher than the Temple of the Gales last night, but I meant what I said about wanting to make you chocolates and doing this the right way. That is, if I’m not being stupid and reading too much into whatever it is we’ve got going on.”
  “Here I thought I was being stupid.” I chuckle, trying and failing to hide the blush on my face.
  Reth shakes his head before pulling me tight against his chest. “Hey, I’m the idiot in this relationship, alright? Now, I’m gonna make you the best damn sea-salt caramel chocolates you’ve ever had, ok? After that, you can kiss me any time you wanna cause a scandal.”
  “Are you kidding me,” I can’t help but giggle ( What am I? A fucking school-girl? ), “I’m a scandal-and-a-half on legs. If anything, dating the town’s bad-boy rebel may help my reputation.”

  Describing Nai’o can be done best in three words: Majiri Himbo Cowboy, or would it be Ormuuboy? I don’t fucking know, and I don’t think I care at the moment. I’m too busy confirming and denying what the guy’s heard about me from people around town. At least he isn’t asking about last night…
  “You should really come by for dinner sometime! My mom makes the best apple pie. Actually, Reth, isn’t her stall right next to yours?” Nai’o’s practically shouting over the clopping of hooves on the dirt trail.
  Reth nods, seemingly almost forgetting that the rancher’s back is facing the path ahead. “Sure is. Makes it easier for us to handle produce deliveries while the market’s going on. Plus, we draw business to each other. It’s a win-win.”
  The closer we get, the louder the shrieking of fireworks become. Surprisingly, they aren’t as loud as they were when I’d first arrived. “Najuma and I have been working on making the mortars quieter,” Hassian explains, “People keep setting off The Dragon Display outside of festival hours and it’s too much of a pain to take it down and set it back up every night.”

   “Hmmm, so it’s got nothing to do with you having a crush on a certain red-head?” Reth’s wearing a shit eating grin, sharply contrasting the glare coming from the hunter. “Hey, I’m not judging! Fancy Pants over there’s a certified badass.” Hassian’s only response as we pull into the fairgrounds is a silent middle finger, resulting in Reth laughing.
  I reach to shake Nai’o’s gloved hand. “Thank you again for making the house call. I really am grateful from my head to-ma-toes.” Nai’o almost chokes on his own spit.

   “ Please don’t say that around my dad. He’s got enough veggie puns to last generations. Any time you need anything, though, just reach on out!” Nai’o smiles through the entire interaction, not even a flicker of negative emotion ever crossing his face. He’s almost like a golden retriever. What are the odds he’s got a bisexual alt girlfriend? That’d be a funny coincidence. “Oh, uh, just a bit of warning, Kenny doesn’t take comments about the pajamas well.”
  Speak of the Devil. “Athena! Come hang out over here, I’m sooo bored already,” The aforementioned woman shouts. Giving a quick goodbye, I oblige Kenyatta’s request. “Girl, should Reth really be here right now? My dad said he didn’t show up to the inn this morning, and he never takes a day off.”
  I rub the bridge of my nose. “The man stays up for days on end, working himself to the point of literally collapsing with exhaustion,” I grumble, “That level of workaholism isn’t something that can be reasoned with.” Kenyatta huffs, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “So, I noticed something interesting since the last time we’ve talked.”
  “Yeah? What’s that?”
  “Nai’o calls you Kenny. A nickname you only let the people you like call you. He also takes the time to prevent people from bringing up subjects that’d upset you. Any comments on that?”
  Kenyatta goes pale, brain seemingly shutting down for a moment. “Look, if my mom finds out, she’s probably gonna find some way to fine the Daiyas to Bahari City and back. She doesn’t exactly care for people with a modest lifestyle… ” She hisses the last sentence, looking around nervously. Bi Alt gf and Golden Retriever bf combo confirmed.
  I chuckle, “Hey, secret’s safe with me. I don’t think I’ve even spoken to Eshe yet.”
  “No, you sure have not. We need to have an important conversation, though, preferably in private.” A snooty, annoyed voice hums behind me. I mouth a quick apology to Kenny before gesturing for the magistrate to lead the way. How Eshe manages to be sweat free under all of that fur, I have no clue. “I’ve been made aware of your… unique… circumstances. While they are indeed tragic and mysterious, I’m afraid I cannot exempt you from the process of naturalization into The Bahari Republic. Fortunately, that weapon strapped to your leg already proves your devotion to foraging, so there are merely two larger tasks you must complete before your application can be considered.”
  I nod, avoiding eye contact. “I wouldn’t say foraging is my passion, I just needed wood to build and cook with. If anything,” I pause, finally admitting for the first time in my life, “art is my true calling.”
  Eshe huffs, “Regardless, you’ll still need to pass an exam about majiri culture, and prove your generosity. From there, you’ll also need a Shep to speak on your behalf. It is imperative that this individual is a majiri that you have become close with, not just any human who has happened to become a citizen. Are there any questions?”
  I cross my arms, face contorting with thought. “Not really. We had a similar citizenship application process back in my time. The generosity thing is a little different, though.”
  “Gifting is an important part of majiri culture. Sharing gifts allows for stronger friendships to be born and maintained.” I nod along with the explanation, relieved that this isn’t some pay-to-win type of requirement.

   “With all due respect, Magistrate Bahari, I can more than attest to Athena’s generosity. Neither of the Keita siblings have been able stop speaking of her kindness,” Jel smiles, having appeared from seemingly nowhere. “She’s gifted Reth a cherished recipe, and has been making sure that no vase in my love’s shop is devoid of lovely flowers.”
  “Not to mention, she’s the reason Reth didn’t succumb to the elements last night,” Tish hums, arms extended for a hug. She gives me a tight squeeze, tapping her thumb against my shoulderblade. Dit-dit-dit, dah-dah-dah, dit-dit-dit. SOS. “Which, as a thank you for that, let me show you the best place to watch the fireworks!” The giddiness in her voice doesn’t match the panic in her eyes, or the message passed through touch.
  Clearing my throat, I quickly thank Eshe for her time before taking Tish’s extended hand. Jel isn’t far behind us, surveying our surroundings. Making sure we aren’t being followed. True to her word, the small gazebo atop the hill above the market grants a beautiful, unobstructed view of the sky. But why did she use morse? “What’s the emergency? An SOS shouldn’t be used lightly.”
  “Something big happened last night. I know you know what I’m talking about, and I’m going to have to ask you not to ask how I know,” Tish’s voice is low and serious, a sharp contrast to her personality.

Chapter Text

   “Something big happened last night. I know you know what I’m talking about, and I’m going to have to ask you not to ask how I know,” Tish’s voice is low and serious, a sharp contrast to her personality.
  I sigh, shoulder’s dropping. I’d really hoped I wouldn’t have to have this conversation within the first hour of getting to the market. “Don’t push him into talking about it. Shit’s serious this time. The kind of serious that I’d find unforgivable if someone talked to anyone about it without my permission.”

   Tish nods, motioning for me to take a seat next to her on the bench. “I won’t. Are you holding up ok though? You didn’t quite sound like yourself last night.” I oblige, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “It’s ok if you’re not. I know I’m not, so I can only imagine what’s running through your head.”
  “Honestly,” I sigh, “I haven’t even really processed much of last night.” I can’t help but look at my hands, calloused, scarred, and shaking. “I’m not trying to shut you out, but I’m not ready to talk about it. I just wanna have a fun night and eat some good food.” 

   Tish nods before perking up at the sound of drums. “Ooh, someone’s going for the Maji display,” she claps, freezing for a second before continuing, “Do you need me to cover your ears?”
  I shake my head, pulling out the ear plugs that made my first night here tolerable. The roaring cacophony of drums is muted almost instantly. Tish points to the floating platform in the bay, miming the actions of a firework so she doesn’t have to yell. The first mortar launches into the air, exploding in a shower of red and green. More follow, the sparks eventually culminating into a blue dragon.
  My jaw hits the floor, a flaming interpretation of Maji rearing up, directing firey breath towards the market below. Right at Reth’s stall. My heart leaps into my throat as I stand, but Tish holds me back. She points in the direction of the market before giving me a thumbs up and signalling for me to remove my earplugs. “Everyone’s safe down there, don’t worry.” Her words to little to settle me. She begins to speak again before I can protest, “Maji’s breath is just an illusion made from flow. People would probably be screaming if everything’s on fire, right? And there’s no smoke, either.”
  I nod. Tish is right. If people were burning I’d know the smell. I shiver at the memory of my own incineration, quickly being pulled out of it by Hassian making his presence known. A low volume argument starts to break out between him and the tailor. “I don’t care what you think is the emergency. The real one is that our biggest display just got triggered and Athena’s probably freaking the fuck out about it,” the hunter growls, hilariously short next to Jel. Holy shit, he said the fuck word…
  “I’m ok, Hass. I had some warning and I had my earplugs.” I’m met with a skeptical look. “I’m just a little shaken, is all. Back then, if a firework came at you, it was a massive issue. None of y’all seem bothered by it, though, and nothing’s on fire, so yeah.”

   Hassian’s face relaxes, “I’m glad you’re alright. If you’re wanting to get tickets, Pop-a-Chappaa’s about to start. It’d be good practice for your bow.” Shit. I’d kept the bare minimum with me when I left, barely thinking to strap my axe to my leg again. “Everyone gets a standard bow and as many standard arrows as they need, to make things fair. The only variable aside from where you’re standing is how good your aim is.”
  “Thank the gods. The only tools I have on me are my axe and my lock-picking set,” I sigh, relieved. Jel meets my gaze with a look of extreme concern. “What? I only have one key, and I’m fairly certain it’s still in Reth’s coat.” Unfortunately for me, this doesn’t seem to have any effect on the man.
  Tish threads herself around Jel. “Sweetie, she was in a war zone. I’m sure she had to pick locks to get to necessary supplies.” Right on the money, sister. She turns to me, “Don’t worry, if you don’t get many tickets now, I have no doubts you’ll dominate the Chappaa Chase.” With a wink, she pulls Jel back towards the fairgrounds.

   “Ok, so here’s the plan: nobody’s going to be in front of me, so I’m just gonna spray and pray.” Hassian raises a skeptical brow at my proposal. “It’s not the most efficient, but I’d honestly waste more time trying to aim properly than if I were to fire off as many arrows in the correct general direction as fast as possible.”
  The hunter shrugs, “I mean, it’s not like you need precision here. I’ll keep you stocked up with arrows. I won’t be participating otherwise.” I nod, chuckling to myself. I don’t think anyone else would have a chance to hit anything once Hassian gets involved.
  Kenli makes the announcement for the last call, explaining the rules before starting his countdown. “Three! Two! One!” Chappaa shaped balloons begin to rise from the water, and arrows from the others gathered around the water’s edge begin to fly. One man in particular catches my eye, using his thumb to draw his bow rather than his fingers.
  I nock an arrow, mimicking the man’s draw, releasing the arrow directly into a balloon roughly thirty meters away. Holy shit! I grab a handful of arrows from my quiver, using my spare fingers to hold the arrows not being fired off just yet. The first one misses, but I’m able to fire another quicker this time.
  When I go to refill my hand, I adjust my stance, recalling Hassian’s posture from our hunting escapade. The arrowhead bounces off of a much larger, thicker, blue chappaa balloon. Nock, draw, release, reload. Eventually, one of us manages to tear through the boss balloon, deflating it with a sad wheeze.

   Another wave of the smaller balloons rises into the air. The surrounding area sounds like someone’s popping bubble wrap with a series of rubber bands. My firing is more confident, though my fingers are raw from the friction of the string. Hassian keeps my quiver stocked with arrows, years of hunting and general combat giving him the agility to avoid getting smacked while I do my thing.
  I can’t say when I started smiling, but I start to feel the burn in my cheeks around the same time that the muscles in my back make their weight known. The final wave of inflated effigies of chappaa rise to the surface. I allow my body to continue my established firing technique, letting my brain focus more on my breathing. Five in, hold, five out, hold, repeat. I can almost see the square gif that my middle school coach made our entire team breathe to for a half an hour, the very same breathing technique relied upon for all land and air based athletes.
  With the last pop, I allow my shoulders to drop, all the tension in my neck releasing. “You used a new draw,” Hassian smirks, something twinkling in his eye. Pride, maybe? “Your aim’s improved as well.”

   I nod, gesturing to the white haired man I’d mimicked. “Just copied them and tried to stand the way that you do.”

   “You remember exactly how I stand when I hunt, when you haven’t seen me hunt in like a week?” I can’t tell if Hassian’s more skeptical or impressed. “Regardless, you’ve proven capable of handling a heavier bow than the one you started with. Congratulations.”
  “Thanks. I still think I’m gonna be using my axe primarily, no offense,” I grin, nudging Hassian’s arm, “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking starving, and I can smell the corndogs and peki wings from here.”
  Hassian folds his arms, amusement written on his face. “Just be careful not to moan, Eshe may fine you for public indecency.”
  Heat rushes to my face, making it harder for me to formulate a response. Hassian wasn’t even at the inn when that happened, was he? “Ok, first of all, that was one time. Second of all, you weren’t even there for that!” I shove the bow and quiver back at the cheeky little shit. “I’m gonna get my tickets.”
  Kenli’s probably the least stressed I’ve ever seen him, despite the hordes of humans rushing him for their tickets. According to the whispers around town, all of his duties as mayor typically get pawned onto Eshe. They say he mostly spends his days gardening, dining, and gushing over chappaas. Honestly, Ive seen some of these behaviors, myself, but as far as politicians go, he’s still the least problematic I’ve witnessed.
  “Athena! I’m so glad you’re able to be here! I’d love to speak more with you, but there’s much to do. Here are your winnings from tonight’s first event! If you run into Eshe, please do be sure to tell her if you’re enjoying the market. It’d mean the world to me!” The mayor’s speech is quick, almost practiced, but still genuine. I thank the man and let him continue to deal with the mob of excitable archers.

   I close my eyes, hoping to quickly reunite with Hassian, but everyone being in such proximity makes it impossible to tell which signature belongs to him. There’s at least two dozen people in the area with an emerald starstone. “You lost, kid?” The sleaziness dripping from Zeki’s voice is like having a bucket of ice water poured over my head.
  “Fucking hell, Zeki. Can I not just take a sec to collect myself?” I sigh. I can feel the rumbling in my stomach, the gap between the present and my last meal wreaking havoc on my mood.
  The fat cat snorts, nodding towards what I can only assume is his stall. “I’ve got some special goods behind my stall. You’d definitely be interested.” Unlike in previous interactions, I can’t read Zeki at all, but even the most socially inept can put together that whatever the grimalkin has in store for me isn’t good. 

   I tuck my thumbs into my belt loops, pushing back my coat to expose the tomahawk strapped to my leg. “Can this at least wait until I’ve had something to eat?”
  “This is a limited time offer.” In other words, I’m gonna have to do more side-questy bullshit before I can stuff my face. The noise that leaves my throat is somewhere between a grumble and a growl as I let Zeki lead me to what may or may not be my doom. Unlike the setups of the other villagers’ stalls, Zeki’s created an enclosed room at the back of his. He gestures for me to enter.
  For the second night in a row, I’m ushered into a room with Zephyr and Zoran waiting inside. “Red.” Zephyr hums, acknowledging my presence. I simply give the pair a ‘sup’ nod, waiting to hear what couldn’t wait even half an hour. 

