Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗
Thank you for the ask, Way! And wouldn't you know it, but I've got exactly five fics published on ao3-
First Impact - This was my first published fic and I still have a big soft spot for it, even though my writing's changed a lot since it came out. I'm really happy that I decided to take the plunge and work on it, especially with how much good doing so did in my life. Not to mention how a lot of the dynamics, characterizations, and headcanons I used in this fic still have a big effect on my writing today.
2. Parents' Day - This is the first non-Mega Man fic that I've ever released out into the wild. It's also the first crackfic I've ever published. The plot is basically "What if my one of my favorite character's real-life counterpart's sister was a canon character. And was also four years old." I also decided to get crazy and have some of my other favorite characters attempt to do things such as "Watching Said Four-Year-Old" and "Panicking When the Toddler Inevitably Goes Missing". And the fun thing about Umamusume is that such a premise is nearly guaranteed to go off the rails in some capacity, no matter what combination of characters is used.
3. To Observe - A self-indulgent oneshot in which Shadow Man (or "Mann" as I decided to make his last name (human AU and all that)) keeps assisting the new kids that moved in across the street. Said new kids are all Wily's children. It was a fun way for me to explore what "found family" looks like in a more grounded setting, but without the characters getting quite into "family" territory just yet. Because the majority of it takes place over the span of like... one or two weeks tops-
4. Second Strike - The sequel to First Impact. I use it to answer fun questions such as "What if Capcom didn't abandon that idea of having a fourth member of the X-Hunters who was a woman?" and "When a person finds themselves facing an undesirable future while stuck in a disturbing present, how far will they go to redeem the past?" And of course: "What would happen if Axl was given a cat?" I have every intention of updating it again, despite how long it's been since I have done so.
5. Paved With Good Intentions - A oneshot that takes place in an AU where Cataclysm Theory is real, is happening, and is quite possibly Dr. Light's fault. Or maybe it's more so Dr. Wily's. Or maybe it's nobody's fault, and the greater blame should be assigned to our own personal failings as humans. Or maybe it's everyone's fault because of those failings. It depends on how you look at it, really. But no matter how you square it, a bunch of people die - as is par for the course in a story like this.
Last night, I posted my first work for the Uma Musume fandom:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It's a silly oneshot about the students of Tracen Academy's family members visiting them - and that includes Oguri Cap's kid sister, Roman Cap. Shenanigans ensue.
Blog Navigation Post for All Your Blog Navigation Needs
I've decided to take a page out of the books of my peers and create a masterpost of links to my various writing projects, as well as a display for ongoing WIPs (as always, pay attention to any content warnings given in the writing before or in the tags of each individual work before reading them). Here we have:
Standalone Oneshots
Paved with Good Intentions (ao3 link here) - A Mega Man oneshot examining how Cataclysm Theory might have played out if it were canon, from Dr. Light's perspective.
Mega Man Shipping Oneshots But it Works Like Pandora's Box (Part 1) - A Mega Man oneshot for a ship I enjoy. Will I be telling you which one? Nope. You gotta read to find out. Them's the rules.
Long-form Works
Collision Course
A rewrite of the MMX series that is based around certain changes such as Axl being introduced in X1, Zero having memories of Dr. Wily and various other Wilybots, and X having a brother.
First Impact - The first in the series. A complete rewrite of X1.
Second Strike - The second installment in the series. An ongoing rewrite of X2.
Third Fissure - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
A Trip to the Beach - A canon oneshot written in response to a prompt. Takes place prior to First Impact, during Zero's time with the Wilybots. Features various struggles involving a sand flea.
Convergence
An OC-based spin-off of Collison Course that takes place in an alternate timeline where the Elf Wars and MMZ series occur. Based around what might happen if reploids from 21XX-25XX were resurrected and had to get used to life in 56XX (Mega Man Legends Era). Please note that any specific OC-tober response without an asterisk next to its title (such as Day 3 of 2024/2025) is not canon to this AU (but may be to another one).
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3 (COMING EVENTUALLY)
OC-tober (2024/2025) Days 1-5
OC-tober (2024/2025) Days 6-10
OC-tober (2024/2025 Days 11-15
OC-tober (2024/2025) Days 16-20
OC-tober (2024/2025) Days 21-25
OC-tober (2024/2025) Days 26-31
All in the Neighborhood
A Mega Man human AU mainly based around certain Wilybots and their high school and neighborhood-related adventures.
To Observe - A oneshot in which Shadow Man takes note of some new neighbors that have moved in across the street - and how he helps them on several occasions, despite his efforts to mind his own business.
Honors Student - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
Day 3 of 2024/2025's OC-tober prompt responses - A oneshot where Palice waits out some rain with Wren, and notices a few things that are cause for concern. Takes place at least a decade after AitN's main story, and is not outright connected to it.
Day 19 of 2024/2025's OC-tober prompt response - The sequel to Day 3's response. Idalia invites Wren to a party, and various shenanigans ensue.
We Are the Dead
A Mega Man zombie apocalypse/human AU in which some children are NOT Quite Right due to experimentation and other mishaps, much to the chagrin of the humans who love them. But they are less Not Quite Right than the Infected who populate the world they live in.
Headlock - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
Red and the Kid - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
Compromised Shelter - A oneshot written in response to a prompt. Shadow Man keeps finding mysterious notes in his house, of which neither he nor Zero, the adolescent boy he's taken it upon himself to look after, have written. It soon becomes clear that some tomfoolery on the part of outsiders is at work.
Early Frost - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
Day Fishing - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
Day 30 of 2024/2025's OC-tober responses - A oneshot where Newbert and Katherine go out to look for supplies, only to end up getting much more than they bargained for after an unexpected meeting with another family.
Trial and Error
An Umamusme AU where Oguri Cap and Agnes Tachyon work together to fufill the latter's goals of finding and breaking the limits of umakind. Partially based in the idea that Oguri quit racing after her third loss in the Japan Cup, while Tachyon was able to win the Classic Triple Crown and stopped racing after doing so.
Parents' Day - A oneshot that serves as a prologue. The family and friends of the students of Tracen Academy visit the school - and that includes Oguri Cap's younger sister, Oguri Roman. Chaos ensues when the latter goes missing.
Home Economics and Other Farces - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
Gift Fics
Stories written for my friends.
Day 23 of 2024/2025's OC-tober responses - A work written for @/bruggle's "In Which X Adopts a Feral Child" AU. Brook comes home one evening with a black eye, and Omega is Not Happy about it.
Domestic Affairs - (COMING EVENTUALLY)
Essays
Long posts that were written for one reason or another. Usually because I had something I felt I needed to talk about.
A Legitimate Question (or, What the Heck is Serges' Problem?)
Hear Me Out (or, Which Mega Man Characters Would Read Homestuck?)
Hear Me Out 2 (or, Why Axl From MMX Would Totally be a Warrior Cats Fan)
I Listened to the Wisdom Saga and I Have Some Things to Say - Part 1
I Listened to the Wisdom Saga and I Have Some Things to Say - Part 2
I Listened to "Epic: The Vengeance Saga" and I Have a Lot of Feelings - Part 1
I Listened to "Epic: The Vengeance Saga" and I Have a Lot of Feelings - Part 2
X is "Just a Man" (lyric analysis)
X is "Odysseus" (lyric analysis)
Why You Should Read "Madness in Red" by IRA (MiR can be found here)
The Importance of Fathers in the Mega Man Franchise (or, Why Dark Necrobat and Zero are Doomed)
Elpizo is Not Forgiven (or, Why the Way MMZ handled Elpizo's Character is Kinda Whack, Actually) Note: my response is the third out of four total in this thread. Please read the two that came before mine, as well as the one that came afterward for the complete experience.
Free Art Programs You Can Get Without Pirating (not so much an essay so much as it's a bulleted list)
Responses to asks can be found under #questions, while most of my various ramblings can be found under #opal speaks. Original writing is under #opal writes, while most artwork I have made is under #opal draws. Writing written by other people that I have reblogged or talked about can be found under #the writing of another. Artwork created by others that I have reblogged can be found under #the art of another.
Hello again! Today I bring you all the second-to-last (that's right, folks. It's not over yet) set of responses to @/stormyth-art's 2024/2025 OC-tober prompt lists. But before I show you all what these responses consist of, I would like to make a couple of things clear:
The OC featured in Day 23's response is Brook Longsdale, who belongs to my friend @Bruggle! Brook is the main character of Bruggle's AU "In Which X Adopts a Feral Child", which is about X getting custody of Brook after finding out that she's been disguising herself as a reploid so that she can hunt Mavericks while also living in the woods - by herself. Needless to say, a lot of shenanigans ensue. You can check out the AU's main fic on ao3, and can read additional writing for it in the supplementary fic "Creature", and over on Bruggle's blog!
Day 21's response is a direct sequel to Day 20's. While I don't consider Day 20 to be "required reading" in terms of being able to understand what's going on, some context might be lost if you haven't read it yet.
That's all I have to say for now! So let's get into it:
---
Day 21: Family Portrait*
(This response's flashback section contains graphic descriptions of blood and violence, as well as depictions of child abuse. Reader discretion is advised.)
“You need to talk to her.”
Demiastle let out a slow sigh at Woya’s statement. “Darling, I would if I could. But you know that girl doesn’t listen to so much as a word I say–”
“You know that’s not true,” Woya countered. But Demiastle just sniffed in response, as if to remind her that his nose was freshly repaired. It really was kind of Persimmon, to see them on such short notice. Her services were certainly in demand lately… “What happened earlier wasn’t like her. And you know that. She’s not the type to just – to just attack people.” Demiastle let out a scoff. “Us,” Woya clarified. “She’s not the type to attack us. And I’m not trying to say that she had a good reason for what she did, but… she had to have a reason.”
“I’ll tell you what the reason was,” Demiastle snipped. “She was upset because I wouldn’t let her try running away. Again.”
“Are you sure that’s all it was? Did something happen before she tried running off?” Demiastle pursed his lips, going quiet. “...I’ll take that as a yes.”
He let out a sigh in defeat, his voice quiet when he spoke again. “I – she became irate with me because I kept calling her my daughter.”
“Oh, Demiastle…”
“I just can’t comprehend what her problem with me is. She… She called you ‘Mom’ the other day,” he mumbled. “But she can hardly stand being in the same room with me.”
“...I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” Woya offered. “Maybe she… Maybe something happened to her in the past that… made her less likely to trust you? Are there other people that she doesn’t like?”
“I have no idea. If there are, she doesn’t talk about them.”
“Hm…” Woya paused for a moment, trying to think of something. Surely there had to be a way to help Idalia and Demiastle get along better… “Perhaps she just… needs to spend more time with you?”
“Oh, I tried that, remember? And all it got me was a bloody nose and sitting in a car for two hours because she was too stubborn to buckle her seatbelt.”
“And because you were too stubborn to drive off.”
“Woya, if that were the issue, we’d still be on the side of the road right now.”
“You say that, but you told me earlier that the only reason you gave in at all was because the roads were starting to freeze,” Woya teased. But she quickly became serious again, knitting her brow. “Although… you both could’ve gotten home earlier if you hadn’t taken her notebook.”
Demaistle whipped his head toward her, shocked. “Are you trying to suggest that some of what happened is my fault?!”
“Yes,” Woya said with a decisive nod. “I am. You shouldn’t have done that.”
Demiastle threw his hands up. “Well what would you have had me do, Woya? The things she was saying were some of the most disrespectful–”
“She’s a teenager,” Woya interrupted, her patience waning. “Being rude is just something they do sometimes. You could have ignored her, instead of taking away her only means of communicating. You don’t do that to people, Demiastle. Especially not children.”
Demiastle looked away, shamefaced. Woya couldn’t help but wince a little – was it really fair to be so hard on him, when she hadn’t been there herself? She went to apologize, but– “You’re… right,” Demiastle admitted reluctantly. “That… was an unwise course of action for me to take, to say the least. I’ll… I’ll have to apologize to her in the morning.”
“...I think that’s a good idea,” Woya muttered in agreement. “I think she would appreciate that.” She leaned back on her pillow, tiredness starting to get to her. “...Now let’s go ahead and get some sleep.”
Demiastle turned the light next to them off, the room becoming dark. “Good night, Woya.”
“Good night, Demiastle.” Woya closed her eyes, beginning to fall asleep. She had very nearly dozed off, when all of a sudden, an idea came to her. Her eyes shot open at the thought, a smile spreading across her face. And it only grew as she began to work out the details. This plan of hers would be the perfect way for Demiastle and Idalia to bond – not to mention how she had been thinking of taking up scrapbooking, and this would be the perfect way to get started…
---
Demiastle walked to Idalia’s room, trying to prepare himself. He genuinely didn’t know what to expect from this conversation. Idalia could be rather… unpredictable with her emotions, and Demiastle wasn’t exactly the apologetic type; usually, he meant what he said and stood by what he did. And that was that.
He supposed that the best case scenario would be Idalia accepting his apology, with everyone moving on from yesterday’s incident. The worst case would be Idalia flying into a rage and attempting to injure him again. But he knew that was rather dramatic of him to consider – although it wasn’t an impossibility.
He went to knock on her door, ready to speak to her – only for Idalia to beat him to it, opening the door before she could’ve known he was even there. She blinked, surprised to see him. But she quickly composed herself and pulled out her notebook and a pencil (he had given her notebook back to her after they eventually made it home from the park, but the damage was done by that point, with her snatching it out of his hands and grasping onto it like a lifeline, no doubt trying to make sure he didn’t take it from her again). Hello.
“...Good morning,” Demiastle greeted in return. “How are you today, Idalia?”
I’m okay. Idalia went to write something else after that, only to give a relatively embarrassed look to Demiastle and erase it. She soon wrote something completely different, and stared at the floor while showing it to him. She was too ashamed to meet his gaze, her body tense as she fixed her eyes on the floor. I’m sorry I broke your nose.
Demiastle’s eyes widened – he hadn’t been expecting this in the slightest. And by the looks of it, this was a genuine display of remorse on Idalia’s part. And she did not show those often. “...I forgive you,” he assured, speaking kindly to her. And he had. He didn’t see the point in holding a grudge against someone who wasn’t even old enough to drive. “And I wish to apologize as well. I… I should not have confiscated your notebook yesterday. That was not an appropriate way for me to handle the situation, and it wasn’t fair to you. And I’m – I’m sorry.”
