Just here to dump some recent stuff (not much) so expect some posts in the next few minutes.
I'm slowly getting back on track
By June I'm finally on vacation,I FINALLY got a new cable for my tablet since the old was so damaged I could move an inch that it would disconnect form pc , and lastly, I'm kinda beating my art block :D
I also finally found time to catch-up on some stuff like Dr.Stone,Gachiakuta and Fate/strange fake 👀 and I'm full in my hsr obsession (fuck you mihoyo)
So maybe I will talk about some of that stuff
I'm catching up with volume 3 of the grand wave!!! I just haven't found time to read since I have it only in french :P
Chapter Summary: "The air has been heavy with tension ever since the incident between Amalia and Tristepin. Self-doubt, fear, and regret take over Oma Island at the same time as a dreadful storm ransacks the Eliatropes' sanctuary. Like dark, thundering clouds, danger and emotional turmoil approach. What will it take to face them head-on?"
During their stay on Oma Island and the World of Twelve, and especially thanks to their short interactions with the locals, the Eliatropes had come to learn that the saying ‘the tension was so thick you could cut it with a Sram’s knife’ meant a situation was beyond awkward. The air so charged with unspoken feelings of resentment, it could power any machine for days.
The tension resulting from the growing distance between Lady Amalia and Miss Evangelyne, her new Cra bodyguard, was so thick, you’d need a Shushu-possessed broadsword to even put a dent in it.
A comparison they only knew from hearing the Cra’s Iop boyfriend mention it during one of his boisterous retellings of his adventures.
Nobody quite knew what happened to elicit such animosity between the two of them, seeing how close they’d been a few short days before. The servants working at the palace either didn’t know the full extent of what happened either, having been assigned to a different post, or had been sworn to secrecy by the Council of Six. And no Eliatrope would ever dare go against their beloved leaders’ orders.
All they knew was that it had to be bad for the poor sight that greeted them as Lady Amalia did her usual rounds around the village, Miss Evangelyne in tow and looking like she’d much rather be literally anywhere else.
Bartoloblé, renowned baker and family man in equal measure, had a first row seat to the unnerving disparity between the chattering friends he encountered not long ago, and the reluctant, bitter acquaintances standing right in front of him at the moment.
Sweat trickled down his temple as his light blue eyes flitted between the lady-in-waiting’s stoic demeanour and perfectly crafted mask of dullness and disinterest, and her ward, who’d taken to acting as though she wasn’t there and was leaning down to inspect his delicious treats.
“I-is… an-anything—,” he gulped and cleared his throat. “Is anything to your liking, my Lady?”
“When have you ever baked something that wasn’t to my liking, Bartoloblé?”
Though she said it with a smile on her face, the baker knew it didn’t hold a candle to her usual exuberance. He wisely refrained from saying anything.
“Why, yes. Of course.” He forced a chuckle out. “But I mean, is there anything you would like to buy today?”
That actually seemed to break her out of her façade of fake cheerfulness. With a quiet ‘Oh!’, her brown eyes fell down on the mouth-watering selection of crusty breads, buttery pastries, and decadent desserts; seeing them all under a new light.
Her thumb and index finger held her chin in consideration.
Bartoloblé’s unease only grew when he noticed how, by her side, the usually unflappable Cra rolled her eyes at her lady’s indecision.
“Is that kind of disrespect even allowed around here?” He thought to himself, quietly scandalised yet reluctant to make matters worse.
After a few agonisingly long seconds, each of them stretching into an eternity, the Divine Doll finally made up her mind. Her first genuinely dazzling grin of the day breaking through her lips, she pointed at the colourful display of sweets to his right. All of them adorned with the colours of the main ingredient they were made of.
“Oh, could I please get a few of your famous Api cupcakes?” She gestured at the assortment of sweet treats covered in green, red, and even yellow frosting, each of them with a piece of fruit on top as decoration.
“I see your little collaboration with Verdulienne is finally bearing fruit.” She giggled and winked at her own little joke.
On the inside, Bartoloblé paled when Miss Evangelyne added gagging and sticking her tongue out in exasperation to her eye-roll. He flinched when a vine appeared out of nowhere and smacked the blonde on the back of her head, who glared at the empty air behind her while gingerly rubbing the affected area before setting the fire of her gaze on the doll responsible. On the outside, however, he plastered his most convincing smile as he told himself to focus on doing his job.
That is to say, selling his baked goods.
“Why, yes, Your Grace. That is very much the case.” He said airily as he picked up a paper bag and turned back around to tend to his green-haired customer. He asked her how many she wanted and proceeded to carefully store away the six cupcakes she asked for in her bag.
“I believe it is no exaggeration when I say the products I made from her fruit are my most successful today. And here I thought I was the reason customers kept coming back!” It was his turn to make a lame attempt at a joke, his guffaw sounding slightly more sincere now.
He chose to count it as a win when both women offered polite chuckles in response.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll snatch your food right off your hands with this!” Amalia declared triumphantly before placing a small bag of seeds directly onto his waiting, open palm.
It was their own little system.
Since their civilisation still had a long way to go before being recognised by the other nations of this world, the Eliatropes had yet to enter their economic system. Great Goddess, they had yet to even be entrusted with Twelvian currency—kamas, if he remembered correctly.
And seeing how money held little value when you were running for your life as you fled everything you’d ever known, it wasn’t like they could just use their people’s form of currency either. Hence, why they were stuck trading things like their ancestors did long ago, during the very dawn of their society.
In Lady Amalia’s case, she usually wasn’t one to buy anything as, living in the palace amongst the Council of Six and all their servants, she objectively had no need for it. But once in a while she’d find herself falling victim to her whims, especially if she saw a piece of garment she particularly liked—which Bartoloblé wasn’t even sure if she ever wore— or, as with that moment, if she was feeling peckish. It was in moments like that when the Divine Doll would offer some of her personally grown seeds to whomever she was talking to.
An offer near impossible to resist in its own right, as whatever grew out of a Divine Doll’s seeds was bound to be resilient, magnificent, invaluablely useful, and, more often than not, positively delicious.
Bartoloblé, as a baker, naturally could not pass up on an opportunity to improve his recipes like that. And so, he would gladly accept her proffered payment.
Such as that very moment.
He bowed down his head respectfully, safely storing the seeds away in his front-pocket. “Thank you kindly, Your Grace. Is there anything else you would like to try today?”
Before Amalia could so much as respond, a derisive scoff beat her to it. Both of them turned their scandalised gazes over to Miss Evangelyne, all sharp edges and none of the sweetness Bartoloblé had come to expect from her.
Eyes flitting nervously over to her, he blanched when Lady Amalia’s own surprise melted into a frown that was both cold as ice and fiery as the pits of Shukrute.
“I’d be careful if I were you, Bartoloblé. One second, she’ll tell you she wants Api cupcakes, and the next? She’ll only want Farle Fritters!”
“Now, I wouldn’t go that far, Miss Evangel—.” The baker started off hesitantly, only to be unceremoniously interrupted by Lady Amalia angrily turning around to face her bodyguard.
“Well, Bartolobé, at least I won’t promise to guard your stand only to leave you high and dry as soon as my boyfriend shows up!” She shot back hotly, her grip on her bag of cupcakes turning knuckle-white even as she crossed her arms.
Although she was supposed to be addressing the Eliatrope baker, she never broke eye contact with the Cra.
Bartoloblé gulped.
All around him, his fellow artisans, shopkeepers, and their respective customers leaned over curiously, not ones to be able to turn down the chance to eavesdrop on some juicy gossip. Thanking Eliatrope that the two women seemed to be far too engrossed in each other to notice, he shot them all a chiding glare.
Divine Doll and Cra just went on, deaf to them all.
“See! That’s exactly what I mean!” Miss Evangelyne protested, animatedly gesturing towards Her Grace. “You were the one who encouraged me to stop guarding my post and spend some time with Pinpin. Only to turn a complete 180 and throw a hissy fit!”
Lady Amalia let out a scandalised gasp, which was mimicked by some of the onlookers. When she turned around to face them, one eyebrow raised questioningly, they all pretended to go on about their day.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment. Ultimately, she let it go with a groan and a shake of her head. However, her fiery gaze remained narrowed in on her lady-in-waiting.
“I threw a hissy fit? I’m not the one who started tearing into someone who was in clear need of rest and only wanted to talk to her friend.” She hissed, her free hand sprawled over her chest in offence.
“Oh, please.” Evangelyne scoffed sarcastically with yet another roll of her eyes. “Need I remind you, my Lady?” She practically spat the title out, but not before drawing it out as much as possible just to get a rise out of the doll. She enjoyed how her face contorted into rage with every syllable. “I’m just your servant. Surely, you couldn’t have possibly been meaning to talk to me.
“Besides, we both know you wouldn’t stay still in one place unless they chained you down to your bed…” She muttered that part to herself, but even as she whispered, her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Bartoloblé blanched as Mrs. Minervante—who just had to go to the marketplace that day of all days— brought a hand to her mouth. She barely managed to suppress her own shocked gasp as Cra and doll alike flashed her irritated looks.
In an attempt to both save face and try to evade their wrath, she immediately turned to speak with Mr. Sandre, the local fishmonger.
“Why, yes, I would love some… uh…,” her eyes began to scan the selection displayed atop a mountain of ice cubes frantically. After a minute, she randomly pointed at the fish nearest to her. “Uh, that one.”
The middle-aged fishmonger’s dark brown eyebrows shot up in surprise at her choice.
“The flégueulasse? You’ve quite the distinguished taste, ma’am; not many people ask for this one.”
“My, of course. My taste is nothing short of exquisite.” She said absently, her attention still on the argument taking place a short distance away.
“Would you like that filleted or sliced?”
“Whichever works for you.” She said impatiently.
Blinking at her disengaged response, Mr. Sandre just shrugged and proceeded to pick up the flégueulasse, place it on a cutting board, and fillet it into thin pieces. All the while, his gossipy customer strained her hearing trying to pick up on what Miss Evangelyne and Lady Amalia were saying.
Not like she needed to in the first place, Bartoloblé thought miserably, seeing as their bickering was steadily becoming a screaming match. Seeing Mrs. Minervante’s repulsed reaction when Mr. Sandre handed her groceries back to her, as well as the horror on her face when he told her how much it cost, almost made the rising tension worth it.
Almost.
The poor baker was deeply tempted to just open a portal and teleport himself away from all this awkwardness. He really wished he could just vanish the more Lady Amalia and Miss Evangelyne traded barbs at each other. The fact that the entire main square was tripping over themselves trying to catch a snippet of their heated conversation was really not helping matters.
If he wanted to deal with petty drama, he’d listen to his teenaged kids rattling on about their days and their ‘Oh. My. Eliatrope! Dad, you’ll never guess what Jessica did!’s. He shot yet another dirty look at some passersby who were not-so-quietly whispering to themselves about the whole thing. They grimaced upon being noticed and thankfully left in a rush.
The world around them fading away, their focus set entirely on each other, both women remained completely clueless to all this. It was as though their narrowed eyes and gritted teeth kept them from seeing or hearing past the other.
“—Precisely because you’re my servant you could afford to carry yourself with a little bit more decorum!” Lady Amalia screamed back in Miss Evangelyne’s face. Literally. The two were inches apart from each other now. Bartoloblé looked sadly at the bag containing his cupcakes—the frosting had to be smeared beyond repair by now. “What kind of lady-in-waiting shows such clear disrespect to her mistress?! And in front of poor Bartoloblé, no less! Can’t you see how uncomfortable you’re making him?”
Maybe Bartoloblé couldn’t just teleport himself away, but there was nothing stopping him from hiding under his own counter when the Cra’s piercing eyes met his terrified ones.
Her mouth hanging open in shock, the bodyguard did not hesitate to place her hand on the doll’s green-covered forehead and push her out of her personal bubble as soon as she recovered from the accusation.
“Do you even hear yourself? You’re the one who demanded I stop being so formal all the time!” Knuckles propped against her white tunic, she tilted her head, her chopped blonde bangs falling to the side from the movement. Mockery practically spilled out of her mouth. “Not so nice when you’re on the receiving end, huh? What, didn’t Sadida craft you with thicker skin?”
“You keep my father out of your filthy mouth right now!”
The distance Miss Evangelyne had managed to create by shoving Lady Amalia away was closed within seconds as both young women came face to face yet again. Teeth borne and blazing eyes, long ears pressed tightly to platinum blonde hair, prickly vines twirling around white-covered mahogany skin… Peeking hesitantly from underneath the counter of his stand when all that reached his ears was a sea of hushed murmurs amidst an oppressive silence, part of Bartoloblé was genuinely surprised their mutual anger didn’t somehow cause a fire.
Despite everything, it seemed like Miss Evangelyne’s supposedly absent sense of decorum chose that moment to make its presence known. Her eyes flitted away from the doll’s for a second, but that was enough to make her finally realise the crowd of onlookers they had unwittingly attracted with their argument.
Freckled cheeks burning under the Eliatropes’ expectant stares (followed shortly after by Lady Amalia upon realising her change in demeanour), her previously rigid stance deflated in shame.
Fists clenched tightly at her sides, the Cra took one long, grounding breath and resumed her alert stance befitting of a trained bodyguard. Without even looking at her mistress, standing ramrod straight with her hands folded behind her back, she turned on her heel. “If you are quite done with your business here, my Lady, I believe it would be best to make haste and return to the palace.”
Big, doe-like eyes shone sadly as she watched Miss Evangelyne walk away, not once turning back to make sure Lady Amalia was following her. For a few seconds, the Sadida Doll just stood there, frozen as if she’d been slapped, and watched her lady-in-waiting go without her. Her bangs billowed in the breeze helplessly.
Against his better judgement, the battered baker couldn’t help but reach out to her, “Uh…Lady Amalia?”
That seemed to tug her back to reality, judging from the way she jolted in place. Even from where he stood behind her, Bartoloblé could’ve sworn he saw some moisture shining from the corner of the doll’s eyes, but she blinked it all away quickly. Much like her bodyguard before her, she took a calming breath of her own, and addressed him over her shoulder in a voice far too subdued and tired to be her own:
“Thanks for the Api cupcakes, Bartoloblé. I’m sure they will be delicious.”
And just like that, she wordlessly followed after the retreating figure that was her lady-in-waiting.
A loud sigh escaped the Eliatrope’s lips as he watched them go, his heart growing heavy in his chest as it ached in sympathy. There were no words to describe just how disheartening it was to see two girls who, just a few days ago, had been as thick as Rogues go for each other’s throats like that. He was as close to figuring out what in the Krosmoz could have possibly torn them apart like that as he was before this whole exchange, yet he knew enough to know he hoped they solved it soon.
There were few things worse than seeing friendship turn into hatred.
Letting out one last sigh, he turned to mindlessly rearrange the baked goods displayed on his counter, if only to give himself something to do that might tear his mind away from all the drama, when he eyed two women having a conversation:
“Krosmoz gracious!” One of them gasped, a delicate hand to her mouth. “What do you think all that was about?”
The other just shrugged. “Something about Lady Amalia not being able to make up her mind on whether she wants Api cupcakes or Farle Fritters, and Miss Evangelyne being supposed to watch over Bartoloblé’s stand…”
Feeling one vein pop, that time, he didn’t hesitate to let some cupcakes fall from one of his portals and have the multicoloured frosting stain their hats.
For the first time since the whole fiasco started, Bartoloblé allowed a small, self-satisfied smirk to grace his features.
Normally, Tristepin wasn’t one for intersection… Wait, was it ‘intersection’? Or was it ‘circumspection’? Golden section, disinfection, reelection… Whatever!
That thing you did when you thought a lot about something.
Normally, he really wasn’t one to give things much thought. As Eva could testify. He was an Iop knight, a member of the Guardians of Shushus. Who had time to waste by thinking away when adventure called? When his sense of honour was put to the test and he had to fulfill his knightly duties?
No, thinking was for dofus-headed intellectuals who wasted life away by spending all their time with their nose stuck in some book. Not for men of action like he was. He’d have time to watch paint dry when he was missing three of his limbs and had to use his sword as a cane to move around, but until then, he was going to enjoy his youth and enter the legend.
And yet, he found there wasn’t much else to do when you’d suddenly been branded a social pariah by the land you were currently visiting, the uber important political figure you were supposed to meet in the first place hated your guts despite never meeting you, and your dear girlfriend—who should have been his sole silver lining in all this—was far too anxious and stressed all the time to really enjoy your time together.
That, and there just weren’t any brave warriors willing to face him in combat. If only they weren’t so afraid of him, at least he’d be able to blow off some steam by beating someone up and getting a beating in return, but as it were, he’d have to content himself with repeatedly hitting and slicing the training dummies scattered around the training grounds.
No such luck.
He really didn’t know what he did to anger Iop like this, but boy was he taking it out on him!
So with nothing better to do, Pinpin spent his time thinking. At least, whenever he couldn’t spar against some poor, unsuspecting dummy and let muscle memory overtake him and guide all his movements, not a single thought spared.
He’d stride down the palace halls at a leisurely pace, quietly marveling at the intricate murals depicted on every nook and cranny of the building as he swirled his neck back and forth and wondered about the significance behind it. More than once he walked straight into a column because he didn’t watch where he was going.
