@thearcanagame gave us yet another win. And yes, it is explicitly said that Mazelinka was courting Lilinka, so no queerbaiting!!!! (These screenshots ate from the Arcana tales, in “A Warm Welcome.”)
Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen, Julian Devorak, Portia Devorak, the locals of Nevion, and the late Lilinka.
Upon arrival in Nevion, Lyra got swept up in a grand scale of warm greetings from Portia and Julian’s childhood friends. The latter rescues Lyra as their questioning grows to be overwhelming for her.
The crowd shuffles them from the docks to one of the local pubs. The bartender instantly recognizes Julian, admonishing him for being away for so long.
“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Julian replies. He gets a drink for that, and that’s how it all begins.
As Julian is surrounded by his friends, his very presence also gets the attention of other patrons. This leaves Lyra off to the far end of the table, though she didn’t mind. Between them, Julian’s the more sociable one.
Lyra keeps to herself for the most part. This doesn’t last for long, for she’s soon politely making conversation with those that wanted to know more about her. They want to know how this young woman got entangled in Julian’s heartstrings.
One person, however, stands out to Lyra. This person sulks nearby, no more than two people away from her. They didn’t seem to be very impressed with any of the conversation pertaining to the young woman.
When Portia notes Lyra is a powerful magician that’s sweet, kind, and a bookworm, there’s a scoff from the bitter patron.
“To be honest, I don’t think you’re Ilya’s type,” they snidely comment. From those within earshot, people give them a harsh reprimand, the loudest being Portia. Another patron goes so far as to throw a balled-up cloth napkin at the rude one.
“Well, you’re certainly not his,“ Lyra mumbles under her breath. Portia hears her regardless, snickering behind her hand.
Lyra gulps some water, taking a breath. Calm down calm down calm down. She stands, using the chair she vacated as a step, and hops on the table. Watch your step . . .
She approaches to where Julian’s seated, minding the table settings around her. The doctor’s startled upon realizing her added height, but his bewildered expression grows into a grin.
“Yes darling?” Julian asks. As he looks up at her, it’s seen that his gray eye is full of adoration. His gaze makes Lyra feel light.
She wordlessly holds out her hand, trying not to tremble. Julian’s gloved one takes it, and is gracefully pulled onto the table with her.
As if on cue, people pull instruments out from behind the bar.
We take turns being the ship that cast off all their moor lines, with the bow pointed to open ocean. Likewise, we’re each other’s anchor . . .
The thought soothes her, steadying her hands in Julian’s gloved one and on his hip. He was leading tonight.
Julian calls out a beat, and Lyra swings them both into an impromptu dance to the loud intro of a folk song.
On Mazelinka’s ship, the pair had practiced this particular dance. Then, the melody was hummed out by Julian, clapped out by Portia, Maz, and the rest of the crew.
Lyra’s grateful for it. A part of her revels in absolute joy as the person who voiced their rude opinion leaves the bar.
That was worth it.
***
“. . . and they were really rude about it!” Portia snaps, shaking her head.
Portia, Julian, and Lyra were making their way back to Mazelinka’s ship. While Lyra would’ve rather let sleeping dogs lie, Portia has blurted to her brother about what happened before Ly took her steps onto the table.
“It’s not a big deal . . .” Lyra murmurs, shaking her head. She readjusts her hold on Julian’s forearm, adding, “They were spouting nonsense. I know how Julian feels about me, and I know how I feel about him.”
“My dear,” Julian replies, “while I, uh, don’t wish to drag it, er, along any further, what they said affected you . . .”
“ . . . you looked ready to cry.”
. . . was she? Lyra stops in her tracks, prompting Julian to do as well. As she frantically mulls over it, Julian insists that Portia go on ahead.
“We’ll meet you there, Pasha,” Julian nods. Portia returns the gesture, making her way onward without them.
Julian shifts his arm to gently wrap over Lyra’s shoulders. “Walk with me?”
“Mm,” she nods. Lyra follows his lead, snuggling closer to his side.
“ . . . I think I know who they are,” Julian murmurs, taking a step in another direction.
“Who?”
“I rejected them a long time ago,” Julian chuckles. “It looks like they’re still bitter about it.”
“Huh.”
“I don’t think they’ll bother you anymore,” Julian reassures. “If not, we can make out in the middle of the road and—OOF!”
Lyra elbows him in the side, making him squawk. She laughs, soon pulling Julian into a kiss, apologetic.
After that, they walk in comfortable silence. It seems that they’re going nowhere in particular, until they pass by a sign that makes Julian pause.
“What is it?” Lyra murmurs.
“Ah, it’s the graveyard,” Julian replies. “Lilinka is buried in there . . .”
“The grandma that raised you?”
“Yes.”
They stand there a while, listening to the night breeze caress the boughs of trees.
“ . . . may I make introductions?” Julian murmurs.
Lyra nods, following his lead into the graveyard. Lyra produces an orb of light, passing it over the headstones arranged all around them. Many of them are people of middle age, and a handful are just a few months old.
Those make her wince the most.