Okay, Idalia wrote after a moment, mulling over Demiastle’s words. He waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t. And he accepted it gracefully: he wasn’t going to force her to forgive him. She had a right to be angry with him for what he did, just as he had been angry with her for breaking his nose.
“Would you like to come down for breakfast?” Demiastle offered. “I’ll make you anything you’d like.”
That’s fine. I’ll just have cere
The rest of the sentence was left unfinished, with both Idalia and Demiastle becoming distracted at the sound of Woya running up the stairs. “Hey – Oh, good! You’re both dressed. Quickly, get to the car. Both of you. I’ll drive.”
Demiastle raised an eyebrow at her, smiling in amusement. “Oh, really? And just where do you plan on taking us?”
“It’s a surprise! Now let’s go! We can go to a diner for breakfast afterward.” Woya then turned on her heel and left before Demiastle could ask anything more.
“Well,” Demiastle said, turning back to Idalia, “Looks like we’ll have a busy day ahead of u–” He cut himself off, seeing that Idalia was trying to head back to her room. “And what do you think you’re doing? We have somewhere to go, remember?”
Idalia sighed and rolled her eyes. It looked like she was back to her usual self… I don’t feel like going anywhere.
“That’s just too bad, I’m afraid. Because we are leaving the house.” Idalia scowled at him, and Demiastle couldn’t help but sigh. “Listen. I understand that you… prefer spending your time alone. And I often feel the same way. But right now, it isn’t about what you want. Woya wishes to take us somewhere, and it appears she’s put some thought into our trip. It would be considerate of you to at least give this a chance before deciding you want nothing to do with it.”
Idalia pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. Then, she begrudgingly wrote out a response. Fine. I’ll try. For Woya.
Demiastle sighed again, but this time it was out of relief. “Alright… thank you.”
---
Idalia curled up in the backseat of the car, staring out the window. It was still cold outside, with a fresh snowfall having taken place last night. She shivered, chilly despite her coat. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the scenery they drove past. She did not want to look up front, did not want to do so much as look at Demiastle. Because while she had agreed to do this for Woya, that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want to go anywhere with him.
Yes, she had apologized for busting his nose (she just wanted him to get away from her. She really hadn’t meant to kick him that hard). And she had understood his apology from before. And even though she didn’t want to admit it, a part of her had forgiven him. But that didn’t mean she trusted or even liked him now. She never had. And she never would.
Eventually, after a silent car ride (Woya was too excited to speak, and Idalia and Demiastle were pretty much quiet by default), they parked in front of what looked like an old warehouse. “Alright, this is it!” Woya went to exit the car, still giddy — only to stop when she realized nobody else was doing the same. “Hey. You two okay?”
“Darling,” Demiastle began, “I love you. I truly do. But this looks like the kind of place a man would not walk out of after entering.”
I’m too young to get turned into hot dogs, Idalia wrote, half-teasing.
Woya snickered. “Why hot dogs specifically?”
Because of that one book. About all the gross things humans used to put in their food. Idalia shivered — the book was meant to be fiction, but apparently there was so much truth in it that an entire country’s government had to create a whole organization and new laws to make sure regular food from the grocery store didn’t make people sick.
Demiastle’s eyes widened. He seemed almost… happy about what Idalia had said. “Are you talking about Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle?”
Idalia stifled a groan. So he’d read the book, too. Of course he had. Now he was going to want to talk about it with her and everything else. She considered lying or ignoring him in an attempt to get out of it, only for Woya to buy her some time. “You two can talk about your books later! We can’t miss our appointment.”
Idalia grinned. Wow. You made an appointment to have us all turned into hot dogs? That’s just rude. I can’t believe you, Woya.
Woya cackled before deciding to get in on the joke. “Sure did. We’re gonna be a 3-for-1 special. Now get out of the car so they can package us before noon.”
Idalia laughed inwardly, opening the door and exiting. She was careful to remember her notebook and pencil, not wanting to forget either. Demiastle soon exited the car as well, and Idalia hurried to catch up to Woya, not wanting to be stuck walking next to him.
Despite the warehouse’s rough exterior, it was actually rather nice inside – so much so, that it really didn’t look like a warehouse at all. It was strange: there were all these bright lights set up, and the building was sectioned off into different rooms. One was full of plants, and another had a bunch of mirrors in it. And another seemed to be set up just like a living room–
“Idalia, stop wandering off and come back here.”
Idalia exhaled roughly through her nose, but still complied with Demiastle’s demand. She wasn’t going to ruin this for Woya by getting into an argument with him right now, even if that did mean that she was going to have to wait a bit longer to figure out what was going on. But she didn’t have to wait too long. A woman soon came out of one of the rooms, smiling and holding a clipboard. “Hi! So sorry about the wait. We’re a bit understaffed and still doing renovations, so we’re really busy… What name are you guys under?”
“Whytte,” Woya answered with a smile of her own. “I’m the crazy lady who called you at six o’clock this morning.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it! I’m glad you called. Usually I’m here by myself doing nothing until about eight…” The woman flipped through the pages until she found whatever she was looking for. “Aha, there you are! And you’re ten minutes early, too – and we should be able to get you in sooner. I don’t think Finn has any shoots right now…”
Idalia raised an eyebrow, confused. Shoots? This didn’t look like any sort of gun range or shooting facility – and it wouldn’t make much sense to take them to one, anyway. Demiastle was the only one of the three of them who knew how to use a gun, and Idalia wasn’t too interested in learning; melee weapons were more her style. They were quieter, which made them good for stealth. And being able to swing her bat or her crowbar around and feel it crack against something with weight and importance was absolutely exhilarating.
She missed her crowbar, actually. She missed it a lot. She didn’t come to 56XX with it, and that sucked. She really should start looking into getting a new one–
“Alright, that settles it then! We should have someone with you guys in a minute.” The woman walked away, leaving Idalia to blink as she realized she had zoned out for that entire conversation.
“Woya, you should’ve told me we were having pictures taken today,” Demiastle said, eyes twinkling eagerly. “I would’ve worn my good clothes.”
“Demiastle, everything you wear could be considered your good clothes,” Woya assured. “And besides, I couldn’t have! It would’ve ruined the surprise.”
Idalia, meanwhile, just shivered. Everything Demiastle wore was unnecessarily fancy. Both him and Palice both, actually (she thought Wren’s dad was great, really. But they had no reason to run around dressed like they got sent to 56XX from the Victorian era instead of 22XX). If what he was wearing now wasn’t considered his best, then she did not want to know what his “best” looked like.
Wait.
Did Demiastle just say something about pictures?
Idalia took another look around at the lights, and thought about the rooms again. Was this… some kind of photo studio? It would explain all the different bits of scenery going on, along with why Demiastle had been concerned about dressing nice. And coincidentally, Idalia did know a guy named Finn who was into photography. But there was no way they’d be the same perso–
“Idalia?!”
Idalia lifted her head up, and dropped her jaw in shock. There, standing right in front of her, was the Finn she knew. A camera hung by its strap around his neck, and he actually looked like some sort of professional for once – he wore dress clothes, with a white button-up and ironed pants and polished loafers and everything. She wrote quickly, stunned stupid. Finn! You work here?!
“Yeah, I do! Had to get a ‘real’ job since Nexus made it clear that being a sniper isn’t a ‘viable option’ in this day and age, apparently…” His eyes lit up at the two other adults in the room. “Woah! Woya and Demiastle are here with you, too? Nice. They’ve been takin’ good care of you and stuff?”
Idalia stared at him. I guess, she wrote, confused. How do you know them?
“The Aviary had a… joint venture with Nolition for a brief amount of time,” Demiastle answered (despite the fact that Idalia hadn’t asked him. Couldn’t he mind his own business for two seconds?).
“Yeah,” Finn confirmed, suddenly serious. “...Sorry it didn’t work out.”
“It’s alright,” Woya said gently. “It wasn’t Nolition’s fault – but… I’m curious. How do you know Idalia?”
“I’m one of Luke’s friends. I watch ‘em when they hang out to make sure nobody grabs ‘em. Not that anybody would, but Nexus is kinda protective over the kids. You know how it is.” Both Woya and Demiastle nodded in satisfaction at that, and Finn changed the subject back to photography. “So! You guys here for a family portrait?”
“That’s right!” Woya replied. “I thought it might be a fun bonding activity.”
But we’re not a family, Idalia thought bitterly. So what’s the point? Weren’t these kinds of things usually meant for households who at least liked each other?
“Sounds good! You picked the room down the hall here, if I remember correctly…” Finn led them down a corridor, past the rooms Idalia had seen earlier. She had to admit that she was curious as to what room Woya had picked – only to see a fairly simple one with a light African violet backdrop and a black couch. “We can do it against the opposite wall, if you want. Just in case you guys would rather be standing.”
Idalia glanced over at Woya. This looked like a room Demiastle might pick, not something someone as spontaneous as her might enjoy. But then again, maybe that was the point; Demiastle liked boring things. And this was meant to be something all of them could enjoy. Woya got to pick the activity, the background would be something Demiastle would like, and… well. To be quite frank, Idalia would’ve been happier staying at home. But that wasn’t Woya’s fault. So maybe if she kept going along with things, they could have an outing where they didn’t argue and Idalia wouldn’t be reminded of how much they didn’t like her. She figured that would be enough.
“Hm… What do you two think?” Woya asked. “I thought a more simplistic approach might be good.”
“I agree. And standing would give the photo a more regal air to it,” Demiastle said. Idalia tried not to roll her eyes. “Regal air” her foot… “What do you think, Idalia? Would you rather stand, or sit down?”
Idalia stared at him. I guess, she wrote, confused. How do you know them?
“The Aviary had a… joint venture with Nolition for a brief amount of time,” Demiastle answered (despite the fact that Idalia hadn’t asked him. Couldn’t he mind his own business for two seconds?).
“Yeah,” Finn confirmed, suddenly serious. “...Sorry it didn’t work out.”
“It’s alright,” Woya said gently. “It wasn’t Nolition’s fault – but… I’m curious. How do you know Idalia?”
“I’m one of Luke’s friends. I watch ‘em when they hang out to make sure nobody grabs ‘em. Not that anybody would, but Nexus is kinda protective over the kids. You know how it is.” Both Woya and Demiastle nodded in satisfaction at that, and Finn changed the subject back to photography. “So! You guys here for a family portrait?”
“That’s right!” Woya replied. “I thought it might be a fun bonding activity.”
But we’re not a family, Idalia thought bitterly. So what’s the point? Weren’t these kinds of things usually meant for households who at least liked each other?
“Sounds good! You picked the room down the hall here, if I remember correctly…” Finn led them down a corridor, past the rooms Idalia had seen earlier. She had to admit that she was curious as to what room Woya had picked – only to see a fairly simple one with a light African violet backdrop and a black couch. “We can do it against the opposite wall, if you want. Just in case you guys would rather be standing.”
Idalia glanced over at Woya. This looked like a room Demiastle might pick, not something someone as spontaneous as her might enjoy. But then again, maybe that was the point; Demiastle liked boring things. And this was meant to be something all of them could enjoy. Woya got to pick the activity, the background would be something Demiastle would like, and… well. To be quite frank, Idalia would’ve been happier staying at home. But that wasn’t Woya’s fault. So maybe if she kept going along with things, they could have an outing where they didn’t argue and Idalia wouldn’t be reminded of how much they didn’t like her. She figured that would be enough.
“Hm… What do you two think?” Woya asked. “I thought a more simplistic approach might be good.”
“I agree. And standing would give the photo a more regal air to it,” Demiastle said. Idalia tried not to roll her eyes. “Regal air” her foot… “What do you think, Idalia? Would you rather stand, or sit down?”
Standing is fine, she wrote. She didn’t really care either way. And even if she did, she would be outvoted if she wanted to sit. So either way, she’d just go along with what was already decided.
“Alright. Looks like it’s unanimous, then. We’ll take the picture over there.” Demiastle gestured to the other backdrop, which was the same as the first – only, there was no couch.
“You’ve got it, Demi!”
Finn shot Demiastle a grin, only for the latter to look at him in disgust. “Don’t call me that.”
“Right, right, sorry…”
Idalia made a mental note of the interaction while Finn set up various lights in the room. So Demiastle didn’t like having his name shortened, huh? She supposed that made sense – there were quite a few people in the world who didn’t like nicknames. And Demiastle was stuffy enough to find the thought of getting one to be full-on irritating. But it was odd; had Finn tried calling him that before? It seemed like he had forgotten that he didn’t like it, based on how he had responded…
Eventually, Finn got everything in order, and motioned for everyone to stand in front of the backdrop. “Okay. Just stand together however you feel is right. We can worry about poses and stuff if it doesn’t end up looking right.” Demiastle and Woya naturally stood next to each other, and Idalia hung off to the side a few feet away. “Idalia, could you move closer? You’ll be hanging off the edge of the frame if you don’t.” She complied easily, wanting to get the whole thing over with. Finn to let out a hm in contemplation. “Uh… Try standing in front of Demiastle and Woya. It’ll make the portrait look more cohesive.”
Idalia obliged again, partially because she was becoming surprised by Finn’s know-how on the subject. The man usually didn’t take much of anything seriously… “Good! Much better. You’re in the center and everything.” Finn put his camera on a tall tripod and started messing with it, as if getting ready to take a picture. “Make sure that’s the position you want to be in though, okay? I’ll just get the focus set up, and you can let me know when you’re ready.”
Nobody moved for a second – and Idalia thought that meant they were ready to go. She put her notebook and pencil into her skirt pockets so that they wouldn’t be seen in the photo, only to feel a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, recognizing it as Demiastle’s hand (he’d gripped it in an attempt to get her to listen to him too many times for her to not recognize it). He blustered slightly in response, but a quick look back at him revealed that he was… sad, for some reason.
Oh well. That was his problem. If he wanted Idalia to like him, he sure had a funny way of showing it.
After a few seconds, she feels another hand on her opposite shoulder – this time, it’s Woya’s. “Are you okay?” Idalia nods, doesn't flinch. She likes having Woya’s hand on her much better. So much so that she even felt alright when she left it there. “Alright. Just making sure.”
Finn looks up to check that they’re ready, and Woya gives him a thumbs-up. “O-kay… On the count of three, say cheese. One, two…”
SNAP!
The camera’s flash went off, and Idalia couldn’t see for a second. But she soon saw Finn looking at the camera with pursed lips. “Mm… Let’s try a few more.” A few more flashes later, and Finn was running a hand through his hair as he tried to think. “Yeah, no – so… this isn’t gonna work.”