   Zoran looks me over, analyzing every detail of my clothing, stance, and facial expression. “I’m surprised you’re so mobile after last night,” he states, “Usually when someone uses pyroflow without any sort of conduit, they end up cooking themselves a bit, and you used quite a bit of it.”

   I should’ve known it’d be about that… “I think I have a working hypothesis. When I bought these boots I just had normal rubies embedded in them.” I turn around, lifting the back of my coat just high enough to show the subtly glowing gems. All three men’s jaws drop. “Honestly, the witch did more damage to me than anything else last night. She kicks a lot harder than you’d think.”
  Awestruck expletives leave the men’s mouths in light whispers. Eventually, Zeki gets his shit together and says, “Can you walk me through what you were thinking when you started running?”
  “You you really have to ask?” I scoff, “ I was thinking of getting to Reth as soon as possible.”
  Zoran rolls his eyes. “Red, were you angry?” What the fuck kind of question is that? I can only imagine how I look to the Prussian Blue. He chuckles, “Yeah, thought so. Pathos casting, and without any sort of training, either.” Zoran pulls out a cigar, cutting off the tip with a claw and lighting it with a flame coming directly from his finger. “Training you will be a breeze.”
  “What the fuck, man. You won’t even show me how you do that shit!” Zephyr groans, steely blue eyes staring daggers at his peer.
  Zoran puffs a cloud of smoke into the face of the siamese before retorting, “You couldn’t create a spark even if someone said your mother was a freeloader.” Zephyr growls. Zoran is unbothered. Zeki looks like an exasperated parent. “Plus, I do admire a woman who can kick my ass.”
  A chill runs down my spine. Zoran looks like he wants to devour me in both the literal and sexual sense. Honestly, he could very well overpower me. It’s best not to let him know what, though. “Yeah well this woman isn’t interested in a pussy who kicks someone while they’re down,” I spit, “Now if all we’re talking about it how I can use flow, it can fucking wait until I have a free moment. I haven’t eaten in almost a day, I got beaten to all shit last night, and I was interrupted right when I was gonna go see if I could eighty-six any of the items on Reth’s menu. One wrong move and I may end up burning this whole fucking tent down.” My stomach growls loud. Impeccable timing, stomach.
  “We’ll be in-touch, ok kid,” Zeki huffs, “After the market this week, I’d appreciate you meeting me first thing. Zed wants to meet you at some point and I don’t think I can push a meeting back any later without it coming back to bite me in the ass. Let me get you a taiyaki so you don’t starve to death waiting in line.” The ginger grimalkin stands, pulling a steaming, fish-shaped waffle from a case. After wrapping the bottom in a thick paper, he hands it to me, walking me out of his tent and putting his best customer service face on. “Now remember, Zeki’s always has the best prices!”
  The crowd had thinned a considerable amount in the short bit I’d been with the Grimalkin, making it easier to tell people apart, not that it’s too tricky to distinguish blueberry purple from various shades of tan and brown. Hassian’s off under a tree, standing chest puffed, chin up looking at Sifuu. He looks like he wants to throw hands. “Sifuu! Thank you again so much for the axe. It’s holding up beautifully,” I start, hoping to diffuse whatever argument had broken out between mother and son. “So sorry to interrupt, but I kinda need to steal your son for something.”
  “Damn girl, I thought you were a good looking girl before, but damn,” The hulking woman smiles, “Can’t take credit for the axe though, It was actually-”
  Hassian cuts her off, “A really fun project, you said! Very enjoyable. Still, you should know it’s rude, Mother, to reject one’s gratitude.” He turns to me, sweat visible on his brow, his body betraying how embarrassed he is.
  “Whatever, you big peki,” she rolls her eyes, a mischievous grin spread across her face, “Go enjoy your date.”
  The hunter’s cheeks turn magenta, eyes wide in horror before he attempts to compose himself. “Not every outing between two individuals is romantic in nature, Mother. I’m allowed to simply enjoy someone’s company.” His comeback is slightly rushed, and detracted from by his glances towards me. There’s something incredibly endearing about how flushed Hassian gets when embarrassed, as well has his attempts to pretend that he isn’t.

   He’s so nervous now, but he sure wasn’t before we fought… Yup. Now I’m blushing too. I bring my lips close to Hassian’s ear, cupping my hand in front to hide my lips from his mother. “Plus, you said you wanted to do things the right way, and I don’t remember ever getting a heart drop lily or a box of chocolates,” I whisper. The man tenses, his body temperature rising. I smile, turning to Sifuu. “I’m stealing your son, now. Let’s go Hass.” I pull the hunter back by his bicep, his body seemingly running on autopilot as I steer him back towards the crowd.
  Hassian stops abruptly, grabbing my forearm. “Athena, wait.” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. The hunter’s normally steady hand trembles against me. “What are we? I… I don’t think I deserve to be anything more than an acquaintance after what I said, whether I meant it or not. You’ve been acting like nothing’s changed, though.”
  I sigh, avoiding looking Hassian in the eyes. “I won’t deny that I’m upset with what you said. However,” I pause, forcing myself to make eye-contact, “You’ve gone as far as to put a target on your back trying to make up for it. That says a lot more than any written or verbal apology.”
I place my hand on his, and he releases me. “I would consider you a good friend, even after everything.”
  “Life’s failed to cool your heart despite its many attempts,” Hassian hums, still wearing his guilt, but seemingly okay with the idea of forgiving himself.
  “That being said,” My throat tightens, my hand making its way to the nape of my neck, “Reth expressed intentions to ask me out. I… Before I came here, the social status-quo was heterosexual monogamy. I have no idea if that holds true today, but I’ve never seen any reason why a relationship between more than two consenting adults would be problematic.”
  The hunter nods, a certain darkness behind his eyes. “Polyamory is fairly common in majiri society. I’m personally not someone who wishes to have multiple partners. As long as that’s respected, I can make peace with you having room in your heart for another.” I can feel heat traveling to my cheeks again. “That’s assuming there’s a space for me like that to begin with. I don’t want to assume and make a mess of things again.”
  My heart feels like it’s about to jump right out of my chest. There’s a warm intensity in the way Hassian composes himself. Confidence. With the lighting, his normally green eyes appear more yellow. “I like your moxie, even if it makes you seem like an ass sometimes,” I chuckle. Hassian’s lips curl up slightly, just enough to reveal dimples in his cheeks. “I want the three of us to be on the same page, though, before we all start screaming our feelings from the clifftops.”
  I turn and make my way to Reth’s stall, his line having fully dissipated. His back is turned to the register, knife thumping away against the cutting board as he minces some meat. The taller man is in his element, humming a familiar tune while he works. I hesitate before ringing the bell. “Welcome to- hey, you!” Reth’s tone switches from cocky customer service to something shy and raw. “Hunter.”
  “Chef.” Unlike before, the acknowledgement of each other is respectful instead of being full of disdain. Hassian picks up a menu, looking intently at the offerings.

   “So… what’s cooking, good-looking?” I smirk.
  Reth’s cheeks light up, a hearty laughter filling the air. “Not soup!” I cock an eyebrow, Reth’s infectious grin spreading to me. He turns back to his prep table, returning with a chappaa shaped rice ball. “Can you tell me if I got the rice to filling ratio on this right?” He holds the adorable treat out for me, waiting for me to take it. I hesitate, contemplating the possible repercussions of eating straight from his hand.
  Hassian, it seems, has no such concerns, much to Reth and I’s surprise. We stare at the hunter, slack jawed. Hassian groans with pleasure, “I’m regretting every time I’ve turned my nose up at your cooking, Reth. This is absolutely delicious.” Fuck it, I can’t let Hassian be the only one being scandalized. I gingerly bite the other side of the rice ball, my portion barely overlapping with the space Hassian’s bite had taken.
  “Fuuuucckkk…” I moan, quickly realizing Hassian’s reaction had been understated. The rice is soft, just barely sticky enough to hold its form. The slight saltiness of the seaweed only serves to bring out the sweet and spicy nature of the chappaa filling. There’s a slight crunch from shreds of carrot. “Gods, I’m gonna get fined for public indecency if we don’t make these taste tests more private.”
  I’ve never been one for the color pink, but there’s something about the shade that spreads to Reth’s ears that I find particularly lovely. “That really means a lot, especially coming from you two.” The cook takes his free hand, rubbing it against the back of his neck.
  Hassian pulls out a bundle of tickets from his pockets, sliding them across the counter. “I’ll take as many of those as you’re able to give me.” Reth counts the stack, giving Hassian a slightly worried look. “I meant what I said, chef. I burn a lot of calories trying to keep the chappaa population in check.”
  “Twenty orders of chappaa onigiri, it is.” Reth laughs, dancing a little as he tucks the tickets away and writes up a receipt. “And what’ll you be having, Fancy Pants?”
  I hum, looking over the menu in Hassian’s hand. The peki wings smell delicious, but I’d be lying if I said the description of a particular sandwich hasn’t caught my eye… Pulling my roll of tickets out, I ask, “Would I have enough for an order of hot peki wings and a banh mi?”
  Reth’s eyes bug out. “Dragon, did you get that many just from the pop-a-chappaa event?” I nod. The cook turns to Hassian, “Dude, you said her shot’s about as accurate as your mother’s hunting stories.”
  “What can I say? She improved,” Hassian smiles smugly, “Although, I can’t exactly take credit for teaching her. She uses a draw style meant for battle, rather than distance precision shooting, which is what I teach.”
  Shaking his head, Reth tears off enough tickets for my order before muttering, “And here I thought you’d just be dominating the chappaa chase.” The chef’s good at multi-tasking, holding conversation with Hassian and I while balancing the prep and execution of three different types of dishes. Without any context, you’d never know that the night before we’d all been involved in a degree of illegal behavior. Hell, you’d think we’d all been best friends since birth with the way Reth and Hassian are flirting with each other. Wait, when the hell did they start flirting?
  “Please, I can tell by your forearms that you’re hiding a good amount of muscle under those baggy rags,” Hassian chides, pointing at the prominent veins in Reth’s hands. “I bet under that coat, your arms look like Athena’s. I’d say like mine, but let’s be realistic.” The hunter flexes, his biceps and shoulder muscles gaining some impressive definition.
  Reth rolls his eyes, “Having muscles that big requires having a high enough caloric intake to be able to maintain them.” I graciously accept the plate of wings from the cook, pleasantly surprised to see ranch, carrots, and celery stalks included on the side. I tear into the first wing, almost instantly regretting my decision not to dip it in the ranch first with how hard I’m hit by the heat of Thai chillies.
  Aside from the spice, the sauce is sweet and citrussy. “Did you use oranges in the sauce?” I ask between coughs and sniffles.
  The look of pride on Reth’s face makes me want to melt. “I did! The sweetness kinda cuts the pepper while adding the perfect amount of tang!” Despite the effects of the first bite, I continue to neglect the cup of ranch. The flavor’s perfect despite the heat level and I know I’ll regret my choices later, but that’s a problem for later me. Plus, Alex would call me a bitch. He’d love these…
  Almost as if sensing my shift in thought, Hassian clears his throat. “Reth, if you’d be willing to look after our plates, I’d like to see how many chappaa our resident runner can catch.”
  “Wanna bet on how much she can catch?” The cook’s grin has mischief all over it.
  Hassian’s face twists to match Reth’s energy. “If you win, I’ll give you thirty grand.”
  “That’s a whole lot to lose, and I can’t exactly say I have that kind of cash,” Reth chuckles nervously, “But if you win, I’ll be your personal chef for a month. Athena doesn’t get to know how many chappaa we think she’ll catch, though.”
  “Deal.”
  I raise my hands, grabbing the men’s attention. “Y’all know I’m a distance runner and not a sprinter, right?” They look at each other and shrug before shaking on their bet. Fucking dumbasses…

Chapter Text

   It’s apparent by how few people have hung around that the Chappaa Chase isn’t a very popular event. Like earlier, Hassian chooses to sit out, insisting the only Chappaas he’s planning to chase are the ones that escape the grounds. It’s not like they’d get very far, regardless. Tau’s probably chilling just outside the fairgrounds, knowing him.
  Reth holds me back from the starting line for just a moment. “Hey, I know Hassian and I are gambling on the outcome and all, but try not to push yourself too hard.”
  “You saying you bet on a low number?” I ask, hoping to get a hint as to my goal. Reth smiles, pretending to zip his lips while waving me off. I trudge to the open field, taking a stance that’ll allow me to launch into a sprint in a variety of directions. Hassian’s leaning against the gate leading out of the fairgrounds, giving me a knowing smile and a thumbs up. Neither of them are giving anything up.
  The first firework pops off, followed by the next two that signal the start of the event. Chappaa are released one at a time from various pens stationed around the grounds. I shut my eyes, looking for the silvery mist of the creatures. To my right, a flash of light darts towards me. I charge the creature, yoinking it from the ground before taking off towards the display pen.
  Despite being twice the size of Bong Water, the chappaa’s struggles are child's play. I don’t have to dodge unreasonably sharp claws, and the creature isn’t flexible enough to turn around and bite me. Makes sense. It’s not like the Mayor would regularly host a dangerous event, even if he is a dunce. Much like my dear Bong Water, though, chappaa have an incredible sense of balance, almost always managing to land on their feet.
  My feet carry me to my destination, allowing me to yeet my unwilling captive into the pen before rushing back to an open area. I eat shit a few times trying to tackle the hat-wearing bastards, only for someone else to snatch them before I can get up. One runs straight for Hassian, but he takes a low and wide stance, intimidating the giant rodent. I can’t help but laugh at the display, barely managing to snag the rogue chappaa.
  My lungs begin to burn, the stop-go-stop-go pacing of this minigame wrecking my ability to regulate my breathing. How many have I caught now? Five? Either way, the signal that the last of the chappaa are being released. Surprisingly, a lot of people are tapped, sitting in the grass rather than continuing their chase. 