Soon, the pair come upon a little headstone, just under a tree. Lyra shifts her arm away from Julian, helping him to clear the leaves. As he pulls the weeds, Lyra sets them into a small refuse bin a little ways away.
Once the area is completely cleared, Julian and Lyra kneel in front of the headstone. Julian greets it in Nevivi, his voice watery. He speaks a bit, on occasion gesturing to Lyra.
Lyra holds his hand, rubbing her thumb over the leather of his glove. Once he’s finished, he rubs his neck.
“ . . . I, er, told her about getting accused of murder . . .”
Lyra laughs, shaking her head. “I can only imagine her reaction!”
Julian concurs, his own laughter joining Lyra’s in a duet. He hugs her from the side, nuzzling the top of her head. In turn, she leans toward his cool body.
“Mm . . .” Lyra hums. Guiding the sphere of light back to herself, she asks, “Do you think she’d like me?“
“Knowing her?” Julian murmurs, kissing the top of her head. “Without a doubt.”
This year for @fieldsofvesuvia, I got @sumilong as a giftee! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I had writing it!
“Ilya! I cannot believe you!” Lilinka has her hands on her hips, glaring in exasperation at the teenager before her.
“I know . . .” Ilya rubs his neck, face flushed.
“Today, of all days?!”
“I knooooow . . .”
“Well,” Lilinka sighs, shaking her head, “you have made your bed, my dear.”
“I am going to get Pasha her present!” Ilya replies, confident. “It’s the least I could do! She’s turning ten!”
“Ilya, how in the world have you done this for five years straight?”
“I still, er, got it on time. She loved each and every one!”
“Ilya, the party is in three hours.”
“Pressure makes diamonds, Lilinka!”
“Famous last words, Ilya,” the old woman replies in kind, laughing softly as he marches out to do just that. Lilinka glances up at the ceiling, shaking her head as she mutters to herself.
“I wonder how this year is going to turn out . . .”
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
. . . What did ten year olds like, anyway?
Ilya walks around Nevion, trying to see what was in stock in any and all the shops. To make sure Pasha wouldn’t peep at the decorations, Lilinka had Pasha busy at the spa.
Ilya had spent an hour roaming without any luck. He ends up in a cafe with outdoor seating. Seeing his distress as the minutes tick by, one of the servers took pity on him. Ilya can only manage a quiet thank you as they hand him a glass of water, on the house.
The teenager rubs his face, regretting for the umpteenth time for his procrastination. How did he manage to do this five years in a row, indeed! He downs the cup and returns the glass to one of the servers, thanking them.
Before he could point his shoes in another direction, he spots a wheeled cart not too far from the cafe. A starburst goes off above his head. He immediately rushes over, barely able to correct himself from tripping over his feet in the process.
O*O*O
The sign above the cart reads Oddly Shayped Plants and Planters. The signage was promising, so Ilya went to take a gander at the wares.
It turns out that the owner of the cart was freshly out of the spa. They were clean shaven and, in their words, felt that their spirit was cleansed too.
“So, what can I do for you young man?” they ask, looking at Ilya with a pleasant demeanor.
“I’m, uh, browsing for the moment,” Ilya explains, rubbing the side of his neck “I’m not exactly sure what—”
Before he could continue and explain himself, the salesperson claps a hearty hand over his shoulder. Ilya is more or less directed to a particular ware. The auburn haired teenager wonders for a few moments why it was hidden. That is, until the salesperson pulls the light fabric cover away.
Given that the salesperson swore up and down they found it in the wild like this, Ilya found himself to be impressed. The teenager was sure it was a cactus. The sight of it however knocks the wind out of his lungs. The cactus itself has an unfortunate limpness of shape and, presumably, of function. The very thought sends Ilya into a red-faced and barely-suppressed bout of teary laughter for five straight minutes.
Once the older Devorak siblings got himself together, he thanks them, but it’s not what he’s looking for.
“You see,” he explains, “my sister is turning ten years old, and she is er, quite fond of cats. Are any of these planters feline-shaped, my good fellow?”
“Oh! I think these fit the ticket,” the salesperson leads Ilya back to two specific crates.
Ilya peers into these crates, eyebrows shooting up in delight at what he’s seeing. The planters themselves were in the shape of cats. However, the little cacti act as a tall, spindly tail per kitty-shaped planter.
It was perfect!
“Would it be, er, possible to take the whole lot?” Ilya asks, noting that there were indeed ten of them. Ten kitty-shaped planters for his ten year old, feline-loving sister. It couldn’t be more poetic!
When the salesperson told him of the price, the teenager almost collapsed from a heart attack. Ilya desperately digs into his pockets, finding he was severely lacking in the coinage the seller accepted.
“Ah, er—” Ilya wracks his brain for ideas. “Is there anyway you’d, uh, be up for a trade of some sort? Within reason!” There had to be something the vendor could want . . .
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
To say the least, this wasn’t going to be easy. Ilya offered his services in helping to take care of the cart, only to realize time was seriously against him. This left trading . . . hence why Ilya was at this friend’s house.
“Ilya, are you serious?”
“Misha, please—!”
"Why in the world did you promise this stranger my mother's pelmeni?"