Woya’s face fell. “Why not?”
“Let’s see, how can I say this… Demiastle and Idalia are smiling like they’re being held at gunpoint.”
Woya whipped her head toward them. “Smile for me.” Both of them did so, only for her to snort and put her hand over her mouth. “Pfft – oh my gosh! It’s true! You – You both look like this is your day job!” She laughed to herself while Idalia shook her head. She wished this was a job she was getting paid for. Maybe that would make it more bearable.
“I’ve never been good at smiling for these types of things…” Demiastle muttered under his breath.
“That’s okay,” Finn said, having overheard. “Just think about something that makes you happy.”
“Such as?”
“I dunno. Anything. Your family. The fact that you’re hella rich. Pushing someone you don’t like down the stairs. Sky’s the limit.”
At the last suggestion, Demistle started smirking to himself – much to Woya chagrin. “Ooh! You’re thinking about doing something awful to Palice, aren’t you?”
“I–”
“And don’t try to say that you’re not! You only have that kind of smile when you do better than him at something.”
“...I was merely thinking about winning the trial I have against him on Monday. That is all.”
“Riiight…”
Meanwhile, Idalia tried to think of something that would make her happy. She liked hanging out with her friends – but then she remembered that she would most likely have to explain how she acted at the park yesterday the next time she saw them, and any trace of a smile faded fast. She tried thinking about all the adventures she had been on with her crowbar – only to remember that she didn’t have a crowbar anymore.
But then that led her to something else.
The first time she had ever really felt good about using it, was…
---
CLANG!
Leiria watched, numb, as the body of the reploid in front of her fell slack. She was up to her knees in dark green fluid, with quite a bit of it having splashed onto her shirt. She wiped a streak of it from her face, then turned back to look at Orlando. He had silently watched the whole thing, having not said a word since he had told her to deal with the now deceased man before them. But now, he got up, strode across the room, and rested a hand on Idalia’s head. He ruffled her hair gently, and gave her a smile. “Good job, kid.”
Leiria’s hands curled tightly around her crowbar, as if wringing it somehow. She shivered, her lips quivering. She… did good?
“I mean it, kiddo. You did great. You’re helping to keep everyone safe, and you always do exactly what I ask. I’m proud of you.”
He-
He was proud of her?
Leiria thought hard, struggling to remember the last time somebody had told her that. She thought she might cry, but instead felt her lips split into a smile. Orlando mussed her hair again. “Now go ahead and get yourself cleaned up, okay? You can have the rest of the day off.”
---
SNAP!
“Aw, yeah! That’s the money shot right there!”
Idalia blinked, confused by what had just happened. Had Finn taken the picture? He waved them over to take a look at it, and Woya squealed at the result. “Ah, look at us!”
Demiastle chuckled. “We do look rather nice, don’t we?”
“Thank you so much Finn,” Woya said. “It’s perfect.”
Finn rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. “I didn’t do anything. It was all you guys, really…” He cleared his throat, not used to being complimented on his photographs. “So, um… Do you want us to mail the finished photos to you, or email the digital copies? Because they can take a while to get printed and everything.”
“Oh, could we come back and pick them up? We were going to go out to breakfast nearby, and we could stop by the store for a frame, too…”
“I don’t see why not! And I can show you the size options, too…”
While the adults in the room thought about that, Idalia took a peek at the camera’s screen for herself. She could see why Woya and Demiastle were so happy about the outcome. She had a soft smile on her face, eyes glittering with joy. Demiastle had that same smirk on his face from before, but there was also a new softness to his expression. And as for Idalia herself, she had to take a moment to compose herself after seeing her face – she was wearing an expression that she hadn’t seen on her own face in a while, one that made it wonder if it was really her for a second: her lips were curved in satisfaction, and her eyes were alert and staring eagerly at the camera.
A genuine smile.
~~~
Day 22: Wanted Poster*
“Muh nose doesn’ even look like ‘at…”
Ryder peeked over WG-251’s shoulder to see what could’ve gotten his attention. They were supposed to be going home from their latest job, and they needed to get out of Neo Arcadia before it was sunrise. But the brief distraction became understandable once he saw the issue. “Pfft – Sure it does!” He elbowed WG-251’s side as he continued to tease him. “But your face isn’t that sharp, though. You’ve definitely got more of a baby face than that.”
“E-Eh?!” WG-251 blinked, confused. “Wha’ d’ya mean, ‘baby face’? ‘M nae a baby.”
“What I mean is that you have, like… a squishable face.” Ryder put a hand on either side of WG-251’s face, and pressed against it gently to prove his point. “See? Totally squishy.”
“Okay – well – yer wrong abou’ me nose,” WG-251 mumbled, batting Ryder’s hands away. “It doesn’ look like t‘at at all!”
“You’re right,” Myers added, deciding to join in on the conversation. “You’ve got more of a button-shaped one.” He reached out and poked the tip of WG-251’s nose. “See? It’s all small and stuff.”
“Yeah,” Ryder agreed, grinning. “Just like the rest of him.” He ruffled WG-251’s hair, making him laugh despite how he tried to get him off of him. “Little pipsqueak.”
“‘M nae a ‘pipsqueak’! Yer only an inch or two taller t’an me! And ‘at’s me bein’ generous! I’m pret’y sure we’re the same height.”
“But you are pretty small over all, though,” Veers observed coolly. “Sometimes I worry about you.”
WG-251 stared at him. “Why? ‘M okay.”
“I say that because you’ll be the group projectile if we get in a pinch,” Veers replied with a smirk, only half-joking.
WG-251 let out another “Eh?!” in surprise. “Oh – ye don’ mean ‘at!”
“Sure he does,” Ryder said. “Before you, it was me. And I’m the leader.”
WG-251 snickered, seeing an opportunity for it to be his turn to mess with Ryder. “Really? Since when?”
“What – Since always, dude! I’m the one who recruited you, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean you’re the leader, though,” Myers murmured. “If anything, it’s Veers.”
Veers chuckled at that suggestion. “I’m flattered, truly. But from what I can tell… Urick’s the leader.”
The silent reploid in question finally spoke up at the sound of his name. “No. Not me.”
“Yes, you. You are the one who throws people, after all.”
The whole group got a laugh out of that, with Urick shaking his head. “What’s with all this talk about who’s the leader, anyhow..?”
“WG-251 said that this wanted poster of him looks off,” Myers explained, pointing to the offending piece of paper. “And it just kind of went from there.”
“Let me see…” Urick quietly looked at all the posters next to them. “That’s true. It’s not like him at all.”
WG-251 smiled happily. “Thank ye, lad!” He had to stand on his toes to put a hand on Urick’s shoulder, something that made Ryder snort. “Yer a good bloke, ye know ‘at?”
Urick gave a nod before pointing at a different poster. “...This one of Ryder is pretty good, though.”
Ryder gave a horrified gasp. “It does not! My eyebrows are not that thick!”
“Sure t’ey are,” WG-251 jeered. “T’ey’re like two ‘airy ca’erpill’rs.”
“Th-That’s not – Do you even know what caterpillar is?!”
“Wot – Aye! I grew up in a factory, no’ under a shed!”
Myers whispered in his ear, trying to help. “It’s – It’s under a rock, not under a shed.”
“Oh – t’anks lad. I mean under a rock! I didn’ grow up under a rock.”
“Quiet.” Urick interrupted the argument. “You’ll get us caught.”
“Indeed,” Veers said. “And we only have about an hour until sunrise, so…”
“For real?” Ryder checked his internal clock, along with the others. “Crap! Alright, you heard the boss man. Time to hit it.”
Myers’ eyes widened. “So… Does you calling him that mean Veers is the leader, or–”
“Dude. Less talking, more walking.”
“Oh, right! Sorry.”
~~~
Day 23: Injured (2024 Prompt) + Someone Else's OC
Brook carefully yet quickly made her way home, looking over her shoulder every few steps. Or at least, she looked as much as she could. It was kind of hard to do that with one eye swollen to a squint.
Of all the times to get attacked by some random mugger, why did it have to be the night she missed the bus back from work? Maybe it would’ve been best to accept that ride from Axl after all (or better yet, maybe she should figure out how to invest in a car)...
Still, she was almost home now. She would be able to take care of her black eye in a moment, and figure out an excuse to call in to work tomorrow with (the chances of this thing clearing up by morning were slim at best. And the last thing she wanted to do was worry X for no good reason). If she could just get home without incident–
“You’re home later than usual today.”
Brook froze. She covered her eye and continued walking further away as if she didn’t hear, but it was too late for that – she’d made it clear that it was just the opposite. So instead, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Have you been following me again?”
The voice was quick to respond. “No.”
“Oh, really? Then were you waiting here for me, then?”
The man who had been talking to Brook stepped out from the shadows, revealing himself to be exactly who she thought it was. “...Yes,” Omega admitted sheepishly. “I was.”
Brook shook her head. “Omega. We’ve been over this. You can’t keep doing things like that.” She knew that she would be more… upset. Or freaked out. But at this point, she was getting used to the repoid’s antics. Not to mention how her eye was throbbing too much for her to care (and besides. At least he wasn’t showing up randomly inside her house, this time…).
“Why are you covering your face like that?”
Brook narrowed her good eye at him. “Don’t change the subject.”
But Omega ignored that. “Did something happen to it?”
He tried to take a few steps toward her, but Brook put her hand up. She already knew that the result of Omega seeing her black eye would be worse than anything X would do. “I’m fine. Just… mind my personal space. Okay?”
Omega titled his head, confused. “But I’ve only taken a few steps toward you. I’m not in your personal space at all.”
“Yeah. And we should… keep it that way.” But Omega walked right up to her, now thoroughly suspicious. “H-Hey–!” He took hold of her arm, and pushed it aside. He didn’t hurt her with how he did it, but it was obvious from his firm grip that Brook really didn’t have much of a chance at resisting (him being a reploid not withstanding).
His eyes widened in shock when he saw what she had been trying to hide from him, and he was left speechless for a moment – before his look of surprise was replaced with a furrowed brow and sharp eyes, his voice coming out as a growl. “Who did this?”
“N-Nobody,” Brook stammered out quickly, unnerved by Omega’s change in tone. “I mean – I missed my bus, and some guy tried to mug me on my way home. I don’t know who did it. It’s… It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes it is!” Omega snapped, gaze still fixed firmly on Brook. “You were attacked. Your eye–”
“Is fine! I just need to put some ice on it–”
“How is ice going to help this?”
“It’ll bring the swelling down,” Brook explained. And I should take some meds for the pain, too… “So I should get going. I’d rather get better sooner, rather than later.” She starts to continue walking to her house, getting closer and closer to the front door. Except… “Omega. Why are you coming with me?”
“You’re hurt,” Omega stated bluntly. “I’m not going to run the risk of someone else trying to harm you.”
“So you’ll leave once I get to my–” Brook let out a yelp, tripping on a rift in the sidewalk she had missed (losing almost half of her vision really was screwing with her perceptive abilities). But she was caught by Omega, who reached out and grabbed her before she could hit the ground. “...Thanks,” she murmured, still feeling somewhat rattled. Omega didn’t respond – instead, he scooped her right up and held her bridal-style. “H-Hold on a second! Brook felt warmth start to prick all around her face. “You don’t – You don’t have to do this,” she insisted. “I can walk…”
“I know. But I’d rather you walk around inside your house,” Omega explained. “That way you won’t trip.”
Brook held her tongue, knowing that saying that she could still technically trip in her own home isn’t the smartest thing to say right then – and besides, she knew what Omega meant. Being in the confines of where she lives would be safer than stumbling around out here.
It didn’t take long for them to reach her house: but when they got to the door, Omega didn’t put her down. “Omega, I… I think I’m okay now.”
But Omega just kept holding her firm – something that made her face heat up even more. “You should unlock your door and open it. Then I can set you down inside.”
Brook sighed at being ignored, but took out her key from one of her coat pockets and unlocked the door anyway. There was no point in arguing with Omega about something like this. He was just going to keep holding her, and that was that.
Although, the thought of that really didn’t sound too bad…
She pushed the door open, and Omega set her down, just as he said he would. “...Thank you,” Brook mumbled. She knew it was the right thing to say. After all, if she had fallen earlier… “If I had ended up on the ground earlier, my eye could’ve gotten worse. And I… do appreciate you making sure I didn’t fall again.”
Omega smiled, eyes glistening with joy. Brook wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be concerned by how such a simple compliment could completely change his demeanor. “It was my pleasure.” Brook waited a moment, expecting him to walk off or say goodbye – but he remained there, right by the door, and not outside.
And then she realized.
He wasn’t leaving.
He did want to take her home, yes, but… there was also an ulterior motive there. He also wanted to figure out a way into her house. And Brook had fallen for it completely.
Dang it.
Brook furrowed her brow (as much as she could with a jacked-up eye, anyway). “Omega. You – You can go now. I’ll be okay.”
Omega shook his head. “I want to make sure.”
Brook ran a hand down the uninjured side of her face. “Yeah. I figured you would say that.”
Omega frowned a little at that. “...Do you… not want me here?”
“It’s not that, but – look. You can ask to come over. You don’t have to be all sneaky about it. The worst I’ll say is no. And it’s not like it’d be a ‘no’ every time you wanted to come over here…” Brook looked away for a moment, feeling her face heat up a second time. “It’s not like you’re… bad company.”
“I see…” Omega went silent for a while. Brook managed to take a quick look at him – his hair had curled up a bit at the ends, and he was staring down at the floor, a slight pink tinge to his face. So slight, in fact, that Brook wondered if she saw it at all (especially since there most likely wasn’t any reason for it).
But one thing she definitely saw, though, was that the door was still wide open.
“Hey, uh – if you’re going to be staying here, you should… close the door behind you. I’d rather not let any mosquitoes in.”
Omega blinked in confusion. “...Mosquitoes..?”
“They’re these insects that bite humans to suck a little bit of our blood out of us. Their spit leaves these itchy bumps behind that get worse if we scratch them, and our blood helps them make more mosquitoes. So…” Omega all but slammed the door shut behind him once the explanation registered, and locked the door like the deadbolt would help in keeping them out. “Thanks.”
Omega nodded dutifully, then came over to look at Brook’s eye again. “What should we do about this?” he asked, pointing to it. He seemed to be aware that touching it would run a pretty high risk of making it hurt.
“Well… I’m going to put an ice pack on it, like I was saying earlier. The cold is good for inflammation. And I have some ibuprofen in one of the kitchen cabinets. That’ll help, too. And it’ll be good for the pain.”