Thank Iop Eva wasn’t around to see that.
Or anyone else for that matter.
He’d sit down on a nearby hill overlooking the village and calmly observe the Eliatropes as they went on about their day. Would that stand with the meat on a stick he and Eva ate from still be open? Would they have new dishes? And speaking of new, he remembered his favourite blonde told him all about this one old man and his unique jewellery stand. Could he be able to pinpoint where it was from his location?
Just like that, time would slip away. The mid-afternoon sky’s vibrant blues bleeded into the vibrant pink and orange pastels of dusk. The tropical temperatures, known for being pleasantly warm, if perhaps a tad smoldering during the hot season, dropped somewhat; although the cold seeping through his bones had nothing to do with the early evening breeze cradling the jungle all around him.
It didn’t take him long to learn how to sneak out of his assigned guestroom and sneak into Eva’s. Most of the time, that was the most efficient way to keep both of them from thinking, seeing as the things they got up to when it was just the two of them made forming coherent thoughts, say, kinda difficult. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end; before they knew it, the fun was over and they were often left staring at the ceiling in the dark. Their eyes refused to close and sleep eluded them, their brains torturing them by playing images of the very things they tried running away from in the first place in an endless loop.
Maybe it was because he was an Iop and he just wasn’t meant to overthink things, but it had been days and Tristepin still didn’t understand what he could have possibly done for Lady Amalia to hate him as much as she did.
It made no sense! He couldn’t help but complain to himself one day as he ploughed his sword deep into the wooden dummy he was training against with a diagonal cut. Seeing as his already action-free vacation ended up leaving him with even less options to entertain himself than he expected, he was back at the training grounds near the castle; the ones Eva told him were mostly used by the guards and the Council of Six.
He hadn’t seen head or tail of the Eliatrope leaders since the disastrous breakfast that sent everything to Shukrute except for a few glimpses from a safe distance, and he was in no hurry to change that. Eliatrope guards, on the other hand, he’d seen his fair share of. He couldn’t help but let out a derisive puff of air through his nostrils worthy of any irate Dragoturkey when he noticed they all made a conscious effort to keep as much distance as possible from him.
Their clear distrust and discomfort around him was so obvious, even he picked up on it!
“Oh, look at me.” Tristepin lamented as he pivoted on his left foot and sliced his lifeless sparring partner straight up. “Making insulting comments at my expense; Rubi would be proud…”
Not for the first time since it all started, his worried grey eyes travelled down the length of his weapon, stopping right at the motionless bulging eye adorning the possessed item’s rain guard. He also lost count of all the sighs he let out since he arrived on Oma Island.
While Iops weren’t known as the sharper weapons in the forge, Pinpin couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Lady Amalia would react like she did.
Sure, he wasn’t always the most proper, and royal etiquette confused him, and in all his years he had yet to meet that famed ‘Courtesy’ Eva was always nagging him about… But was he seriously so uncouth as to cause random girls to have a complete meltdown?
Weird. He thought that only happened with Prince Armand.
But really! Lady Amalia had absolutely no reason to behave like she did! He was a Shushu guardian, carrying out a very important job founded by the god Iop himself in order to protect the World of Twelve from Rushu’s evil, destructive influence. He’d been travelling the world and helping people in need out of knightly duty for years. And that included the Sadida Kingdom! Which he knew turned him into one of her followers’ staunch supporters. It was thanks to him that she and Sadida still had followers at all—she could stand to be a little bit more grateful.
And, worst of all, even if she’d rather break her own bow than admit it, it was all taking its toll on Evangelyne.
Pinpin knew his girlfriend was far too proud to admit when she’d taken something to heart, preferring to appear as though she had everything under control at any given time. Like any Cra would. But even though she would never admit it, Pinpin still knew her well enough, probably better than she knew herself in some respects, to understand his girlfriend had been just as enthused with the idea of having a friend as Lady Amalia.
She never said it out loud, but it was plain to see from her retellings that, between her race’s traditional military take on everything and being raised in court to serve the Sadida Royal Family, Eva had never really had any real friends. Cleophée didn’t really count since both sisters often came to blows due to their conflicting personalities and each preferred to do their own thing anyway.
Most importantly, there was this quality in Evangelyne’s voice whenever she spoke of the Divine Doll—her tone turning softer, fonder, almost child-like—that only confirmed what he already knew; Evangelyne had come to truly see Lady Amalia as a good friend, and losing her like that had been devastating, even if she preferred to wallow in her anger rather than her grief.
The fact that Eva had practically spelled it out for him as soon as he arrived also helped.
Still, that didn’t change the most crucial detail. Both Eva and the Divine Doll she’d come to care about were suffering, and, one way or another, it was all because of him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come at all, he reasoned while he lowered his sword and used the back of his free hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead with a low whistle. Perhaps, he should just do everyone a favour and leave.
“Leaving already?” A rich and authoritative voice said, breaking him out of his thoughts.
For a moment, he wondered if he didn’t say those words aloud himself, seeing as they seemed to come straight from his subconscious, but a quick scan of the area revealed the true culprit. Standing a few feet away from him, his head and body covered by the endless fabric of his bright blue cape, was King Yugo, who watched the knight through a mask of forced indifference, one stern eyebrow raised in his direction.
Tristepin audibly gulped. He’d much rather fight with his subconscious any day of the week before having to deal with the Eliatrope King’s wrath again.
One murderous glare freezing the blood running through his veins on the spot was enough, thank you very much.
“Um, w-what?” He eloquently asked.
Was he really so see-through that King Yugo could guess what he was thinking just by looking at him? Wait, what if he could read his mind!? He had no idea what Eliatropes were capable of beyond creating portals; maybe they could read minds, too! Didn’t the black dragon that attacked him mention something about reading your aura…?
“Your posture—you straightened from your fighting stance and loosened your grip on your sword.” The king explained easily, his voice never losing that monotone that sent a shiver down the Iop’s spine. He pulled one hand from within the vast abyss of his cape and gestured at the stabbed and dismembered wooden figures he’d left in his wake. He flashed him a pointed look. “Between that and the fact that you’ve made quick work of all your sparring partners, I just assumed you’d be done for the day.”
Though his words sounded perfectly harmless, a little teasing at worst, Tristepin still couldn’t help but gulp nervously once again.
He’d spent enough time with Eva to recognise sarcasm even when the other person was trying to hide it; unlike his ladylove, who all but coated her speech with a thick layer of derision whenever something or somebody annoyed her. He was pretty confident he’d be able to pick up on the veiled insult behind someone’s words six out of ten times.
And there definitely was a dangerous edge to King Yugo’s deceivingly innocent observation. Like a Sram’s blade, hidden from view, but definitely there and ready to strike when you least suspected it.
His grip on his weapon and the lump in his throat tightening from something that had nothing to do with continuing his training after all, Pinpin began to rub the back of his neck as he tried to look everywhere but him.
“To tell you the truth, I hadn’t really noticed I did any of that stuff.” He shot a quick glance at the dummy massacre at his feet. “Or that I ran out of training dummies in the first place…”
“I see.” Was all King Yugo said, his face betraying no emotion.
The Iop knight observed him quietly and as discreetly as he could as he set his focus on the wooden corpses scattered on the ground. While all he had to do was pick up and place the ones that had simply fallen off their posts back in their place, he let out a deep sigh when he took notice of the dismembered hay limbs and torn open torsos laying around.
A flick of his wrist was all it took for them to be gone through a portal to Iop knew where.
Pinpin could only flush from embarrassment when the king flashed him a questioning look.
“Looks like I got carried away…” He chuckled weakly, tiddling his thumbs.
“You could say that.” Was his answer. Concise, to the point, disinterested. As though his giving him an answer at all was but a mere formality. It made Tristepin cringe.
Even though it was true he mostly spent his time with Eva whenever he wasn’t completely alone, the fact remained that he’d been properly introduced to the members of the Council of Six—even though they were nine when he first arrived. The Yugo that greeted him at the beach had nothing to do with the morose figure standing a few feet away from him now.
At first, Yugo had been nothing but kind and welcoming and understanding. A huge boyish grin split his face in two when the two met. There were wrinkles at the corner of his eyes that verified that wasn’t a one-time thing and the king was an avid smiler. They barely spoke for a little while, yet the knight still felt like getting reacquainted with an old friend, rather than meeting a complete stranger, a king, for the first time.
Now he was constantly reminded of Yugo’s true position at all times, as he remained cold, cutting, and aloof. The king seemed to actively go out of his way to avoid running into him. Just the other day, Tristepin was wandering aimlessly through the palace halls as he’d taken to doing when he spotted Yugo’s wabbit-like hood arriving at an intersection just in front of him. The second their eyes met, the Eliatrope took the sharpest turn Pinpin had ever seen in his life and disappeared without a trace.
Even the joyful wrinkles in the corner of his warm brown eyes had been overshadowed by the heavy bags underneath his eyes, which only highlighted how they lost the light that sparked them to life in the first place.
“Maybe I should just leave after all…” The Iop muttered. Although he was the only one supposed to hear it, the disparaging comment reached the Eliatrope’s ears just fine. He turned his head sharply to look at Sir Tristepin, his tired eyes examining him carefully as the full weight of his words sank in.
Against his better judgement, he asked, “Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean the training grounds?”
His observation startled the Iop momentarily, but after a moment, he settled back down. A helpless shrug.
“It feels like all I’ve been doing since I arrived is cause trouble.” He admitted in defeat.
Yugo’s first instinct would always be to try and cheer up a soul in pain. Be it a small child that hurt themselves playing, a woman who’d just become a widow, a beloved member of his family, and, most recently, a Divine Doll that, while resilient, still had her limits. He learned a long time ago that a few words of comfort at the right time could do wonders.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to voice that reassurance to Tristepin.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was right. Everything that went wrong these past few days could be traced back to him. The fact that he couldn’t even explain why only made things more frustrating.
Truth was, his presence had unsettled Amalia deeply, which was something Yugo had trouble finding it in himself to forgive him for. Amalia’s tears felt like drops of acid on his skin. Her cries hammered a crooked, rusty old nail right through his heart. His worry for her so overwhelming, he could barely breathe from the tight hold it had on him.
And with Amalia’s agitated state came the crisis they were barely managing within the Council’s social circle. Could it be that Tristepin was truly the monster Amalia accused him of being? Was she just upset over something else and meeting the Iop just set her off?
Could they even trust that guy?
So, while he really wanted to be there for Tristepin during such moments that were just as excruciating for him as they were for Amalia, Yugo couldn’t bring himself to say a single comforting word. He just let out another sigh and got back to work on the remaining training dummies.
The more he looked at them, however, the more his eyes would wander over to Sir Percedal’s sword, an idea materialising in his mind. Maybe he had a long way to go before he could confidently say he knew everything there was about each race populating this world, but he had a pretty good inkling that he had just the thing to cheer an Iop up.
“Pick up your weapon.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me,” Yugo said after he put several metres’ worth of distance between himself and Tristepin. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. “Pick up your weapon!”
Blinking dumbly, Pinpin grasped the handle with both hands, his body lowering into an offensive stance out of habit and muscle memory. “Uh… Is this alright?”
A few seconds ticked by where Yugo seemed to be seriously considering it. In the end, he just shrugged. “It will have to do. Sir Tristepin de Percedal, I hereby challenge you to a duel!”
Standing on the opposite side, eyes wide as saucers, Tristepin could only gape at his self-declared opponent, completely dumbstruck. Little by little, though, his jaw rehinged itself until an almost manic grin was plastered on his face. Crying out in excitement, the Iop fist-bumped in the air right before striking a confident pose, one fist raised and meeting the challenge head-on.
“And I spaciously accept, King Yugo!” He declared triumphantly.
Yugo sputtered a little, slightly taken aback by his odd choice of words, but he shook it off with a chuckle. “Very well, then. Let’s keep it simple, shall we?”
“What did you have in mind?”
His smirk widened just so. “How about we go at it until either one of us yields?”
The Iop knight tilted his head to the side in confusion, “So we’re just gonna duke it out until we can’t take it anymore and most likely fall to our knees from exhaustion?”
When he put it like that, maybe it wasn’t his best idea. The Eliatrope scratched his cheek sheepishly, “I-I mean, we could always—...”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about! Iop, yeah!” Tristepin’s voice boomed all around the training grounds; in all likelihood, even Bonta heard him scream in excitement. “Nothing quite like beating each other’s living nightlights out to really test out your strength, am I right?”
“Um, I think you meant to say ‘living day—’... You know what, never mind.”
Trying to psyche himself up—at least, that was what Yugo hoped he was doing—Sir Percedal thrust his hips out at the same time as he tucked his elbows to his sides, striking an even more dynamic pose than before. Honestly, it sort of looked like he was very eager to go to the bathroom.
Unseathing his sword in one fluid movement, he pointed it towards his baffled sparring partner. “Ready when you are, Your Majesty!”
Once again, it took Yugo a moment to regain his composure in the face of the Iop’s unpredictable antics. When he did, though, there was a lazy grin on his face. He had to admit, it’d been a while since he last sparred with anyone who wasn’t a member of his family; this could be interesting.
And so, instead of answering with words, Yugo summoned forth his own wakfu blade, the Iop’s jaw dropping in shock stroking his ego just enough to give him a boost in confidence, but not enough to make him sloppy. Taking the redhead’s actions one step further, he got into a battle stance, one hand gripping the energy weapon tightly, and motioned with his free hand.
A gesture so well-known, even an Iop would know what it meant at first glance:
“Come and get me.”
His eager grin now growing to near manic levels at the challenge, Tristepin mimicked the Eliatrope’s pose and grabbed his sword by the handle with both hands. And then, before Yugo could so much as take the first step forwards, Tristepin dashed ahead, leaping into the air and commanding his sword to shift before the king’s very eyes.
Wide brown eyes remained frozen for a few seconds as the sunlight caught the sword’s new appearance—gone was the rudimentary steel marked by a cross; replaced instead by lighter, nacre-line materials outlined by emerald molten fire—, forcing him to avert his eyes.
That mistake almost caused him dearly, for it allowed Sir Percedal to take him aback when he finally came crashing down, swooping his blade down in a vertical cut he barely managed to block. Yugo could confidently say he’d underestimated the Iop. Maybe as a whole. He expected they would circle around each other for a while, sizing the other up, until one of them decided he had enough to work with and made the first move.
Clearly, he hadn’t accounted for the redhead’s natural recklessness.
Fortunately for Yugo, that could also be used against the knight’s advantage.
Their swords still locked, the two warriors continued to struggle for dominance for a little while longer, until Yugo took advantage of his secret weapon to jump backwards and put enough distance between the two of them. That should give him a little bit of breathing room to think of a better strategy.
“I must admit, you took me by surprise there. Especially when your sword transformed.” Yugo praised, no trace of his previous aloofness left in his voice. Tristepin beamed hearing that. So much so, he didn’t notice when the two of them began to move clockwise.
“What can I say? Rubi and I are full of surprises. You ain’t seen nothing yet, King Yugo.”
“You see, Sir Percedal. That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Huh?”
Yugo’s smirk grew sharp, and Pinpin immediately knew he was screwed.
“That’s my line.”
Giving him no time to recover, it was the Eliatrope’s turn to take the initiative and close the distance between them so quickly, Tristepin couldn’t exactly rule out the possibility that he’d used one of his portals. But alas, there was no time to waste thinking, for not even the long cloak hanging over his shoulders was enough to hinder the veritable flurry of attacks King Yugo sent his way.
With each blow aimed at him, the Iop narrowly managed to either parry or get out of the way, his movements sluggish and his steps clumsy as he was pushed back. For all people liked to look down on him, Pinpin held no delusions when it came to combat; he just liked it better the more chances there were of becoming a bloody pulp. And in this case, he knew it was only because of the lightness and speed characteristic of Rubi’s light sword form that he was able to keep up with King Yugo at all.
He already got a glimpse of the fearsome warrior everyone sent to battle said he was back in the dining hall, when a single look from those blazing blue eyes of his was, ironically enough, all it took to freeze the blood running through his veins. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the disciplined precision behind his attacks, the unyielding stamina as the duel dragged on, the sheer strength hidden behind his lean physique…
King Yugo of the Eliatropes was, without a doubt, a formidable warrior.
The adrenaline coursing through his veins only increased. Now that was what he called a challenge.
And the only way to break himself free from the close combat he’d forced him into would be to take his focus off his sword.
Pinpin weakly blocked the king's powerful strikes, a move that could cost him greatly, yet he strained his light grey eyes on the Eliatrope. Then, as soon as he sensed a dull in his focus caused by overconfidence, the knight seized the opportunity.
So concentrated was Yugo on exhausting Sir Percedal by forcing him on the defensive with relentless swipes, he completely overlooked to make sure he didn’t leave any openings. So as he pivoted over himself to deliver the finishing blow, he failed to realise he left his side wide open. A rookie mistake the Iop knight did well to capitalise on by delivering a swift yet brutal kick to his ribs.