Ilya quickly explains the bind he is in, getting an exasperated look from his friend.
". . . my god you idiot. Why did you do this again?" Misha sighs.
“Misha, my friend—”
“Oh here we go . . .” He sets down his woodwork, looking at Ilya.
“—for the sake of my beloved sister,” Ilya is ready to throw himself at Misha’s feet in order to get further with this, “can you please convince your delightful mother to make it? I’ll compensate by helping you haul in the next order of wood for a week!”
“The next three orders and we’ll call it even.”
“Done!” Ilya declares in turn. The two immediately sign a little contract, so Ilya wouldn’t forget.
Nothing else could go wrong, right?
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
The two of them had to run over to Yeva’s house. Her family had recently come into a good amount of lamb, of which they needed for the pelmeni.
“. . . are you serious?” Yeva stares at the two before her, hands on her hips.
“Ask him Yev; I’m just here for the show,” Misha grins devilishly. Ilya looks over to him with an expression of devastated betrayal.
“Misha!”
“Ilya,” Misha replies in kind, a smarmy smile on his face.
Yeva pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling heavily. “Ilya, you owe me big if you need that much.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Help me clean out the stables for two weeks—”
“Hey he owes me too; we should coordinate dates and times,” Misha pipes up.
“Ah, so that’s how you got into this mess,” Yeva nods, laughing.
“Some friends you are,” Ilya dramatically falls over, being caught by Misha. “Leaving me wounded!”
“Oh shut up, man,” Yeva throws a nearby rag at him. “C’mon, or else your little sister will disown you!”
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
Fifteen minutes after the party started . . .
“Should this just about do it? I also told the barkeep to get you a flagon of ale,” Ilya rambles, handing the plate of pelmeni to the cactus seller. “Now, uh, about those planters?”
“Well, let me taste this first,” the cactus seller grumps. “Then I’ll see about it . . .”
Lucky for Ilya, Misha’s pelmeni was just the ticket for the vendor. The auburn-haired teen fumbled in getting the key from the other to grab the kitten planters.
“You don’t have any wrapping paper, do you?”
“I ran out yesterday. Sorry kid.”
. . . DAMN IT.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
Ilya had barely hidden the cacti in his closet when Pasha trots into his doorway.
“Ilya! Hurry up!” she huffs. “It’s almost time for the presents and you were super late to greet the guests!”
“I’ll be out there soon, Pasha!” Ilya dips down to kiss her forehead. “I just need to finish up a few more things.”
Pasha giggles upon receiving the affectionate peck. Sufficiently placated, she turns around to rejoin the party. As she does, Mazelinka and Lilinka come down the hallway. Maz knocks on the door frame as Ilya carefully pulls out the ten planters.
“You haven’t wrapped them!” Lilinka exclaims.
“AH!” Ilya jumps, whipping around to face his grandmothers. “Oh! Lilinka! Maz! I will very promptly, I just, uhhhh . . .”
“No wrapping to be found, eh Illyushka?” Mazelinka chuckles, giving him a grin.
“Not . . . exactly?” He quickly explains that Sasha, one of the guests arriving to the party, was going to provide it what they had leftover for him.
“What do you owe them?” Lilinka exhales, deadpan.
“ . . . some soup?”
“Soup?” Lilinka grimaces. “Ilya, with you cooking you may as well poison the child!”
“L i l i n k a . . .”
“Boy, I’ll help you later,” Mazelinka places a soothing hand on Lilinka’s shoulder. She looks down the hall, seeing a teenager about Ilya’s age coming down with a roll of wrapping paper.
“I think that’s your savior,” Mazelinka laughs, moving aside to let Ilya’s friend in.
“Ah, Sasha—”
“ILYA DEVORAK THIS IS THE LAST TIME I AM HELPING YOU LAST MINUTE! I WAS ALREADY HALFWAY HERE AND YOU HAD THE GALL TO—!”
Mazelinka and Lilinka quickly shut the door behind them, returning to the party.
Another fifteen minutes later, Ilya and Sasha finally join the festivities. They were right on time for the gift exchanges.
Ilya was to go last, because he was late and it’d be rude to cut in front of everyone else’s lovely gifts.
As each present was opened, oohed and ahhed over, Ilya’s anxiety only grew.
“Do you think she’ll like them?” Ilya murmurs quietly to Sasha. “What if she hurts herself on the needles!”
“She’ll be fine!” Sasha hushes, soon the bearer of the brunt of Ilya clinging onto them as Pasha carefully opens the first planter.
There was extra wrapping carefully placed over the cacti, so the first to be revealed were the ceramic kitty planters. Ilya only started breathing again once his little sister squealed in delight, soon quickly unwrapping the rest of the lot from Ilya.
Sasha playfully punches Ilya in the shoulder, laughing with the others as Pasha rushes over to hug her brother. Ilya returns the gesture with gusto, swinging her around in her arms before returning her to the head of the table, soon rushing to help the grandmothers get food out to everyone.
That night, ten little cactus planters were lined up in Pasha’s windowsill. Just like the person they were gifted to, the planters share a cat-like smile, eyes full of mischief energy.
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
#photography