Omega bristled a little. “Does… Does it hurt a lot?”
“It’s… not the worst pain I’ve ever experienced,” she said, trying to keep him from trying to ask who her assailant was again. “But eye pain is a whole new kind of suffering.” She tried to snicker at the slight joke, but ended up wincing instead.
“I will get you the pills,” Omega announced, walking into the kitchen.
“I didn’t tell you what cabinet they’re in.”
“There are only so many of them. I will narrow it down.”
Brook was able to snicker at that. There was something funny about how seriously the red reploid took everything. But it was… kind of sweet, too, to know that he cared so much. Even though he most certainly didn’t have to. Not to mention how his creator wasn’t fond of her (or anybody. Everyone else but him could vanish tomorrow, and Weil would just be happy he wasn’t “surrounded by idiots” anymore or something like that – or maybe he would be sad, if only because he wouldn’t have anybody to show off to anymore). She could take care of herself…
And she didn’t want to burden him anymore than she already had. Getting hurt was her problem. It could’ve been avoided, if she had just made that bus on time or let Axl drive her home. Then none of this would be happening.
…Probably. Omega most likely would’ve still been hanging around her house, no matter what time she got here.
Either way, he was here now, and wasn’t set on leaving. So Brook followed him into the kitchen, and walked over to her fridge. She grabbed a small baggie from a box that she had sitting on top, and opened up the freezer compartment of her refrigerator. She pulled a hard, frozen ice pack out, closed it, and put it into the bag. She held it to her face, both shivering at the cold and sighing in relief at how it felt against her aching eye. At the same time, Omega came over with a glass of water and two pills. “Here you are.”
Brook gave him a smile. “Thank you.”
She went to take them one-handed, only for Omega to stop her. “Didn’t you tell me once that you’re supposed to eat before you take these?”
“I got something on the way here.” That was why she had been late to the bus stop, actually. There was a line at the restaurant she had stopped at after work, and combining that with how eating a salad wasn’t the best thing to do (far too much jostling around for that. Plus, she didn’t want to disturb anybody), and it wasn’t too much of a surprise that she had missed it.
Brook went to take the pills again, but Omega stopped her once again. He came close to her (something that made her breathing stutter), and put a hand to the ice pack. “I’ll hold this for you.”
“You don’t have–”
“Brook,” Omega said, not bothering to conceal his concern anymore, “Let me help you.”
“...Alright.” Brook took her pills quickly (but not too fast. Choking on one of them would hurt like a mother (and be kind of embarrassing)), not wanting Omega to have to hold the ice pack for any longer than he had to. “…Thank you,” she said yet again. She had been saying that a lot tonight.
“Of course.” Omega didn’t take his hand away. Instead, he asked a question. “So. Who did this to you?”
Brook huffed, now annoyed. “I thought I said it wasn’t a big deal.”
“And I thought I said that you were wrong – or something along those lines.” He leaned in closer to her, and Brook stiffened. But she didn’t pull away, either. “...Were they wearing black?”
“Wh-What..?”
“Were they wearing black?” Omega repeated. “You have black fibers on your shoulder that are not part of your coat.”
“Oh.” So that’s why he’d gotten so close. “I – It doesn’t matter. It’s over now, so–”
“He could attack you again.”
“Omega, it wasn’t targeted or anything. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And he wasn’t even successful – I tased him and ran off after he hit me. There’s nothing to worry about. Okay?”
“Hm.” Omega, dissatisfied, took one of the black filaments from her coat. “I’ll find him.”
“Omega,” Brook said sternly, backing away from him. Her patience was reaching its limit. “Don’t. I’ll – I’ll make a police report in the morning. There. Happy now?”
Omega pressed his lips into a line, thinking – and then he made up his mind. “Alright.” He then walked over to… a window? He walked over to a window in Brook’s kitchen and opened it, climbing out like some kind of vagabond (was that how he kept getting into her house?). “I will come back to see you again soon.”
“Dude…” Brook threw her hands up. “You could just walk out the front door.”
Omega paused for a moment, considering this. Apparently, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him (yeah, this was definitely how he kept getting into her house). And then after a beat: “...Oh.”
---
Brook walked into the living room, tired despite having slept in – for the part, anyway. She had woken up early to send an email to X (while she could’ve just texted him, there was nothing wrong with being professional about this kind of thing. And it made it easier for the right paperwork to be filed afterward, too), saying that she wasn’t feeling well. She had been vague about it, but hopefully it was enough; and besides, it wasn’t like she had lied. She really didn’t feel too great, with her eye still throbbing painfully. The inflammation had gone down quite a bit during the night, but there was still an ugly black and purple bruise around it. And it hurt to open her eye up completely. That, and she had ended up with a few mosquito bites on her hands and legs (thank Asimov for aloe vera) despite Omega closing the door (and window) behind him (that was always the thing about mosquitoes. They were good at getting into houses, and at that point all one could do was kill them or wait for them to die).
So she stayed home. She had some cereal for breakfast, took some medicine, and sat down on her couch with a blanket, pillow, and book. She planned to relax for the day, to try and sleep off the ache of her black eye. But a notification on her phone had changed all that. She looked down at it, mouth agape. It was one of those safety notifications, something warning civilians about a potential maverick on the loose. There wasn’t much of a description, just that a reploid wearing red armor had allegedly beaten up a man and left him unconscious on the sidewalk.
No, Brook thought. It couldn’t be…
Change of plans. She scoured the internet, searching for something, anything that would prove her wrong. But instead, she found a news report that showed that her suspicions not only could be true, but that they were.
She watched the video of a reporter interviewing the same guy that had tried mugging her the night before in disbelief. “So, sir. What can you tell us about your attacker?”
The man groaned out an “Uhh…” as he tried to think of an answer. Brook wasn’t even sure why they were trying to talk to him – he had clearly been given some heavy-duty painkillers, and was having trouble staying awake “He… was wearing… red armor..?”
The reporter nodded and turned to face the camera. “And there you have it folks. Some sort of red reploid was most likely the one behind this incident…”
Brook paused the video when they started talking about how the man had been found with “wounds from some sort of heat-based melee weapon”, not needing any more proof as to who had done this. She sucked in a breath and exhaled hard, unsure as to how to react. But eventually, she was able to voice exactly how she felt about the whole thing:
“...What the hell, Omega…”
~~~
Day 24: Doodle Page*
“Woah… you made me look so cool!”
Katherine smiled, appreciating Micah’s compliment. “Th-Thank you, Micah! I’m – I’m glad you like it…!” They were hanging out at the town’s library, and had decided to take a break from looking for books to talk for a bit. One thing led to another, and Micah was now giving Katherine suggestions for things to draw.
“Can you draw anybody else we know?” He asked next.
“U-Um… I can draw Newbert, I think!” Katherine took her time as she got started with sketching her orange-haired guardian. He was fairly easy for her to draw, as he’d helped her by posing for a few art assignments that required a family member or someone that she knew to be the subject. But even so, she wanted the drawing to turn out well. “H-How’s this?” She turned the paper towards Micah when she finished, so that he could get a look.
He let out a gasp, marveling at it. “It looks just like him! Does he know you draw like this?”
“Y-Yeah! Kind of…”
Micah looked down at the drawing again, still fascinated. “Do you think you’re going to be an artist when you’re an adult? You’d be really good at it!”
Katherine shrugged, unsure. She hadn’t put a whole lot of thought into what she wanted to do when she got older. It was hard enough to make sure she handled being fourteen okay – how could she even consider what life would be like as an adult? But even so, she felt a need to come up with an answer. After all, she couldn’t think of anybody else in that position. All of her friends who were younger than her knew what they wanted to do: Edelweiss wanted to be an actor (or at least, that’s what it was the last time she had asked him about it. His answer tended to change a lot – but at least he could come up with one). Wren wanted to be a politician or a lawyer, like her dad. Micah wanted to be an EMT, and Ruby wanted to be a veterinarian.And then there were her friends who were older, or around the same age. Ronin wanted to be a musician, and Floris wanted to be a professional soccer player – or a real-estate agent, if that didn’t work out. Léame wanted to be a professional chef, and maybe even run her own restaurant. And Idalia –
Actually, come to think of it, Katherine didn’t know what Idalia wanted to do. They’d never really talked about it – somehow, it just never came up. And she wasn’t the only friend who Katherine didn’t know the career aspirations for; Bridgette was a mystery, too. But… that was different. Bridgette was new to the school, newer than the other reploid students and Katherine. In all honesty, they hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about it.
“Kathy?” Micah’s voice brought Katherine out of her thoughts. …How long had she been quiet for? “Are you okay?”
“Oh, um – y-yes. I was just… thinking…” Katherine absentmindedly drew little swirls in one of the corners of the sketchbook page she had been working with. “I… think that… maybe I want to be…” She tried to think of something she liked doing, something she would enjoy doing for a job. Micah had suggested art, but… she didn’t know if “artist” was enough of an answer. Could she make money selling pictures to people? Was that a thing? Would she even want to do that?
But she liked other things, too. She liked to read, so maybe she could be an illustrator? Or maybe…
“A - A fashion designer,” Katherine mumbled quietly at last. “I think – I think I want to do… that when I’m older…” She did like drawing clothes, more than anything else. And she had fun doing other things relating to clothing, like looking through fashion magazines and buying new clothes when the ones she had got worn out. And she even liked to organize her clothes, too. Sometimes she’d go as far as to fix any clothes that were in the wrong spots in stores. So being able to draw clothes for people to make didn’t sound too bad. It didn’t sound bad at all.
Micah gave her a nod, smiling. “Cool! That sounds great – I bet you’d come up with some neat stuff–”
“Katheriiiiiine!” An excited whisper-yell cut Micah off. “Miiiiicah!” It was immediately followed up by another yell, and soon, Katherine found herself being hugged by Wren, who had run up to her. “You guys are here, too!”
“Wren! Hi!” Katherine hugged her back, trying not to laugh – she didn’t want to run the risk of being too loud and disturbing anyone nearby. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to return a book I borrowed!” Wren explained cheerily. She pulled up a chair and joined them at their table. “After I did that, I went to find another one, but I saw you guys here!” She let out a little gasp at Katherine’s sketchbook. “Did you draw all that, Katherine?! It looks so good!”
“Oh, um – I – I did. Thank – Thank you…”
Say it with more confidence. Katherine couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the notebook that was suddenly in her face (she hoped she hadn’t bothered anybody by doing so…) She could hear some familiar chuckling from behind her as the notebook was withdrawn and soon put in front of her again. It does look good, you know.
Katherine tilted her head up, and saw Idalia looking down and grinning at her. “H-Hi, Idalia!” She greeted. “Y-You came to the library, too..?”
“Yeah!” Wren answered for her while Idalia sat down right next to Katherine. “My daddy drove her here, too.”
“Were is your dad?” Micah asked, curious. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“He went to go find some books for himself, too! I think he went to the law section?” She smiled to herself. “That’s going to be me one day.”
“Why do you want to be a lawyer, Wren? I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if he should finish his sentence. “I don’t know. It just seems… a little boring..?”
“What?! No way! You get to do things like yell ‘Objection!’ at people and send other people to jail. Or help keep them from going there. That’s the kind of lawyer my daddy is – and it must be a fun job if he’s doing it.”
“What – What do you want to do, Idalia…?” Katherine whispered during Micah and Wren’s conversation. “When – When you’re o-older, I mean.” She may as well ask now, while the topic was relevant.
Idalia thought for a moment, pressing her pencil to her lips. I don’t know, she wrote after a moment. I don’t know what I would be good at.
“You – You don’t have to be… good at your job at f-first,” Katherine said. “You – You can pick something you have to l-learn how to do.”
Idalia nodded, considering. So should I pick something I’m interested in?
“Y-Yeah! Because having to do something you don’t like for money might be okay for a little while, but… you’ll just be – just be miserable if you do it t-too long…”
I guess that’s true, Idalia agreed after a moment. But I’m not sure if what I’m interested in could work as a profession.
“M-Maybe it could! What – What are a few things you like doing..?”
Fighting people was Idalia’s immediate answer. I don’t think that could be a job. Or at least, not one that’s legal…
“S-Sure it could be! You could be, a, uh – a security guard! Or – Or a boxer, or a m-martial arts teacher!”
Idalia gave Katherine a half-smile. Being a boxer could be cool. But I’d miss using things like my bat.
“Well – Well what are some other things you enjoy..?”
Playing the viola is pretty fun. And I like taking walks outside. And I like horses, I guess. Those are cool. Then, her eyes widened. Are there jobs that involve horses?
“Y-Yeah! There’s a whole bunch of them! Y-You could train them to be th-therapy animals, or you could be a vet like Ruby wants to be. O-Or you could do different sp-sports with them, like dressage or – or h-horse racing…”
Horse racing?
“Yes! There – There are these people called – called jockeys, and they ride the horses and help them win r-races and stuff. And sometimes people place b-bets on them. Like with money and stuff.”
Idalia smirked, an idea coming to her. I want to do that. I want to train a horse, become the favorite to win races, and then screw everyone who bet on me and my horse over by losing on purpose. The economy will be in shambles. And they’ll still have to pay me.
Katherine laughed, having learned to appreciate Idalia’s brand of humor a while ago. “I – I don’t think it’s popular enough for that… but maybe one day it w-will be, if you teach horses how to race…”
The four of them talked about various other things after that, with Katherine drawing all the while. She drew a picture of Wren, a few flowers, an idea for a dress that could be real one day. She followed those up with a few more pictures: one of Idalia, another one of a cat, another of a sketch of some books on a shelf. It was nice to just be able to draw without thinking too much about it. And her friends seemed to like her artwork, too–
“What are you four doing?”
A soft, perfectly toned voice made everyone fall to a hush. Katherine looked up, and saw Bridgette standing over them. She was in the same grade as her and Idalia, but something about her made her seem older. Even if she didn’t look that way at all – in fact, it was almost as if she was designed to embody the very concept of youth, with her nails always looking freshly manicured and her hair long with a solitary braid on the side of it. She even had dainty, perfectly symmetrical features, ones that made her look like she was no older than Wren at times.
Katherine looked down at her own nails, subconsciously comparing them. Hers had been cut recently, but she could hardly ever get them into a perfectly curved shape. And her fingertips and the sides of her palms were stained gray with graphite. She tucked her hands into her lap, embarrassed.