   “Great, just me and the psycho. I thought you couldn’t do fireworks?” A brunette girl spits. Really? This bitch? “Too deep in faking a past life to keep your story straight?” I know I’m the one getting attention from her crush, but she needs to look in a fucking mirror!
  I don’t humor her teasing, instead, focusing my energy on finding where the final target is going to pop up. Got it. I dive to my left, having to tackle the little guy to keep him from running directly into Bitch-Tits McGee. I roll as best I can to avoid crushing the chappaa, stumbling as I fall forward into a sprint. The little beast flies from my hands as I toss it towards the hay pile in the enclosure.
  More fireworks signal the end. Ok, now I can confront this bitch. I whip around, put on my best customer service smile, and stroll towards the snotty brunette. “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve actually met! My name’s Athena. What’s yours?” I extend my hand to the stunned woman. Her eyes flip between me and my hands. I can see Hassian in the corner of my eye, approaching cautiously.
  It takes her a few seconds to figure what to do, especially with everyone staring at us. “Uh… Gia,” She mumbles. Gia’s clammy hand grips mine reluctantly. My grip is firm, but not so tight as to cause her pain. I give her hand a solid shake before releasing it. She recoils with something between fear and disgust.
  “Gia, lovely to meet you. This is the second time within a forty-eight hour period you’ve called me a psycho, and up until now, we haven’t had a conversation. Can I ask what that’s all about?” As much as I’d like to lose my shit, it’d only prove her point. And let’s be honest, passive aggression with a sickly sweet tone tends to come off way more intimidating to the person you’re confronting. “If there’s something I’m doing that makes you uncomfortable and is within my wheelhouse to change, I’m more than happy to take your feedback.”
  The once arrogant woman looks around cautiously, eyes pleading for anyone watching to step in. Hassian steps by my side, cautiously resting a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” his voice is soft and gentle, “You’re wasting your breath on her.”
  I turn to him, feeling myself thaw just a little. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be making that call myself.” 

   Gia simply hims and haws, struggling to come up with words. Eventually, she collects herself. “You’re a liar and a manipulator. You pretend you remember shit that vaguely lines up with what majiri scholars already know, painting yourself as some sort of martyr for a brother that probably doesn’t even exist. You get people to fucking pity you instead of actually working for your shit.” Her voice is steady, gaining more confidence as she monologues. “ I mean, that’s how you got a palium axe in your first week here, right? Wah! I hurt myself pretending to play badass, and now I want the nicest axe, custom made by literally the best blacksmith this side of The Bahari Republic. Isn’t that how it works?” Whispers start to circulate, but Gia’s not done. “And I mean, come on. You just so happen to have a sickly younger sibling you shaped your life around? Between Reth and Tish, almost nobody goes through their first day here without hearing about their childhood. You aren’t original.” It’s a struggle to keep a straight face. There’s so much she has wrong, it’s laughable. I let her continue ranting, digging herself a deeper and deeper hole. She gets bold, shoving a manicured finger in my face. “You probably saw Ashura’s eye and thought you could get an easy friend through fake war stories.”
  I can feel my anger rising, a fire raging in my chest. Gia’s accusations are heinous, even by my standards. Insulting me is one thing, but this bitch is making every single person I’ve come to know seem like socially inept dipshits. She wants you to react, Athena. I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. I crack my knuckles, shoving my hands in my pockets afterwards to keep me from throwing them. After a few breaths, I look up and give a smile as hollow as my chest feels. “You’re lucky, you know?” Empty laughter escapes from my lips. “For all anyone knows, your first life was criminally unfair to you, too. But you got to start fresh without the baggage.” I pat Gia’s shoulder, bringing my voice low. “Don’t look a gift riffrock in the mouth.” With that, I stroll out of the Maji Market.
  As soon as I round the corner into a straightaway, I break into the hardest run I can manage. I can hear yelling from behind me. I don’t bother identifying the voice. Where am I even going? Home got blown to pieces in the 21st century. The cottage is too lonely at night. I’ll just run ‘til I can’t feel anything. The path to town is a bit more winding than the path home. Jel’s at the market instead of his seemingly regular late night walks along the coast.

  Despite having been running for an hour, and despite the burning of my muscles and the tightness of my throat, I can’t seem to even begin to get my mind to just stop. I left my fucking food back with Reth. The realization hits with the cramping of my stomach. I’m damn near ready to fucking cry as I enter town. I’m by the statue in the town square, wheezing and dry-heaving into the foliage when the doors of the inn creak open. Ashura clears his throat before gesturing for me to follow him inside. He doesn’t say anything as I plop down onto a stool, just pours me water and walks back into the kitchen.“What’s on your mind?” Ashura asks. “You’d’ve come by earlier if it was the Maji display that got you.”

   “I’m fine. Just a bit thirsty.” I have to work to keep my voice neutral, trying to sell my point by chugging my drink.
  Ashura shakes his head, his expression going from concerned to a soft smile. “Come on, Athena, weren’t you a bartender?”
  A scoff a little, realizing exactly where this is going. “I thought the routine was: the customer starts the trauma-dump after a few drinks, not the bartender inviting the trauma-dump.” Ash gives me the ‘dad stare’ as he comes out of the kitchen with congee and a caddy of sauces and toppings. “Fine, fine, I’ll bite.” I relent, taste testing the potential toppings. “Hit me with your strongest whiskey. Is whiskey still a thing?”

   “I thought you didn’t drink,” He comments, motioning for me to eat.
  I shrug my shoulders and oblige the man. “Been dry since I was eighteen. Not that drinking at that age was legal, but like, my parents preferred that if Alex and I were gonna do something stupid, that we do it under their supervision.” Ashura nods solemnly. “My dad taught me about whiskey and its distilling process. There’s a lot of history there. Figured if I’m gonna drink, I may as well honor my old man.”
  Ashura shakes his head. “Well, if you’re sure about breaking your dry spell, just know I don’t have any chilled glasses, so if you want strong, you aren’t getting cold,” The man warns, pulling down two whiskey glasses. I nod. Ashura looks around, checking for additional guests before pouring large servings into each glass. “Shouldn’t be drinking on the job, but I also can’t let a vet drink alone.”
  I take a sip from the glass he pushes my way, the poison burning in my throat. “I was a civilian. I’d hardly call myself a veteran,” I choke out, trying not to hack up a lung from the intensity.
  “Maybe by the standards of your time, but you carry yourself like you’ve got blood on your hands.” His statement hits like a bucket of ice water. How does he know? I haven’t even told Hassian or Reth about that. Did Ashura find out about last night? “I’m not judging. War does things to people. Sometimes you have to take a life to preserve another. Makes you just as much of a veteran as I am.”
  The man’s pouring his second glass. I can’t help but grin a little. To say the war changed me would be an understatement. “Wanna know a funny little toast I’d hear a lot behind the counter?” Ash nods for me to continue. “If liquor was a river, and I was a duck, I’d swim my way down, and drink my way up!” I giggle a little, anticipating the innkeeper’s reaction to the second half. “But the river ain’t liquor, and I ain’t no motherfucking duck, so let’s take these shots, and get fucked up!” True to my statement, I tip the rest of the drink down my throat. Fuck, I don’t know how people do this shit on the regular. Despite the burn, the whiskey’s sweet on the tongue.

   Ashura’s loud, full-bellied laughter fills the air after setting his now re-emptied glass on the counter. “You know, I’m really glad Reth’s finally letting someone in.” He refills my glass, his pour is heavy handed like he’s serving at a dive bar. “I’ve been trying to help him best I can, pretending I don’t know about his cartel dealings.”
  I can’t help but cringe, recalling the one time I’ve lied to the gentle giant. “Of course you know, too. Everyone in this town probably knows,” I sigh, taking a large gulp of my poison, forcing myself to sit through the burn of the shame.
  Ashura takes his drink like a shot again, pouring himself a new serving before topping off my own. “Not everyone, but I did build this place from the ground-up, you know. Path to the underground and all.”
  “And Reth’s a horrible liar,” I interject, beginning to really feel the weight of my buzz. I guess a decade sober and a damn-near empty stomach is the perfect recipe for becoming a lightweight.
  The innkeeper gives a low chuckle. “And Reth’s a horrible liar. Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you trying to keep his secret. Just shows how much you care about him.” For a bit, the two of us just sit and drink. Ashura pushes water my way every once in a while, mixing it with salt and lime juice to create some sort of present day equivalent of Gatorade. This isn’t just bartender behavior, it’s straight up fatherly… “Now tell me what’s got you down. I’m here to listen, no matter the issue.”
  That sentence is all it takes to break me, hot tears staining my cheeks and my sinuses doing everything to drain themselves. Dad would always say the exact thing when I’d get in a funk. It didn’t matter if I’d gotten into a fight, or had a bad ball game, or hell, if my period was just fucking me up. It didn’t matter if he was the problem. Dad was true to his word, listening to even the most petty gripes, providing comfort in the form of grounding truths. Fuck, I miss him. I miss mom. I miss Alex.

   “It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid.” Choked sobs come out almost like laughter. “Why the fuck would anyone fake the kind of life I’ve had?” Though being rhetorical, my question seems to sober my drinking buddy. “I didn’t fucking ask to remember everything. As useful as it is, I didn’t even want that ability when I was born! There’s a reason we’re not supposed to remember that: the headache from having your entire head squished through a tiny opening makes even the worst hangovers look like child’s play.” I take off my glasses, the lenses having fogged up to the point of me being able to see better without them.

   Despite my eyes being closed, I can see Ashura physically adjusting to go into full ‘dad mode.’ “Now who went and said something so horrible?” I can feel the undertone of anger in his otherwise soothing voice. Gia’s gonna get torn into like she’s in basic if I rat her out, isn’t she. “You can bet your fucking ass she is.” My eyes fly open. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Wait- SINCE WHEN DOES ASHURA SWEAR?!? He sees the look on my face and sighs, allowing the visible anger to leave him. “Sorry…” The sudden switch from pissed to bashful sends me into a fit.
  My stomach cramps again, this time as a result of the wheezing, snorting laughter you’d expect from the Dweeb™ in an early 2000’s Disney flick pre-glow up. I throw my finger forward, barely managing to explain the sudden outburst. “You said the fuck word!” I put my head in my arm on the counter, smacking it with the side of my closed fist. “Man, I totally had you pegged as the kind of guy who’d say ‘fudge’ or ‘frick’!” When I peek up, Ashura’s shaking his head, taking my now-empty bowl back into the kitchen.
  The blissful fog clears for just long enough to form a relevant and coherent thought. “Hey, did Zeki tell you what actually happened last night?” Ashura comes back with a fresh bottle of something, foregoing his glass by drinking straight from the bottle. The look on his face is all the answer I need. “Ain’t your fault, man. Reth’s stubborn as fuck. Only reason I suspected something was because another one of Cunty McCuntface’s victims tipped me off.”
  “That why Nai’o ran through here earlier, talking about Hassian and Reth getting on like a house on fire?” Ash laughs, a shitty attempt to conceal his exasperation.
  I shake my head. “I’ll neither confirm or deny that.” I throw back the rest of my whiskey, nudging the empty vessel back towards the absolute tank of a majiri. He turns back into the kitchen, grabbing me my own bottle. Its contents are milky white with a strong scent of cinnamon. “Rumchatta… Fuck, this is dangerous.”
  Ashura hums, chuffed with his ability to pick a good poison for me. “That’s one half of Reth's favorite drink. He mixes it with a cinnamon whiskey. Swears it’s just like drinking one of Delaila’s cinnamon rolls.”
  “He’s a cinnamon roll.” The words leave my mouth before I register them. If my face wasn’t flushed from the booze, my embarrassment made sure of it. “Said he’s gonna make me chocolates!” I wiggle in my seat. Ashura smiles, exiting from behind the bar via the kitchen. He plops himself on the couch in front of the fire, beckoning for me to join him. My legs are jelly underneath me, causing me to be more wobbly than a plate of jello in an earthquake.

   When I finally see his face again, Ashura’s got a solitary tear running down his cheek. “You know, a good friend of mine died like you did.” The pain in Ashura’s eyes is all too familiar. “Our platoon was ambushed by Umbraan forces. Someone lobbed a grenade into our trench, and he threw himself on top of it, taking the brunt of the explosion to prevent us from being killed. I was a little too close to him, though.” His bottle is agitated by the tremble in his hands. “Instead of getting fried by flow, I ended up being impaled and blinded by pieces of my best friend.” We’re both silent. Ashura’s got a thousand-yard stare. I’m struggling to come up with a response. It’d be super insensitive for me to describe what it feels like to go out that way, wouldn’t it? “You think he suffered?”
  Well, since he asked… I sigh, swirling my bottle in order to fidget. “Not what you wanna hear, but yeah. That fraction of a second where I was being ripped apart stretched for what felt like a long time. Even after my nerves were shot, I was terrified. Not even for my own fate, but Alex’s. I don’t know if he even got the bottle of insulin I threw. I don’t know if he was able to secure any more without me.” Ashura nods, pursing his lips and locking eyes with the ormuu horns mounted above the mantle. “Despite that, though, I’d be willing to bet that if he were to get sent back to that day with the full knowledge of what was going to happen, he’d still choose to protect you.”
  “Yeah, if you’re any indicator,” he scoffs lightheartedly. “Embra gives you a new lease on life, and you decide to instantly throw yourself in harm’s way to help someone in need.”

  I grunt, my body too heavy and sluggish to formulate words, my brain too foggy to protest. I can see the silent chuckle coming from Ashura’s silhouette. “Let’s get you tucked in, kiddo. You gonna fight me if I carry you to a room upstairs?” Shaking my head ends up being a lot closer to just rubbing the back of my head on the sofa. He offers me a hand up, taking me by the forearm. Irish handshake. Nice. Before I know it, I’m being carried like Dad would to bring me in on the nights I’d fallen asleep in the car seat. Sleep sounds so good…
  “Thank you, dad…”

  The 3 AM rooster crowing is much louder from the inn. The rising sun feels so much brighter than it should. My head pounds in time with my heart. I do not miss this feeling. Conveniently, a glass of cold water and some sort of pill are on the nightstand. Next to them is a note:

  For the hangover. -Ashura (a.k.a. Dad)
  P.S. Thank you for your candor.