As the Eliatrope grunted in pain, interrupted mid-attack, Tristepin swung his own weapon back and proceeded to connect it with Yugo, who was only quick enough to block it with his sword while his other hand held his aching side.
Still, that wasn’t enough. Tristepin now had the advantage and he made sure to capitalise on it. With a flick of his wrist, Rubilax changed yet again under Yugo’s astonished eyes. The sleek design that offered ample mobility from before was gone in a flash of light and replaced by something that could only be described as a blade made from the pits of Shukrute itself.
A broadsword the size of his head made out of igneous rocks and molten lava.
Although it definitely looked heavier, Sir Percedal managed to wield it with as much grace as before, leaping into the air with it once more as he purposefully twirled it over his shoulder. Using the momentum from the action, he smashed the weapon against the ground, which caused the floor to crack underneath their feet from the sheer force of the impact.
Tristepin was sure he had him then. There was just no way he would have been able to dodge that. It took the most agile Ecaflips and the best-ballanced Pandawa to so much as put up a fight against that move. Let alone avoid it completely.
Feeling pretty proud of himself, Pinpin relaxed his stance, coming to place the edge of his sword over his shoulder. He scratched underneath his nose in self-importance.
“Thanks for the duel, Your Majesty, I needed the exercise. However, I’d say it’s pretty clear who the winner is.”
“Are you sure about that?” The Eliatrope’s voice taunted back, making the Iop start.
Looking around frantically, he saw nothing but the mess he made out of the training grounds.
“Uh, yeah? At least, I was before you said that… Show yourself!” He demanded, his mop of red hair frantically swirling around as he searched for his vanishing opponent.
His good-natured chuckle felt like nails on a blackboard. “Up here, Sir Percedal.”
Brow furrowed in confusion, the Iop nonetheless did as he was told and looked up… And his jaw effectively dropped once more. There, hovering a few metres away from him and the ground, was King Yugo. The sneaky little brat even had the gall to send him a cheeky wave.
“You can fly!?” He screeched, jerking away in shock yet pointing at him accusingly. “Nobody said anything about your race being capable of flying! By Iop’s crimson beard, how the Shukrute can you fly!?”
“We’re related to dragons.” Yugo shrugged nonchalantly, as if that explained everything.
“So are the Osamodas, and they can’t fly!” He countered. Wait, no. Eva once told him Armand’s Osamodas consort could turn into a crow—which she noted as fitting—, and even grow wings and talons. So, technically speaking, some Osamodas could fly. But still!
“Not every race is the same.” Yugo raised a teasing eyebrow. “I thought that, as a Twelvian, you of all people would understand that.”
“Still, it’s not fair!” He protested, gesturing all over the Eliatrope. “We never said anything about flying!”
“Actually, the only rules we set was that we’d fight until we couldn’t take it anymore.” His following shrug was so infuriatingly nonchalant, Pinpin idly considered letting Rubilax possess him. Just to teach him a lesson like he once did with Prince Armand. “Nobody said anything about flying not being allowed.”
Tristepin deflated at his logic, admitting defeat. His grey eyes were still narrowed in on the king, though. “Still, a heads-up would have been nice.”
“Now, Sir Percedal, where’s the fun in that? I was under the impression that Iops like a good challenge.”
He… actually had a point there.
“Besides,” Yugo continued, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at the knight. “You never said anything about your sword being able to shapeshift.”
Pinpin made a face. He had him there.
“So I’d say we’re even.”
Again, the monarch’s logic was flawless, which was something Tristepin didn’t like to admit as he just didn’t care for such things in the first place.
“I suppose you have a point there…” He admitted begrudgingly, kicking at the ground with his toe. He wasted no time straightening up, his flaming sword gripped tightly in his hands. “But enough chit chat! Ready for round two?”
Yugo met the Iop’s smirk with one of his own.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The Eliatrope was gone in a streak of blue, headed directly to the Iop’s waiting arms. But before Yugo had the chance to deliver a blow that was sure to decapitate less skilled warriors, Tristepin’s quick reflexes managed to stop him just in the nick of time. Once again, their weapons clashed and clanked as they fought for dominance.
When one of them took a step forward, the other took a step back. Until he regained his footing and pushed his opponent back. When Yugo aimed high, Tristepin went low. When Tristepin tried going for a kick to the king’s shin, he’d jump out of the way just in time. Sparks flew whenever their energy-charged blades came in contact with their equal, their capes billowing around them as they partook in such deadly dance.
As they came face to face for the umpteenth time, the corners of the king’s mouth tugged upwards. A move that, quite frankly, perplexed the Iop. “You know, I should be thanking you.”
And, just like that, his concentration was broken. “Huh?”
But Yugo didn’t choose to take advantage of his distraction to put an end to the duel. Instead, he went on, “For this, the duel, I mean. It’s been a while since I last had a friendly match with somebody other than my siblings.”
“What about your guards?” Pinpin questioned as he ducked Yugo’s thrusted energy blade. “Or your actual enemies?”
Clearly not really upset over missing, he shrugged. “Fighting with my guards never really felt right. We’re supposed to battle side by side, not each other. As for my enemies…” He trailed off, meaningfully. “The less we have to deal with people who wish us harm, the better.”
His tone was solemn, grave, and Tristepin understood what he meant immediately.
He averted his eyes for a second. “I guess, I should really be thanking you, too, Your Majesty.”
It was Yugo’s turn to be surprised, “What for?”
“This.” He gestured best he could with his head between them. “For giving me the chance to just… unwind for a little, I guess.” His sheepish little grin faded into a forlorn frown. “Things have been a little tense since… you know.,” He flashed him a guilty look.
Yugo’s breath hitched at the quiet admission. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the Iop’s subdued mood ever since the incident, even if his priority was ensuring Amalia was fine and the Council didn’t tear each other apart over the new development. However, that didn’t change that he completely underestimated his level of self-awareness.
Against his better judgement, the part of him that reminded him this was all somehow his fault, Yugo couldn’t find it in his heart to hold it against the knight for much longer. He heaved one long, exhausted sigh, even as his posture remained unwavering.
“You have to understand, it was all so shocking. The only time I have ever seen Amalia act even remotely like that was when Count Harebourg overstepped his boundaries. So I guess it kind of left us all floundering on what to do…”
Count Harebourg. He vaguely recalled Eva mention something like that in one of their letters a few months back. Even though he didn’t remember the exact details, being compared to him made his stomach churn. Especially when the Eliatrope practically spat his name out, like sour milk.
“Your Majesty, please, you’ve got to believe me! I have no idea what I could have possibly done for Lady Amalia to react like that! It was my first time meeting her, I swear!”
The Eliatrope’s features softened just slightly, his expression stern, yet his eyes glistened in pity for the man. “I know, you have said that before. And yet…”
“There’s no reason for Lady Amalia to hate me as much as she does otherwise.” He finished with a sigh. His shoulders slumping in defeat, his fighting stance long abandoned, he lowered both his head and his weapon in shame. Yugo studied him in silence for a second before doing the same.
The duel was well and truly over now.
Suddenly, neither of them could keep going. Yet it had nothing to do with physical exertion.
Rubilax now back to normal in his hand, Tristepin looked at his reflection on the dented blade. He could count the times in his life when he couldn’t bear the sight with one hand. Even if it was the same one that greeted him in the mirror every morning, as of late, it just made him sick. Like the face of a stranger or, worse still, a monster.
It didn’t matter if they shared the same features: the same spiky, red hair; the same tanned skin from travelling and training in the desert; the same noseless face; the same grey eyes; the same tattered clothes…
Ever since that day, the Divine Doll’s spiteful accusations kept replaying in his head on loop. And the more he thought back on them, the less he recognised himself.
Yugo’s heart clenched in sympathy. Even though it was still too soon to rule out the possibility that Amalia was in the right and didn’t just suffer some sort of manic episode, it was physically painful to see Sir Tristepin go from the goofy, happy-go-lucky man he met on the beach, and the courageous, skilled warrior he contended with just a few seconds ago, to the empty husk of a person he now had before him.
“It’s far too soon to know what’s really going on,” his voice broke the Iop out of his downward spiral, his head snapping up in surprise. His eyes widened when he smiled at him. “But I believe you, Sir Tristepin.”
“Thank you, King Yugo.” He was even more grateful that he didn’t say anything when his voice broke.
“Please, call me Yugo.”
“Then feel free to call me Tristepin, or even just Pinpin is fine.”
A chuckle. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
His expression turned grave then, a serious glint in his eyes that made Tristepin involuntarily gulp. “To be completely honest, I am as lost as you as to why Amalia broke down like that when she met you. However…” Another heavy sigh, one full of remorse as the burden of his position weighed heavily on his shoulders. “However, I’m afraid I cannot put in a good word for you any more than Eva tried to do.
“Qilby and Shinonomé warned us against doing anything that might upset her lest we risk kickstarting another episode. And, as much as it pains me, I must put Amalia’s health first. So, maybe…” He averted his eyes for a moment and swallowed the lump in his throat. Then, he looked back at the Iop, his gaze vulnerable and pleading in a way Tristepin had only ever seen on his own face during particularly challenging times. “Maybe it’d be best if you leave soon. I am truly sorry.”
It was Pinpin’s turn to look down in shame. “I understand, Yugo.”
How could he not? Maybe he wasn’t the sharpest weapon in the forge, but there was no mistaking the vulnerability the cloaked man regarded him with. In that moment, Tristepin saw himself. Whenever Eva was troubled by something and he felt extremely inadequate for being unable to help her. When all he could do was be by her side and hope that was enough.
Tristepin had many flaws—just ask his girlfriend—, but he could recognise a kindred spirit.
Even he could tell King Yugo was in l—.
“Am I interrupting anything?”
Both their heads, a mop of red and a wabbit-like hood, snapped up at the sound of the unexpected voice intruding upon their conversation. Or the lull of it, at least. Yugo visibly relaxed when he spotted Adamaï standing a few metres away, arms crossed and horned head tilted to the side in confusion, while Tristepin tensed up.
“Oh, Ad. Good morning.” Yugo greeted his brother jovially, walking towards him. The heavy atmosphere from earlier forgotten. “Everything alright? I heard you were overseeing the preparations for the upcoming storm as we planned?”
At first, the dragon didn’t say anything, just darted his eyes back and forth between his brother and their guest, and the dilapidated training grounds. At last, he let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. As though that was simply a daily headache he was used to dealing with.
“Yes, everything’s coming along rather nicely. Chibi and Grougal predict it won’t be anything serious, anyway; just a drizzle. A shower, at most.”
Yugo nodded, one hand to his chin. “That’s good to hear.”
“It is.” Adamaï agreed.
A few seconds ticked by and nobody said a word. Tristepin stood awkwardly, watching the twins as discreetly as he could (which wasn’t that much), all the while Yugo appeared lost in thought and completely unaware of his brother’s persistent signs to tell him what was going on between them.
Seriously, from the urgency which Adamaï kept darting his eyes back and forth between the two of them, you’d think he was signaling ships with his pupils.
All of a sudden, the Eliatrope seemed to spring back to life, as if he were a windup toy who’d just got his key turned once more after powering down. He turned to his brother with far too much cheer in his voice. Adamaï’s eyes narrowed.
“So, did you need me for anything, Ad?”
His reptilian brow softened. “You told me to come fetch you to double check the shelters were fully stocked, remember?”
He snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right! Totally forgot.”
“Clearly.”
Right as the dragon was about to stride into the castle alongside his brother, Yugo turned around to call out to Sir Percedal over his shoulder. “Will you think about what I told you, Tristepin?”
Adamaï raised a scaly eyebrow. “Tristepin?”
The aforementioned, in turn, stood ramrod straight, like a shoulder receiving orders from his general, and nodded curtly but firmly. “Yes, King Yugo.”
“I appreciate it.” And just like that, he followed Adamaï through the threshold separating the battered ground within palace limits from the polished marble columns holding the majestic building in place.
Once indoors, the light from outside filtered through the massive windowlanes, bathing them both in its warmth, yet casting long shadows against the walls.
Sometimes that was how Adamaï felt about himself and his siblings, especially when it concerned their people and this world’s inhabitants. One side saw them as saviours, their guiding light; unaware or, worse, willfully refusing to acknowledge all the sacrifices and hard decisions they’d been forced to make to get where they are today. The other only saw a potential threat lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. They didn’t stop to think about their own suffering or all the good that could come from letting them in.
Light and darkness. The eternal dichotomy.
But wasn’t that what everyone went through at some point in their life?
Adamaï liked to think so. It made him feel less alone. Especially when Yugo, his Eliatrope twin, the one person who was supposed to know him in and out, better than he knew himself, really, spent most of his time in his own head.
A small comfort.
Staring at his brother’s covered back now, however, impatience swirled with bitterness at the edges of his mind. His fanged jaw set, his claws tightening at his side, and his tail thumped in irritation. Equal parts anger and petulance edging the corners of his frayed psyche, for once, the Emerald dragon didn’t bother to put a lid on his temper when he reached out to Yugo through their bond.
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about, or am I supposed to figure it out by myself?”
He huffed a puff of air and rolled his eyes when Yugo jumped. Clearly, he broke through his thoughts. Again.
He couldn’t help the spike of aggravation he felt when his brother turned to face him with wide eyes, almost as if only now realising he was there. As if he’d all but forgotten about his presence. It really wasn’t the most reassuring feeling in the world.
“Ad, you scared me half to death!” Yugo protested, a hand to his beating heart.
“I’ve noticed.” He deadpanned.
“I’m serious; I think you just shortened my lifespan for a few centuries at least—.”
“Quit changing the subject!” The dragon demanded, and for once, he had his twin’s undivided attention. “Yugo, I’ve been trying to reach out to you for weeks now, but you always either ignore me or shut me down! I could understand your mind being elsewhere after what happened to Amalia; we were all more than a little shaken at that. But this? This… This… This camaraderie you have with Eva’s boyfriend? Where does that come from?!”
Yugo said nothing, just averted his gaze to the side.
His fury and resentment melted away when he took a step closer to Yugo, placing one comforting, grounding claw on his shoulder. His eyes went from blazing and demanding, to flickering and pleading, like dying embers on the chimney after a long winter night.
“Yugo, please, don’t cast me out.” He begged, his voice rough from emotion even as it resonated through his mind. “You’re my brother; we’re all we have. We can’t afford to grow apart, especially not now.”
A weighted silence fell over them then, and Adamaï waited with bated breath while his brother visibly hesitated under his gaze. His eyes flickered all over his face, astonishment hiding behind his pupils, but looked down whenever he tried to hold his gaze. The dragon clenched his jaw, this tail thumping once in barely controlled anxiety.
Would he finally let him in, or push him away once and for all?
The ever-present tug in the back of his head, the feeling that pulled him to Yugo ever since they hatched from their Dofus, reacted to him. He could feel his twin’s tension pulling his own muscles taught; the need to fight off the urge to turn his claws into fists in frustration with himself; the weariness that came with carrying the weight on his shoulders because he refused to share the burden.
He almost let out a bitter laugh. It was the closest they’d been in weeks, and it was agony.
“Ad…” At long last, Yugo called out to him, and Adamaï’s head immediately snapped up to him. His heart hammered away in his chest in anticipation and fear.
“I’m sorry.”
And then it sank deep within the confines of his ribcage.
The dragon hung his head low, biting down his tongue so hard he drew blood. The iron taste was still better than the bitter taste in his mouth at his twin brother’s rejection. It certainly hurt less than colliding headfirst against his walls.
He slid his claws off Yugo’s shoulders, letting them fall limply to his sides. He was about to admit defeat, admit Yugo—his best friend, his other half, his brother—had changed, when something unexpected stopped him dead in his tracks.
With a gasp, he turned his head to shoot Yugo a questioning, hopeful look.
He just smiled through his exhaustion and gave a simple nod.
Adamaï couldn’t wipe the huge grin off his face even if he wanted to. Little by little, Yugo’s walls, the ones he’d been slowly building up since Amalia came into their lives, crumbled. The sudden levity between them resonated through their bond, his wakfu feeling lighter than it had been weeks. But the joy was short-lived. For Adamaï could still sense the tinge of trepidation tainting Yugo’s otherwise pure and child-like energy.
The clearest confirmation he had that something was wrong.
“Ad, I… I’m so sorry.” Yugo murmured; even in their minds, it was more like a whisper. His voice sounded so old and so fragile, reflecting their true age for the first time. It wasn’t any less sincere. “I’m sorry for pushing you away this whole time. I-I… I really didn’t mean to…”
“Then why did you do it?” It wasn’t an accusation, but a genuine question that nonetheless belied some of his hurt. “I’ve been trying to reach out to you and be there for a while now, Yugo.”
He looked away in shame. “I know, I’m sorry for that too.” He chanced a hesitant glance his way. He winced at the dragon’s narrowed eyes.
“As much as I appreciate the apology, an actual answer would be even better.” Was his clipped response.
“I’m so—.” He caught himself and bit his lip out of habit. Ad arched an eyebrow, waiting. Yugo then let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, his twin’s brows rising when pink dusted his cheeks. “Would you believe me if I told you the answer is actually quite silly?”
“Knowing you, that’s the only kind of answer I should be expecting.”
His wry smile vanished in an instant.