Idalia, on the other hand, scowled hard at Bridgette. Katherine jumped, and Wren seemed to try and hide behind Micah. And nobody could blame either of them: if looks could kill, Bridgette would be lying on the ground deactivated.
Bridgette flipped her hair, and flashed Idalia a smile. “I don’t know why you seem so upset with me, Idalia,” she said, her voice just as controlled and quiet as before. “I just wanted to see what all the noise was about.”
There wasn’t any “noise,” Idalia wrote, her pencil’s tip threatening to break from the force of how hard she was doing so. We were just talking. And we weren’t even being that loud about it. So why don’t you mind your own business?
“I can ask my friends what they’re doing when I see them in the library,” Bridgette responded calmly. “That’s not being rude at all. So I don’t know why you’re acting like I’ve offended you in some way.”
We’re not your friends. Micah barely knows you, and I don’t like you. And you only talk to Wren when Katherine is around.
“Well, then, I’m Katherine’s friend. And I want to know what she’s doing.” Idalia angrily scribbled out another note, but Bridgette ignored it and looked at Katherine instead. She peeked over at her paper with interest, humming as she did so. “Did you draw these?” She rested an index finger on the page, right above the picture of Micah.
“O-Oh, um – y-yes,” Katherine squeaked out. She could hear Idalia huff in frustration, and she shrank up. She knew Idalia didn’t like it when she talked to Bridgette – but what else could she do? Bridgette wasn’t mean, and it wouldn’t be right to pretend she didn’t say anything.
“They’re very well done,” she said, giving another wide grin to Katherine. She flipped her hair again before speaking a second time. “You should draw yourself next. You’d make for a nice drawing.”
“Th-Thank you. But – But I don’t really… l-like doing self-portraits…”
“Then let me draw you.”
Katherine’s eyes widened, surprised. “Y-You – what?”
“You’ve drawn everyone else at the table. It would be a shame for you to not be included in your work.” Bridgette grabbed a chair from another table and placed it next to Katherine. “May I?”
Katherine hesitantly handed her sketchbook and pencils over to Bridgette, who immediately got to work. Wren and Micah exchanged nervous glances, while Idalia glared daggers at Bridgette the entire time. Katherine nervously tugged at her hair. Why did it feel like everyone else knew something that she didn’t? She didn’t get what everyone else’s problem with Bridgette was, or why Bridgette seemed to stick around even though Katherine was the only one talking to her. She could hear each scratch of the pencils on the sketchbook’s paper, each individual stroke Bridgette made. Nobody said a word to break the silence, the tension hanging over them like a cloak.
It all made Katherine want to hide under the table and never crawl back out.
“All done,” Bridgette said, flipping her hair back once more as she pushed everything toward Katherine. “Take a look!”
Katherine did so, looking down at the paper – and soon let out a sharp gasp. Bridgette had made an almost photo-realistic sketch of Katherine, and had even drawn her smiling even though she had been trembling anxiously the entire time. “W-Wow, Bridgette! That looks – that looks really good!”
“Thank you,” Bridgette said, beaming again. “I’m glad you like it.” She then got up, flipping her hair one last time. “I should get going now. I came to get some books for a project I’m doing.”
“W-Wait!” Katherine called out to her before she left (quietly, of course – they were still in a library). “I… I wanted – to ask – ask you… Wh-What do you want to be when you grow up..?” She felt herself grow less confident as she asked the question. Why did she phrase it like that, like she was talking to a little kid? Wouldn’t it have been better to have asked something like “What kind of career do you want?” or “What do you want to do with your life when you get older?” She hoped that she hadn’t come across weird–
“A diplomat,” Bridgette said, her smile not wavering in the slightest. “I want to be a diplomat.” She then waved goodbye to Katherine, before running off to find her books. “Goodbye, Katherine! Have a good day.”
Idalia glowered at Bridgette all the while. And once she had left, she took the opportunity to state the obvious: I hate that piece of scrap.
~~~
Day 25: Oldest Age OC (2024 Prompt)*
“Now take the gun and aim it like so.”
Luke carefully followed Guimann’s instructions, readjusting how he aimed a few feet away from the moving target in front of him. “Like this?”
“Si. Now go ahead and take the shot.”
BANG!
Luke’s eyes widened, the bullet having gone straight through the bullseye. “Oh, wow—” He turned to Guimann with an excited grin on his face. “Thanks, Guy! That was way better than what I had been doing!”
“Of course, niño. Just remember — if you keep aiming for where it is, it’ll have moved to somewhere else by the time you’re ready to fire.”
“Right! Thanks again, Guimann!” Luke ran off toward the rest of the Junior Soldiers. “Hey, guys! Guimann showed me how to do it!”
Guimann watched with a smile as Luke ran off toward the others. That was one of his favorite things about this job. While his mortician duties were more up his alley, he hadn’t had much of a reason to do them (not that he wanted one, of course! It was just one of the things about being in a group full of reploids – far less deaths happened). But being second-in-command meant he got to do things like helping people out whenever they needed it, seeing the delight they got from being able to complete a task they had trouble doing on their own, allowing them to reach a point where they’d be able to improve independently… And all of that made him feel more fulfilled, as well.
Needless to say, his position had its perks.
Guimann pulled a cigarette from one of the pockets of his trench coat. He wasn’t one to smoke, or at least, not one to actually do it. He just enjoyed the feeling of having something to hold, and it didn’t hurt to carry a lighter. Speaking of, he went to get that as well, only– “Guy!”
Guimann blinked at the voice coming from behind him. Now that was someone he hadn’t heard from in a while. “Hola, señorita Elmira.” He hardly ever saw Elmira outside of her lab – unless she was playing that one game with some of their friends. What was it again? “Dungeons and…” he blanked on the second half. “How are you today?”
“I’m doing great! I’ve come up with the most excellent experiment idea – one that you’re going to help me with!”
Guimann chuckled, endeared by her antics. “I am?”
“Yes, yes, yes. It has to be you.” She smiled from ear-to-ear enthusiastically. “Nobody else will do.”
“What exactly do you intend on doing to me?” Guimann asked, half-teasing.
“I’m not going to do anything to you, silly! We’re doing something together. It’ll be fun!”
“The last time you told someone something like that, you nearly singed their eyebrows off.”
“Only because of a minor miscalculation,” Elmira said, waving him off. “And besides, Finn was fine. He just got a little spooked is all.”
“...I was talking about Tim.”
“Oh.” Elmira thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “Oh well! It happens. Anyway, meet me outside of my lab at 6:00 p.m. sharp.”
“Alright. But why–” Elmira turned and walked off as soon as he had said “alright”, leaving him with no choice but to show up if he wanted answers. But to be fair, he most likely would’ve gone even if he wasn’t interested in the specifics – Elmira just… had a certain way about her. One that made him want to help her, no matter what it could be.
---
Guimann ended up outside of Elmira’s lab a few minutes early, just in case she ended up being ready sooner rather than later. Knowing her, she probably would be; she could hardly ever sit still when it came to getting started on an experiment she wanted to do. If there ever was a reploid who loved her job, it was her.
And sure enough, at 5:59, Elmira came out of her lab. But Guimann had to do a double take when he saw her. She wasn’t wearing her typical lab coat or her usual closed-toed shoes, pants, and Oxford shirt. Instead, she was now wearing a pencil-skirt, an amaranth-colored blouse, and high-heels. The only familiar parts of her attire were her glasses and loose, curly green hair. “Aha! So you’ve shown up earl—” She screeched, tripping over her own feet.
Guimann reached out and caught her, almost reflexively. “Are you alright?!”
Elmira let out a groan, and Guimann’s breath hitched. Was she hurt?! But his question was soon answered. “Oh my goooosh. I almost fell on my face… that would’ve been mortifying.” She cringed and hid her face from him as she stood up.
“But – But you’re still doing bueno? No bruises or lesiones or anything like that?”
Elmira smiled and straightened up. “The only thing bruised,” she announced reassuringly, “Is my ego!”
Guimann snickered, relieved. “Ah, I see.”
Elmira pulled a clipboard with a pen tied to it from under her arm. “Now let’s get goi–” She screamed a little again, stumbling – but she was able to regain her balance before Guimann reached for her again.
“Would you… perhaps… prefer another pair of shoes?” he suggested. “They might be easier for you to walk in.”
“Oh, but – then we’d start late. And you’d have to wait for me. Which… would increase the likelihood of the experiment resulting in – um – an undesirable result.”
Guimann blinked, surprised by how nervous Elmira seemed. She was hardly ever like this. So much so, that he couldn’t remember her acting this way in years. And the last time she had was… when Dissent had come for them again…
But that was in the past, now. Thousands of years in the past. Whatever the goal of Elmira’s experiment was, it couldn’t have been comparable to hundreds of people trying to kill anyone within Nolition’s walls. So hopefully, she’d be easy to comfort now. “Don’t worry, Emmy,” Guimann said after a moment, trying to reassure her. “I don’t mind waiting for you. And I think we’d both be happier if you were more cómoda.”
“I… suppose there’s some merit to that…” Elmira cleared her throat, taking a moment to attempt to regain her confidence. “Alright then! I will return shortly!” She then ran back into her lab, and after quite a bit of shuffling and a couple of slamming noises, she came back in a pair of flats that were the same color as her heels. “You were soooo right, Guy! This is way better! Thank you!” Guimann went to say that it was no problem, only for her to hook her arm in his. His eyes widened, surprised. Now that was different. Elmira usually disliked doing so much as shaking hands with someone, let alone something like this. But… she seemed happy with it.
And in all honesty, Guimann was pretty happy with it too.
“So!” Elmira said, grinning. “How do you feel about this?”
“About… what you’re doing with my arm?”
“Yes, yes, that. How enjoyable would you say it is?”
“Hm – I’d say I feel rather good about it.” Elmira nodded and marked something on her clipboard, but tucked it back under her other arm before Guimann could get even so much as a glance at it. Just what was she up to? She wasn’t normally this secretive about her work, especially not when he was the one working with her. “What about you?” he asked, both out of legitimate curiosity and in an effort to understand the experiment better. “How do you feel about this?”
“O-Oh, me? I… I guess I…” She wrapped her arm around his a little tighter. “I like it.”
“Really?” Elmira nodded, going quiet. That was another thing that was unusual for her, but it didn’t seem like she was doing it because she was upset. Rather, she actually came across as being rather flustered. But Guimann didn’t mind in the slightest. “In that case, you can do this whenever you would like.”
“I – what – huh?!” Elmira’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “I can?!”
“Mmhm! I don’t have a problem with it. And we both like it, so what’s the harm?”
“O-Oh!” Elmira didn’t answer that. Instead, she whipped out her clipboard again, flipping to the last page - an empty piece of notebook paper – and started hurriedly taking notes.
---
“Alright! Let’s start the first phase of the experiment!”
Elmira had walked with Guimann all the way to the mess hall, and picked a table for them to sit down at. “In a moment, we will be given two dishes to eat from. I will observe your behavior during the meal, and ask you a series of questions afterward.”
Guimann leaned over a bit, looking Elmira in the eyes. “Alright, señorita. This has been fun,” he said, smiling – but he was careful not to have too light of a tone. He was about to ask a serious question, after all. “But I would like to know what you’re up to. Out of all the experiments you’ve asked me to assist you with, you’ve never done anything like what you’re doing today.”
“Indeed!” Elmira confirmed. “I have not.”
“Si. So I want to know – what exactly is this experiment all about?”
Elmira bit her lip, shrinking in on herself. A trademark sign that she was about to dodge the question. And sure enough: “Oh, uh – so! What do you think we’ll be eating?”
Guimann let out a sigh. “Don’t do that, Elmira. I want you to tell me what’s going on.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “But I… I can’t! It’ll ruin everything. So can I just… debrief you afterward? Please?”
“...Alright,” Guimann relented. “But just so you know, I want you to tell me everything once the experiment’s all said and done. ¿Entiendes?”
“Yes, I do…” But she really didn’t seem too pleased about it.
“Emmy–”
“Hey!” Guimann looked up, and there was Mai, one of the culinary reploids. In her hands were –
Two steaks.
With rose petals on them.
Guimann stared at the plates, shocked. That was… rather… personal in its connotations. He looked over at Elmira, who seemed to not be too surprised with any of this. Were these the dishes she had asked for? Did she ask for them to be this way on purpose? “Aha! The steaks! And the asparagus! Perfectly prepared and right on schedule! You truly have not failed me yet, Mai!”
Ah, Guimann thought. So she did…
Mai laughed, flattered. “Well, I’m glad I don’t disappoint! I do try, after all…” She then leaned close to Elmira, and tried to whisper. “So… how’s the ‘experiment’ going?”
Elmira giggled, giddy at the thought of a third party being interested in her work. “Splendidly! If it continues, my plan will no doubt result in success!”
Guimann looked back and forth between the two of them. Mai was in on what was going on? And he wasn’t? Combine that with how insistent Elmira had been about how he had to be the one to help her, and he was starting to gather that this experiment was less about gathering general information, and more about doing something to him specifically.
But he wasn’t worried. For all of Elmira’s eccentricities, he knew she wouldn’t do something to try and hurt someone on purpose.
…For the most part, anyway.
…Okay. Maybe it was more about half of the time. But still. He trusted her anyway.
“Alright, then!” Mai smiled and winked at her. “I’ll be back with the wine in a moment.”
Guimann balked at that. Now he was sure that the implication he’d picked up on earlier with the steak was correct.
This was starting to look an awful lot like a date.
Granted, he should’ve figured that out from Elmira’s outfit and how she had been grabbing his arm earlier (this wasn’t his first rodeo, after all). But he had given her the benefit of the doubt: she wasn’t the type to really seem interested in more romantic endeavors, and had rejected Finn’s advances back during that phase of his life where he flirted with any woman with a pulse (or as Guimann called it for simplicity, “Before Mai”) rather… aggressively.
As in “tried to test a flamethrower on him” aggressively.
Not that anybody had an issue with it. The man needed to be put in his place, and he was certainly cowed for a few weeks. And as much as Guimann liked to give the younger members of Nolition a chance to work things out for themselves, even he was close to tearing a new one into Finn. “You look desperate, idiota!” He had scolded him once. “Desperate! And no woman finds that attractive!”
But Finn hadn’t listened. “What do you know, gramps? It’s not like you have a girlfriend.”
And then next everyone knew, the flamethrower incident happened.
While Guimann was reflecting on this, a sound somewhat similar to juice being sucked through a straw got his attention. He looked over to find that it was coming from Elmira, and– “Elmira! ¡¿Qué estás haciendo?!”