  I roll my eyes, internally cringing at my behavior the night before. The action makes my vision flash white with pain. I stretch my limbs, feeling the restraint of my clothes sans boots and axe, both of which are placed neatly on top of the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. Not even my coat got removed, likely having something to do with the placement of its buckle on my chest. After a quick back and forth with myself, I take the mystery pill, chugging the water alongside it like my life depends on it before face-planting back into the pillow. The clean, mostly fresh linen smells like the lavender soap that came with my ‘starter kit’.
  Despite the early hour, hushed conversation can be heard from downstairs. If I lay on my side and look down, I can make out two misty blobs. Even from this bird’s-eye view, it’s easy enough to tell that it’s Reth pacing side to side while Ashura lounges on the couch. “I’m serious, Reth,” Ashura pleads, sounding much more intoxicated than when I went to bed, “You’re a second son to me, and there isn’t a thing you could -hic- do to change that!” Yeah, he’s still very fucked up.
  “Ash, you’re drunk. Let me help you get to bed,” Reth sighs, clearly done with the innkeeper’s shit. I guess I’m not the only one he refuses to let say nice things about him. Either way, Ash continues to protest, emphasizing just how much he wants Reth to be happy, and that his parents would be proud of the man he is today. Both are points I can agree with. Reth begins to pull Ashura off of his ass with surprising ease. The chef’s build suggests muscles tune for fine dexterity rather than brute strength. “Come on, you stubborn ormuu. I’ll make sure Sabine has some company today, so you go ahead and rest.”
  Ashura giggles in the way only a drunk man can. “You’re proving my poooiiiinnnt!” His voice is sing-songy, poking at Reth’s chest. “You need sleep, too, though.”
  “Sure, big guy.” The cook attempts to turn the knob, the lock unfortunately still in place. “You have your key?” Ashura shakes his head. “Great. And Athena’s already passed out in the only other room.” Exasperated laughter escapes Reth’s mouth. “What am I gonna do with you? I miss one day and you drink yourself stupid.”
  I groan, knowing I’ve got an easy way to start thanking Ash. I don’t even bother grabbing my glasses when I throw the door to my room open, nudging the pair away from the door. Fortunately, despite sleeping on them, my lock picking set is still intact. The simple lock yields to me in seconds. A new record. Wordlessly, I take Ashura’s other arm, helping Reth bring the man into his apartment. It’s almost comical how small the bed is compared to its owner. Ashura begins to insist that we go back to sleep, despite me being the only one sleeping before this. Reth takes the man’s apron, making sure to put out the candles in the room before leading me out.
  He cautiously shuts the door behind him before trying to guide me back to where I’d been staying. “I know he’s sloshed, but you should really try to get a nap in.” I grumble, my morning voice heavy. Reth starts to shake his head, but I put a finger up in protest. “Even if you just lay there with your eyes shut and your body relaxed, it’s better than no rest at all.”
  “Yeah, how’s your head?” I know what he means. I’m sure I reek of alcohol and sweat. Alas, the joke’s too easy to make.
  With a shit-eating grin, I open my eyes, staring directly into the ocean of blue. “Haven’t had any complaints.” Reth rolls his eyes, acting annoyed in a vain attempt to keep me from seeing how flustered he is.
  “That’s not-”

   “I know what you meant.” I shush the man before giving him the answer to his real question. “My head’s throbbing, but Ash left me some meds and water, so all I can really do is wait for that to kick in.”
  Reth nods, giving me a thorough lookover. “What happened last night?”
  I laugh, poking the cook’s chest with the pad of my pointer finger. “You aren’t getting out of resting by interrogating me, mister.” I’m sure he got some part of the story from Hassian already. “I’ll answer your questions if you come lay down with me. You can have the blanket.”
  “Trying to get me into bed with you already?” Fuck. My cheeks are probably the same shade as the trim on Reth’s coat. I know I started the innuendo, but his comment went straight to my core. No! Bad Athena! I really am no better than the usual gaggle of groupies Reth has going for him.
  I shrug. “I mean, you don’t seem like you’re in the mood to sneak back into your place, mine’s way out of the way, and you need rest.” How I’m not fumbling my words, I have no clue. “I’ll sleep on the floor if that’d make you more comfortable. I can crash anywhere without issue.” Reth shakes his head, taking my hand in his and opening the door to my room before pushing me in.
  “Final offer: if you agree to tell me everything that happened last night, I’ll sleep in until 8. No funny business, just talking, sleeping, and depending on how emotional shit gets, cuddling?” His eyes are wide, filled with concern. “Yeah, no, I don’t wanna make you feel pressured to-”
  “Deal,” I say firmly, unbuckling my coat, folding it over the room’s obligatory cuck chair, following suit with my belt, chain, and overshirt. The bras Jel makes are surprisingly comfortable to sleep in. I can hear Reth’s gulp from across the room. “Sorry, just getting a little more comfortable. Nothing else is coming off of me.”
  He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks redder than my hair. “Right, uh… it’d probably be smart for me to remove my apron… and my ladles… and my knife…” Reth trails off as he fumbles with the knot on his apron. “Are you sure you’re ok with sharing a bed? Because I can totally just chill in the armchair.”
  “Are you ok with it?” My question lingers in the air. Reth stares at his feet, brows furrowed. Knowing how little he thinks of himself, ‘no’ probably isn’t a frequently used word in his vocabulary. “Your input on this matters, too.”
  “I know. I just don’t know how you’re gonna fall asleep, yourself. I’ve been told flow signatures can be pretty bright, and we’re gonna be right next to each other.” Reth’s not wrong. Flow signatures can get pretty bright, especially for people with quartz as their starstone. “Yellow’s a pretty bright color…”
  I shake my head, plopping into bed, patting the spot next to me. “Your signature isn’t bright yellow, and neither is citrine. It’s a lot closer to gold.” The cook nods, cautiously laying next to me, flat on his back. “If hugging you is anything to go off of, cuddling would just look like a human and majiri shaped campfire, and I find campfires to be quite relaxing to be around. Now about last night, where do you want me to start?”
  Reth rubs his eyes, laying his hand over his abdomen. “Well, I heard Gia going off on you about something, you stormed off, and then Hassian started yelling, like actually yelling. I’ve seen him pissed but I’ve never seen him yell.”
  “I’m sorry…” I trail off, shrinking into myself. “She accused me of lying about my life. Said that Alex isn’t real, and I’m taking advantage of everyone.” My jaw clenches, my desire to wipe that smug look off of her face resurfacing. “I know she was just trying to get a rise out of me, but it still hurts because all of her assumptions assume that everyone else is a fucking moron..” Reth nods, wiping a tear from my face I hadn’t realized was there before. The intimacy of it all breaks something in me.
  Something must’ve broken in Reth, too. He pulls me into his arms, tucking my head into his chest. I focus my attention on his breathing, how long he inhales, how long he exhales, and his heartbeat working in tandem to ground me. Is this what being in love feels like? Is this what it’s like to have intimacy without the expectation of sex? “I’d’ve ran, too,” Reth mumbles, not needing to be any louder for me to understand him.
  I suppress a laugh, shaking my head. “Running grounds me. At least it usually does. I ran until I damn near puked, and that’s when Ash found me.” I snake an arm around Reth’s waist, resting it in a way where my wrist lays straight. “He pulled the ‘bartender therapy’ routine with me, except he was drinking, too.” 

   Reth holds me closer, our legs tangling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
  “I didn’t want you to see me like that, anyway,” I whisper, “Not when you actively seemed to finally be having a good night.” I lean into the hand tangling itself in my hair.
  The chef chuckles, “Instead, Hassian and I ended up running around Killima and the bay looking for you.” His fingers gently caress the nearly healed scabs on my bicep. “Last time you got in your head, you ended up hurting yourself, even if it wasn’t a conscious decision.”

   “I’m sorry…” I take a deep breath, my muscles slowly loosening themselves. “If it makes you feel any better, talking shit out with Ash is actually really cathartic, even if it requires a bit of liquid courage to do so.” Reth takes a deep breath like he’s about to go on a spiel. Hopefully Reth takes the hint. Ash really seemed to want Reth to come to him on his own. I make the split second decision to interrupt him with something a bit lighter: “I called you a cinnamon roll in front of him.”
  Reth’s diaphragm contracts with silent laughter. “And why’s that?”
  “Well,” I start, “Ash gave me a bottle of rumchatta- I don’t know if it’s still called that, but the cinnamon horchatta mixed with rum -and he was telling me that your favorite shot is made with it.”
  “The Cinnamon Roll.”
  “Indeed. That shot existed before I was born, except it was called a Cinnamon Toast Crunch, because it tasted like a bowl of the cereal with the same name.”
  The chef’s chin rests atop my head. I can feel the extra heat from how flushed he is. “Careful, you might make me wanna run into the kitchen to recreate that cereal.”
  “Not right now.”
  “I know.”
  “Wake me up when you have to go?”
  “Of course.”
  Sleep tugs at me, the promise of not waking up alone somehow makes me feel more relaxed than I’ve been in a long, long time. With my last conscious thought, I whisper one thing I know to be true. “I love you…”

Chapter Text

   Neither of the Dans had returned the day prior, and the resulting anxiety prevented me from sleeping. Fortunately, I’m no stranger to multi-day streaks with little more than cat naps and an ungodly amount of caffeine. Unfortunately, caffeine is a hot commodity. I trudge through the ruins of the place I called home, heading toward the tent city that Dan Squared had mentioned wanting to barter with. The dust is particularly heavy today, making me grateful for the respirator one of the art majors had brought with them when everything went down. Despite the dust providing a degree of cover, the sun’s rays are brutal.
  Over the weeks, us supply runners had developed a method of tracking our movements, simple tags to place if something happens. An anthropology major suggested using a variation of hobo code, with each of us having our own unique color of paint marker (also courtesy of the art majors) to act as unique identifiers. Circles note that an area has jack shit. A plus notes that an area has medical supplies. Tally marks signalled how many times we’d visited an area. An arrow and a symbol tells you the direction that an area represented by the symbol can be found. An eye says that the area is often surveilled by soldiers. Three dots are the worst to come across. Finding a set of three dots means that whatever lies ahead isn’t safe. It’s the easiest to draw if you’re hurt, and the least conspicuous to outsiders since you can reach out with three fingers covered in blood, in the worst case scenario.
  The familiar shade of brownish-red barely snags my attention until I see exactly what’s next to it: an even more familiar forest-green bag. The Boss-Man’s backpack. Three dots. More blood, thinly veiled by a layer of dust. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Hands shaking, I reach to check the bag for anything that could possibly be valuable. The Boss-Man’s bag has several hidden pockets, the openings only visible if you know what you’re looking for. Batteries in a few different sizes, some condoms, and a Bastinelli karambit. Dan had given it to his other half as a means of defense in close combat. People tend to not want to come near you when you can gut them with a single slice.
  I tuck the green bag into my own. Despite the sinking feeling that one, or both, of the Dans are dead, I’m holding onto even the slightest sliver of hope that the men are okay. Regardless, the knife stays in one hand, the axe in my makeshift holster ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice with the other. My blood runs cold the moment I hear footsteps behind me. “Identify yourself,” a deep voice barks. Great, a soldier…
  Slowly, I turn to face the man speaking to me. “Athena Hawthorn; civilian Master’s student at Illinois State. I have a knife and an axe on me, and I have no intention of using them unless my life is on the line.” My gut twists, not being able to read the expression of the man with a rifle aimed at my chest. “Two of my friends went missing during a supply run last night. I’m trying to find them and hopefully gather some food to take back to the bunkers at the uni.”
  The soldier lowers his weapon. I slowly sheathe my knife, placing it into my bra. “I can escort you to our camp for some non-perishables and a first-aid kit, but I’m afraid it’s too dangerous for me to let you go beyond this point on your own,” He sighs. I want to protest. I want to demand to be let free to find the men who essentially became surrogate dads to me. As a supply runner, though, it’s my responsibility to take the military man up on his offer.
  I sigh, knowing what has to be done. “On behalf of those sheltering in Illinois State University’s bunkers, that would be amazing. Thank you.” As we continue through the area, I keep an eye out for any lime green or cyan markings. There weren’t any paint pens in the Boss-Man’s bag. Maybe they had to hole up somewhere? Coyotes have been prowling more often, their normal stalking grounds having been blown to pieces like the rest of the city. There’s evidence of death everywhere. Skeletal remains peek out from piles of debris, rodents and insects swarm areas where the fresher bodies lay. My respirator does little for the smell.
  As the wind dies down, the dust begins to settle. I can make out the name on the patch of the soldier’s ruck-sack: Smith. I kick myself a little for not taking the time to learn the meaning of different army patches. It’d be rude to refer to him by just his last name. I’m a civvie, and definitely not someone who would out-rank him. Either way, he’s got his head on a swivel, keeping an eye out for anything that could cause us harm. He’s probably already used to the graffiti.
  Between the random markings similar to my bunker’s system, the swastikas, and general pleas for help, there was always something new. I end up getting so lost in my own head that I nearly bump into Smith’s back, not realizing that he’d stopped. The metallic stench of relatively fresh blood invades my nostrils. Neon green and cyan paint contrasts sharply against the dark stains on the wall written in blood: “FAGS MUST DIE.” Two bodies hang limp from the second story window of the building, bloody and coated in flies.
  Time freezes. Just yesterday, they’d promised they’d come back safe. Alex’s birthday is coming up, and Dan Squared had wanted to find a box of cake mix, and maybe some aluminum foil to make a makeshift cake pan and a solar-powered oven. I’d found and hid birthday candles on my last run. We were gonna surprise him, and give the others in the bunker a bit of a morale boost. They were supposed to come back. They were supposed to live. Dan was supposed to take me as an apprentice. The Boss-Man was teaching Alex about how to run a business.
  The surrounding yelling sounds miles away, the ra-ta-ta-ta of rifle fire barely registering. My eyes don’t leave the defiled corpses of the last two people who deserved to go so brutally. I can feel my legs moving, following directions I don’t consciously register until much later. Only when I’m within the confines of the encampment do I drop to my knees and scream.

  My throat burns, and my eyes sting from my tears. My chest feels like it’s being ripped apart again. I shut my eyes, focusing on steadying my breathing. It takes me a moment to register where I am and who’s rubbing my back. “Hey, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” Reth’s voice is soothing, like aloe on a sunburn. The temporary relief is negated by a rising pressure in my esophagus. I barely make it to a trash can before the contents of my stomach eject themselves from my body. Reth isn’t far behind me, pulling my bangs from my face and sitting by my side. He continues to whisper warm sentiments, reminders that I’m safe, and that I’m not alone.

