#analeofatale

[notsofriendlyfire]

@an-ale-of-a-tale

Continued from here

Sure, bodily harming someone was nowhere near the mage’s forte, but sometimes he simply had to take his frustrations out physically, even if it amounted to little more than a shock tactic. Poor Soreas just so happened to be his chosen victim for one of those times.

...Then again, it involved him, so perhaps it was justified in Glitchy’s eyes.

“Yeah, how about you tell me why someone just asked me how our relationship is going?!”

[notsofriendlyfire]

@an-ale-of-a-tale

And, just like last year, there’s a knock at Glitchy’s room door, though sometime after dinnertime. Should he peer outside, he’ll find a long, rod-like object amusingly wrapped (sort of) in dark blue paper that’s been decorated in stars, not at all concealing what it’s supposed to be – at least an attempt was made. He’ll also find a white cardboard box along the lines of what could be used for pastries, though it’s void of any bakery markings.

The rod (because what else could it be?) is a sturdy yet ornate weapon of Hingan design; though it doesn’t radiate the aether that Glitchy uses to cast spells quickly, it still holds a considerate amount of power, with exquisite craftsmanship that could weather his void-corrupted aether. Depending on how long he spends examining it, he might find the signature markings belonging to a certain silver-haired guildmate.

The cake inside the box is a little lopsided, with a serviceable at best job at icing and decorating the multi-tiered confection. Despite appearances, if Glitchy were to taste it, he’d find it quite good.

As with last year, there’s a small card. “Happy nameday, mate.” There’s no signature.

At that point, the practically nocturnal lalafell was just about beginning his day, trying to will himself into forsaking the warmth of his bed when he heard the knock at his door. There, beneath the blankets, he froze, waiting to see if whoever it was truly wanted to barge in. When nothing more came, he rolled out of bed and hurriedly bundled himself up to hide the unwilling alterations his little guest had forced upon him. That done, he opened his door a crack and peered out into the hallway.

Two packages, both of which were hastily dragged into his room before the door was shut behind him. The rod (he would recognize the shape of one anywhere, even through an especially shoddy wrapping job) was the first to be examined. Easily stripping the paper from around it, he looked it over with the scrutinizing gaze of an experienced mage. While it wouldn’t be as quick as his current favorite, it was still quite a powerful staff with excellent craftsmanship besides... and the all-too familiar signature carved into it didn’t escape his attention either.

The cake was next and, while it certainly looked... not so great, a quick swipe of some icing proved that it was just the appearance that was less than satisfactory. Clearly homemade; no bakery he knew would have allowed such a cake to leave their store.

Last was the card, attached to the box containing the cake. Though there was no signature, he knew all-too well who had written it based on the handwriting and language used and his gaze softened as it ran over that single, short sentence.

...This past year had been a hell of a year. For both of them.