Elmira stopped and stared at him, confused. “I’m eating my food,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Guimman sputtered, baffled. “Like – Like that?”“Uh, yeah?” Elmira set the little piece of steak she had cut down. “What? Am I… doing it wrong?”
Guiamann snorted, and put a hand over his mouth to retain as much politeness as he could.
“You mean – You eat like that often?”
“Yes! How else are you supposed to do it?!”
Guimann laughed a bit more openly. “I’ll show you.” He cut off a piece of his own steak, and put it in his mouth.
He started to chew on it, and watched as Elmira got so surprised that she actually stopped breathing for a moment. “Ohhhh my goooosh,” she exasperated, right when Guimann was starting to worry that her respiratory systems were malfunctioning. “You chew on it?! But I thought – I thought the whole point of food was to – to get the juice out of it! For maximum flavor profiling?!”
Guimann didn’t laugh that time – instead, he swallowed and gave Elmira a soft smile. He knew she didn’t have much experience eating human food, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad for not knowing. “Well, flavor’s part of what makes food enjoyable. But… organics need more than that to get nutrients from their food, claro? And it’s the same for us, too.”
“That… makes sense,” Elmira answered after a moment. “I was wondering why humans didn’t just put everything into a blender… and why e-crystals have to be chewed…” She looked back down at her food. “So should I try it the way you did it, then..?” She seemed genuinely unsure.
“I think you should. You might enjoy it.”
Elmira nodded decisively and tried again with a piece of the asparagus. This time, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she focused on chewing and swallowing. “Did I… do it right?”
“Si. Excellent job, Emmy.”
Elmira beamed, happy at the praise. She filled out some more things on her clipboard, took some more notes. She then looked up at Guimann to ask him a question — “How do you—” — only to scowl as something in the background caught her attention. “Uuuugh! What’s he doing here?”
Guimann turned around, and saw that Finn had entered the dining area. “He’s probably here to see Mai,” he said. But Finn kept walking toward them, and flashed them a smirk. Guimann huffed. What could he be up to now?
“Hey, peepaw!” Finn said, smacking Guimann on the shoulder as some sort of greeting. (The older man grit his teeth, and tried to give him room… he was still in his early-twenties (but then again. Luke acted better than he did, and he was fifteen)…) “What’re you doing out — woah!” Finn slammed his hand on the table, making Elmira jump. “Well, look who it is! Finally decided to join us in the real world, Elmira?”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Guimann snapped. “You know she doesn’t like it.”
“Oh come on, she knows I’m just messing with her. Right, Emmy?”
Elmira scowled harder, and looked away from him. “...Only Guy gets to call me that,” she mumbled. “Now go away.”
Finn went to speak again, but Guimman cut him off. “You might not mean any harm, Finn. But Elmira’s uncomfortable with you being here. So perhaps you should leave.” He then cleared his throat. “And I would prefer if you didn’t call me anything like ‘peepaw’ or ‘gramps’ again. It is completely unwarranted, and disrespectful. You may be the third-in-command, but I am the second. Therefore, you should treat me with the same respect I treat you with, or perhaps more. …And in any case, my AI’s not even veinte años older than yours. I’m only–”
“Yeah, yeah,” Finn interrupted, not even listening. Guimann was about to threaten him with charging him with insubordination, but found himself watching as Finn’s eyes fell on the plates, Elmira, and what Guimann was wearing. “Oh!” he cried out suddenly. “I understand why you’re both freaking out now. You’re on a–”
“NO INTERFERENCE!”
Finn jumped, surprised by Elmira’s sudden outburst. “Wh-What?”
“No interfering with the experiment!” Elmira yelled again. “Do not finish your sentence!”
Finn snorted, unimpressed. “Elmira, this is not an experiment. This is clearly a–”
“Finn!” Mai was back now, and was holding two glasses of red wine. “Are you bothering them?!”
“What? No, babe, I was just trying to explain to Elmira that she and Guy are obviously on a–”
“Mai! Guimann! Hold your breath!” Guy immediately did as Elmira asked, having spent enough time with her to know when she was about to do something… questionable. She pulled a small, black sphere from her pocket. She tossed it on the ground hard, and purple smoke started to come from it. She got up quickly, grabbed Guimann by the wrist, and ran from the dining hall into the nearest hallway with him trailing close behind – all while Finn let out agonized coughs. “Okay!” Elmira called out once they were a few yards away. “You can breathe now!”
Guimann gasped for air, his respiratory systems easing. Although reploids didn’t necessarily need to take in oxygen, the action of breathing, even if there wasn’t any air, did help regulate blood flow. “What – What was that?!”
“A mixture of compressed hydrogen-based acids and ammonia in gas form!” Elmira said, seeming proud of herself.
“Okay, and… what does that mean, exactly?”
“It’s a secret,” she answered, practically singing her words.
“Right…” Guimann pursed his lips. “You… do realize that as a mortician, I had to work with a variety of chemical substances, right?”
“I do.”
“And you do understand that I know enough to recognize that everything you said corrodes steel, right?”
Elmira blinked, not having expected to have gotten caught. She shrunk up again, considering changing the topic… but then: “I – I tested it dozens of times,” she explained. “It’ll only cause mild rusting at most, and it’ll clear up on its own in a few hours. We have systems that can fix it no problem. It – It wouldn’t have done anything to really hurt him. That’s not what it was for. And – And he gets on my nerves, but I don’t want Finn to die or anything…”
“...I know you don’t,” Guimann murmured. He rested a hand on her cheek tentatively, trying to soothe her. He figured that it was worth a shot, since she didn’t mind hugging his arm earlier. And sure enough, she leaned into it, pouting only a little bit now. “But it would be best if you didn’t do things like that to your teammates. Especially not without good reason.” Elmira opened her mouth to protest, but Guimann kept going. “And mild annoyance is not a good reason.” And neither is trying to keep someone from saying that we’re on a date, he thought. He supposed he understood the reason for her initial attempts to keep him quiet – if Guimann finding out that this was a date would ruin the experiment, then Elmira had a right to stop him.
Too bad how he had already figured that out, though.
“Oh, but… Fine. I guess you’re right…” Elmira sighed, rubbing her face on Guimann’s hand. He laughed inwardly, not knowing she could do something this adorable – only for her to freeze when she realized what she was doing. “A-Anyway!” She pulled away, bright pink. “I - I - I think we should move on to part two! C-Come on, Guimann! We still have soooo much more experimenting to do! Hahaha…” Still, she did some more things on her clipboard, and then took hold on his arm again.
---
“Behold! Activity number two! Conversing with our scientific peers!”
Guimann nodded, looking at the infirmary door with Elmira. “You want us to talk to Persimmon?” That was interesting – he wasn’t sure how that could relate to the whole “date” format this experiment had, but he was open-minded. Persimmon was a doctor – perhaps the next step was meant to resemble something along the lines of couples therapy?
“Yes, yes, yes! We are going to talk to my friend! But we will also be speaking to someone else as well!” Elmira knocked on the door. “Persiiiiimoooon! We’re here!”
Persimmon opened the door, staring at both Elmira and Guimann. Her expression was hard to read – as it usually was with her deadpan demeanor (although her mouth constantly being covered by a face mask didn’t help. It was one thing to wear it for work, but to wear it at all times outside of that meant that Guimann couldn’t rely on seeing her mouth to try and read what she was feeling). But she soon softened (or at least, he thought she softened), and her eyes widened in a way that suggested she was happy. “Hello, Elmira. Hello, Guimann. You two are early, but we are not busy now. So you may come in.”
Elmira laughed excitedly and squeezed Guimann’s arm a little harder. They followed Persimmon inside, and found that she wasn’t alone – Palice was in there as well. “Hello, Ms. Elmira – and hello to you as well, Mr. Guimann.”
“Hola, señor Palice.” Guimann had met Palice before, at his and Persimmon’s wedding. They’d also talked a few times after that, but not enough to really know each other.
“So!” Elmira started. “What’s it like to be married?”
Both Persimmon and Elmira blinked at the bluntness of her question. Guimann was shocked as well – that was… certainly a way to start a conversation. But he couldn’t say he was too stunned by it. Elmira tended to be rather direct about getting information she wanted. “...It is the same as when we were not married,” Persimmon answered after a beat. “But now I get to see Palice every day, and sleep in the same bed as him on regular basis. We also raise Wren together. She is our daughter.”
“...I wouldn’t say it’s the same, per se,” Palice said. “It feels more… secure.”
Persimmon looked over at him. “I would like for you to elaborate on your statement.”
“Oh, well – you know how, before we were married, we often worried about someone separating us? Whether it be the Neo Arcadian government, or any humans with power who didn’t approve?”
“Yes. I remember that quite clearly.”
“Alright. Then you might also remember that after we married, we weren’t so preoccupied with that. We knew that, no matter what, there would always be proof that we were together. Even if the humans didn’t recognize it. And, in a way… it was like I knew you would never be taken from me.”
Persimmon nodded, understanding him. “I felt the same way.” But then her brow furrowed ever-so slightly. “However, I was taken from you.”
“What – What do you mean by that?”
“I was shot in the head.”
Now fully taken aback, Palice tried to stammer out a response. “I – That’s–!”
“And then I died. And we are here now, yes. But I was taken from you.”
Palice roughly sucked in a breath. “...Let us discuss something else.”
Persimmon hung her head. “I apologize. I did not mean to upset you.”
“It’s – It’s fine. You made a… compelling… argument…”
Elmira took it upon herself to try and correct the tense atmosphere. “Er, um – What do you think of marriage, Guimann?”
“Me? Well, I… I believe it would be something I would be interested in.”
“I see!” Elmira started to take a few notes on her clipboard.
With that in mind, Guimann decided to ask her a question. “What about you, Emmy? Are you interested in marriage?”
“Oh! Well… I think so!” Elmira said, eagerly looking up from her clipboard. “But… I’d have to run a few more tests to determine if it’s truly the best option for me.”
Persimmon nodded vigorously at that – which made Palice teasingly raise an eyebrow. “My Persimmon – are you suggesting that you ran tests to decide if you should marry me?”
Persimmon went quiet, and then looked up and to the left. “...No…”
“My dear, you don’t have to lie,” Palice said with a laugh. “You know that how thorough you are is one of the many things I find endearing about you.”
“Fascinating,” Elmira whispered to herself. She started feverishly taking notes again, and Guimann was able to catch a glimpse of what she had put down:
FLIRTING
- Involves banter about things you like about the other person
- Smiling should be involved
- Thing married people do (?????)
- Can be done in public
- Finn is bad at it
Guimann barely managed to stifle a snort at her writing – she really was taking all of this seriously, wasn’t she?
“Back to you two,” Palice said, getting both Guimann and Elmira’s attention. “Tell us – how has your first da– mm?!’”
Elmira had crossed the room and smacked a hand on top of Palice’s mouth. “No interference is allowed!” She declared – only to freeze as Persimmon slowly narrowed her eyes at her. “I mean… um…” She dropped her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Before Palice could respond, Persimmon beat her to it. “Please refrain from touching my husband’s mouth again. Or any other part of his face.”
“Yes, of cour–”
“As a matter-of-fact, you should back away from him.” Elmira shuffled two feet away from him. “Farther.” She shuffled next to Guimann. “Farther.” She shuffled out the door. “That is sufficient.” Persimmon then shut the door, leaving Elmira outside.
…Only to open it after a few seconds. “That was a joke. I am not actually that mad at you.” She then started to laugh, in her strange, unique way. “Huhuhu…” Elmira soon joined her, having actually found it funny. She laughed in a loud manner that reminded Guimann somewhat of a goose – but stopped when Persimmon interrupted her. “But seriously. Do not do that again.”
“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies for that – I do not wish to upset my fellow weirdo-in-arms!”
Persimmon stared at her. “...I was not aware that I was weird,” she said, blinking a few times. “Nor do I understand why you are referring to yourself as such.”
“Oh, no, Persimmon, she simply means that… you two have certain personality traits that might not be easily understood by some people,” Palice explained. “Not that there’s an issue with that, of course. If anything, it means you two have quite a bit in common.”
Persimmon contemplated this for a brief instant. “That is an accurate determination,” she finally decided. “Since we are both odd by conventional standards, we would be comrades in a sort of way.”
“Yes, yes, exactly. We have to stick together!”
“Is that why you chose to come here for your experiment instead of talking to Nexus and Tim?”
“Pretty much! That, and I’ve been wanting to collaborate with you for the longest time! But you keep denying my offers to for some reason…”
“I find your disregard for basic ethical principles to be deeply concerning,” Persimmon said simply, “Along with your penchant for dangerous projects. I am surprised you haven’t killed anyone yet.”
Elmira scoffed. “Psh. Ethics, schmethics! Those are just a bunch of suggestions that hold up real progress.”
“In that case, does that mean the experiment you are conducting now is not ethical?”
“I – I, uh…” Elmira stuttered, and Guimann turned his head toward her in an attempt to get her to reply. “It – technically isn’t, b-but–”
“Then I suggest you leave. I do not want to contribute to any unethical acts.”
“But Persimmon,” Elmira whined. “You said–” She stopped, seeing Persimmon retrieve a scalpel from a drawer and start holding it with a vague menacing intent. “I - I mean - uh – Quick, Guy! Run!”
She then fled from the room, and Guimann calmly followed after her (he knew Persimmon hadn’t gotten peeved enough to actually start chasing her (but she probably would have, if Elmira hadn’t left when she did)). But not before he overheard a brief exchange between Palice and Persimmon: “Do you… often threaten people with scalpels at work?”
“Yes.”
“...Why?”
“Because it works. I cannot have any interruptions to efficiency, and the scalpel makes people who are disturbing my work cease. And on the occasions when it doesn’t, I walk toward them with the scalpel at a speed that is faster than my usual pace. This typically leads to whoever I want to leave exiting of their own accord.”
“I… see…”
---
Guimann smiled contentedly to himself as he walked Noltion’s grounds with Elmira. The air was fresh and crisp, and the sunlight bathed everything in a nice golden color. “I think this was a nice thing to pick for phase three,” he said. “It’s relaxing.”
Elmira gaped at him. “You think so?”
“I do. I rather enjoy walks like this.” He let out a hum as they walked along. “Do you?”
“I… I… I do!” She said – but Guimann could only sigh. “Wh-What? What’s wrong?”
“...You’ve never been particularly good at lying,” he said. “You and Persimmon have that innocently.”