“Ouch.”
“Deal with it.”
Yugo rolled his eyes good-naturedly. The quiet murmurs of their bond all he needed to know Adamaï was only joking. His eagerness to have his questions answered was real, though. And he knew better than to make a dragon wait.
“To be completely honest, I… I really didn’t want you teasing me.” He admitted at last.
“Teasing you?”
“About Amalia.” He explained with some effort, like speaking through gritted teeth.
“Why would I ever tease you about Amalia?” Adamaï pressed on, tilting his head to the side with an innocent look on his face. Too innocent.
Yugo made a face. Ad was only feigning ignorance to bait him into being more honest and they both knew it. He pressed his lips into a thin line. He felt the slightest spark of satisfaction when that action alone made him frown.
But Adamaï wasn’t about to back down. So Yugo wanted to act like a petulant kid? Fine. Two could play that game.
“I really don’t see why I’d ever tease you about Amalia, though.” He mused, his gaze drifting upwards as he pretended to bask in the beauty of the ceiling’s masterfully sculpted marble frames. “Certainly not because of her many admirers.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Yugo bristle at the mention of the doll’s popularity with the opposite sex. He covered his smirk with his claw.
Still, Yugo said nothing, and while the Emerald dragon had to give him extra points for effort, it wasn’t enough to dissuade him. Obviously, he had to press a little harder.
“Yes, I suppose it is to be expected of a Divine Doll. Wherever she goes, she turns heads. Our children gape at her, starstruck. More than one husband has suffered his wife’s wrath due to his lingering stares as she passed. A little Tofu once told me she was Alibert’s inn’s darling.” A sideways glance—purposeful, calculated, lethal. “And then, there was Count Harebourg’s strong reaction to her…”
That was a low blow.
“Don’t you dare bring that bastard up!”
Even though the order reverberated loud and clear through his skull to the point of making him dizzy, Adamaï couldn’t help himself. His attempts at coaxing his brother to finally admit what he’d known all along had turned into the most entertainment he’d had in ages. He really couldn’t be blamed for taking things a little further.
“Why? Because he’s a creep?”
“Yes!”
“Because he overstepped her boundaries time and time again?”
“Yes!”
“Because he didn’t even make an effort to reach out and try to establish a positive rapport between our territories?”
“Yes!”
“Because, for just a long, agonising moment, it looked like he would take Amalia away from you?”
“YES!”
Everything went silent. All the Emerald twins could do was gape at each other in shock, but while Adamaï’s hung jaw slowly turned into a triumphant grin, Yugo’s face went redder than Brakmar soil. Not only because of what he’d just admitted to, but especially the fact that he actually broke their telepathic conversation and said it aloud for everyone to hear.
After a long, awkward pause where he refused to look the dragon in the eye, the Eliatrope finally cleared his throat. “You did that on purpose.” He accused.
He had the audacity to grin back at him, his fangs in full display.
“And it worked better than I could have ever anticipated.”
He kept grinning even as his Eliatrope twin glared daggers at him.
After a bit, Yugo sighed and rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He flashed a grumpy glance at Ad's way. “If you knew all along, why’d you make me say it?”
Adamaï sobered up immediately, his smug look gone as he straightened his spine. “Because it was about time you admitted it, at least, to someone other than yourself.” His tone grew solemn, heavy; his tail flicked uneasily against the polished marble floor. “That, and I was serious; we can’t afford to grow apart, Yugo. Especially not now that we must learn to rely and trust each other more than ever.”
“Ad, I…” He trailed off, his eyes falling to the floor as guilt threatened to consume him. He was about to apologise again, but caught himself in time. Instead, he said, “I guess it was just awkward to admit I developed feelings for Amalia after insisting so much on us just being friends. I’ve actually been in love with her for a while now…”
Ad wisely chose not to point out it was probably since he first laid eyes on her.
A small mercy.
Thankfully unaware of his trail of thought, the king went on, “And now, with everything that’s happened with Tristepin, I don’t know what to do…”
That caught his attention, his own expression falling slightly. “Yeah… I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of Amalia furiously tearing into him as tears streamed down her face out of my mind.”
“I just have so much going on!” Yugo exclaimed. He threw his hands up in the air and turned around as he spoke, marching deeper into the palace halls as Adamaï followed him. Had he been anybody else, the action would have startled him, but he knew this was Yugo’s equivalent of pacing around.
He needed to get this off his chest. And he would be there to listen and offer support, like always.
“You saw her, Ad; she was a complete wreck!”
“That she was.” He agreed solemnly, not like Yugo paid him any mind.
“I don’t even share the same bond with her as I do with you, and yet I could feel her pain so clearly. She was in utter agony. I don’t know what Tristepin did to her, but I don’t ever want to see her suffer like that. I’d rather have a limb torn off.”
“And yet, you’re on a first-name basis with her would-be tormentor?” Adamaï looked at him pointedly. He didn’t mean to sound accusing or judgemental, but it had definitely been more than a tad jarring to see Yugo go from silently fuming around the Iop to having heartfelt conversations with him. …all the while they sparred like old battle pals.
To his credit, he felt immediately guilty when Yugo audibly winced. “I know, I know… not the best look. It’s just, I want to be there for Amalia, you know? Ever since she came here, even before I realised how I felt about her, her safety and happiness meant the world to me. And it absolutely tears me apart to see her suffer like that.”
Adamaï raised an expectant eyebrow, “But…?”
At his quiet urging, Yugo stopped walking, hanging his head low as he let out a heavy sigh. It was a miracle Adamaï didn’t bump into him and send both of them crashing down against the cold, polished floor. Still, he waited patiently for his brother to elaborate.
“But,” he started at last. “I’m questioning so many things right now, Ad. There’s so much I’m not too sure about. Like if I should confess my feelings at all…”
He meant for the last part to be a private thought, but they were so deep in this psychic bond, he honestly couldn’t tell the difference between his own mind and Adamaï’s anymore. However, his twin’s gaping mouth and wide eyes told him all he needed to know.
“What?” He asked in disbelief. He did not just say that. He did not just hear Yugo say he may never confess the true extent of his care for her to Amalia. Call him selfish, but Adamaï had been far too invested in their relationship for it to end before it even started. He liked to think he deserved a little bit better, if only because of his loyalty to his favourite couple.
The Eliatrope’s own expression soured. He could feel his outrage through their link, and he really could do without his theatrics right now. “You’re acting like Nora.” He scoffed, unamused.
“Don’t you dare change the subject now!” He retorted viciously, a claw aimed straight at him. “I’ve been rooting for you all along! What do you mean you don’t know if you should confess?!”
“I mean I don’t even know if what I feel is real or not!” He shouted back in his face, making the dragon jerk away in surprise. But now the dam was broken and Yugo couldn’t stop talking even if he wanted to. “On the one hand, all I ever want to do is be there for her when she needs me. Be her shoulder to cry on and the hand she reaches out to hold. She’s my first thought when I wake up and the very last thought I have before falling asleep, and every waking thought in between! My eyes constantly look for her in any room, like they’re attracted to her like a moth to a flame. And when our gazes meet, it fills me up with so many butterflies I feel both like they’re mercilessly assaulting my stomach and making my heart soar. More than once, I’ve caught myself thinking she would look great in a tiara and a ceremonial cloak.”
Adamaï’s already wide eyes opened up even more. Did Yugo really just say what he thought he did?
He didn’t have any time to point that out, though, because Yugo just didn’t give him the chance to. His face contorted in pain the more he spoke, however, and that was alarming, “But then… Then there’s this whole thing with the gods and the Twelvians and her mission… And I just don’t know.” When he finally set his gaze on his twin’s, his eyes were red and trimmed from unshed tears. “What if Efrim was right all along and she’s got ulterior motives for being here? For being with me?”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Adamaï interrupted him abruptly, holding him by the shoulders to ground him and get him to think more clearly. “Yugo, you know Efrim hasn’t been the same since the war. As much as it pains me to say this, we can’t trust his intuition like we used to; now every shadow he sees is an enemy waiting to pounce. And Amalia hasn’t really given us any reason to distrust her, remember?”
He tried to reason with him by pointing out all the good the doll did for them. How seriously she took her role as a bridge between Eliatrope and Twelvian civilisation. How dedicated she was to making sure their first Sacred Dance Day in their new home was memorable. Her genuine interest in their culture. But the argument that held the most weight came later:
“And what about her wakfu? Yugo, you saw it just like I did; it’s crystal clear! Pure, unadulterated! We never would have let her remain on Oma if she had ulterior motives, you know that.”
As much as he wanted to let himself believe Ad’s very convincing reasonings, let them become a balm to soothe all his wounds caused by doubt and suspicion, he couldn’t bring himself to. So he looked away instead, biting the inside of his cheek.
“What if she had a secret she’s managed to keep away from us all this time?”
“What do you mean?”
And so, he told him everything.
How, a few days back, before Tristepin finally arrived, he was marching down the hallways, headed to the throne room for that day’s audience with their subjects, when he overheard Eva and Amalia talking. He admitted he only caught the tail-end of the conversation, but Amalia seemed to be wrecked with guilt with a secret that she admitted out loud she kept from him. He hurriedly opened a portal and left before they could notice him eavesdropping, but the damage was already done. Amalia was keeping things from him, things severe enough to have her breaking down crying in her handmaiden’s arms.
That… was never a good sign.
The pang of pain he felt at the revelation accompanied him until the incident, when her well-being became his priority once again. But as the days dragged on, so did his fear and concerns. He wanted to be there for her, more than anything! But could it be that he was being played for a fool?
Adamaï was left momentarily speechless at the revelation. Bits and pieces from not long ago pieced themselves together at last, revealing the full picture behind it. So that was the reason why he could sense Yugo’s melancholy and bitterness spike up whenever Amalia was mentioned or Eva and her boyfriend got too romantic with each other before the whole breakfast fiasco. Each mention, each affectionate exchange, ripped yet another piece off his heart.
Still, there was so much that didn’t make sense.
“Okay, I can see why you’d be hesitant after that.” He admitted. “However, maybe it’s not what you think it is?”
“She broke down crying in Eva’s arms, Ad.” Yugo snapped, his eyes flashing blue for a second. “Why else would she do that unless it was something very serious?”
“Why would she feel guilty at all if she was truly some kind of conniving femme fatale?” Adamaï shot back without missing a beat. When that didn’t work out, he tried again with a sigh. “Okay, look. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be careful. After all, we learned the hard way that not everyone can be trusted. But how about we keep an eye on her for the time being and see what she’s up to? With everything that’s happened, we have the perfect excuse to be extra vigilant of her.”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s an option. Thanks, Ad…”
But his words were dispassionate. His mind far, far away as he let himself be confused by doubts and heartache all over again.
Regardless of what Adamaï said, could Efrim truly have been right to be wary of her all along and she really did have ulterior motives to be in Oma? Could it be that she was just seducing him per the gods’ request to get something out of him like Qilby once said her sisters did with this world’s Primordial Dragons?
Were his feelings based on a lie?
If she were to have any feelings for him, would they even be her own, or would they be mandated by the gods?
As of late, the only thing that brought Amalia any real peace was gardening.
And even that was tainted by her frantic and furious movements as she got rid of all the weeds ruining the perfect green canvas that was her grass, or as she trimmed the leaves from her bushes and trees. But even as she muttered angrily under her breath while she watered her plants, even as she ordered her dolls around with military-like precision, even as her powers went a little haywire each time she summoned them as a result of her troubled emotions making it harder to focus… It was still the only time of the day she could be well and truly alone with her thoughts.
She still couldn’t decide whether she longed for solitude or dreaded it with her whole being.
Eva’s company every waking minute for the past few weeks had crept up on Amalia without her really noticing. Sure, at first she’d been hyper-aware of her presence, if only because she was so excited over having a new friend, especially one that would always be by her side. But soon enough, the two of them fell into an easy rhythm and the doll barely acknowledged her existence anymore.
Not because she didn’t care, but because it’d become as natural as breathing. While nothing could ever stop her from chattering away the day with Evangelyne, the need to make sure it wasn’t a dream and she was still there by her side eventually faded away. Before she knew it, her bodyguard had become a constant she didn’t know would kill her until she lost it.
Then she lost that one constant, and she’d been a wreck ever since.
Her teeth gritted in irritation at herself, Amalia shook her head off from where she sat on the ground with her legs tucked underneath, willing away the phantom pain in her chest at the thought of their lost friendship. Refusing to fall down that wabbit hole again, she picked up the garden trowel lying by her side and got to work. Those peonies wouldn’t dig up themselves, after all.
Anything to rid her mind of all the unforgiving memories that’d plagued her over the last few days.
Anything to fend off the guilt over how terribly she handled her last serious conversation with Evangelyne.
With a quiet sniffle she refused to allow it became a body-wrecking sob, she wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. For once, she didn’t even care about smearing dirt all over her cheek.
“Peonies, Amalia. Focus on the peonies.”
However, the more she dug, the less controlled her motions became, until it reached a point where she was practically stabbing the ground in a frustration-fueled frenzy. Grunts of effort and irritation punctuated every time the trowel met the earth. Her quiet tears streaming down her cheeks meshed together with the remaining dirt, making her face feel clammy, cakey, and muddy all at once.
For once, the doll didn’t have the energy to care. She was far too busy fighting off the images flashing through her mind.
Evangelyne’s company.
Stab!
Sir Percedal’s unguarded posture upon meeting her.
Stab!
The inexplicable agony that coursed through her body from the mere brush of their hands.
Stab!
Her venomous words tumbling out of her mouth, her anguished cries tearing her throat apart until she couldn’t take it anymore and fell victim to exhaustion.
Stab! Stab!
Her argument with Evangelyne, and her horrified face when she essentially confirmed she was little more than another servant to her.
Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!
And Yugo…
This time, she plunged the trowel into the ground with so much force, she embedded it deep within, the gardening tool remaining upright all on its own. Her breath coming out in shallow pants from the physical and emotional exertion, Amalia threw her head back as she tried to regain her breath, all the while wiping her hands clean on her pants.
She let the tears fall. There was no use in stopping them now.
Biting down her bottom lip so hard she almost drew blood, she blinked a few times to fight off the sting in her eyes at the thought of Yugo.
But there was no blinking away the pain in her heart, nor the worried knots in her stomach.
If things with Evangelyne were tense now, then saying her relationship with Yugo was weird would be an understatement. For some reason, the easy if unsure pace they fell into ever since she realised her feelings for him had morphed into distance. Cold. Sharp. Suffocating. Not unlike how things used to be between them after their first outing to the beach.
The doll let out a hollow laugh. That seemed like a lifetime ago…
Their relationship had morphed into something Amalia couldn’t quite name. The timid rhythm they’d been dancing to shifted until it became a rigid dance none of them quite knew the steps of. A constant back-and-forth. A maddening game of hot and cold.
One minute, Yugo was by her side, his concern and care for her as deep as the ocean, threatening to leave countless shipwrecks in the wake of its tides. Whenever he sensed something was wrong with her—Amalia still couldn’t, for the life of her, understand how Yugo could read her like an open book sometimes and be completely clueless the rest of the time—, he would be there without hesitation. Offering unwavering support and understanding.
Whenever her conflicting feelings towards their Iop visitor acted up, the Eliatrope King was there in a heartbeat.
The rest of the time, however…
It was like being in her vicinity was poisonous. Like it brought him immeasurable pain just to see her, let alone be near her. Yugo had taken to keeping her at arm’s length so intensely, you’d think he was actually terrified of letting her get close. Their conversations, other times fluid and natural, became stilted and forced. As though they were two strangers in a party trying to make pointless, insubstantial small talk just to keep a painful conversation going.
Between his weighted silence and the weight of her own emotions, Amalia was about to come crumbling down.
“You seem to have a lot on your mind, little one.”
Her teary brown eyes snapped open at the sound of the feminine, honeyed voice. With a gasp, her head perked up and she began to look around frantically. Her brows burrowed in confusion and suspicion as she tried to find whom that voice belonged.
It was oddly familiar, too…
“Who’s there?” She called into the quiet.
Her insides coiled, and like a spring, she was ready to pounce on her would-be attacker if need be. Her whole body clenched in anticipation, Master Glip’s lessons already making themselves at home behind every single one of her tense joints.
The doll was torn between feeling offended or alarmed when the voice only laughed quietly. “At ease, sweet sprout. You know I’d never wish you harm.”
Her eyes still scanning every nook and cranny of her garden, Amalia had to do a double take when she took notice of her little army of Sadida dolls. Or, to be more precise, when she noticed the one doll that didn’t belong.
The very same doll that was currently making its way towards her, a placid smile on her face.
The closer it got, the clearer she could see it didn’t resemble any of her own batch of enchanted dolls. Whereas hers were made out of linen and leaves, with stitched-up mouths and pupiless eyes, this one had a light grey head with a greenish-blue mark on its forehead that matched its tiny body. And, just like her dolls’ heads were wrapped by cabbage-like leaves that ended up in a tail, this one had two leaves sprouting out of its head, almost like antennae.
As the little creature finally closed the distance between them, Amalia was sure it wasn’t one of her dolls. That didn’t mean she hadn’t seen it before, however.