  I don’t know how long I spent retching, but my entire body hurts from the effort. Reth gets up, returning with more water and a damp towel. Dry sobs come from me as I’m cleaned up, my tears having run out before I was even conscious. Bells ring in the town center, the sound still distant. I almost drop the glass I’m handed, every part of me trembling. Without a word, Reth steadies the vessel, aiding my hands in guiding it to my lips. You’re fucking pathetic, Athena. Can’t even take care of your basic necessities, relying on someone with more than enough bullshit on his plate already. I drink in small sips, doing my best not to look at Reth’s face, knowing damn well that it may end up haunting me.
  “You’re going really well, Athena.” His voice pulls me out of my own head. I’m not sure when he grabbed my glasses, but he places them gingerly on my face. I have no choice but to face him. His brows are furrowed, but the slightest hint of a smile can be seen at the corner of his lips. “Night terrors are no fun. If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears.” I can’t help but chuckle just a bit, especially since Reth wiggled his own, much larger than human ears as he said it. My throat tightens as I go to speak. Great, a fucking non-verbal episode.
  I kick myself again for not taking the time to learn any sort of sign language before pointing at Reth’s pocket and miming writing. “The night terrors eighty-six your speech?” I nod. The chef presses a fresh notebook into my hands along with a pen. “Keep it. Now what’s up?”
  Nightmares about my old boss and his husband’s death. They didn’t get a dignified send-off. Murder victims rarely do. I turn the booklet towards Reth. His face falls with each word before he nods and stands, offering me a hand up. I take it and am brought into a hug, his thumbs rubbing circles on my back. His warmth is grounding. Despite the calm, reassuring demeanor, I can feel Reth’s heart racing. I do my best to slow my breathing and my own erratic pulse. “Think you can stomach some waffles? I have an idea for a breakfast item and Ash isn’t awake to tell me ‘no’.” I pull my head back, cocking an eyebrow. “I promise, it won’t be as bad as the lettuce soup.” I roll my eyes, pulling back to write my response: I don’t think there’s anything you can do to top THAT bad idea. Reth lets out the kind of chuckle that feels like a glass of iced tea post yard work.
  I quickly don my previously shed attire, using the amenities in the bathroom to scrub the taste of bile from my mouth. Reth appears behind me, brushing my hair back into place with his fingers before tucking a gardenia in my ear. Where the fuck did you even get that?!? “A magician never reveals their secrets,” he laughs, exiting the suite and making his way downstairs.
  What I can recall of flower language warms me. Love, hope, and purity are all represented in a single bud. I have no clue if Reth even knows what he said with his gift, but even if he doesn’t, he’s made it clear that his feelings align with the flower’s message. Would it be too forward to retaliate with a red rose? What if I included a peach one as well? They’d fit perfectly in the hole for the button he always leaves unfastened. I could try my hand at making chocolate covered strawberries? No, no, no. I know he’s wanting to make me chocolates, and I sure as shit can’t outclass him in that.
  I make up my mind, determined to spend what time I can in Bahari Bay before tonight’s market starts, but first: whatever the fuck Reth’s doing with waffles that he thinks Ash wouldn’t approve of. Much like any other morning, I’d assume, the inn’s empty. Unlike most mornings, however, Reth's here, making me waffles. As I’m coming down the stairs, the first thing to hit me is the sizzle of batter on the waffle iron, followed closely by Reth thinking out loud about the correct ratio of ingredients for the ‘final dish’. While he’s distracted, I make my way down to the store room, depositing what part of the gold Hassian gave me for Reth into the area I know he usually stuffs his contraband in.
  Sneaking up the stairs is surprisingly much easier than I thought it would be. Usually wooden stairs have a nasty habit of creaking, but with the way Ash built them, they really don’t. Great craftsmanship, to be completely honest. “Hey Fancy-Pants, I need your opin- oh… you kept the flower on.” Reth’s cheeks flush, and he completely loses his train of thought. I nod, pointing to the flower and making a heart shape on my chest. His smile spreads, his free hand making its way to the back of his neck, the way it always does when he’s nervous or bashful, the same way I do under the same circumstances. “Right,” Reth snaps out of his daze, “I need your opinion because I can’t choose: would strawberries or blueberries go better with this?” He holds out a bowl of what appears to be vanilla ice cream, tinted yellow from the use of actual vanilla beans, not the artificial bullshit that got used for most ice cream in the 21st century.
  I take the bowl, spooning out a small bite. The smell is warm and sweet, and it melts on my tongue at the perfect rate. When was the last time I had ice cream, let alone ice cream this fucking good? Right, before the war. I point to the bowl, miming a chef’s kiss. “Neither?” Reth asks, clearly amused by my reactions, even if they’re silent. Right. I’m supposed to pick strawberries or blueberries. I signal for him to give me a sec before shoving the bowl back into the chef’s hands and whipping out the notebook. Mix the berries. Bonus points if you have blackberries and raspberries. Accompanying my response is a drawing of the last two berries with notes of their colors.
  Reth’s face lights up. “You’re a fucking genious! Why didn’t I think of that?” He laughs, running back into the kitchen before peeking his head back out of the curtain, playful skepticism written all over his face. “You’re not coming for my job, right? I kinda need it, and I don’t think Ash would pay me for your work like someone does.” I shrug and sit down at the counter. Between the ice cream, waffles, and mention of fruits, I know damn well what Reth’s doing, but I wanna let him have this. I’m fairly certain that food, to an extent, is his primary love language, followed closely by acts of service.
  I set my notebook on the table and start sketching, having to be careful with my lines since I don’t have any means of erasing or covering up any mistakes. I dab small spots of ink onto my fingertips, pressing them into the paper to create a lighter set of freckles. If Reth were capable of making himself intimidating in any way, his facial structure would be perfect for a JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure-inspired portrait. What even would his stand be? I don’t fucking know. I’m just barely finished shading his hair when my subject reappears, bringing with him not one, but two plates with breakfast ice cream sandwiches.
  “Syrup’s super sugary and doesn’t taste all that great with fruit, so I figured ice cream would be better. Plus, you can take it on the go.” Reth smiles nervously as he sets a plate in front of me. I don’t hesitate to dig in, my eyes nearly rolling back into my head. The waffle is warm, with a golden, crunchy exterior and a fluffy, soft interior, perfectly torn into quarters. In contrast, the ice cream is as expected: cold, sweet, and rich. On my second bite, a raspberry and a chunk of strawberry make themselves known. In all my years, I’ve never had better-tasting berries. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I have to use the back of my hand to catch it.
  Reth’s eyes don’t leave me, gauging my reaction. I’m all too aware of him nervously biting his lip between taking bites of his own breakfast, shifting his weight like staying still is painful. “What, do you need me to moan to know I like it?” I laugh, my voice coming back to me. Reth damn near drops his half-eaten ice cream sandwich. I roll my eyes, the rapid-fire changes in the cook’s expression fueling my desire to keep him flustered. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what she said. I know I walked right into that.”
  “You’re talking again…”
  “And you’re doubting yourself again.” I chomp down, savoring the flavor. I shield my mouth, saying ‘fuck it’ to manners. “Thank you, by the way, for putting up with my shit.” I swallow before continuing. “I, uh… I used to get a lot of shit for it in the bunker, not that I could control it, but still…”
  Reth shakes his head, wiping non-existent sweat from his forehead. “It’s just the right thing to do. That one,” Reth points upstairs, “wakes up screaming at least once a month. He’s always so out of it, I couldn’t tell you if he even remembers me getting him settled back down.”
  “I’m surprised I didn’t wake him.”
  “Same. You know what they say about gift riffrocs, though.”
  “Don’t look ‘em in the mouth,” We say in union, smiling like we’d said the funniest thing. Reth looks down, taking notice of the contents of my sketchbook. My drawing’s pretty messy, given that I’m not used to drawing strictly in pen, but it’s still fitting of the man it portrays.
  Reth looks back and forth between me and the page. His eyes are wide, lips barely parted. “I know you can draw, but Dragon, when I get the money, I need to commission you for a better portrait because your work blows that,” He nods to the portrait of him hung behind the counter, “out of the water.” My chest tightens and my cheeks flush.
  “It’s a messy sketch. I can do better if I have pencils and stuff,” I protest, “Plus, I was going off memory, it’s not like I had you posing for me.” My hand makes its way to the nape of my neck.
  “You do understand that you’re only making me more impressed, right?” Reth teases, tapping my notebook. “I stood for that portrait behind me for six hours and looking at it feels like staring at a caricature. With one pen and like fifteen minutes, you captured me better than an esteemed professional.” I can’t help but squirm a little in my seat. It’s just a sketch, and far from my best work.There’s no reason for him to be praising me so heavily. “When I’m out of debt, I want you to be the one to cover this up.” Reth’s tone is serious, his blue eyes looking further into me than I even dare go.
  The mention of his debt reminds me of the fat cat’s warning: “Yeah, your creditor is apparently insisting on meeting me. First night after the market is when it’s happening.” I brace myself for some sort of lecture on preserving my safety, or how dangerous Zed is, but the silence I’m met with is somehow worse.  Reth’s putting most of his weight on the counter through his hands, frozen, staring holes in his plate. He’s pressing hard enough into the wooden surface that his knuckles are going white. “Hey, I’m gonna be ok, I promise.”
  “You can’t promise that,” Reth snaps, “Not when he knows you can use flow.” The air feels still, thick with the emotions radiating from the chef. He takes a deep breath, collecting himself. “You’ve already died trying to save someone. I don’t wanna be the reason you die again.”
  I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “If he wanted me dead, I’d’ve been killed by now.” Reth nods. “Dying isn’t an option for me, anyway. Not until I’m old, wrinkly, and senile.” I smile softly, lacing my fingers into Reth’s. “I promise, I will do everything in my power to come out of this unscathed. If I end up hurt, I’ve got you and Hassian to patch me up, right?” Reth nods, still avoiding eye contact.
  My second waffle stares back at me, the ice cream somehow not having melted a bit. Seriously, what sort of magical bullshit is keeping food so… perfect? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be snapping at you…” Reth picks up my hand, tracing the scars on my palms. “I love you, too, and that scares the living shit out of me because Zed will use that to hurt us.”
  Rapid footsteps can be heard outside. Reth and I barely pull apart before the door to the inn slams open, revealing the source of the sound. The hunter breathes a sigh of relief, “Thank Maji you’re ok!” Hassian plops down next to me. “Couldn’t find you anywhere last night…”
  “Ash decided to get her fucked up,” Reth states plainly, “I get back here, find the old man downstairs with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, barely awake.” Reth makes his way back into the kitchen, bringing out more ice cream sandwiches. When the fuck did he make those? “Imagine my surprise when Athena stumbles out of Nuroo’s room with her eyes shut and just picks Ashura’s lock so I didn’t have to hunt for his keys.”
  Hassian’s eyes go wide. Reth pushes a plate towards the hunter, silently beckoning him to eat. “I… have way too many questions and too little patience to seek out their answers right now.” All the tension leaves Hassian’s shoulders with the first bite into what I can only assume is his first meal of the day. “You keep feeding me and I might just start taking it as your intention to court me,” the hunter smiles, speech muffled by half-eaten waffles.
  “I can’t tell if you’re being serious, or if you’re pulling me leg,” Reth groans, eyes rolling hard enough for his head to follow suit. Hassian looks at me, nodding towards the chef while cocking an eyebrow. I can only assume he’s asking if I’m cool with it. “Wait, you’re serious?!?” Reth almost screeches, eyes wider than an owl’s.
  I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Here he was last night telling me he’s only interested in having a single partner.”

   “Hey,” Hassian interjects, “If y’all are a package deal, I may as well take advantage of it.”
  “You don’t even know if I swing that way!”
  Almost in union, Hassian and I blurt out, “Shall we find out?” Reth’s face goes cherry red before he rushes off, muttering something about checking inventory downstairs. Alone, the room is quiet, only the crackling of the weird blue fire and the faint snoring of the drunken innkeeper acting as ambience.
  Only after the storeroom’s door slams shut does Hassian speak up. “You don’t think we went too far, did we?”
  “Dude’s self-esteem’s in the gutter, and his boss has a habit of using the people he cares about to hurt him, apparently.” Hassian nods understandingly, taking another bite of his breakfast. “Seriously, though, was one chappaa-shaped onigiri really enough to change your mind on polygamy?”
  Hassian shrugs. “No. I wouldn’t even consider testing those waters with anyone else.” Something about the way he speaks rubs me the wrong way. “I had some time to reflect when you two were sleeping yesterday, and I came to a bit of a realization. The onigiri only affirmed that.” He takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m fairly certain my aggression towards his life choices originates from… feelings.”
  I bite my lip, trying my best not to poke fun at the hunter. Everything about his cadence and his body language screams emotional constipation. “Fair enough. Pisses me off when people I care about make decisions that I don’t think are good for them, too.” Embra knows Alex made more than his fair share of them. Cake when his sugars are in the low 200s, going out on nights where people are known to drive drunk, hacking his pump to stop his basal insulin dosage when the war started… “You can’t control what other people do.”
  “And what you think is best isn’t always the case,” Hassian replies, “Like Reth’s choice in path. He’s happier this way, and so is everyone’s stomach.” The hunter, pauses, holding up a finger before digging into his bag and pulling out a piece of paper. He slides it towards me before explaining, “I have an idea for dealing with the chappaa.”
  Cautiously, I unfold the paper, revealing a wanted poster straight out of One Piece, but instead of Lufy or any of the other Straw Hats, it’s a chappaa. It isn’t just any chappaa, though. My cheeks burn, knowing damn well where he got the art for this goofy little poster. “She showed you the blueprint?!?” I damn near shriek, thinking back to the doodles littered on the page.
  Hassian’s face goes white. “I, uh, saw it at the forge. Thought it was fitting for a bounty poster,” the hunter mumbles, fiddling with one of the gold charms in his hair, “I’m more than willing to pay you for the usage, of course.”
  “That’s not-” I pause, blinking until my vision refocuses. “You weren’t supposed to see all that, ok? Now I’m gonna be honest with you, I think you’ve got this a bit too heavy-handed. It’s cheesier than a wheel of cheddar and I’m fairly certain people will take this as a joke.”
  “I thought as much,” Hassian nods, “Which is why I wanted to run it by you. You have an eye for this sort of thing as well as a similar level of distaste for the chappaa menace.”
  I shake my head, grabbing a fresh sheet of paper from my notebook. “Ok, first of all, you need to make it a competition of sorts to get people interested. Go by quantity of chappaa followed by the quality of the kill to provide an extra incentive to your sharp shooters.” My pen drags across the page, noting every point I’m making. “How do you feel about doing a weekly leaderboard? Even if money isn’t involved, people like having bragging rights.” I raise an eyebrow to the darker majiri, his gaze softening under mine before snapping back into reality.
  A calloused hand brushes against mine, pointing at fine print on the original flier. “That was the plan. Hopefully with this, I’ll be freed up a bit more for my apprenticeship.” I tilt my head. Hassian chuckles nervously, “I’m going to be taking over for my mother when she retires. As of right now, my expertise primarily lies in projectiles, like arrows, bows…”
  “Throwing axes?” I finish, playfully poking the tattoo on Hassian’s bicep. His eyes go wide for just a moment, unlike his cheeks that continue to grow rosier in hue.
  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. As far as I’m aware, Mother was commissioned, not me.” Hassian clears his throat before stuffing his face with more waffle. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. The normally forward and direct hunter is just as adorable as he is a terrible liar when flustered.
  The last bite of waffle is bittersweet, a delicious meal made by someone who’s managed to make me feel like I matter independently of anything else for the first time in decades. “I’ve got a lot I’m wanting to do today,” I sigh, taking my plate back into the kitchen, “Thank you for looking out for me. If you’re free tomorrow, I’d like to sit down and get a better poster design set up, free of charge.”

   “Of course. I will find a way to pay you for your services, though. All skills are worth some degree of compensation,” Hassian smirks, a challenge laced through his words.
  I smile and lean in close, tempting him to look down even for just a second. “I can think of two forms of payment, hunter. One option’s as simple as walking across the square and making a purchase, the other is a dedicated search most easily done under the starlight.” Hassian’s pupils are so blown, deep abysses of black are just barely lined by a ring of green and gold. Satisfied with the level of blood flow in the normally stoic majiri’s cheeks, I turn and make my way out the door, leaving a small pile of gold on the counter for my meal.

  My mailbox is damn-near overflowing with letters from the past day and a half. So much so, in-fact, that I nearly miss the shit-brick house that is Kilima’s resident DILF, leaning against my door frame. I put on a warm smile, pretending nothing in the past couple of days has happened. “Hodari! What brings you out here so early?” I snatch the mass of letters from my mailbox and make my way to my door.