“Huh?! B-But how could you tell – I mean! Uh – I’m – I’m not lying.”
“Elmira, you don’t have to double-down just because I like it. We can like different things. It’s alright. I’ll still like you regardless.”
“I… um…” Elmira went quiet at that. She unhooked her arm from Guimann’s, and started taking more notes. Guimann sighed again, and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. He lit the cancer stick before putting the lighter back in his pocket. He held it between his fingers, listening as Elmira scribbled away at her clipboard, watching as ashes flickered from the butt of the cigarette to the ground. A sharp “Ooh!” came from Elmira once she finished writing. “Guimann! Are you… smoking a cigarette?”
Guimann shook his head, chuckling a bit. “No, no. I just like holding them. I might put them in my mouth for a few seconds on occasion, but… I could never actually smoke one.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I tried it once, when I was younger. I ended up coughing for five minutes straight, and then I couldn’t talk for half an hour because my cleaning systems foamed up my mouth in an effort to get the residue out.”
“Oh…” Elmira watched as he continued to tap ashes onto the ground. “So... you just... Like having something in your hands?”
“That’s right.”
“Well in that case…” Elmira smacked the cigarette out of his hand, and started stomping on it. He made no move to stop her, knowing that he still had half of a pack in his pocket. That, and the amount of vigor she was doing everything with left him absolutely gobsmacked. “You can just hold me instead!” She said, once she was done.
Guimann blinked at her, feeling himself flush. “You… I can?”
“Uh-huh,” Elmira confirmed, starting to turn pink again. “Y-You can! Ab-Absolutely! And… I’m not… entirely saying this for scientific purposes. In other words, you – you can do it… whenever you just… want to hold something. Not just… because of the experiment…”
Guimann nodded gratefully, and carefully pulled Elmira close. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hearing her squeak as her back ended up on his chest. He rested his chin on her head, once he could tell that she wasn’t uncomfortable. “This is much better,” he mused, hearing her squeak a second time. “Gracias, Elmira.”
“Y-Y-You d-don’t mean that!” She accused.
“Of course I do,” Guimann insisted. “Why would I say it if I didn’t?”
“I – I…” Elmira swallowed hard. “This… would’ve made for a much better third activity.”
“I don’t see why it can’t be.”
“I – I mean… Okay. I know I said I’d debrief you afterward, but… I guess I can… tell you a little bit…” She took a deep breath, and Guimann listened carefully. “I’ve been… following this checklist. Of recommendations for what we should do for the experiment. And I’ve been trying to do everything perfectly. But – But just walking around like this is soooo booooorrrring! But I know you like it, and that’s what’s most important for the experiment’s success…”
“...I disagree,” Guimann whispered. “I would be much happier if I knew you were having a great time. And besides, it’s your experiment. We should be doing what you want.”
“But… But that’s…”
“What do you want to do?”
Elmira was quiet for a moment. “We… can really do anything I want?”
“Por supuesto.”
“...Well… If that’s true… then…”
---
“Steady… steady…”
Guimann carefully put the last brick of beryllium into the heated container on the table. When Elmira had asked what his favorite element was, he did not expect this to be the result of answering with the fourth item on the periodic table. “What exactly are we doing, Elmira?”
Elmira let out a laugh. Neither of them were really dressed in lab attire (save for the lab coat she had put on half-heartedly before they started), with her having assured him that it wasn’t necessary for what they were doing (even if Guimann had a good feeling that the real reason was that changing clothes might "interfere" with the main experiment…) “You didn’t know? We’re going to be making beryllium oxide!”
Guimann’s eyes lit up, and he turned toward her. “Are you planning to do something with formaldehyde?"
“Yes! You figured it out,” Elmira sang, pleased. She then came over and put the lid on the container, and turned it up by a few… hundred degrees. “Soooo! Now all that’s left is to wait for this to heat up enough to start turning everything in the container into a gas, and we should have all the beryllium oxide we need!”
“It seems like you’ve done this before.”
“Ah, no – I haven’t. I’m kinda making some of this up on the spot. Like, I’m pretty sure beryllium hydroxide isn’t just a bunch of beryllium sitting in water. But you know, messing around like this is what makes science so much fun!” She then looked off into the distance, something she usually did when accessing her internal clock. “Okay, I’ve set a timer for… one hour! Soon, we might have beryllium oxide and a great snack if it ends up solid!”
Guimann cocked an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean ‘a great snack’?”
“It’s edible, silly! Well – okay, fine, it’s really not, but some humans say it tastes sweet! So!”
Guimann laughed, throwing his head back a bit. “You really do enjoy your work, don’t you?”
“I do, I do!” Elmira looked away, her face warming. “But – I like it even more… when you help me… like you did today…”
“I like it, too.”
Elmira blushed harder, her face now the previous shade of bubblegum-pink it was outside. “Since – Since we still… have a lot of time. I was thinking… we could move on to the last stage of the experiment.”
“Alright. What is it?”
Elmira clasped her hands together excitedly. “We’re going to… drumroll please!” Guimann smacked his hands on a nearby table a few times, wanting to humor her. “Jump off the roof!” Guimann gaped, horrified. “Now, I know that sounds bad. But I can assure you that it will be perfectly safe–”
“Elmira, I’ve had a wonderful time with you today. I really have. But jumping off the roof is where I draw the line. Why would we need to do something like that?”
“Because – erm… You see–”
“Emmy.” Guimann rested his hands on Elmira’s shoulders, grabbing them firmly (but not enough to hurt. He would never hurt her). “I know you want to keep me from knowing certain things so that you can get the results you want. I understand that. But this is different. You are asking me to risk life and limb. You are also putting yourself at risk. And I need to know why. Keeping me in the dark at this point isn’t fair.”
“But – But–!” Elmira’s body tensed, but Guimann stayed right where he was. And once she realized that the silent treatment wasn’t working, she relented. She took a few last-minute notes on her clipboard, and then handed it to him. “H-Here…” She looked down at the floor, shamefaced.
“...Thank you,” Guimann said quietly. He looked down at it, only to immediately find himself stunned. He flipped through the pages, growing more and more shocked. “Elmira… this is..!”
“Wait! It’s not what it looks like!” Elmira held her hands up, as if surrendering. “I stole that teen magazine guide on dating from Luke! I did not buy it myself!”
“...Elmira?”
“Yes?”
“I figured as much.”
“Oh…” Elmira covered her face, unable to handle any more embarrassment. “Ughhh… I wanna crawl in a hole and diiiiieeeee… This is the wooooorst…”
“It’s… It’s fine, really,” Guimann promised. “If it’s any consolation… I realized that you saw this as a date when we were eating.”
Elmira peeked at him through her fingers. “You did?”
Guimann gave her a half-smile. “Rose petals aren’t exactly subtle… though, I take it you got that from the guide?” Elmira groaned and went back to hiding. “Oh, don’t be like that.” He rested a hand on her face again. “I didn’t mind at all. In fact, I enjoyed myself the entire time.”
Elmira gazed up at him, seeming almost hopeful. “For real?”
“Yes! But… If you wanted to go on a date with me, all you had to do was say so,” he professed coyly.
But Elmira shook her head vehemently. “No I couldn’t have! I had to make you like me first!”
“Elmira.” Guimann cradled her face with both of his hands. “I already liked you. And I still do.”
“No! No you didn’t! I know you didn’t! Since — Since I’m just some weirdo who stays in her lab all the time and doesn’t talk to people…” Guimann immediately went to disagree, but Elmira quieted him. “So – So the fact that you do like me just proves that my experiment was a success!”
“And what, exactly, was the experiment?”
“To make you think you were in love with me because – because of all the exciting stuff we did today! That’s – That’s why we were going to jump off the roof! So you would – so your heartbeat would get really fast, and you’d get all flushed, and…. and think that you liked me. Then we could… go on real dates. But you didn’t want to jump off the roof, and you already ended up thinking you liked me somehow… so…”
“Emmy. Come here.” He pulled her close again, this time making sure her head ended up right where his heart was. “Do you hear that? How fast my heart is beating?” Elmira nodded, hugging him back and pressing her as close to his chest as she could. “You did that. All on your own. Not because you ‘tricked’ me into liking you. But because of who you are. I adore everything about you. How much you love your work, how enthusiastic you get about learning something new, how direct you are. All of it.
“And it’s been this way for a while. And I would love being able to go on ‘real’ dates with you, like how you want to. Although… this made for a magnífica first date, if you ask me.”
“...Oh – Uhm – I-I…” Elmira took a deep breath, her voice shaking. “I like you a lot, too, Guimann. So – So I’m really happy that you also–” She sniffled, wiping her face. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t – I don’t know why…”
“It’s okay. Take your time.”
Elmira hiccupped, and buried her face into Guimann’s chest. They stayed like that for a while, letting her breathing even out. But when he tried to pull away, she tugged at him again. “Can we… stay like this? For a little longer? Please?”
“Of course.” He settled his arms around her again. “And we can do this whenever you would like, too.”
“That’s good. Because this is… really nice…” She let out a blissful sigh. “That, and I’m trying to put off telling the scavenging team that we don’t need those gym mats they broke into a high school and stole for us to land on for as looooong as I can.”
“Wait, what–”
“Shhh!” Elmira shushed Guimann, closing her eyes. “Don’t talk so loud. I’m trying to listen to your corazón.”
Spanish-to-English Translations:
Si = Yes
Niño = Boy
Hola = Hello
Señorita = Miss/Ms.
Bueno = Good
Lesiones = Injuries
Cómoda = Comfortable
Entiendes = Understand (informal second-person conjugation)
Idiota = Idiot
Qué estás haciendo = What are you doing (informal second-person conjugation)
Claro = right
Señor = Mister/Mr.
Por supuesto = Of course
Corazón = Heart
~~~
And thus concludes this round of responses! I hoped that you all enjoyed them! They were a lot of fun to write, and I look forward to the next (and last!) set! But I really end this, here are some notes:
Idalia's response to that memory of Orlando might be confusing, as she did express some animosity towards him for how he treated her, Edelweiss, and others in Dissent in Day 17's response. But it's important to remember that she also views her time in Dissent as a "mixed bag" - there were good times, and there were bad. Sometimes she hates Orlando for everything, and other times she misses him. For her, that memory was one of the good things about Dissent. Even if what actually happened was objectively wrong.
I was informed by a friend that Day 22's response seemed inspired by Tangled, and I agreed - but at the same time, it also wasn't intentional. I named that one dude Ryder because I thought it sounded cool (and because his previous name was shared by a character who shows up in Second Strike, and I enjoy following the One-Steve Limit). Handmade posters were the only way the joke could work. I'm 90% sure that Newbert having a similar line to Eugene when he looks at his wanted poster is a coincidence. I am not sure how this happened, but I am owning it regardless-
This is once again an endorsement for you all to read Bruggle's work. It's really good, and her AU's premise is quite interesting! Brook does things that are a lot crazier than what I wrote here! And Omega (yes, the one from MMZ) shows up more, too!
What if I told you that Idalia actually has a really good reason for disliking Bridgette? What if I told you that Bridgette might not be as sweet as she seems? What if I told you that diplomat comment had more weight than one might think? What then?
I had to look up so. Many. Science facts for Day 25. That comment about beryllium oxide tasting sweet? It's true. But for goodness sake, please don't eat it.
I do have OCs who are older than Guimann - but I chose him for Day 25 for reasons similar to why I picked to write about Edelweiss on Day 17. He has a lot going on, and I've had the premise I thought up for Day 25 for a while (he's in his mid-to-late thirties - meaning that he's about a decade older than most of the people he talks to).
You might have noticed that Finn is less flirtatious in these responses than he was said to be in Day 18 - that's because by the time Days 21 and 25 take place, he has a girlfriend (Mai)! Finn may be a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them.
Once again, please let me know if there are any formatting issues (or missed translations)! I didn't have many issues this time around, but who knows...
That's it for now! Have a wonderful day or night, and may God bless you!
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Hello, everyone! And welcome back to another episode of "Opal Keeps Trying to Finish OC-tober Despite the Fact That October Has Been Over for a Hot Minute". Today I bring you all the responses for days 16-20. Hopefully I can get the next installment out a bit faster (some of these prompts were a bit more challenging for me to answer! I'd have an idea for a scene, but then the work needed to get to said scene would be... a lot...)! And as always, all of the prompts are from @/stormyth-art's 2024/2025 OC-tober prompt lists!
There are two things I'd like to clarify before we get started: the first is that the response for Day 19 is a sequel to Day 3's, with both of them following the same characters and taking place in the same AU! And the second is an explanation of the term "Beta" (of which I should've given earlier, but I remembered to do it now!): those are what the carbons from Mega Man Legends are called in the Japanese version of the games (note: Convergence takes place shortly after the MML games)! I couldn't really use the term "human" because... well. They aren't quite human (similar, yes. But the same thing? Nope). And the term "carbon" is established in MML1 to be a word used by the Elysians, rather than those who actually live on Terra. Therefore, I decided to do something akin to how some writers treat Bass' name as being able to coexist with his original Japanese name (Forte), and use "Beta/Betas" for the term carbons go by.
With all of that said, let's see what we've got here:
~~~
Day 16: Rivals*
“You call this a fan fold?!”
Palice sucked in a breath at Demiastle’s complaints. He knew his fellow service reploid had a tendency to be… somewhat of a perfectionist, when it came to certain things. But to try and start an argument over something so trivial when they had only mere hours before guests were supposed to arrive for the dinner party… “Yes, I do.”
Demiastle huffed, taking the rest of the unfolded napkins from Palice. “Unbelievable. You didn’t even bother with the napkin rings…” He opened a drawer, revealing various sets of napkin rings of various sizes and materials. He took out a set of medium silver ones, and carefully folded up the napkin before setting the ring on as the last step.
Palice watched all the while, taking note of everything. Although he was sure the way he folded the first half of the napkins wasn’t wrong, this new way seemed rather sophisticated as well. “That is rather nice,” he admitted.
“Yes, it is. Now then – tell me why you did this.” Demiastle jabbed a finger at the rest of the folded napkins as if accusing them of some sort of crime.
“I fail to see what the issue is – the standing fan is a perfectly reasonable fold.”
Demiastle scoffed. “For a child, maybe…”
Palice sighed. Although he tended to grin and bear Demiastle’s insults, for him to insist on trying to pick a fight with him over how he folded napkins seemed like a bit… much, even for him. “Are you feeling alright?”
Demiastle stared at Palice blankly. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be? Your inability to properly fold a napkin doesn’t have any bearing on my life.”