“Dathura?!”
“In rags and stitches, little sister.” The doll winked at her.
“B-but… I-I-I don’t understand… How?!” She sputtered, her eyes wide as saucers. “Did you come all the way here from Inglorium?”
Just as her sister opened up her mouth to speak, a sudden knock on the door made the both of them jump. It wasn’t even a real knock, but a faint, short noise against the wood. As though something had hit it by accident. Just in case, the two dolls waited with bated breath for a voice requesting Amalia’s time to reach their ears, or even just another knock.
Only when a few seconds ticked by and there was no sign of anybody else, did the tenth doll resume talking, though not before letting her gaze linger on the door for a beat longer.
“Not quite.” Datura smiled. She patted the mark on her forehead meaningfully. “It’s a little trick I have up my sleeve. Don’t worry, you will master it as well soon enough.” She swept the garden with her gaze, appraising her sister’s dolls in particular. “You have enough test subjects to practice with, after all.”
Amalia looked back and forth between her sister and her own dolls, wondering if the day where she’d be able to replicate Dathura’s feat would truly come. She shook her head quickly, though. Now wasn’t the time for that.
“Still, that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here in the first place!”
All humour drained from the blue-eyed doll’s face. “I sensed your turmoil a few days back. We all did.”
It didn’t take long for Amalia to follow her sister’s example and blanch as well.
“Y-you did?” She asked in a voice so small, a Boowolf would have trouble picking up the sound. Dathura’s expression softened, and she gave a small, tight nod. “How is it possible? I haven’t been in contact with any of you since I was sent here…”
“You forget Father is a god, little sister.” Dathura’s grin was small, yet knowing and understanding. Like Amalia still had much to learn. She probably did. “It is his duty, as well as that of his equals, to oversee the affairs of their followers. And, given the true significance of your mission, you are no exception. If anything, you are the one who needs to be watched over the most.”
Out of everything that the smaller doll said, one thing stood out to the younger demigoddess the most. She gulped loudly, yet that did nothing to dissolve the anxiety and fear tying her stomach up in knots.
“S-so, he’s watched… everything?” She asked fearfully, her voice tremulous. Images of her worst moments these past few months came flooding back as she waited for Dathura’s answer like a prisoner sentenced to death waited for the unforgiving steel of the executioner’s axe.
The tenth doll nodded, once. “As far as I am concerned. Rest assured, you do not have to tell me anything you do not wish to. Father usually doesn’t allow us to oversee the affairs of mortals. He says they are far too susceptible to divine intervention sometimes.”
Amalia actually had to hold unto the relieved breath threatening to escape her throat at her sister’s revelation. Knowing Dathura and the rest remained none-the-wiser to her less stellar moments was a small mercy, but one she welcomed nonetheless like a starving man welcomes a feast.
The relief was short-lived, however, for it didn’t take her long to remember the true reason behind Dathura’s unexpected visit.
“You said you and our sisters sensed my turmoil; could it be that you felt something similar, too? Is that why you’re here?”
Were her tear-streaked eyes playing tricks on her, or did Dathura just tense?
Be it as it may, an uneasy silence fell over the garden. The only thing disturbing the artificial peace was the sound of the wind coming through the windows and rustling the leaves as it went.
“Yes, and no.” The white-and-cyan doll said at last. “When I say we sensed your turmoil, it was more in the sense that we had the feeling something was wrong. Call it sisterly intuition, if you will.”
The green-haired woman tilted her head in confusion, “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No, it is not.” There was an air of finality to her words that prompted Amalia to stop looking into the matter. She straightened up her spine, her back upright even as she sat with her fists nestled over her thighs, fidgeting with the fibery fabric. “We simply had the feeling something bad had happened, and I volunteered myself to check up on you, little sprout. That is all.”
“Oh, I see…” The younger doll deflated a little, her shoulders slumping forwards despite her best efforts to remain straight.
“That does not mean I am not here to help, however.”
“Oh?” And just like that, Amalia perked up again.
With a slow nod and a smile, Dathura mimicked her sister and sat down on the ground as well, only she favoured being cross-legged. It was the posture she would take even as she meditated in her regular body. She raised a tiny, greenish stump and gestured at Amalia to speak up.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Amalia hesitated at first. Could she really tell Dathura the million questions plaguing her mind? Would she even understand, or offer a shoulder to cry on? She had hoped Evangelyne would have been more understanding, and although a part of her—a small, loud, annoying part of her that refused to keep quiet even after she buried it deep where no one should be able to find it—still felt guilty for the terrible things she said about Sir Percedal, she couldn’t deny it hurt to see how quickly the Cra turned her back on her.
All along, she longed for someone to open up the door to friendship for her, only to have it slammed shut against her face.
Or was it the other way around?
Maybe she was the one who’d lured the guarded handmaiden in with promises of trust and equality, yet turned back around and cut the strings as soon as things stopped going her way?
Amalia ground her teeth so hard, they creaked. Brow creased, she snapped her eyes shut as she willed those thoughts to leave her alone once and for all. She was so tired of getting lost in thoughts like this. So tired of doubting herself every second of the day. Of regretting everything, only for the pain to come back and convince her once more that she was the victim, not the bad guy.
So tired of not knowing what to do…
A small, raggedy touch tugged her back to reality.
Eyes open and wide with surprise, she looked down just in time to see her sister place a comforting stump on her knee. Her disproportionately big head was tilted upwards to look up at her, a soft smile on her face. Even so, the worry in her eyes was apparent.
“Amalia, are you feeling unwell?”
She almost broke down crying again right there and then. After spending so long on Oma Island, surrounded by so many people yet so few who could truly understand her, she honestly forgot she had sisters she was supposed to count on when things got tough.
And by Sadida’s evergreen forests… Things were so tough right now.
So she told her everything. How they recently visited the Sadida Kingdom and, per Cra’s request, she was assigned a new Cra warrior to act as both her lady-in-waiting and her bodyguard—she didn’t miss the way Dathura’s eyes widened in recognition at that, but she didn’t press either. How, after some prodding and begging, she’d come to be friends with her bodyguard. How close they’d become, and how eagerly they awaited her beloved’s visit. And how said visit sparked a chain of catastrophic events they were all still trying to recover from.
“I just don’t get it!” Amalia exclaimed once she was done with her retelling. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never met Sir Percedal in my life—which you know is not a very long life in the first place—, so why did I react so strongly to him? Why is it that every time he’s near, I’m consumed by this inexplicable feeling or rage and-and-and… and fear. Cold, paralysing fear!”
With a mix between a sigh and groan, the youngest doll let her face drop into her hands. Her fingers laced between the emerald strands of her bangs in frustration. It was all she could do to not yank at them and rip them off.
“No wonder everyone seems to think I’m crazy… I’m starting to think so too.” She muttered pitifully.
“You’re not crazy.” Dathura’s voice was laced with so much certainty, so much unrelenting conviction, it actually startled Amalia.
Slowly raising her hands from her face in curiosity, all Amalia could do was stare, completely enraptured, back at her sister.
“I wish I was as confident as you, Dathura. But there’s so much I don’t understand, still…” She shook her head sadly and looked away, a new wave of tears stinging the corner of her eyes.
“You’re not crazy, Amalia.” Her sister repeated, her tone growing slightly stern. “What you felt was real, and nobody can question it. If they do, it is precisely because they don’t know what they are talking about.”
“How can you be so sure?” The green-haired girl enquired, a delicate eyebrow raised. “It’s almost as if you know exactly what I’m going through.” She frowned. “But that can’t be right. Unless…?”
Her sister put an end to that hopeful train of thought by raising her little stump again. The way she refused to look Amalia in the eye was both resolute, and made the youngest doll question her words for the very first time.
“As I said, we just had a feeling that something wrong was going on, and,” her bright blue eyes scanned her little sister from head to toe critically, “clearly, our instincts were right. From what you told me, something horrendous happened.”
“Wish I understood what or why…” Amalia muttered despondently to herself, her shoulders slumping forward in defeat yet again. “All I know is that I can’t bear to be near Sir Percedal, I got into a fight with Eva—Evangelyne—over it, and I don’t even know what’s happening to me!”
Maybe it was because the little doll’s blueish-green lips were plumper than her sister’s natural ones, but it was hard to miss the way she bit down on them. Or the way her face contorted into something hard to decipher as her posture stiffened a smidge. But the more Amalia stared at Dathura, looking for answers, the more she was beginning to think she saw the inner conflict waging war within her mind.
She furrowed her brow. Why would Dathura have any sort of conflicting emotions?
She wasn’t the one who completely lost it at some man she just met for the first time and made everything awkward. She wasn’t the one who was on barely-speaking terms with the very same woman that had been her friend just a few days ago. She wasn’t the one who felt like she couldn’t breathe. Like she had nowhere to run to because the walls kept closing in, stifling and overwhelming and inescapable. Like her every heartbeat was a cruel Pandawa playing the gong and each sound reverberated through her bones, while someone held her heart in a vice grip—constricting, oppressive, painful.
She wasn’t the one who feared having ruined her chances with the man she loved before it even started.
Amalia took one deep, shuddering breath, her hand reaching for her pendant and gripping it like a lifeline. With a groan, she began to massage her temples with her free hand. She really needed to stop with the downward spirals… She could feel a headache coming.
She started when Dathura’s voice finally broke the upsetting quiet, “That’s a very nice necklace you have there.” She praised it idly. While she was lost in thought, her sister’s sudden movements caused her gaze to flit back to her. She was a little embarrassed to admit it was her first time noticing the golden pendant Amalia wore.
“It… It was a present from Yugo.” She confessed shyly, threading her fingers through her ponytail nervously.
“What was the occasion?”
“Sacred Dance Day.”
Seeing the perplexed look on the little doll’s face, she rushed out to clarify, “It’s an important Eliatrope festivity. Doesn’t matter. Still, I…” For the first time since Dathura arrived, Amalia’s forlorn expression melted into a genuine, soft smile. “I love it. It means a lot to me.”
“I can see why.” Was all the tenth doll said.
A weighted silence fell over them after that, one neither of them quite knew how to break. They both searched tirelessly for the right words to say, yet gave out a sigh whenever they came up empty-handed. Maybe they should make a bigger effort to keep in touch; that way, talking to each other after so long wouldn’t be so difficult.
Arms crossed over her tiny body, Dathura looked out the window for a moment. She let herself bask in the lazy rays pouring through the immense windows during sunset, bathing the garden in a soft, golden light. She cracked a small smile. The fading light and the way pastel pinks and sky blue blended together always made her feel like the entire world had softened, somehow.
Blinking rapidly, her eyes widened when she finally realised what that meant.
“I must go now.” She said abruptly, not wasting any second. She looked back at the retreating sun in mild alarm. “Father doesn’t know I left for the Mortal Realm and our sisters can only cover for me for so long.”
“Wait! You’re leaving so soon?” Amalia protested as she watched the small leaves on the doll’s head begin to rotate and take flight towards the nearest window. “But I have so many questions!”
“And I have answered them.” Amalia actually scoffed at such an outlandish claim.
“No, you didn’t! You just said you guys sensed my turmoil out of some kind of ‘sisterly intuition’.” She air-quoted the words for emphasis, a tinge of mockery in her tone. “But I still don’t even know why I’m troubled in the first place!”
“Trust your instincts, Amalia. That’s all you need to know. And, don’t forget; you are here for a reason; you have a purpose to fulfill. Don’t let this get in the way of that, please.”
As she said that, the little ragdoll kept getting closer and closer to the exit, straight out of the window. Just when Amalia thought she wouldn’t get anything else out of her sister, she stopped in mid-air, causing her to perk up in surprise, and turned her bulbous head just enough to warn her, “And, please, do be careful of the storm coming your way.”
“The storm—wait! Wait! Dathura, please!” She sputtered, her hand outstretched after her sister as she instinctively jumped to her feet. But it was too late, as soon as she delivered her ominous warning, she floated through the windowpane and disappeared from sight.
Huh.
She would have to ask her to teach her that, Amalia couldn’t help but think to herself.
“The storm coming my way…?” She repeated, her eyes narrowed in equal parts worry and suspicion.
Flickering her gaze to the side, she took notice of the approaching dark cloud that was clearly making its way towards Oma.
“Oh, so that’s what she meant,” she shrugged it off and focused back on her poor, forgotten peonies. All she really needed to do was remain in the palace during the storm and everything would be okay.
She couldn’t keep the full-teethed, satisfied smirk off her face even if she wanted to.
This was just what they needed.
For once, Shinonomé didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Certainly, her original plan was to visit Amalia’s garden and ask the Divine Doll for more plants for her and Qilby’s remedies. And if she happened to fish for some kind of information they could use to their advantage, well, that was just a bonus.
But this?
To stumble upon Amalia receiving a secret visit from one of her sisters? Where they held a conversation as delicate as the one she’d listened to? The dragoness felt like all gods in existence had been answering to her and her brother’s prayers when she reached the door to the garden and her ears perked up at the sound of Amalia talking to somebody else.
And if she happened to press one of her long, pointy ears against the door and eagerly listen to the conversation… Well, maybe they should have been more discreet to begin with.
Although she had to bite down a curse when one of her horns knocked against the wood by accident. There were certain downsides to having four horns growing out of the side of your head, sometimes.
But other than a charged silence that lasted a few seconds, nothing happened. She let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as soon as those two resumed their chat.
Smirking one last time, Shinonomé slid off the door she was pressed up against and began her march back to Qilby’s laboratory with all the grace of a Boowolf stalking its prey. Her long, serpentine tail sashayed behind her with every sway of her hips, the afternoon sun filtering through the windows shining down on her and making her scales shimmer like rubies.
The sharp corners of her mouth softened into friendly grins whenever she came across some servant or palace guard carrying out their duties. Polite greetings rolling off her tongue with practiced ease.
But even as she stalked through the halls, one claw idly playing with a strand of golden hair, there was no hiding the near sadistic glee glinting in her equally golden eyes. Her mind kept replaying the conversation over and over.
Amalia’s sister—Dathura; she vividly remembered—presenting herself completely unannounced on Oma was enough ammunition. It would be so easy to twist the narrative and turn her harmless visit into a plotting reunion, especially since the Divine Dolls were clearly carrying it out in secret.
But the actual conversation itself?
Oh, now that was just pure gold.
According to Dathura, there was a reason behind Amalia’s stay with the Eliatropes. Something she couldn’t lose sight of. And the vagueness of it all is what turned it into such a dangerous, albeit useful, weapon.
Shinonomé frowned when she reached the palace gates, a sobering thought coming to mind. With a warm ‘thank you’ to the guard who wished her a good afternoon, she spread her wings and took flight in search of her brother.
Not like she didn’t know exactly where to find him.
Still, she realised with a hint of annoyance that they would have to be very careful, like master weavers, with how they spun their web of lies. Especially if they wanted Amalia’s own secrets to turn against her, rather than become her armour.
Yes, Dathura’s words about Amalia’s purpose had been vague enough that it should be easy to instill doubt and suspicion in their people’s hearts. After all, there was nothing more dangerous than not knowing, for it allowed for everyone to reach their own conclusions—more often than not, as further from the truth as it could be.
At the same time, however, their dear guest made it no secret that helping Eliatropes and Twelvians alike was her intended purpose. More frustrating still, she had actually made good on that promise more than once. If faced with the accusation that she had some sort of ulterior motive for being on Oma, she could always turn the tables on them by pointing out she had actually been truthful about her motives all along. Worse still, with enough undisputable evidence to back it up.
And that would only damage the Crimson Twins’ own credibility.
Groaning in aggravation, the dragoness bit down on her bottom lip, a fang poking out and glinting in the afternoon sun. Her eyes narrowed in determination as she caught a glimpse of her destination and, with a mighty flap of her wings, picked up the pace.
Indeed, they would have to phrase their words very carefully. This could be their one shot at finally swaying their siblings to their side and make them realise they were wasting their time on this worthless rock filled with backwards people whose arrogance and ignorance knew no bounds.
More importantly, it was the perfect chance to plant the seed of doubt in Yugo’s otherwise unwavering heart. He already seemed far more hesitant to be around her than before. They couldn’t afford to pass it up!
They had to strike while the iron was still hot. It was the only way to get rid of the one obstacle getting in the way of their plans.
Their king’s soft spot for the doll that tied him down to this infernal planet.
The moment she stepped foot into the laboratory, the rocks forming the wall that separated her from Qilby crumbling away in a flash of blue to grant her access, the placid smirk was back on her lips.
She found Qilby right where she knew he would be. His arms clasped behind his back as he beheld one of the many specimens safely preserved in their crystal tanks hanging from the ceiling. She walked into the room with her wings wrapped around her form, her golden eyes squinting into the coppery lit room—it was always colder and darker in it precisely to keep her twin’s ‘souvenirs’ in pristine condition.
A hobby she didn’t really share, but respected nonetheless.
There were few things that brought Qilby as much joy as studying something new.
In fact, there were very few things that brought him joy at all nowadays.
“Good afternoon, my dear Shinonomé.” He didn’t even need to turn around to sense her presence. Thanks to their bond, he knew she was coming long before she stepped foot into his lab. He adjusted his glasses, never once taking his hazel eyes off his precious test subject.