  The stocky man shakes his head, gloved hand rubbing at his 5 o’ clock shadow. “Just makin’ sure you’re alright. I won’t keep ya’ too long.” Hodari’s southern drawl tickles something in me. Particularly the urge to get him to say y’all’dn’t’ve. “One hell of a fireworks show you n’ that lass put on last night.”
  Hodari steps to the side as I open my front door, his eyes digging into me like he’s searching for something. Despite the heat of his gaze, my blood runs cold. “Hey,” I say, voice barely above a whisper, “Something’s wrong here. Are you armed?”
  “Wha-”
  “Are. You. Armed.” My voice is firm and level, like concrete. I can barely see Hodari flick open the blade of a small pocket knife. I’ll take that as a yes. The curtains I’d made leave the living room mostly dark. “You didn’t see any busted windows when you came from Bahari, did you?” Hodari shakes his head. I nod in return. My teeth scrape against my bottom lip as I think through who all could want to break in. The Adders, particularly Zed. Any of Tamala’s secret allies? Reth could’ve forgotten to lock up if he came in. Gia’s a bitch, but I can’t see her straight up breaking into my place.

   My thumb pops the clasp of my holster, allowing me to slowly grip the handle of my axe. “Ya gonna tell me what the hell’s going on, ‘Thena?” Hodari hisses, looking back and forth between me and our surroundings.
  “This door should’ve been locked. Back me up?”
  Hodari blinks, taking his sweet fucking time processing what I’ve said. “What?”
  I can’t help but growl, the anxiety of the situation stripping away any sort of filter, “Someone’s been, and may still be, in the house. Are you willing to back me up for a sweep of the place?” The question leaves my lips as a statement.
  “Y-yeah, sure,” Hodari trembles. I shut my eyes tight, looking for any signs of a flow signature. I can’t rely just on that. There’s a stupid fuck-ass potion that wipes signatures. I flip my axe in my hand, exposing the flat end in place of the blade before stepping into the living room. The light switch is easily flipped with the hand fisting my mail. The house looks just like how I left it, but something still rubs me the wrong way. Hodari carefully steps in behind me, cautiously stepping close to the kitchen. “You check the other room. I’ve got the kitchen.”
  I nod, sticking close to the walls, looking under furniture. The bedroom is empty, save for my bed and a letter with a sickeningly familiar reddish brown stain. My heart beats out of my chest and into my throat, the air around me feeling too thick and too thin at the same time. I think I can hear Hodari calling out something as I head closer to the bed. The metallic stench of the not-so-mystery fluid becomes more potent the closer I get to it.
  “Hey, ‘Thena, everything- dragon have mercy, is that blood?” Hodari steps in front of me, cautiously taking a free section of my axe’s handle into his hand. “We need t’get the magistrate involved. You got anywhere you can stay other than here? Any idea who’d break in just to leave a bloody letter?” I shake my head. Honestly, it’s probably Zed or one of the other Adders. I can’t get Hodari involved, especially if it could mean orphaning Najuma. “First Tamala, now you… Whoever is causing this mess is targeting women who live alone. I can put you up at my place.”
  The witch’s name throws me for a loop, snapping me back into the moment. “What? No, no, I can handle myself. It’s not like you can house all the single women living in Kilima Valley.” The miner starts to protest, but I interject, “I can take someone in a one-on-one fight, and I sleep with my axe anyway. I appreciate the offer, though.”
  Hodari shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t see her house.” Oh, buddy, I sure did. You can’t know that though. “Place looks like a band of chappaa and a pack of mujiin had a terf war and decided to split Tamala amongst themselves as desert. Please, at the very least allow me t’stay with ya’. I can have ‘Juma stay with the Daiyas.” My jaw clenches as tight as my stomach.
  “I can’t. Genuinely, I can’t. I’m sorry about what happened to Tamala, but it’s best this be handled with as few people’s knowledge as possible.” I grip Hodari’s gloved hand as tight as I can manage without hurting him, staring daggers into this man’s soul. “All I can say is that I can’t say shit without putting you and Najuma at risk. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got people watching my six, and I’m a light sleeper when I need to be.”
  Hodari’s eyes narrow, looking me up and down. His face ripples with internal conflict. “I’ll have Hassian keep an eye out.”
  “Who do you think I was referring to?”
  The miner hums, stowing away his pocket knife and turning towards the living room. “Fair ‘nough. Keep yer wits aboutcha, alright? If Siffuu ain’t up for the task, ‘Juma’d probably love the chance to tinker on a good lock.”
  “Noted,” I sigh, brushing my fingers through my hair, “Thanks for checking up on me, by the way. I’ll have to come by and give a proper thanks when things are less heated.” Hodari nods and mozies out of the cottage, leaving me alone in the now-violated space.
  Just in-case, I do a secondary sweep, checking small nooks and crannies for singing stones or anything else that could be particularly incriminating. Every single drawer has been emptied and restocked by the time I’m satisfied that my home hasn’t been bugged. I pull the lock-picking tools from my pocket, carefully using them to pry open the letter. What relatively tame stench there was before, hits in full force as the seal breaks. The Dans’ bloated bodies hang in front of me. I can’t help the retching, barely swallowing down the bile in my throat. The source of the smell falls from the fully unfurled paper: a long, lavender ear with a large silver hoop attached to the lobe.
  There’s no fooling anyone as to who’s missing that ear. I shut my eyes, attempting to blink back tears. Instead I’m met with mental images of a different ear, with a smaller silver hoop hanging from the helix. “Fucking shit-fuck. AW HELL NAH.” I grumble, flinging the body part into the nearest bucket for the compost bins. Out of sight, out of mind… Barely legible through the blood stains is a simple message accompanied by a stamp depicting a ‘Z’ made with claw marks:

   “Meet in the underground at midnight. Use the Inn’s entrance. Don’t keep me waiting.
        -Z”

Chapter Text

   Yeah, I should’ve figured a crime boss wouldn’t take too kindly to being told to wait. I light the fireplace in my living room, the evidence of dirty deeds making for good kindling, despite it being damp in certain areas. Making my way through my growing home, I double-check that every window and door is locked, drawing all curtains for privacy before starting to strip down. It’s been almost 2 days, I’ve gotten drunk out of my ass, and I haven’t had a shower. Needless to day, I feel gross and I’d like my clothes to be de-crudded as well.
  The tap to my sink is fortunately capable of producing water hot enough to steam without boiling. I fill the basin underneath it for a simple enough tiny bath, allowing the sink itself to fill about half way before shoving my clothes into it. The hot water instantly melts a good chunk of the tension in my muscles, resulting in a moan of a sigh escaping my lips. “Dear Gods, I needed this,” I mutter as I sink lower into the kiddie-pool sized tub. I really did need this though, and not just for sanitary reasons.
  Just in the past 2 days, I’ve discovered I can use flow, killed a bitch (probably), carried about 150 pounds of dead weight on my back, fired at least 200 arrows, and ran way more than any sane individual should in that time span without the necessary preparation. Needless to say, if I were a store, I’d be Back & Body Hurts. How Reth saw me in this state and still decided to cuddle me, I’ll never know. I can say the same about Hassian happily sitting next to me and bumping elbows. Do I really not reek?
  Cautiously, I decide to let curiosity get the better of me, lifting my armpit. Despite a good whiff, I miraculously don’t smell. I raise my other arm, checking there as well. What the fuck?!? As much as I kinda hate it, I’m beginning to understand just why Zeki doesn’t sell deodorant. Normally after all this activity, I’d smell like funky taco beef, even with deodorant and antiperspirant. I don’t exactly smell like roses or anything like that, but the smell isn’t bad per se. I’m salty, with a degree of musk, spice, and smoke. The latter makes sense with me literally shooting fire from my feet. The spices are likely lingering from Reth. No doubt, we both got a little sweaty curled up with each other.
  I sit up gently, plucking the flower from behind my ear and placing it in a glass on the counter. Do I press it? Do I try to keep it alive in a vase? Do I hang it upside-down to dry it properly? I shake my head, reminding myself that that’s a later issue as I grab my wash cloth and bags of soaps. One body part at a time, I scrub myself down, taking notes of the state of my bruises and where I should really apply some more of that cure-all brightshroom balm. Much of the previously purple spaces are now much more yellow, and they’re not quite as tender as they were yesterday.
  My imagination wanders, the memory of Hassian’s hands in my hair replacing my own as I scrub at my scalp. Every brush against my arms and torso isn’t me, but Reth. Just a week ago, I’d’ve been repulsed by the idea of a man’s hands on my body, or their eyes on me in anything other than full clothing. A woman, maybe. But Reth and Hassian know damn well what having that kind of agency stripped from you feels like… I can’t help but chuckle a bit at the logic.
  Once I’m clean, I turn my attention to my clothes, agitating everything in the sink, scrubbing the fabric against my washboard. The water stays surprisingly light compared to the amount of grime I’d been bracing myself for. Regardless, I drain the basin, as well as my sink, ringing out my soggy garments as much as possible before hanging them up in front of the fireplace to dry. After pulling on some boyshorts, I stop to look at myself in my mirror. I’m simultaneously at my healthiest and in the shittiest shape of my life, save for when I was in literal pieces.
  My fingers trace lightly over the scars on my thighs. Memories of the bullies, both Alex’s and my own, are immortalized in the marks. I’d made the mistake of coming out in a conservative area as a non-binary bisexual. Not to mention, the school’s Gender and Sexuality Alliance had decided that bisexuality was problematic due to being discriminatory against towards the trans community, in particular the non-binary community. How that makes sense, fuck if I know anymore. For middle school me, though, the constant bullying from the people I thought would be supportive just contributed to the mental decline I’d been trying to hide for the longest time.
  I don’t know if my parents ever knew about the cutting, to be honest. They never caught me, and I sure as hell never told my doctors about it while my parents were alive. I’d also sworn Alex to secrecy under the condition that I never intentionally hurt myself again. Even when mom and dad died, even after finding Dan and The Bossman’s bodies, even after being violated repeatedly, and even after everything after my resurrection, or whatever people wanna call how I ended up here, I’ve kept that promise.
  Shaking the memories from my head, I make my way to bed, setting my alarm clock to wake me up at noon. I flop on my stomach, my hand firmly wrapped around the handle of my axe under my pillow. My bedding still smells like cinnamon and musk, just like the citrine signatured man who’s come to feel like home.

  Unfortunately, the bruising on my body basically mandates that I’ve got to at least keep the long-sleeved shirt on, despite it probably being in the upper 80s, lower 90s outside. The sun’s near its highest point in the day, making the heat that much worse as I trek through Bahari Bay. In conversations with Tish, she’d mentioned how bright the lily Jel had given her would glow, almost as if densely packed with flow. I wrench my eyes shut, testing my hypothesis. The animal life of Palia tended to stay at a medium grey glow, with bugs being even dimmer. Plants have always been invisible to me. If a heartdrop lily is really as packed as Tish thinks, then I should, in theory, be able to find one via flow-vision. Yeahhhh, gotta workshop that. Can’t even call it that internally without cringing.
  I scan the area, slowly, but surely. I can see the shadows of napping mujiin in some of the trees, and I can just barely make out a chappaa den in the distance. Right as I’m ready to give up, I see it: A dim, pink glow. From this distance, it’s just a pin prick, but it’s there. I jog in the direction, being fortunate enough that a straight path without much in the way of obstacles takes me right to my destination. I can just barely see the flower about 100 feet in front of me when a familiar figure kneels down and gently scoops the bloom and its roots from the ground.
  “FUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK…” I groan, startling the hunter, but leaving Tau unphased.
  Hassian’s head snaps over in my direction, eyes wide. “A-Athena, I didn’t think you’d be out here.” The man stutters as he transplants the heartdrop lily into a small clay pot before carefully tucking it into his bag. “This, uh, well…” Hassian trails off, cool toned skin becoming warmer and warmer, “I wanted to have a lily prepared for you if you decided to extend a romantic gift to me…” His lips are curled in a shy grin as he brushes the dirt from his hands.
  I can’t help but laugh at the scenario. “So that one’s not for Reth?” The hunter sputters, trying to collect his thoughts.
  “Given his reaction this morning, I think it’d be best if I wait for him to express interest before I even attempt to flirt with him anymore.” Hassian states plainly, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “I’d be more than happy to help you search for one for him if you’d like? Wait, how did you even know this one was here? I didn’t see you until I was already re-potting it.” The man stares incredulously at me.
  I shut my eyes, concentrating on finding any small specks of pink. Pointing in the direction of my target, I smirk, “Like that. Now quick, before someone else picks the thing!” Bolting to my right, I take off, attempting to channel the fury aimed towards the witch. I gotta get this fucking flower. Tau’s on my heels, barking excitedly. The smug manipulative voice of Tamala echoes in my head, Gia’s falsehoods intertwining with it. Tau’s barking grows further away, and my feet feel lighter underneath me. I open my eyes and look down for just a moment, cherry red sparks bursting from the soles of my feet.
  No fucking shot… It really is emotion based! I’m sure the laughter escaping me sounds downright maniacal. The shift from rage to pure elation unfortunately has some unintended consequences, most important being that my feet are no longer able to keep up with how fast I’m moving. In that fraction of a moment between my last step and faceplanting, I manage to curl into a ball, lessening the destructive forces of gravity on my body. One, two, three, four full rotations end up being made before I unfurl my body, spread like a whole starfish in the cool grass. So much for that shower, I guess…

   “Athena,” Hassian shouts, “are you ok? What happened?” Despite the sprint, the stout man’s completely unphased, brows furrowed with concern and confusion. I go to answer, but Tau interrupts, slobbery tongue repeatedly dragging itself against my face. The rough surface of his tongue tickles, and I can’t help but laugh. Who cares if I ended up eating shit? I intentionally used flow! “Tau! Heel!”
  The plumehound whines in protest before stepping away, allowing me the opportunity to sit up. Spots cloud my vision, the heat of everything catching up to me. “Pyro-flow while running goes brrrrrr,” I wheeze through attempts to down damn near the entirety of my waterskin’s contents. Regardless of how many times I’ve rinsed out the damn thing, I can’t quite get the flavor of charcoal out of it. “But like, if I’m gonna maintain that, I gotta learn your emotional control.”
  Hassian rolls his eyes, extending a hand towards me. “Emotional constipation won’t help you with pathos casting.” My eyes narrow at the man. Between the weird prayer shit and now… just how much does he know about flow. “Don’t look at me like that. Laws around flow were far more loose in Umbraa.”

   “You’re inclined.”
  “No-”
  “Bullshit.”
  The hunter groans, yanking me up via Irish handshake. “How can I explain this simply?” Hassian asks. “I’m going to assume humans and majiri are similar in that we’re born unable to even support the weight of our own heads.” I nod. I certainly couldn’t hold mine up until I was almost a month old. “Meanwhile,” Hassian continues, “Sernuks are born ready to sprint through dense forests. When it comes to wielding flow, you, Athena, are a sernuk, and a graceful one at that.”
  “You say that, knowing damn well that I just ate shit because I got too excited about being able to replicate that sprint to maintain my anger.” Genuinely, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. If there’s pathos casting, it stands to reason that there’s ethos and logos casting as well. “It’s a miracle I haven’t lashed out and hurt anyone during an episode.”
  The hunter shrugs. “Not really. You have a tendency to defend yourself when you’re distressed like that. You left frost on… her shoulder last night when you left the market.” Hassian’s eyes lock onto a stray spotted chappaa. He knocks an arrow and pulls his bow taut. “And according to Reth, your body temperature tanked right before you woke up. Pathos casting of aqua-flow is almost entirely defensive, at least in my experience.” His words knock the wind out of me like his arrow knocks the life from the invasive pest’s body. “In any case, as long as that is your subconscious reaction, the most you will end up doing is giving someone a cold.”

   Tau charges to the felled creature, snatching its limp body from the ground. I can’t say I know enough about majiri to be able to determine how easily I could cause one to become hypothermic. Every time I’ve hugged or even accepted a hand up from one of the new dominant species of Earth, they’ve felt incredibly warm, but at least with Reth and Hassian, there’s always… other reasons to possibly explain that. “Just sounds like I really gotta bundle up the next time I curl up with you or Reth, just in-case.”
  “Wait, you and Reth have shared a bed?”
  “He was gonna pull an all-nighter, and if he wasn’t he was just gonna curl up on the floor of the storeroom. Don’t know if you’ve been in there at all, but there isn’t any sort of bedding in there unless you count a ratty wash cloth and a couple of spare aprons.”
  “I’m not judging,” Hassian mumbles, his brows pressed together, a frown taking over his face. “Just… curious. Flow signatures are rather bright, and you don’t being touched from behind.”
  My eyebrow cocks, and a huff escapes from my lips. “You’re worried about the logistics of cuddling?”
  “I’m simply looking to be considerate.”
  “By indirectly asking how you can hold me while we get some shut-eye? Give me a heartdrop lily and you can find out for yourself.”
  Hassian’s eyes go wide, his entire face flushing. “Wait, what?” he stammers. “Even if I were to- dragon save me -even if you accepted a lily from me today, there are traditions to go through before we…” He looks up at my smirking mug. He’s so fucking hot like this… “Are you teasing me?”
  I shrug, turning to the lily I’d come out here to find regardless. The tender red bloom almost seems to have its own pulse. “Only one way to find out.” My fingers trace the delicate petals of my prize. Tenderly, I dig out a chunk of earth surrounding the bloom, placing it into an old boot I’d fished from my property’s pond. A new life for something previously considered already spent. What I’d give to grant Reth that sort of opportunity… I use one hand to level the ground, while the other pours my remaining water into the makeshift planter. My mom taught me that extra water is always nice for a plant after being transplanted.
  “I-I can’t. Last time I opened myself up first…” Hassian trails off, voice small. “I’m sorry. It isn’t fair of me to compare you to anyone else.”

   I nod, looking down at the ground. “No, I get it.” A lump forms in my throat, the echoes of tastes I wish I could forget flooding my mouth. “If you were to ever request head from me, we’d be having a similar conversation.” My jaw aches from the memory. “I’m sorry for pushing it.”

   I go to stand. Hassian’s hand gently touches the back of my own. “May I?” I nod, allowing him to take my hand in his own. He presses my palm to his cheek, leaning into the scars and callouses. My free hand snakes around his side and up his back.”All I’ve ever asked of life is a purpose, a hearth to call my own, and… someone to share those things with. Someone who I can hold, and be held by. Someone who sees things as they are, rather than how they wish things were. I-” Large, heavy paws dig into my back, knocking Hassian and I both off of our feet.
  Time stops. My heart rate skyrockets. It’s like fireworks are going off in my chest and on my lips. All I can see is the deep caramel shade of our intertwined auras. Dear Maji, his lips are so soft… Hassian groans softly against my lips, pain shooting through my knees and elbows just milliseconds after. Tau yips just once before bolting. I pull myself away, meeting Hassian’s eyes. 

   His pupils are large enough that I can’t make out the gold and green bands around them. They keep flickering back and forth between my lips and my own eyes. I’m not sure how long we stayed there, breath ragged, lips trembling against the open air. It’s hard to think straight with his hands on my waist. Do I apologize? What would I even say? Fuck, I want to kiss him again, but… does he want me to? 

   Hassian’s eyes return to their normal emerald state as he clears his throat. I roll myself off of the man, no doubt flushed to all hell. “I’m so-” We cut each other off. We’re silent as we check over ourselves for any injuries needing urgent attention. The tension in the air is thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.
  “I’m sorry,” I eventually sigh, “I shouldn’t have lingered.” I wonder how Jel feels about leather shoes creasing? Would he flip out like old school sneaker heads? I fucking hope not with how I’ve been wearing these boots… Picking stones out of the soles of my shoes becomes my excuse not to meet Hassian’s gaze.
  The hunter audibly gulps before speaking. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything I should be apologizing for Tau’s behavior.” Like his movements, his words are stiff and cold, just like the day we met. Fuck. I should have turned my head. I should’ve adjusted my footing. Why in the gods’ names did I stay on top of him? Guilt compounds like the lingering heat pooling in my abdomen. Hassian’s voice pulls me out of my own head with a question, “Are you injured?”
  I shake my head, taking a deep breath and pushing myself off of the ground. “Probably gonna have a couple of paw-shaped bruises on my back later, but I’ll be ok.” I hate that I’m shaking. I hate that I wanted to kiss Hassian despite his firm boundaries around courting rituals I haven’t even learned about yet. “I… I should probably go.”
  “Athena, wait.” Hassian calls to me. “About what I was saying earlier…” He trails off, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact with me. “I- how do I say this…” He breaks his eyes away, fidgeting with the gold cuff on his bicep. “I… I wanted to kiss you, but I don’t want you to think even for a moment that your touch is all I desire.”
  His confession hangs heavy in the air. I haven’t even for a second gotten the vibe that he’s just trying to get ass, even with the hunger lingering in the kiss. “I don’t want you to think that’s all I want either.”
  Hassian snorts, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tau quite so friendly with anyone other than myself.”
  “Canines were known in my time to be great judges of character.”

   “Yeah, he always kinda hated my ex. Only person he’s ever actually snapped at.” I can’t help but huff a little at the hunter’s statement. “I probably could’ve saved myself a lot of heartbreak had I listened to him.” Hassian’s brows furrow, crossing his arms and shifting his weight.

   I can’t help but mimic his body language. “Do you think-”
  “He’s getting sick of us dancing around each other?” An awkward smile flashes across Hassian’s face before he bites his lip. “I’d say that’s an accurate assessment.”
  “So…”
  The hunter pulls his bag off of the ground, pulling the miraculously intact terracotta pot from his bag. “Well, first, I offer you a token of my affections.”

   My heart races as the cool pottery is placed into my hands. “And after I accept?” Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck! “Which I definitely am. No takes-backsies.” I hug the bloom close to me, breathing in its sweet scent.

   No doubt, my face is on fire, hopefully just in the metaphorical sense. The flush of Hassian’s face contradicts the facade of being cool, calm, and collected. “You’ll have to ask Chayne next time you visit him. However, it would be considered inappropriate for us to be seen alone together at night for a while.”
  “Would hugs suddenly become inappropriate?”
  “Only if they linger.”
  “The only good way to hug,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. I mean, seriously; if you aren’t cold when you pull away from someone, did you actually give someone a good hug? “I guess that means I can’t ask for your assistance tonight?”
  Hassian gives me a confused look as I nudge him to follow me down the path back towards town. “Is it something only I can help with?” Well, Ashura’s got a bum knee and if I were to tell Reth about the meeting being moved up, he’d probably have a heart-attack. Plus, he’s got the market again tonight, anyway. I nod. “Does this have to do with the other night?”

   “I need to be in The Underground at midnight for a meeting.” My confession lingers. Unlike Reth’s silence, Hassian’s is calculated.

   “I suppose there’s no reason I can’t enjoy a late night walk.”
  “You don’t even know what I’m asking.” 

   Hassian just shrugs at me. “You’re going into a meeting with an Adder. I’d also wish for an armed escort in that situation.” Well shit, I don’t even have to ask, I guess. “Plus, after someone broke into your home- I’m slightly upset you didn’t come to me about that, by the way -it would be best if you operate in the buddy system.”
  “Hodari already gave me that lecture.” I rub the bridge of my nose. Gods, with the shit I’ve been through, this shit feels like a 4/10 on the danger scale. It’s not an immediate threat, but the cartel does loom. “Plus, they wouldn’t wanna kill me. Especially not when they know damn well I can use flow.”
  “Fair enough. Hodari’s good at giving lectures. Just ask Najuma.” A smile hides itself in the corners of Hassian’s lips. I’m not normally one for dry humor, but the light jab pulls a chuckle from me. “I won the bet, by the way. Thirteen chaappaa and you made it to the podium.”
  “What exactly did you fuckers bet on?!?” That stupid ass mystery bet’s been at the back of my mind since the pair first proposed it.
  Hassian smirks. “Whoever bet closest without going over, won. Reth banked on me over-estimating and said you’d catch one.” Man, if The Price Is Right were still running, these two would play completely opposite to each other.
    I cock my head, trying to determine how ballsy Hassian’s bet was for Reth to lowball like that. “And what was your guess?” The shit-eating grin on the hunter’s face tells me everything I need to know. “No fucking way.”
  “I’m a seasoned archer. I always hit my marks.” The nonchalance of his tone carries a level of smugness to it. “It also helps that our hunting trip gave me an idea of your stamina.” There it is.
  Chimes ring nearby, a gust of wind rushing through the blue pavilion of a shrine depicting what I can only assume is Maji himself. “Do you,” I pause, unsure of whether I’m about to push a boundary or not, “Would you like to get dinner at the inn tonight?”
  “I’d love to.” Hassian takes my hand, pressing his lips gently against my knuckles. “But only if you don’t fight me for the check.”
  “No promises.”
  “We’ll see, then.” The bells in the town square announce the time: 6pm. “Shit. I promised Mrs. Daiya I’d be coming by to clear out a new den on their land. Does nine work for dinner?”
  I nod. “Go attend to your obligations. I have some research to do and a lovely heartdrop lily I need to find a good place for.” The panic leaves Hassian’s face for a split second, his eyes flashing gold briefly before nodding and taking off towards the Daiya farm. Why the fuck do his eyes do that?

   Another gust of wind carries the scent of incense towards me. I’ve visited the phoenix, but not once have I visited the dragon in my time here. As I step closer, I can hear soft humming as the town’s priest tends to the shrine’s landscaping. I don’t know how I didn’t see him from the path, but there he is. I set my bag and the lily from Hassian down in front of me, removing a few samples of wild herbs and spices and placing them in front of the massive statue.
  I take a knee, holding my right fist over my heart. Normally when I pray, I have something in particular to say, but right now, the words just don’t come. Hot meals. Reth’s warmth. Conversation with Hassian. Tish’s friendship. Hodari’s Southern kindness. Ashura’s understanding. Sifuu’s blunt honesty. Nai’o’s cowboy charm. Kenyatta’s rebellious nature. Badruu’s puns. Delailah’s fresh apple pies. Jel’s flare for the dramatic. Chayne’s wisdom. Hell, even Zeki’s tough guy act. All of these things have made me feel unbelievably welcome despite me being damn-near at my worst.
  A tear threatens to fall from the corner of my eye. Alex would love it here. He always said he wanted to build the gayest log cabin anyone’s ever seen. He could live without having to worry about his body slowly killing itself. No more checking extremities for unknown injuries. No more having to stab himself. No more getting his tube caught in the fucking door handle. Why was it me brought here and not him? He deserves the second chance so much more…

   I shake the thought from my head, letting it leave me through my exhales. The implications would have had me witnessing my baby brother’s death. Hell, even if he does end up here, how old will he be? Will he even remember me? Would we even recognise each other after everything? I sure as shit don’t look like I did when he saw me last.
  “You seem to have much on your mind, Phoenix’s Child,” Chayne’s soothing voice breaks me from my train of thought, “I was just settling in for my evening meditation. Care to join me?” He extends a hand and gestures toward the gazebo serving as a backdrop for Maji’s depiction. I accept the hand, gathering my items.
  “I actually have something I’d like to offer as a gift,” I smile. He raises an eyebrow, appearing to be confused, amused, and awestruck at the same time. I pull a small roll of fabric from my bag, roughly the size of a roll of duct tape. “I made some gauze. Given the stupid shi- things people get up to around here, and the fact that you’re the town’s healer, I figured it never hurts to have more bandages at the ready.” Don’t cuss at a place of worship, you dingus!
  The priest’s face softens as he accepts my gift. “Maji thanks you for your generosity, Phoenix Child.” I’d hardly consider the fabric to be generous, so much as it is practical, but it makes me happy to see I’d managed to get this guessing game of what to gift someone correct. “Am I allowed to ask about the lily you’re carrying?” Chayne asks almost out of the blue.
  My face flushes, my lips fighting a grin. “Hassian gave it to me. He told me I should go to you about the traditions he’d like to follow, and I don’t know, everything just lined up.”
  Chayne’s eyes go wide with pleasant surprise. “Really? He sought you, and not the other way around?” The man shakes his head in disbelief. “Last I’d spoken with him, he said he was unwilling to offer his heart to anyone. I know he cares deeply for you, but, wow. Usually Hassian is particularly stubborn once he sets his heart on something. May the gods bless your budding relationship.”
  “Technically, Tau made the first move. He pushed me, and an accidental kiss happened, and yeah.” I can’t help the pink spread across my cheeks. Is this what it’s like being a teenager with a crush? “We’re already a bit out of order on some things, and it’s definitely a big step out of both of our comfort zones, but it’s exciting.”
  Chayne nods his approval, sitting us down on a large area rug and crossing his legs. I mimic his positioning. “You should know the traditions he’s following are rather… outdated. They were being phased out of normalcy when I was but a boy.” Can’t be any worse than a man having to ask for a woman’s father’s permission to have her hand in marriage, right? “The sentiment behind it is sweet, though. He’ll likely be a bit excessive with gifts for a while, to show that he’s capable and willing to pull his weight in your partnership.”

   I nod, adjusting my posture. “I’ll have to find ways to return the favor, then.”

   “Perhaps. If you’re unsure of what to gift him, I happen to know his guilty pleasure.” The older man’s grin is mischievous, like a parent preparing to reveal their kid’s embarrassing baby pictures to their partner. I can’t help but cock my head, intrigued. “He quite enjoys poetry. Both reading and writing.”
  I can see it clearly in my mind: Hassian sitting under a pine tree with Tau’s head on his lap while he reads a book, his guard lowered. Hassian’s flustered blubbering when he’s a little too late to hide his poetry. The flowery sweet-nothings pouring from his lips, barely scratching the surface of how he feels and what he wants to say. “That… tracks actually. Do you think he’d enjoy reading ancient human works?”

   “Jina hasn’t been able to recover anything of the like, to my knowledge.”