With a good-natured roll of her eyes, she decided to play along. Just this once.
“Good afternoon, Qilby. Dusting your toys, I see?”
He shrugged. “What’s the point in keeping my specimens in perfect state if I can’t see through all the grime on the glass, am I right?”
She chuckled. “Right.”
“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my dear sister?”
Her smile turned as sharp as her fangs. “A little Tofu’s told me a little something about our darling Amalia that I thought you might be interested in.”
Soon, she wasn’t the only one smiling into the darkness of the lab.
“Chibi, on your left!” Cried Adamaï through their bond from where he stood. The pelting rain was so strong, his wings could no longer take the assault, forcing him to land on the muddy ground and try to guide his siblings from a far less advantageous vantage point.
Lightning quick, Chibi swivelled his head to his left, eyes widening for a millisecond at the wreckage headed his way. With a single, determined nod, his usual composure was back in place as he faced the incoming projectiles.
“On it!”
Foregoing the relative dampness of his dark cloak for the bonechilling raindrops soaking him to the bone, skilled hands conjured up a portal right in the middle of the trajectory of the broken branches and palm leaves, safely depositing them in the designated area located on the other side of the island.
Satisfied with his work, the Ebony Eliatrope allowed himself a small smirk, before his keen eyes caught sight of some movement from underneath some leaves and twigs that were conspicuously arranged to resemble a rather rudimentary hut.
“Nora—!” He tried to call out, only to be interrupted by a blur of pink as it dashed around him and in the direction the trembling was coming from.
“Already on my way!” She called out over her shoulder. In just a few leaps from square portal to square portal, the pink-clad Eliatrope was already crouching down next to the two terrified children cowering under their makeshift shelter.
“Hey there.” She called out to them sweetly, her voice loud and clear in spite of the raging winds. When the two kids noticed it was none other than one of the Primordial Eliatropes that came to save them, they wasted no time throwing themselves into her arms.
It was only a matter of seconds before she was hugging them back.
“Hey, shhhh. Shhh.” She soothed, her voice velvety soft. “Shhh! It’s okay; you’re okay.”
“W-we were so-so scared!” One of them, the youngest one, wailed. “We can’t… we can’t find ou-our mummy!”
“W-we tried making a shelter like Master Glip told us,” the oldest one explained, only relatively calmer than his little brother. “But I don’t think we did it right…” He sent a forlorn look at the arrangement of leaves and twigs on the verge of collapsing right behind him.
“Hey, now. You two did great! I’ll be sure to tell Glip all about how you followed his lesson.” Even with all her clothes completely drenched, Nora still smiled kindly at them. She tightened her hold on the kids. “Come on. I’ll take you with your mum.”
She was gone in a flash of blue.
But Yugo knew she’d return any minute now. She’d been teleporting herself in and out of the palace to retrieve disoriented civilians all day, after all.
His hood sticking to his face from the rain, Yugo could only grit his teeth in frustration at the chaos unfolding right in front of him. He barely held back the urge to scoff when he remembered Chibi’s prediction from a few days ago. Just a drizzle at most his hat. At the same time, he silently thanked Eliatrope they weren’t completely unprepared when the storm arrived.
Back when he first suggested they developed a contingency plan in case of tropical storms, he had to admit he’d been thinking more along the lines of a storm like the ones from their homeworld. Back home, there was a rainy season that lasted anywhere from a week or two to a month; but it always consisted of daily gentle showers his people could easily plan around and which had the sole purpose of helping farmers with their harvests.
The Great Goddess was a generous provider, after all.
They definitely knew how to act in case of a natural disaster or unforeseen twist occurring, like the usual showers worsening and resulting in floods, but, all things considered, it was usually all pretty mild.
Needless to say, they had not been expecting the unforgiving torrent falling down on them from the dark, nebulous Twelvian sky.
What started out as the harmless drizzle Chibi foresaw soon evolved into a thunderous tempest discharging thousands of litres on them. The heavy raindrops pelted them with the same relentless intensity of a Rogue shooting their guns in a duel, thoroughly soaking them and causing their clothes to stubbornly cling to their bodies like a damp second skin.
Lightning flashed now and then, lighting the sky and granting some much needed vision for a few precious seconds before the crackling of thunder made everyone jump. The howling of the wind so loud, the Council of Six had resorted to communicating with each other through their psychic bond lest they risked not being heard over the noise. And to make matters worse, the wind only accelerated the water’s descent, altering its trajectory until it splashed on people’s faces, their vision blurry through the raindrops clinging to their lashes.
In case that wasn't bad enough, the treacherous winds kept blowing from the opposite direction Yugo and the rest were headed to, making each step towards their destination an exercise in futility as they were constantly pushed back. And in the midst of all that chaos, they still had to keep their eyes open and their senses sharp in order to identify and teleport the palm leaves, branches, and anything else the air currents tore apart in their wake.
Just like they had to keep their eyes peeled in search of any possible stragglers who missed out on the evacuation they led earlier that day, or got lost on the way as a result of all the panic and confusion.
Yugo let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. His only real consolation right now was that Amalia was safe and sound in the palace, tending to the Eliatropes taking refuge there.
He already had so much on his plate. The last thing his poor heart needed was something bad happening to Amalia during the storm.
“Come on, hurry up! Right this way, right this way!” Qilby instructed as he led a group of their subjects away from the streets and towards the outskirts of town, where it’d be easier for everyone to open a portal straight into the palace.
Shinonomé picked up the rear. “You heard what he said! Nobody stays behind, come on!”
Exhaling a deep sigh from his nose, Yugo turned to his brother. “Chibi, how’re things on Grougal’s end?”
“I’ll ask him.” Chibi said before focusing on his twin.
Yugo would have asked Grougaloragran himself, but he was located on the other side of the island. Since Chibi was his twin, their psychic bond was stronger; the distance would be easier to overcome.
The king watched, his jaw clenched, as the prophet nodded along to whatever Grougaloragran was telling him on his end. When he set his amber eyes on his dark brown ones and smiled faintly, Yugo felt the slightest bit of relief easing the tension off his shoulders.
“Everything’s making it to their end safely.” Chibi passed the message along. “Every piece of wreckage or uprooted plant-life we teleport has been making it to the discarding area without issue. At most they have to think fast in case the winds threaten to send them flying anew.”
“Hopefully, all they need to do is fasten the straps holding the sailcloth down to ensure everything stays in place until we can safely discard it.” Glip, who’d just come back from making his own rounds around the island, mused.
“May Eliatrope hear you, Brother…”
“I don’t even want to think about what Amalia might be feeling right now.” When Adamaï noticed the way Yugo flinched at the reminder, he winced in sympathy. For once, he didn’t mean to tease him, he was just thinking aloud.
Although, it was hard to draw the line between thinking aloud and just thinking when other people could literally hear your thoughts, anyway.
“Why do you say that?” A recently returned Nora asked, her pink eyes already glowing blue and darting back and forth in search of more subjects in need of help.
“Amalia is a Sadida Doll, remember?” Ad started, sending his little sister a look. “She is connected to all plant-life. She flinches when someone so much as steps on a flower by accident, imagine how she must be feeling about all this.” He gestured with his claws around them, at all the damaged vegetation and tree trunks splintered by the storm.
It was Nora and Chibi’s turn to wince.
“Yeah, I see why that would be a problem…” Chibi agreed.
“Never mind that for now. We must continue to make sure the contingency plan is in effect and working. So, scatter, fulfill your assigned duty, and come back here if there’s anything to report.”
Yugo’s voice held all the authority that came with his title, causing his siblings to straighten up before bowing their heads solemnly at him. With a curt ‘Yes, Your Majesty’, they all summoned a portal to disappear through each and went to carry out their respective duties.
For all the Council of Six loved to bicker and pick fun at Yugo, as siblings were wont to do, they always followed his orders to the letter in times of crisis. And for that, Yugo was grateful.
Yugo was about to follow their example with the sound of a twig snapping caught his attention.
Lightning quick, he summoned a wakfu sword and aimed it straight at his potential attacker. Only for his eyes to widen in alarm when he noticed it was a panting Eva whose neck was inches away from being sliced through like butter.
Her bright green eyes were frantic as they looked back at his astonished ones, her mouth falling open in shock and displaying her tiny fangs. She wore a light wool-lined leather poncho over her usual white tunic, but even that did very little to keep her from getting drenched under the rain. Her golden bangs clang to her face even with her hood up. Her bow was drawn in front of her, a magic arrow at the ready.
Still, something was wrong.
“Evangelyne, why aren’t you with Amalia?” Yugo asked through narrowed eyes after lowering his weapon from her throat. Talking telepathically would be pointless since the woman was a Cra; she had no relation to him and the Council, so she’d be unable to hear him anyway. Still, Yugo spoke into the rough weather, knowing her keen Cra senses would allow her to hear him loud and clear in spite of it.
The doll’s bodyguard hesitated for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as her posture shifted. She was emotionally guarded yet physically unprepared at the same time.
It did nothing to alleviate his nerves.
“Evangelyne, where is Amalia?” He demanded again.
The Cra’s eyes widened. It was the same tone he used to give orders, the one that left no room for rebuttals. The voice of a king.
She gulped her worries down, trying to look far more collected and in control than she actually felt.
“She’s at the palace.” She said at last. “Safe.” She made sure to emphasise the word, knowing that was all the King of the Eliatropes cared about deep down. “She’s keeping herself busy by tending to the subjects taking shelter there.”
The Eliatrope forced himself to ignore the fluttering of his heart at her care for his people. As relieving as it was to know Amalia wasn’t out and about in this weather, it still didn’t explain Eva doing just that.
“Then why aren’t you with her?” He questioned, his arms crossed. “You’re her handmaiden and bodyguard. Your job is to help and protect Amalia.”
Evangelyne pursed her lips at the reminder. Although, it was hardly a reminder if she was perfectly aware of that fact on every waking moment. But how could she explain to Yugo that after their argument, being near Amalia was downright torturous? That, try as she might, she couldn’t silence the million questions, and accusations, and conflicting emotions warring for dominance in her mind? That she quite literally preferred to brave the storm than a room full of civilians in need of help if it meant remaining close to the Divine Doll a second longer?
“I just felt I would be more useful here.” She blurted out, praying to Cra that he’d buy her flimsy excuse. It sounded fake even to her ears.
“Oh?” He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. She had to resist the urge to pull a face. “And what makes you think so?”
That, she had an appropriate and truthful answer to. She patted her bow. “My arrows serve many purposes, my King. I can help deflect incoming projectiles as well as I can shoot one of my light arrows to the sky to act as a flare in case I find anything noteworthy or any stragglers in need of help.”
Evangelyne watched with nervous anticipation as Yugo seemed to contemplate her words. A pit formed in her stomach when his expression morphed into something hard, no doubt about to tell her to go back to the palace and guard over Amalia. However, just as he was opening his mouth, about to send her away, the loud crackling of thunder followed by the downpour intensifying put an early stop to that.
Tsking his tongue in aggravation, the Eliatrope King snapped his cape and turned around, gesturing at her to follow him. “Very well, but at the slightest sign that the storm is easing up, you will return to the palace with Amalia! Do I make myself clear?” He shouted over the noise.
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
But even as Evangelyne jogged up to follow after Yugo, she couldn’t help but momentarily stop and look over her shoulder at the direction where the Eliatrope palace stood in the far distance. Trying to ignore the churning in her stomach, she hoped against all hope that her instincts were wrong.
Even without the traitorous winds and unforgiving downpour from beyond its walls, the Eliatrope palace was a flurry of activity. The air was charged with tension and anxiety as a constant influx of civilians was ushered inside; the elite guards who’d volunteered to stay behind and help and the staff were out and about trying to tend to everyone's needs. Between guiding the newcomers to the spacious rooms designated to act as shelters in case of emergency and assisting those already there, it was safe to say they had their hands full.
In the midst of it all, standing out among the countless eared hats and hooded cloaks, an emerald ponytail bobbed up and down as its owner scurried from one corner of the room to the next in her efforts of being of assistance to the frightened civilians.
“Here, take this. It’ll keep you warm.” Amalia told a shivering mother that huddled close to her three children. It took considerable effort to keep her expression as even as possible as she observed the children’s shaking forms, their oversized hats threatening to fall off at any moment.
With a slight tilt of her head, Serviette, who’d been trailing after her ever since she started fluttering about trying to help in any way she could, handed the woman a large blanket. Big enough to envelop her entire family comfortably.
She took it with shaking hands and an even more tremulous ‘Thank you, my Lady’ before draping it over all four of them.
Amalia watched, sadness shining in her dark brown eyes, as the small family stuck together for warmth. It was both heartwarming and heartwrenching how much the Eliatropes cared for one another, how close they were.
It made them all the more undeserving of all the tragedies they went through.
She looked around the area, her gaze settling on more families and friends sitting down in circles on the floor that remained close in hopes of bringing each other some comfort; on lone figures leaning against the walls with clear concern etched onto their features, yet who still remained kind and steadfast in the face of adversity; on the exhausted guards and servants as they worked to look after each and every one of their fellow Eliatropes, constantly teleporting themselves away and back.
Her ogrine heart squeezing in sympathy, the doll had to make a conscious effort to fight off the guilt gnawing at her. While she knew there were more shelters scattered around the building to alleviate the burden in times of crisis (like now), Amalia still couldn’t help but feel selfish for so readily agreeing with Yugo when he gifted her her garden way back when.
She should have pushed harder for the empty space to be used with his subjects in mind instead.
There had to be something else she could do to ease their pain. To melt their worries away, just a little bit.
“My Lady?” Serviette called out tentatively, snapping Amalia out of her trance. “Some of the kitchen staff just sent a message; they wish to know if they should be handing out the refreshments they prepared.”
Amalia had spent enough time listening to Qilby and Shinonomé ramble on and on about their area of expertise to know why that might be a bad idea. She shook her head. “No. They are all probably so stressed and worried right now that eating anything might only upset their stomachs.” Then, the proverbial bulbshroom lit up over her head, an idea forming in her mind and returning the confident glint to her eyes. “Tell them to boil large quantities of water and to bring the pots and enough glasses for everyone here.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The maid offered a curt bow before disappearing in a flash of turquoise.
With Serviette gone on her errand, Amalia turned her focus back on doing her rounds, her eyes peeled for any sight of trouble or discomfort coming from Yugo’s subjects. The pitter-patter of the heavy rain as it fell on the palace roofs a constant echo to her thoughts, almost as though it mimicked the rhythm of her own footsteps.
She trusted her abilities and, most importantly, her knowledge on botany implicitly but, although she would never dream to doubt the Crimson Twins’ vast medical knowledge, Amalia found herself wishing, not for the first time, that there were an Eniripsa on Oma Island.
She did not mean to undermine Qilby and Shinonomé’s own talents, but she couldn’t deny she’d feel a little bit more at ease if one of the Miracle Fairy’s followers were here. After all, their whole entire purpose was to heal others. Whereas the Eliatropes relied on natural remedies and more scientific approaches to tend to one’s health, all it took from an Eniripsa to, quite literally, work their magic was a simple stroke of their brush.
There was no doubt in Amalia’s mind that the Eliatropes could benefit immensely from allying themselves with the fairy-like race. Perhaps she could bring it up to Yugo in preparation for his upcoming appearance in one of the world leaders’ meetings once the storm had passed.
If he remained near her long enough to strike up a meaningful conversation, that is…
Hand gripping her necklace absently, busying her bottom lip, Amalia was spared from going down that particular train of thought by yet another portal materialising in the middle of the room. Serviette had returned, bringing with her a few cooks who deposited a large cauldron almost overflowing with boiling water on the floor, alongside several members of the kitchen staff carrying baskets filled with glasses.
Forcing herself to take a deep breath to appear as composed as possible, the Divine Doll marched, her head held up high, straight for them. Despite the somber mood that seemed to overtake the room ever since the tempest began, she beamed at all of them. “This is perfect, thank you. If you would be so kind, could you please stay for a little while longer and help distribute the drinks?”
“Certainly, my Lady.” Serviette and the rest of the servants nodded, already moving to pour some water into the glasses, before Amalia halted their actions by raising her hand.
“Not yet.”
Every single Eliatrope present watched on in confusion from their respective corner, unsure of what to make of her seemingly contradicting attitude, only for that confusion to morph into awe as she conjured up an orb of green light with a clap of her hands that she then hurled at the floor. The room erupted into gasps and hushed exclamations of surprise and disbelief as a crack formed in the polished marble floor and a bush of considerable size sprouted from it. The plant’s greenery was soon overtaken by dozens of little white flowers blossoming all over it.
With delicate, expert hands, Amalia plucked some flowers from the fragile branches and dropped them gently into the hot water. Little by little, the water’s transparency was overtaken by the substances released by the flowers, turning it into liquid copper.
After a few minutes, the doll finally seemed satisfied. She motioned for one of the chefs to hand her the ladle he carried and proceeded to serve some of the beverage into a glass.
“Hand these over to everyone.” She instructed, her voice carrying authority and kindness in equal measure. “This should help soothe their nerves and keep them warm.”
Servants and guards alike (or, at least, the ones present) did as they were told, handing out the steaming hot beverage to the people gathered in the room, who took the glasses gratefully. More than one let out pleased ‘hums’ and contented sighs when the hot liquid made contact with their lips for the first time.
The scene eased off some of the tension coursing through her body, even though she still couldn’t shake off the constant phantom ache from all the uprooted greenery caused by the storm. With a serene smile—the first one in a while, if she was being honest—, Amalia turned to instruct the nearest group of servants to bring more blankets for everyone. Then, one of the cooks who’d come with Serviette approached her, asking when they could bring the food.
“Please, do remind me, Stewart.” She addressed him, a young man with a thin mustache over his upper lip clad in the traditional white cuisinier uniform, already stained with sauces and wayward ingredients. “What did the chef have in mind?”
Amalia was reminded of a warrior by the way he stiffened and stood up straighter, like a soldier about to inform his superior of important developments. “The chef has prepared an arrangement of cheese and cold meat sandwiches, Your Grace.”
The doll nodded along, a pensive finger to her chin as she contemplated Stewart’s answer. So, it looked like the palace chef had kept their panic in mind and opted to prepare a light meal so as to not upset his fellows’ stomachs. She would have to praise him for his thoughtfulness later.
She gave one last nod, a small, satisfied grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Very well. Feel free to go get them and distribute them whenever you see fit. We don’t know how long the storm will last, so I believe it would be best if they all replenished their strength for the time being.”
Stewart was about to speak again when a shrill, demanding voice Amalia vaguely remembered yet would never be able to forget completely resonated against the walls. It was so loud, it even startled some of the guards that were busy barricading the windows, who almost dropped their tools in surprise.
Even from where she stood, a few good metres away from them, Amalia could feel their glares, although the person they were directed at ignored them.
“Lady Amalia! A moment of your time, please!”
Strutting over towards her, bony hands holding onto her hiked up dress so as to not trip, Mrs. Minervante called out to Amalia. Her usual judgemental sneer was replaced by a terrified grimace. Judging from the urgency in her voice, she was eager to talk to the doll.
The doll in question had to suppress a sigh, doing her best to keep her own grimace at the sight of her at bay. She knew Mrs. Minervant wasn’t a bad person—Yugo said so many times, and she trusted his judgement—; it was just that she could be extremely whiny and demanding—a behaviour she got first round seats for the very first time Yugo took her to the village.
Taking a deep breath and willing Sadida to give her patience, otherwise she didn’t know what she’d do if he gave her strength, with her hands intertwined in front of her body, the Divine Doll plastered her most understanding and patient smile on her face. She held onto the precious few seconds of peace it took the older woman to regain her breath before speaking like a lifeline.
“Hello to you as well, Mrs. Minervante. Is there anything I or any of the volunteers may help you with?”
“Oh, goodness me! I don’t know if anyone will be able to help me, Your Grace.” The woman lamented, clutching at her non-existent pearls. Amalia had to bite her tongue from sarcastically asking her why she insisted on wasting her time, then.
But she managed. Just barely.
“Whatever do you mean?” She said instead, her voice as honeyed as the drink meant to soothe the Eliatropes’ worries that Mrs. Minervante took greedy gulps of. Placing a gentle hand on the woman’s upper back, she led her to a more remote corner of the room where she could sit down and explain everything more calmly. Hopefully, she wouldn’t upset any more people like this.
“It’s this Eliatrope-forsaken storm, my dear.” Mrs. Minervante explained rather unhelpfully as she let herself plop onto one of the makeshift benches a group of servants had set up as soon as news of the upcoming civilians reached their ears.
Amalia sat down right next to her, a comforting hand squeezing the woman’s forearm gently.
“Oh, then you were right before, ma’am.” Amalia commented despite her better judgement, earning herself a confused raised eyebrow from the elder woman. “I have no way of stopping the rain, therefore, I might not be able to help you.”
Her smile twitched when Mrs. Minervante simply scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I know that already, my dear. No offence, but if our esteemed Council of Six cannot hope to defy the elements and win, what chance does a wee little thing like you have?”
Although she could feel a vein popping on her forehead already, Amalia chose to let the slight go. Mrs. Minervante was a difficult person by nature. She’d once asked Yugo about it, and even Adamaï and Nora (who’d arrived just in time to whisk their king away due to some urgent matters) agreed she’d been hard to put up with even before her dearly beloved husband—the only person she was ever regularly nice to without expecting anything in return—passed away.
In other words, grief didn’t make her like this. This was just her default.
“I suppose you’re right…” The doll murmured, her fake smile was still on her face, although it was getting harder to keep it there. She pretended to look pensive for a second. “Although, forgive my bluntness, but I must admit I am quite astonished by your reaction, my dear madam.”
Fanning her face with one hand while the other held onto her hat tightly, she regarded the doll with a raised eyebrow, “And why is that, my Lady?”
“By Sadida! One would simply expect you to have seen enough bad weather in your lifetime to be more than accustomed to some rain, that’s all.”
“Oh, but this is no mere rain at all, you see!” Amalia wasn’t sure whether her not-so-subtle jab at her old age went unnoticed in the woman’s self-centredness, or if she was simply returning the favour and graciously let it slide. Either way, she wasn’t about to complain. “Back home, we didn’t have weather this dreadful.”
That caught the doll’s attention long enough to momentarily forget her displeasure with the woman. “You didn’t?”
“Certainly not! A few drizzles here and there, maybe a shower or two during the rainy season… Nothing too severe, annoying at most. But this?” She asked no one in particular, her nostrils flaring in distaste as she motioned with one hand to the windows that had yet to be barricaded. “This is simply preposterous! I fear, if I stay out for too long, the droplets will turn into a river and flow me straight into the sea! I do not know how you Twelvians can put up with it.”
All her previous apprehension melted away as it dawned on her. Difficult personality aside, Mrs. Minervante didn’t seek her out just to be a pain; she was scared. This was her first time dealing with truly unkind weather. With no other referent on how to act during such times, she turned to her, the only Twelvian in sight (technically), for comfort.
This time, albeit small, the understanding smile on the doll’s lips was genuine. “Well, as you said, this is the World of Twelve—you can’t expect things to be the same as back home.”
“I know that!” She sputtered, face flushing pink from embarrassment.
“Truth be told, this is my first time experiencing a storm like this one myself.” She chose to pointedly ignore Mrs. Minervante grumbling something along the lines of her ‘not being much help, then’, and went on. “However, I have known Yugo long enough to be able to say this with absolute certainty: He and the Council have a plan to deal with this tempest, a plan they are currently carrying out to the best of their ability.
“It is alright if you are scared, Mrs. Minervante. You do not need to put on a brave face and pretend you are not because, if I may be so bold, this situation is quite scary. But I would like to ask you to have a little more faith in your king and the Council, because they are doing everything in their power to look after you and keep you safe. Just as they always have.”
For a moment, Mrs. Minervante didn’t say anything. She didn’t even meet Amalia’s dark brown eyes, she simply let hers fall to the ground, a pensive air around her as she fidgeted with the long tail of her hat. It startled the doll to see her like that, like just a regular woman with her own burdens and insecurities weighing heavily down on her, instead of a demanding old lady clamouring for attention.
“In all my years, I have never believed the Council of Six could ever lead us astray, my Lady…” Was her quiet admission.
Her words hit the Divine Doll like thunder roaring in the distance, but just as she was about to say something else, she was interrupted yet again. Only this time the cry for help was accompanied by a small body latching onto her leg.
“Lady Amalia, I need your help! Quick!”
“Wh-huh? Wait, Lori?!”
Protective instincts taking over, Amalia immediately moved to put her arms around the little girl, who clung onto her for dear life and sobbed against her leg, to try and offer some comfort. Eyes searching frantically for the little girl’s parents, there was nothing much she could do besides gently stroke her hat, careful not to push it far enough so it’d fall from her head.
“Lori, sweetie, what’s going on? Where are your parents?”
But Lori ignored her question. “Please, Lady Amalia! You have to help me! Please!”
The desperation in her broken voice was so potent it pierced right through Amalia’s heart. She felt like crying too. With a shuddering breath, she did her best to blink away her tears and keep her voice even. For Lori’s sake.
“What is it, Lori? What happened? You know you can tell me, right?”
The urge to scoop the poor thing into her arms and hug her tight only increased tenfold when Lori finally looked up to her. Her face was damp with her tears, her big, brown eyes red-rimmed and glassy, and she kept wiping her runny nose with the back of her sleeve as pitiful whimpers escaped her throat.
Small, grabby hands reached for the hem of her big, yellow hat and pulled down, covering her face with it.
Even Mrs. Minervante was heartbroken by the sight. “Oh, you poor darling…”
“Lori…?” Amalia tried one more time, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It-it’s my friend.” She choked out at last, before breaking down in tears all over again.
Panicking slightly, Amalia kept trying to soothe her with calming noises and lovingly wiped her tears away. Without a word, she pulled her into her lap and cradled the child to her chest, trying to bring as much comfort as possible. “What about your friend, little one? Are they okay?”
But Lori just shook her head, sending a wave of frigid panic to freeze the Sadida Doll to her very core. “W-we were playing in the village b-before the storm started.” She sniffled between pitiful hiccups. “The-then we heard King Yugo telling everyone to get inside the palace. So-so we ran.
“I thought she was r-right beside me!” She cried out, and the doll never wanted to hear such anguish coming out of a little kid ever again. “B-but when I finally made it here and looked for her… she… she…” Lori trailed off, covering her face with her little hands and sobbing louder.
By that point, the little girl’s cries had garnered quite a crowd. Adults and children alike looked on, concern etched all over their faces. Even Mrs. Minervante had let out a loud gasp and began fanning her face with her hand frantically at her retelling.
Amalia tuned them all out. Her focus solely on the inconsolable girl in her arms.
“She what, Lori?” She urged her softly, squeezing her more tightly when her question made poor Lori cry harder still.
“She wasn’t there!” She cried out, throwing her tiny arms around the doll and sniffling into her chest. “She’s still out there! Anything could have happened to her, and it’s all my fault!”
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay. None of this is your fault, I promise.” Amalia tried to soothe her while she stroked her hat. “I’m sure your friend’s fine; we’ll find her in no time at all.”
“B-but the storm is getting worse…”
The doll bit her bottom lip, pain flashing through her face.
As much as she hated to admit it, Lori was right. Judging from the deafening sounds still coming from outside, the storm showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. A little girl Lori’s age, not even ten years old, didn’t stand much of a chance against this kind of weather. Time was of the essence, and they were running out of it.
“We could always use the Magnolias to warn the Council of the missing child, my Lady.” Serviette, bless her soul, suggested hurriedly. She was clutching at her chest, her eyes shining with the same fear as Amalia was sure was reflected in her own. “They’re planted all over the island. One of them is bound to hear them!”
“NO!”
The doll was about to agree to Serviette’s idea and thank her for her quick thinking when Lori’s wail cut through the chaos. In an instant, a heavy silence fell over the room as everyone stared, wide-eyed, at the panicking child.
For some reason, it was as though Lori was more afraid of using the Magnolias than of anything happening to her friend.
Before Amalia had any time to question her reaction further, Lori turned back to her so fast, the doll didn’t know how she didn’t give herself whiplash.
“Please, Lady Amalia, you have to do something! By the time the Council hears about this, it might already be too late!”
Again, this little child spoke the truth. The grim, bleak reality of time working against them. But what else was she supposed to do? Yugo and the Council already had all hands on deck trying to deal with the situation. She really didn’t see any other way to help.
“We could search the area as we bring back the remaining citizens.” One of the guards suggested.
“You’ll probably find the Council before the Magnolias can reach them; you could let them know what’s happened!” A maid whose name Amalia didn’t remember at the moment pointed out.
“In the meantime, we could do a headcount of everyone who’s already been evacuated into the palace. Maybe she’s already here, safe and sound, and Lori just didn’t see her.”
Closing her eyes resolutely, Amalia knew what to do.
She didn’t dare let Lori down when she first met her back at Masters Baltazar and Glip’s class, she wasn’t about to do it now.
“Send a message to Yugo and the Council of Six through the Magnolias; inform them of what’s going on and where to look for her.” She instructed as she rose to her feet, her tone leaving no place for discussion. The steel in her expression melted just the slightest bit as she smiled reassuringly down at Lori before placing her back on the floor. “In the meantime, I will brave the storm and look for the child.”
For a second, she wished Evangelyne was there to help her. Her Cra senses would have been incredibly useful. She shook the thought away; now wasn’t the time for regret.
“B-but, my Lady! It is too dangerous to go outside!” Serviette protested weakly. If anything happened to Lady Amalia… Forget the gods’ wrath, she didn’t want to know how His Majesty would react.
“It is immensely more dangerous for a small child to be out in this weather alone.” The doll shot back. Judging by the way Serviette flinched and lowered her head in shame, she knew she was right.
Still, all the maid was trying to do was look after one of the people she was in charge of. She was just doing her job and looking out for her.
“Serviette, I’ll be alright.” Amalia tried to reassure her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I may not have enhanced vision, but I speak the language of nature. I’m sure the jungle outside will be able to guide me towards Lori’s friend. I’ll be fine, and we will both return safe and sound.” Her expression hardened into determination. “In the meantime, I need you to do as I say and let Yugo and the Council know. We need as many people as possible looking for her just in case.”
Taking one last shuddering breath, the Eliatrope maid did a curtsy. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
With that, Amalia bid everyone goodbye and told the guards and servants present to keep looking after the civilians taking shelter inside the palace. Holding back a grimace, she asked one of the soldiers stationed inside to open a portal to the village and went through it, leaving every single Eliatrope in the building praying for her safety and success.
In the midst of all the commotion, nobody took notice of the sinister smirk growing on Lori’s face as she watched Amalia go.
The moment Amalia stepped out of the portal—and miraculously didn’t throw up—, she regretted not taking a cloak with her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her torso in a desperate search for some warmth as she rushed through the rain, the heavy droplets soaking through her clothes and thoroughly drenching her. If she had her stitches out right now, they’d come undone.
…and her limbs would follow shortly after.
“Hello? Is anybody here?” She called into the storm, hands cupped around her mouth.
Nothing.
Her bare feet splashing against the muddy soil, she did her best to ignore the moist dirt clinging to her skin. As a Sadida Doll, she was no stranger to feeling the ground underneath her feet, but circumstances made it considerably less enjoyable… and considerably more slippery. She just hoped the palace cleaning staff wouldn’t be too mad at her for dragging mud into their sparkling clean marble tiles.
Shaking her head to keep herself from getting distracted, Amalia continued to search diligently for Lori’s friend. It wasn’t until she first tried calling out to her that she realised she never asked for her name, nor had Lori mentioned it at any point, but it didn’t matter. As useful as it would’ve been, she wasn’t about to let that deter her from getting a child home back safely.
“If anyone can hear me, I’ve come to take you to the palace! I’m friends with Lori; she’s worried sick about you!”
She didn’t know how long she’d been at it, but nothing. Seeing as simply calling out to her yielded no results, Amalia went for a different approach. It was a little risky considering the weather, but she wouldn’t leave stone unturned until she found the girl. Palms glowing green as she pointed to the ground, she summoned a vine about as thick as her and thrice as tall. It wrapped around her midsection like a harness and, per its mistress’ command, lifted her up.
However, even that proved fruitless.
Even with an eagle-eye view of the island, the falling rain made it impossible to make anything out in the vast lushness of the remaining vegetation surrounding the village, and the chaos enveloping the town wasn’t helping her much, either. Not to mention, her damp bangs kept sticking to her face, limiting her line of vision and forcing Amaia to continuously brush them away with annoyed grunts.
That plan shot down for good, the doll willed the vine around her to return her safely to ground-level, where she continued her trek around town as she kept on calling out for Lori’s friend.
Window panes clattered against the wind as it forcefully closed and opened them. The rain hit the cobblestone path the doll was on like a Rogue shooting a myriad of bullets in a duel, forcing Amalia to watch her step lest she’d slip on the treacherous terrain. The awning located at the top of some hastily-abandoned stands rustled fiercely in the wind, the protection against the sun it provided now rendered completely pointless.
A rush of wind hit Amalia straight in the face, splashing her with the fallen water whose trajectory had been affected by the changing currents, and she began to shiver quite violently. She rubbed her arms up and down in a sad attempt at warming herself up in spite of everything.
“Come on, Amalia…” She shuddered, teeth clattering. “If I were a scared little girl, where would I be?”
If there were a god of weather, Amalia would be cursing their name right now. The crackling of thunder resounded over her head yet again, so loud, she couldn’t cover her ears with her hands to muffle the roar fast enough. Her already lousy mood was on the verge of becoming as stormy as the day was turning out to be when the downpour intensified yet again and soaked her to the bone.
The only way she thought it’d be possible to be more drenched at the moment would be if she threw herself at the ocean and swam all the way back to Bonta.
With the way her damp hair weighed down her face and covered her eyes, she was sure she could pass by a weeping willow.
Her bangs covering her line of vision, Amalia walked around blindly until she bumped into someone. With a yelp, she was about to fall backwards when someone, or rather, something, held her by the waist and kept her steady.