   “The analysis and composition of poetry was actually a pretty heavy part of my childhood education, and with the whole memory thing…” I trail off, but Chayne’s approving hum confirms his understanding of my intents.
  With one last stretch, the priest and I settle into the most stereotypical meditative pose one could possibly think of. “You put a good amount of thought before you give someone a gift, don’t you?”
  “Of course. Do others typically not?” I fail to see the point of offering a gift without it having some sort of value for the person on the receiving end. It’d piss me off to no end when I’d get useless trinkets from people when I’d made it very clear that I wanted something practical, and quite frankly, way less pricy than whatever bullshit I had to find a home for. Chayne shakes his head. “Ridiculous. What happens after the proving period? Does it last a certain amount of time, or?”

   “Typically the period ranges for roughly a month, but there’s no hard rule. Should you wish to continue on to the next step, you’ll have to offer him a midnight lily.” I shut my eyes, surprised by just how blindingly white Chayne’s flow signature is. It’s not blinding in the traditional sense, instead being like staring at a star without the pain of the burn. “Throughout this, fostering a strong relationship with his family is important. If you have a shepp already, he’ll likely try to win them over in place of a family member.”
  I can’t help but laugh. “I think I’m already making great progress in that aspect, given Sifuu flirts with me constantly.”

   The priest chokes back a chuckle of his own. “Does she know of your relationship with her son?”
  “She’s had an idea that there were feelings.”
  “I’d have to agree on your assessment, then. The last person Hassian brought home to her, well, let’s just say it didn’t end well.” Chayne slouches slightly. “Though I fear that will be the exact reason she’ll likely be The Order’s primary suspect in Tamala’s death.”
  My eyes fly open, my ribs feeling restrictive of the organs they’re meant to shield. “I-wow.” It’s a struggle to control my breathing. I guess I shouldn’t be too shocked about the small town noticing someone’s missing.
  Chayne gives me a sympathetic look. “You need not worry, Phoenix Child. Sifuu has a solid alibi, I’m sure. Since Hassian was the one to break off their relationship, they wouldn’t look twice at him.” If only he knew my true concerns… “It’s rather un-priestly of me to partake in gossip, but it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if her downfall was the result of a deal with a cartel going wrong. Tamala never really tried to hide the flowstone pendant she’d always wear.”
  I can feel the rapid back and forth of my body temperature as I struggle to balance my fear and my anger. I didn’t even deal the finishing blow! Being an accessory to murder is definitely a crime, though. “I don’t know what to say.” My voice shakes with my words.
  “I apologize for the triggering topic.”

   “No need.” I slowly move to stand, checking for any signs of frost or scorch marks. “Thank you for your time and for the guidance.” I carefully retrieve my items. “I’m afraid I have some more things I need to get done before I meet Hassian for dinner later.”
  “Of course. Fare well, Child of Embra.”

   “Hey, this is my turf. If ya don’t want shot, ya betta get offa my prop.” I freeze. The paint markers said this place was unoccupied, but here I am, some fucking hick pointing a shotgun at me in the middle of a half-destroyed Walgreens. “Betta yet, empty ya bag if ya wanna live.”
  One wrong move and I’ll be pumped full of buckshot. “Please, I just need insulin. It’s life or death.” The man eyes me uncomfortably. “My brother’s diabetic. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the opioids or anything else you can get high on.”
  “I ain’t buying it.”
  I open my bag, flashing its contents towards the assailant. “Look, all I’ve got is a paint pen, a bottle of water, a box of pads and a family-size bag of Reece’s Pieces. I didn’t even get the Reece’s Pieces here, man.” I flinch at the racking of the gun. “Please, sir. My brother’s the only family I have left. I-I can give you a map of the area, and where you can find things. Hell, I can bring you back to the bunker we’re holed up at. I-I just need some insulin.”
  He shakes his head, his aim wavering. “Ya armed?”
  “I’ve got an axe. It’s mostly used to clear debris, though.” I breathe a sigh of relief as the man lowers his gun.
  I don’t dare to move as he walks back towards the pharmacy area and begins to dig through the shelves. “I’ve got Lyumjev, Basaglar, Trasiba… What kind of insulin ya boi need?”
  “Anything fast-acting. He’s prescribed Fiasp, but any insulin is better than no insulin.” My jaw clenches as a bad feeling settles in my gut. To my left, the crunch of broken glass. I can barely make out the figure of some wanna-be gangster holding his pistol sideways, scratching the crease of his elbow through my periphery.
  The smell of pure shit wafts through the room. “You fuckers ain’t taking shit! This is my place now.” The likely junkie slurs. I slowly move my hand to my axe, my knuckles turning white from my grip.
  “Ayo man, this chick just needs some insulin. Ain’t none of us shootin’ that feel good.” The hick attempts to defuse the situation.
  “Man, I didn’t ask you. Now fuck outta here before I fucking shoot both of you!” Our assailant’s movements become more erratic, angry breaths deep enough to be audible. He points his weapon at the hick, pulling the slide back on his pistol. My body moves before I can think. My axe lands with a sickening crack, sticking from the side of the man’s skull. The force of the impact knocks him straight to the ground, his gun clattering towards a pile of debris.
  THU-THUMP. THU-THUMP. THU-THUMP. THU-THUMP. Everything’s so cold. My vision blurs, but not enough to censor the growing pool of blood. The metallic odor shoves its finger straight down my throat, brining up nothing but stomach acid. I barely manage to swallow it down before I could make a further mess of myself. “Are you ok?” The voice is mine, but it doesn’t feel like I’m the one speaking.
  The temporary pharmacist nods. I shut my eyes and nod with him, opening and closing my palms in an attempt to ground myself. It takes me a minute to get back on my feet. When did I get on the floor? “The name’s Johnny,” Johnny states, pulling a few boxes from a shelf, “Figured ya might wanna know who ya just saved.”
  “Athena.” I have to hold my breath and shut my eyes before I step to the corpse I created and attempt to pull the axe from his skull. The floor’s slippery and sticky at the same time. The grinding and squelching of flesh and bone against the steel axe head causes me to retch damn-near uncontrollably. I’m having to put full pressure on this guy’s neck with my foot while yanking at the handle. The retching turns into full-blown sobs.

   All I wanted was to get some fucking insulin and a stash of candy for any low sugar alerts, but nooooo some asshole had to try to shoot me over a drug he can’t even use to get high. My sneaker collides with the fuck-head’s chest. It’s not like he can feel it, but fuck. At this point, my limbs are moving on their own. I didn’t vote for that stupid ass cheeto. I didn’t ask for us to go to war. I didn’t want to take anyone’s life unless it was for mercy. The gun wasn’t even aimed at me! Johnny’s a fucking stranger. A stranger that also tried to shoot me. A stranger who decided to help…
  Johnny’s voice snaps me back to reality. There’s blood all over my hands and my lower legs. My cheeks are sticky with half-dried tears. “He ain’t getting any more dead, girl.” I nod, my voice deciding it’s no longer with me. “They, uh… They had like nine boxes of that Fiasp stuff.” The gruff man hands me my bag, heavier with the weight of the liquid gold I’d been after this entire time.

  “Athena?” Despite the soft nature, Jel’s voice makes me jump out of my skin. I’d gotten lost in my own head between the shrine, dropping things off at home, and returning to town. “Apologies, you looked lost. Would you care to join me for an evening tea?” I nod, following the gracefully lanky tailor inside his shop. “How is your attire holding up? Any adjustments needed on anything?” He glances at me over his shoulder as he sets a kettle on a candle-powered burner.
  I take a deep breath and muster a smile. “It’s holding up beautifully, especially with everything that’s happened since I was last here.” Jel hums his approval, pulling out a tray full of various herbal blends, some familiar (like lemon-ginger and chamomile), others not. “Affordable clothing in my time had a nasty habit of being made so cheaply that you could look at an article wrong and a seam would pop.”
  Jel scoffs, “I would never produce something so flimsy. Even my stockings are tear resistant!” The tailor opens a cabinet, pulling two large, surprisingly homey mugs from them. “I heard you have a pretty eventful night tonight, having two dates and all.”
  “TWO?!?” Now it’s Jel’s turn to jump. “Was I so out of it I missed Reth asking me out?!?”
  The tailor chuckles softly. “As far as anyone’s aware, the only romantic date is with Hassian. Tish and I may have overheard about the other obligation you have.” He sets the tray between us on the couch, pouring steaming hot water into each of the vessels.
  I pick the lemon-ginger tea bag to steep, shaking my head at Jel. “You two need to stop doing that shit. You could get yourselves killed. Then everything Reth’s been through would’ve been for nothing.”
  “How else could I have made sure to have something nice for you to wear?”
  “I haven’t even had this outfit for a full seventy-two hours yet and you’re trying to give me something else?”
  Jel shrugs, plopping a sugar cube into his mug and stirring. “I’m unused to working on individuals with your physique. It’s experimental.” He hums in delight with the first sip of his drink.
  “Mhmmm sure,” I roll my eyes, “and you’re gonna end up with a bunch of new dyes because I’ll be experimenting with color soon.”

   “I have been wanting to try a new fabric dying technique. Perhaps I’ll have to outfit you with the results of those experiments.”
  My tea needs no sugar or cream. The blend of citrus and ginger do more than I’d like to admit settling my stomach and soothing my nerves. “You’re gonna end up in a gift war you can’t win.”
  “All the more reason for me to try! Now go change. I’d like some time to style your hair if you’ll allow me.”

   I do as I’m told, stepping into the changing room to find a dark sacramento-green turtleneck, slim cut black slacks, and a matching pair of oxford boots. The look’s surprisingly… modern. Or would it be ancient in this case? “So, how did you and Tish end up becoming a thing,” I shout, pulling my top off.
  “Our parents were close,” Jel responds simply. “Before they moved out here, I’d actually create clothes for the little wooden dolls Reth would carve for all of our sisters. The kind where the joints are articulated. It was rather impressive, especially considering he was maybe ten and couldn’t even assemble a pre-fabricated chair.” Jel chuckles, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. “Eventually, my dear muse found out what we were doing and decided she wanted to help by making tiny furniture pieces. Reth would spitball ideas, Tish would create furniture, and I would imagine how that piece would look if made to fit a majiri.”

   I can see everything clearly in flashes. Smaller versions of the trio cooped up in some fancy drawing room. Reth’s whittling away at a piece of wood like he’s peeling a potato. Tish is using tweezers to manipulate toothpick sized scraps into claw-foot chairs between coughs and wheezes. Jel fussing over his sketch book, scrapping page after page of designs, getting pissy because Reth keeps changing the measurements of the dolls. “That’s so precious, what the fuck.” The turtleneck’s stretch knit hugs my figure nicely while also being surprisingly cool despite the coverage it offers.
  I step out, fully changed. “Dragon have mercy!” Jel feigns exasperation. I give him a confused look. “Darling, you may end up breaking that dear hunter of yours. You look stunning even without the accessories.” He turns back to me, presenting me with a long silver chain with a small pendant in the shape of a dagger. The clasp is easy enough to work with. “Your current belt and holster should match everything if you care to don those as well.”  The tailor pulls a round brush and a hot comb.
  “Damn, haven’t seen one of those in a fat minute,” I chuckle. In all seriousness, I haven’t seen one of those outside of a natural hair salon. “You didn’t finish answering my question, though.” Jel turns, a small frown on his face, likely at the realization that the purple tint of my axe’s handle clashes hard with the green on my shirt. “From what I’m aware, Tish and the rest of the family moved out here when she was still young.”
  I almost regret pushing when I notice the light in Jel’s eyes dimming. “They did. The moment I came of age, I followed. My feelings were far from romantic back then, but alas, it’s hard not to fall for someone who spreads joy simply by existing, even when times are hard.” He motions for me to sit in front of the mirror, holding his hand out for my glasses. I give them to him, reducing my vision to blurry blobs of color. “Would you believe me if I told you that I at one point I yearned for death more than I yearned for my family’s acceptance?”
  “I’m not exactly in the business of denying people’s experiences without proof, unlike someone.”
  Jel chuckles, sectioning off pieces of my hair, heating them with the comb before letting the chunks form into soft curls on the round brush. “I doubt Reth or Hassian would consider giving their hearts to someone who would. Reth isn’t aware of this, but Tish nearly made an attempt on her life. T’was the same night I intended to drown myself amongst the lake lotuses.” His confession hangs heavy in the air. Drowning’s not exactly a fast way to die, but if you do it right, it’s a good way to prevent the discovery of your body. I’d considered it after Alex turned 18. Bills were tight and life insurance doesn’t pay out for what can be proven as suicide. “Many confessions were made that night. We never exchanged lilies or chocolates, but I keep her pin over my heart at all times.”
  His hand brushes over his breast pocket. “Mutually assured destruction.” Jel nods. “Do your parents really not approve of your career? I thought the Omiata family is kind of a big deal in the fashion world.”
  “They are,” Jel spits, venom on his tongue, “which only adds insult to injury.” He pauses, collecting himself with a deep breath. “Nothing I’ve ever made has ever been good enough for them. Even when I produce one of their designs for them, there’s something wrong with the technique. Meanwhile my sisters can produce potato sacks and it’s the most avant garde garment to grace the planet.”
  My eyes roll so hard I can almost make out the back of their sockets. “Their fucking loss. I saw the House of Omiata designs the other day. Who the fuck wears a butterfly t-shirt with a pencil skirt and a suit-jacket?” Jel can barely contain a snicker. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you weave literal flow into your designs.”
  “And it’s all within the legal limits, as well.”
  “You’re only impressing me further.” Jel’s face has more color in it now than I think I’ve ever seen. “You should start your own line as a big-ol ‘fuck you’.” He steps in front of me with an angle brush and a pot of something black. Eyeliner? Either way, I shut my eyes, allowing the man to draw short, yet sharp wings on my lids. Even with my eyes shut, Jel’s spectacles are visible, emitting their own glow in a shade similar to that of the Heartdrop Lilies.
  He fluffs some product through my lashes and brushes a balm onto my lips. “I’ve considered it. Launching a fashion line requires a hefty sum, and the words of someone influential can shoot you down before you get the chance to fly. Perhaps my dear Muse and I could release coordinated furniture and clothing sets, like in our youth.” After returning my means of vision, he checks his pocket watch, huffing smugly. “Impeccable timing. You have five minutes to go meet your date. Do take care, Athena. If your meeting ends prior to the end of the market, do make sure Reth sees you’re ok.”

   I stand, admiring myself in the mirror. The light curling gives my hair body and shape without being unruly. The eye makeup is bold yet simple, and the balm appears to be purely hydrating in nature. Despite the asymmetry in my eyes, both wings look even. “Thank you, Jel,” I smile, “Are you a hugger at all?” Jel nods, opening his arms. The embrace is short, lasting only long enough for me to realize just how bony the tailor is under his garments. “You have more creativity in the tip of their pinky than your family has in their bodies.” Jel rolls his eyes, shooing me out of the shop and into the brisk night air.