Brushing her bangs away, she began to say, “By Sadida, thank you so—!”
“What are you doing here?” Came the ever-familiar snarl. The doll’s gratitude died in her throat when she took notice of her ‘saviour’, staring daggers at her.
Standing right in front of her, nostrils flared and icy eyes narrowed, scales shimmering under the rain, was Efrim’s lithe form.
Before she could say anything else, she felt the limb around her waist loosen its hold—his tail!—, and before she even had time to process what was going on, she’d fallen flat on her backside.
He literally just dropped her. On purpose!
Groaning from the pain resulting from hitting the hard surface, Amalia gently nursed her behind as she returned Efrim’s glare. “Hey! What was that for?!”
“What are you doing here, doll?” He spat out, clearly ignoring her question. Amalia watched on with a healthy amount of caution as his tail flickered in irritation.
That thing had to be extremely long for it to wrap itself around her waist earlier and still manage to prop the legless dragon up. She squashed that thought down, though. She refused to feel even an ounce of admiration for the colossal pain in the neck she had the displeasure of having to deal with.
“Are you deaf? I asked what you’re doing here!” Efrim pressed on, his body tense and coiled like a snake’s. Amalia expected him to rattle the tip of his tail any moment now.
Not even bothering to ask the dragon for help, she pushed herself forward and up from the floor with a grunt of effort and a roll of her eyes. It was her turn to ignore his question as she dusted the mud from her pants; a pointless endeavour, seeing as she was only spreading the substance since it was still wet and the rain wasn’t letting up. She let out a resigned sigh before cupping her hands around her mouth once more—
Efrim’s claw shot forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards him so roughly, it was a miracle her shoulder wasn’t dislocated.
“I’m only going to say this once, doll,” he spat out the word like it was something disgusting. Like he somehow wasn’t the one constantly spouting metal-dissolving venom at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of an emergency, the last thing we need is any more of your scheming! So do us all a favour, and make yourself scarce until the storm is over!”
“My scheming?!” Was Amalia’s offended response. Her usually lovely features morphed into a furious snarl like only Efrim knew how to bring out of her. She yanked her wrist away from his hold and brought it closer to herself. Her skin was tender as she rubbed it gingerly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
The dragon gestured around them like it was obvious. “I just fail to see what business you have here when my brother, the King, ordered you to stay in the palace.” He all but growled, the suspicion shining in his eyes like ice. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, a derisive eyebrow arched, “Waiting for someone?”
Amalia’s fists were clenching at her sides before she even had the time to process it. Her knuckles birch-white and her nails piercing crescent moons into her palms while she shook in barely concealed rage.
Opening up her mouth, she was about to give him a piece of her mind when a flash of lightning followed shortly after by the roar of thunder gave her pause. Looking up at the dark sky she realised, if she’d been startled by it, who knew how terrified a little girl must be feeling at the moment. Lori was counting on her. Her friend was counting on her.
And she wasn’t about to let any of them down.
It was a Herculean task to swallow her pride and put her differences with Efrim aside, but she managed. Sadida had to be looking out for her that day. Forcing her expression into one of complete neutrality—and failing slightly; she could still feel the glower on her face—, she turned to face the periwinkle reptile with a hint of derision in her gaze.
“Are you here to help because you heard the transmission?”
The way his maw scrunched up in confusion was all the confirmation she needed that he had no idea what she was talking about.
She scoffed and turned back around to continue with her search, figuring it’d be infinitely much more productive than her wasting her time dealing with Efrim.
“Transmission? What transmission?” Efrim muttered to himself, uncomprehending. Just then, he shook his head to rid his mind of pointless thoughts and narrowed his eyes on the Sadida Doll once more. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you won’t get away with it!”
Amalia rolled her eyes to the back of her skull and focused on using her innate link with nature to ask the surrounding vegetation if they’d seen any little girls that were left behind. Their silence spoke louder than words. Weird. She was sure nature would be able to offer some answers. Plants and wildlife alike were the best eyes and ears anyone could ask for, after all.
If the plants surrounding the village had seen no trace of Lori’s friend, then things just got considerably harder.
“You’ll have to get through me before you lay a hand on a single one of our subjects, you hear me!?” Efrim went on with his tirade, his throat growing raw as it gained in volume. A little bit of rain would not get in the way of him getting his point across. “You may have everyone fooled, but you and this world’s natives are in for a rude awakening. So you and your little—! Wait a minute.” He stopped abruptly as he took notice of something for the first time, wondering how he could have possibly missed it in the first place. “Where is your Cra bodyguard? Isn’t she supposed to be around you day and night?”
At the mention of Evangelyne, images of their argument and the cold atmosphere between them ever since flashed through the doll’s mind. Her whole body immediately tensed up.
“Not that it’s any of your business, Efrim but she…” She trailed off and cleared her throat, trying to imbue her voice with all the confidence she was missing. “She said she’d be out trying to help you evacuate and carry out your emergency plan.”
“Oh, so you’re saying she’s willingly left you all alone?” His words tore through her like a Sram’s knife. A rooted pain nestled behind her ribcage, making it almost impossible to breathe. And his pleased tone drilling at the back of her head was only the icing on the cake.
Efrim just went on, his voice coated in disdain, “Frankly, took her long enough. I can’t imagine anything worse than getting saddled up with you. For a Twelvian, that woman is pretty smart, and competent… She could be doing so much better than babysitting a demigoddess who can’t even take care of herself. A duplicitous, two-faced little brat who has everyone wrapped around her little finger just from playing cute and innocent.”
Amalia didn’t turn around, too busy tightening her hold around her arms, her hands squeezing her arms so tight, her fingertips would probably leave bruises behind. But she didn’t need to. She could hear Efrim slithering closer to her, his every word dripping with scorn as it ebbed away at her confidence. Just like he always did.
“I know what you are.” He hissed, his tone ice-cold. “And I’m actually glad she finally saw it too. You act like you couldn’t hurt a moskito, only to stab the people that have come to care about you in the back, hitting them where it hurts. As I said, I’m happy for her, at least now she’s finally free from you.”
Eyes watering, bottom lip trembling so much she had to bite down on it hard enough to draw blood, Amalia wouldn’t have been able to keep herself from muttering, “At least I’m not some bitter, immature lizard…” even if she wanted to.
And she really didn’t want to.
But Efrim heard her loud and clear, a growl emanating from deep within his chest, “What did you just say?!”
And just like that, Amalia finally snapped. Months of putting up with his scorn, with his insults, with his constantly looking down on her for the mere fact that she dared breathe at all came crashing down. The dozens of negative emotions she’d been forced to push deep, deep, deep down in a futile effort to keep up the peace finally erupted like a volcano.
Fury fueling her very being, the Divine Doll whirled around to face Efrim. She must have been sporting a ferocious glare, because he actually flinched under the weight of her gaze. Or maybe it was from the way the jungle seemed to tremble around them in anticipation for what was to come, reacting to her anger.
Good.
“I said that at least I am not some bitter, immature lizard who’s constantly blaming all of his issues on somebody else like some spoiled brat!”
“How dare you?!” He roared, only to be interrupted by Amalia’s disbelieving laugh.
“What? You can go around putting people down but can’t take criticism? Wow, you didn’t need to go out of your way to prove me right like this, but I sure am not complaining! And another thing—! Lori? What are you doing here? You should be back at the palace, where it’s safe!”
Both of them swivelled their heads to the side, realising with wide eyes that the little girl was out in the storm and watching them intently.
A shiver ran down Amalia’s spine as Lori just stood there, drenched from head to toe, her dampened hat clinging to her like a second skin. An empty, almost dead look in her eyes.
Her brow creased, “Lori, did you hear me? You shouldn’t be here, it’s too dangerous.”
Efrim stood by her side, just as perplexed as the doll. The more he looked at the child, the less familiar she felt. It had been a while since he last played with the Eliatrope children like he and Nora used to do, but even he could tell something was wrong with her.
His gut clenching in apprehension and foreboding, the dragon made a split-second decision. His dark blue eyes flashed turquoise for a second, summoning forth his Wakfu vision…
With a horrified gasp, he recoiled from the sight.
“That’s not Lori…”
The words were barely audible, be it because of the storm or because of the Turquoise Dragon’s strangled voice, but they hit Amalia like a ton of bricks just the same.
Her frown deepened, her nose scrunching up in confusion and a hint of disbelief. “What are you talking about?” She questioned, gesturing to the little girl with one hand. “Don’t you see? Of course that’s—.”
Her words died on her throat. Her brown eyes flickered over to ‘Lori’ for a second, but it was enough for her breath to hitch. For a moment, she wanted to blame everything on the rain, blurring her vision and making her see things that weren’t there. But deep down she knew what she saw, and it sent a shudder of fear and disgust coursing right through her.
Standing just a few metres away, the same dull, lifeless eyes that were fixated on them blinked. Her heartbeat spiked up in terror when the child’s slanted eyelids closed.
Without thinking, Amalia took a hold of Efrim’s arm with both hands, their enmity momentarily forgotten as they both took a cautious step back (or in his case, slithered backwards slightly).
“T-that’s not Lori…”
For once, the periwinkle dragon didn’t mock her, just gave an absentminded nod before shaking himself off his stupor and adopting a defensive stance, his crystalline wings spread out and glistening underneath the rain. “No, but she’s about to tell us who she really is.”
For a moment, the doll watched on in fascination, before focusing her attention back on the impostor, her face hardening into a glare. Master Glip’s lessons coming to her like second nature, she raised her fists and spread her legs apart as she summoned a series of small seeds that she brandished like throwing knives in her hands. At that moment, the heavy rain was the least of their concerns.
“Good job, Sipho.”
The melodious voice came from seemingly nowhere and everywhere at the same time, sending both Amalia and Efrim on high alert as they frantically looked around trying to identify its origin. Despite its undeniable sweetness, there was an edge of something darker lurking beneath the surface, something that made the doll’s skin crawl and told her to be on guard.
“Identify yourself—!” Efrim tried to demand, but he never got the chance to finish what he was trying to say.
A horrified scream got stuck in Amalia’s throat as a giant shadow fell over them. She tried to thrash in their grasp and resist with all her might, and judging from the hissing and growling and grunting coming from her side, so was Efrim. But it was futile.
The last thing she registered was the feeling of something sharp grazing her neck before everything went black.
Heart pounding in his ears, Yugo jumped from one portal to the next like a man possessed, leaving behind a wild streak of blue that even Adamaï was having trouble keeping up with. Behind him, the rest of the Council followed suit, leaving behind their own streaks or the flapping of their wings as they tried not to lose sight of their distraught leader.
Gloved hands gripping her bow firmly, Eva’s boots splashed against the puddles she stepped on as she tried to match the Eliatropes and their dragons’ pace. Her breath coming out in pants, she no longer felt cold under the rain. To make matters worse, Master Efrim was nowhere to be found when they got the alert. Despite her distaste for the youngest dragon, the Cra hoped he’d be able to catch up to them soon enough.
But Yugo ignored it all, his mind set on one thing, and one thing only: reaching Amalia and the child as soon as possible.
They were actually about to call it a day and return to the palace when the distress signal coming from some nearby Magnolias reached them. Elias, one of the palace guards, almost didn’t stop to breathe as he relayed the events to his leaders. Lori had come asking for help from Amalia because a friend got left behind. Serviette and others suggested warning them through the Magnolias. Amalia took charge of the situation and ventured outside in search of the kid in case it was too late by the time the message reached them.
A kid. Out in the storm.
Amalia. Braving that very same tempest trying to find her.
Risking her neck despite everything for his people without ever asking for anything in return.
Again.
Oh, he was torn between tearing into her for her reckless behaviour, or kissing her senseless once he reached her out of the sheer devotion she always managed to elicit out of him.
By the time they finally made it to the place they were all supposed to be, in some ransacked, remote part of the village, Yugo’s chest kept rising and falling in concerned, exhausted pants. Face blanching, his anxiety spiked up when he saw no one around.
“Maybe she already found the girl and they’re on their way back to the palace.” Adamaï, may Eliatrope bless his soul, tried offering the logical, comforting explanation as he touched the ground and slid up next to his twin, a claw on his shoulder. It was meant to be reassuring, grounding, but at that moment Yugo just felt like his soul had left his body and was currently flying far away.
Seeing the state their brother was in, Mina turned to Chibi, “Try using your Wakfu vision. Maybe they’re here somewhere and we just can’t see them.”
Amber eyes glowing blue, the Ebony Eliatrope did as he was told and began looking around, turning his head every which way as he tried to gaze beyond the thick foliage and wreckage. A few agonising seconds ticked by until…
“I’ve got nothing. They’re not here.”
Never one to be deterred by the first piece of bad news she received, the Ochre Eliatrope turned then to his twin, “Grougaloragran, go look for the nearest Magnolia and contact the palace staff. See if Amalia and the child have already returned.”
While Yugo was busy summoning portal after portal in a desperate attempt to scan every nook and cranny of the area in search of Amalia and Lori’s friend, he wasn’t the only one with a racing heart.
Nora stood where she was. Pink eyes wide and terrified as the kind of terrible feeling of foreboding one only got when they were separated from their twin for too long began to take over.
“Guys…” She called out to everyone, her voice uncharacteristically small, especially in her own mind. “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but I can’t feel Efrim!”
That immediately sent a wave of panic to wash over the entirety of the remaining members of the Council of Six. Even Yugo halted in his single-minded pursuit, the news adding yet another wave of distress to wash over him. Another heavy burden to carry, one that threatened to topple him over.
Oblivious to their silent conversation, Evangelyne’s keen, green eyes did some scanning of her own. She was about to turn her attention back to the Council, having come up empty-handed, when a faint glint caught her eye.
Delicate eyebrows creasing in confusion, she tentatively made her way towards the mysterious glint. Eyes widening, she gasped.
“Guys! You need to come see this, quick!” Her cry broke through the hectic quiet the Eliatrope leaders were submerged in, their focus shifting instantly to her.
In a flash of turquoise, Yugo was, unsurprisingly, the first one by her side. “What is it, Evangelyne? Did you find something?”
Wordlessly, too in shock to say anything else even as a million thoughts raged war in the confines of her tortured mind, the Cra simply pointed at the floor ahead of her. Brow creasing in confusion, Yugo followed her finger, trying to make out what she was pointing at in this downpour.
A flicker of recognition flashed through his eyes.
His heart dropped to his stomach, his soul leaving his body for good.
Hey! How are you all doing? It's been a while since I used Tumblr lol. I have been pretty busy with work and prepping for uni this year, slowly getting back to drawing,trying to do something at least daily. But I can't really shake off this uncomfortable feeling for almost the whole year. Loneliness is catching up I'm completely incapable of forming bonds. I have some really good friends don't get me wrong, but like I feel like I'm someone different from each of them ,even with social media I can't fully express myself. I kinda lost my sense of self, I really can't remember what I was like or how I am now. Days blur together and I'm just trying to get somewhere without knowing what it is. I feel an invisible wall between me and the rest of the world It feels infinite. I'm not a teenager anymore but even an adult,maybe some adultger or smh lmao. I don't even really know where I want to get with this post , venting for sure, not with anyone in mind tho. I wish to be more than a fleeting memory. I don't think anyone will really read this but if you do have a really nice day , and thank you for reading me rumbling about random stuff without cringing,or maybe you did, can't blame you lol. Gn 💤
hiiii, so sorry for my recent inactivity, been having a really hard time lately mostly with fandom spaces because I kinda lost interest in everything. Not totally of course!!! Im still very much into bleach,Wakfu and all the stuff I posted here, Im just in a period where I can't really feel the usual excitement from the things I used to enjoy. It's been MONTHS since I drew something fandom related or any finished piece in general lol I'm very behind news and stuff, like how I never talked about the second volume of the Wakfu manga even if I was reading weekly because I felt so ??disconnected??? Idk.I ALSO DIDN'T PREPARE SHIT FOR THE ICHIHIME WEEK WHEN I WAS SO EXITED FOR IT ARGHHH.Or also the AMAZING(go read it of didn't 🔪🔪) doll and dragon au fic by the amazing @geekgirles ,that i haven't picked in while and feel super behind (I still really appreciative the tag!!! I'm catching up!! slowly!! I was never a fanfic reader,or reader in general,but girl you did the impossible);; so yeah I'm still on hiatus from fandom stuff and maybe I will drop some stuff because it is the only thing keeping me sane rn ;; sorry again for long hiatus
Missed me? Well, don't worry, because I'm back and better than ever!
You can start celebrating, because I managed to reach my goal! Chapter 14 is done and in need of proofreading, which means, I should be able to keep my promise and post it next Friday for sure! Thus, I'm keeping up with my two-week update schedule! Can I get a "yoo-hoo"?
And guys, chapter 14 is sooooooo important. We're finally getting answers to a lot of things, and some key moments I just know you have been dying to see. And with +21,000 words to entertain yourselves, I'm feeling pretty confident that you'll be plenty satisfied with the end of the Sadida Kingdom mini-arc ;)
I can't wait to post it and see your reactions. Ugh, it's gonna be sooooo good!!
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