“Well, it’s just… you seem to be rather… vexed today.”
“‘Vexed’? What do you mean by ‘vexed’? I’ll have you know that I am completely fine.”
“Demiastle. I know you don’t like me to begin with, but… you just tried to bicker with me. Over napkins.”
“So?! It’s not my fault you’re such an ignoramus when it comes to proper hosting techniques.”
Palice went to try and defend himself, but – come to think of it… Wasn’t Demiastle’s behavior usually like this whenever they had to help Ms. Blaque and Ms. Whytte host a large event? And he would become especially hostile once the guests had arrived, saving all his niceties for dealing with the humans. He would only mellow out once everyone had gone home and it was time to clean everything…
Palice gasped, suddenly understanding. “Oh, Demiastle!” He placed a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
Demiastle furrowed his brow. “I did, you prat.”
“No, no, not about your poor opinion of my napkin folding abilities – I mean about your introversion!”
Demiastle blinked, somewhat confused. “...I beg your pardon?”
“Ah – you know, about how you become… stressed when we have to prepare for a large number of strangers coming over? And how you seem relieved once everyone leaves? My goodness, I can’t believe I didn’t come to this realization sooner. But I do think that if you were to explain to Ms. Whytte, she would–”
“My social proclivities have zero effect on my performance,” Demiastle snapped, glaring daggers at Palice. “And for you to insinuate otherwise is disgustingly discourteous, even coming from someone as impudent as you, Palice.”
“What?! No, I wasn’t trying to say anything like that! It’s just – if you’re uncomfortable–”
“I am fine, and I would appreciate it if you would drop this line of questioning.”
“I’m not trying to–” Palice cut himself off, unsure of what to do now. He really would like to help Demiastle feel better, but if he was just going to keep pretending that nothing was perturbing him, then…
…Perhaps a form of distraction was in order.
Demiastle had been harping on about those napkins an awful lot. And if there was anything that put him into a good mood, it was some healthy competition. So maybe… “Okay. I won’t talk about that anymore – in fact, I now find myself interested in resolving our little quibble about the napkins. And I do believe I know the best way to do so.”
Demiastle narrowed his eyes at him, but Palice could tell he was intrigued. “...Go on and say it, then.”
“I propose… a little game, so to speak. You fold the other half of the napkins, and I leave the ones I did as-is. And we can spend the evening paying careful attention to what the guests have to say about them. Whoever’s fold receives the most compliments will be the one deemed superior.”
“Hm…” Demiastle pondered this for a moment, seeming more and more keen on the idea as time passed. “I suppose that would be a sufficient means for settling things,” he agreed at last.
“Oh, brilliant!” Palice exhaled, relieved. Surely this would help elevate Demiastle’s mood. “I look forward to our match. May the best reploid win.”
“Indeed…” Demiastle let out another huff. “Now get your hand off me.”
“What?”
“Your hand. It has been on my shoulder this whole time.”
“I – Oh! Yes, you’re right–” Palice quickly pulled his hand away. “My apologies.”
---
Just as Palice suspected, Demiastle’s mood changed once the contest between them began – he seemed genuinely delighted when he spoke to guests, and he even dropped the tirade of insults directed at him. They were promptly replaced with an air of smugness, and a surprisingly mischievous grin whenever he took a moment to check in with Palice regarding the results at any given moment. “I’ve already heard five positive statements regarding the quality of my folds. How about you, Palice?”
“Oh – Only four, so far!” That prompted a pleased Hm! From Demiastle. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, now,” Palice responded. “I may be down, but I am most certainly not out.”
Demiastle met that with something of a smirk. “We’ll see.”
But, interestingly, when the party winded to a close and the guests left, the two of them came to a fascinating realization: “We… tied?”
Palice nodded in confirmation. “It seems like it. We both concluded the night with six compliments each…” He paused before continuing, daring to run the risk of invoking Demiastle’s ire. “Which would mean that… both of our ways of folding napkins are equally first-rate.”
Demiastle let out a sigh, but it seemed to be out of defeat rather than annoyance. “I… suppose…”
Palice waited to see if Demiastle would say anything else, but the older reploid seemed to leave it at that. “...Well,” he began eventually, “I believe we should start cleaning now…” Demiastle muttered something in response to that. “My apologies, but could you repeat yourself? I don’t think I heard you.”
Demiastle cleared his throat, and straightened his back somewhat. “I said… I bet you can’t wash more dishes than I can.”
Palice smiled at him. “Why, Demiastle – are you proposing that we have a second contest?”
“Yes,” Demiastle replied firmly, looking as if he truly enjoyed the idea. “I am.”
“Well then,” Palice said, holding his hand out. “In that case, may the best reploid win – again.”
Demiastle took it and shook it with conviction. “Indeed.”
~~~
Day 17: Youngest Age OC (2024 Prompt)*
(Note: this response contains discussions of heavily implied past child abuse. Reader discretion is advised.)
“Wee-Ooh-Wee-Ooh!” Detroit did his best impression of a police siren, trying to copy the sound of one based on how London had described them. Detroit had never actually heard one for himself – the police were only in Neo Arcadia. But that was okay! No police meant that everybody in Dissent got to do whatever they wanted. And that was a good thing, because that meant he couldn’t get arrested for staying up past 8:30 at night (was that illegal? He wasn’t sure. But he figured that being up past his bedtime was some kind of crime, since London always seemed disappointed whenever he did that). “Pull over right now!”
Leiria promptly stopped moving the car she had been pushing along with her hand. Detroit responded by pulling out a small, hard figurine painted to be dressed in police garb. “Step out of the vehicle!”
Leiria pulled out a figurine of her own, one with a red shirt and jeans. She set it down to be standing outside of the car she had been using before writing something on a notebook she had nearby. What’s the charge, officer?
“You’re under arrest for, uhm…” Detroit furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. The trouble with their not being any police officers outside of Arcadia was that it made games like this much harder… “Driving under the influence,” he finally decided. That was something London had said about a guy who was driving around outside, once. “You were swerving around everywhere!”
Leiria snickered as she wrote something else. No way! I was going in a perfectly straight line.
“Tell that to the judge, perp.” Detroit moved the cop toy he was playing with to make an arrest, when–
Wait, wait. You have to give my guy a breathalyzer test, first.
“Huh?” Detroit blinked at her. “What’s that mean?”
It means he has to blow into a tube that tells the police officer how drunk he is. If the score he gets is above a certain number, then he’ll know if he was really driving under the influence.
“Ohhh, okay…” Detroit ran over to his little container full of small toys and figurines London and sometimes some of the other adults found for him. He came back over with it, and carefully rummaged through it until he found a tiny pretend smoking pipe that went to another toy. “Would this work?”
Sure!
“Okay!” He giggled in excitement as he brought the small object over and got back into character. “Let’s see who’s really in the right about this whole thing, buster!”
Leiria took the pipe from it and held it up to her figurine’s mouth, and made a little hoo sound to make it seem like he was blowing into it. Detroit smiled at her. Leiria was one of his best friends. She always did her best to play with him, even though she was older. Most of the other people in Dissent didn’t really bother…
Here you go, officer. She handed the pipe back to him.“
Thank you! Now let’s see… hm… Woah! The number you have is – uh – a gazillion.”“Pfft–” Leiria put a hand over her mouth, but Detroit could tell that she was laughing underneath it.
A gazillion?
“Heehee! Yeah!”
That’s not a real number, silly!
Detroit stared at her, dumbfounded. “It’s not?”
No!
“Ohhh…”
Leiria laughed some more before writing something else down. But ‘nonillion” is a real number, though.
“Really?”
Yes!
“Okay! Then the number’s a nonillion.”
Wow, Leiria wrote, snickering. I must be really drunk, then.
“Yeah! So now you’re going to jail.” Detroit pushed Leiria’s toy over toward the police car with his own doll, taking the time to pick it back up when it fell over. But once it reached its destination… that was it. He… wasn’t really sure what else happened after a police officer arrested somebody, and he was never sure who to ask. Orlando always had the chance of being in a bad mood… and that–
…London didn’t like talking about that kind of stuff. Paris would just dodge the question. And Cincinnati was fun to talk to, but wasn’t very good about serious things.
But Leiria was!
“Hey, Leiria? What happens when a person gets arrested?”
It depends, she answered. They get questioned and put into a cell and given a lawyer if they’re a human. But if they’re a reploid, they just skip to the cell and leave them there before they meet the Judges.
“Like… the courtroom people?”
No. The Eight Gentle Judges.
“Do they call them that because they’re nice?”
I guess. But they can’t be that great. They and X always send the reploids to be executed, even if they’re innocent.
Detroit’s eyes widened at that. “Like – Like what we do, sometimes..?”
No. We only hurt bad people. The Arcadians do that to any reploid they don’t like.
“...Oh.” Detroit looked away, and absentmindedly pushed the cop car back and forth. “...I don’t wanna play ‘Cops’ anymore.”
You don’t?
“No.” He huffed, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t imagine going to Neo Arcadia. Dissent was much better – they didn’t kill anybody just because somebody didn’t like them.
…Right?
What game do you want to play instead? Leiria asked, looking at him worriedly.
“You can pick,” Detroit answered quietly, hugging his knees. His head hurt.
Leiria stared at her notebook for a good minute before writing something else, looking sure while she did so. Let’s play “Divorce”.
Detroit gasped, immediately feeling better. “That’s my favorite! I love that game!”
Leiria smiled at him, seeming relieved. Although he really wasn’t sure why. Me too!
Detroit started going through the bin. “Should we pick up where we left off? Or start a new family?”
The last game ended with the ex-husband getting killed by his mistress, remember?
“Oh, yeah. I’ll get different toys, then.”
Let’s give them kids this time.
“Great idea! That always makes it more fun.”
---
“I can’t believe this! I thought you loved me!”
I did love you. But I love Jenna now.
Detroit –
No, crap. He kept forgetting that wasn’t his name anymore.
Edelweiss. Edelweiss picked up his doll and did his best to make it sound like she was crying. (But he was careful not to be too good. He didn’t want London – er, Atticus to come in all worried about him…) “You’re horrible! How could you say that to me?! And what about the kids?
Leiria – no. Idalia raised an eyebrow at him before writing. What about them?
“You still have to take care of them! You don’t get to stop being their father just because you have a new, younger, prettier wife–” Edelweiss cut himself off with loud, fake sobs. “A-Aren’t you gonna support them?! You haven’t made any child support payments for the past two months!”
So? You have a job. You take care of it.
“I’ve been trying! But you know I don’t make enough! The least you could do is try and help out! The court said–”
Forget what the court said! I’m not paying child support!
“You’re gonna give me my money, jerkface!”
The game then digressed into Edelweiss and Idalia roughly knocking their dolls into each other, but still being careful enough to keep them from breaking. Ow! My face! I can’t believe you actually hit me!
“Yeah! And I’ll hit you again if you don’t pay up!”You’re insane!
“I’ll show you insane!” Edelweiss put his figurine down and walked over to his bed to get his container of toys from underneath it – but it took him a second to do so, having forgotten that this container was… different. It didn’t have the same toys as the bin he had back in 21XX, and it was a little bigger. And most of the things in it were either bought for him by Lon– Atticus, or were handmade rather than scavenged from random areas. But there were a few exceptions…
Like the plastic knife he’d taken from the kitchen.
He came back over to Idalia with it, and did his best to make it look like his doll was holding it. Idalia let out a gasp. You crazy woman! And you have the audacity to wonder why I left you!
“Oh yeah? Well, I, uhm...” Edelweiss paused for a moment. “What does ‘audacity’ mean?”
It’s like… boldness. Or bravery, if bravery could be disrespectful.
“Oh, okay.” A little smile came to his face. “I like when you tell me new words and other stuff. It’s fun.” Edelweiss wondered if one of his new friends from school, Wren, knew that word. She was always using complicated sayings that her dad had taught her.
Idalia smiled back. No problem, Det She stopped writing mid-sentence, the smile on her face falling as her nose wrinkled in frustration. She let out a short sigh and erased the “Det” she had put down.
“It’s okay,” Edelweiss assured. “I have trouble with the new names and stuff, too.”
Idalia paused for a moment. You do?
“Yeah. Especially since I don’t really get why we had to change our names and stuff in the first place. I mean, I know that it’s good that we did because Dissent was… bad, and that we don’t have to do any of the stuff we did there anymore. But I also think it was — it was good, too? I don’t know… Does that sound weird?”
No, Idalia assured. It doesn’t. I feel the same way.
“Really?”
Yes. All the time. In fact — Idalia hesitated before writing down anything else, pressing her pencil against the paper in uncertainty. Sometimes I wish Orlando was still here, so that he could tell me what to do and I wouldn’t have to worry about doing the wrong thing anymore. Other times, I’m glad we don’t know where he is. …No offense.
“It’s okay! I get like that sometimes too. And other times I wish I could kick him and tell him that he was really bad at being a big brother. But then — then I feel bad. And there are times where I… I get scared. Because we don’t know where he is.”
Idalia nodded earnestly (that was a fun new word Edelweiss learned from Wren a few days ago). That’s alright. He’s not able to hurt us anymore. Now, we’re the ones in charge.
Edelweiss snickered. “Yeah, right! I can’t even pick my own bedtime.”
That’s not what I mean, Idalia explained. What I meant was that we don’t have to do anything he says. He has no power anymore.
“…I don’t get it,” Edelweiss muttered after a beat. “He’s still… Orlando. Or he would be, I think. He’s still bigger than us and stronger than us.”
Maybe, his friend admitted. But we have a lot of friends now. And there are other people who can help protect us. Like the police.
“Even though we’re reploids?”
Yes. They don’t care about that here. Or at least, not the way the Arcadians did. They won’t ignore us if we ask them for help, and their judges aren’t allowed to kill people whenever they feel like it.
“Okay.” Edelweiss sighed, looking down at the toys. “Why is talking about adult stuff so hard?”
Because you’re a kid. And kids aren’t supposed to be good at that.
“So I’ll get good at it when I’m older?”
Yeah. But that’s just how I think it works. I’m really not supposed to be good at that kind of thing, either. Because I’m a kid, too. Or at least, that’s what Demiastle says. Idalia scoffed under her breath after she wrote her guardian’s name, putting as much of the animosity she had toward him into the page.
“Do you not like him?” Edelweiss asked, curious. Idalia hardly ever got angry like this.
I hate him. He’s the worst. I hope he dies.
“No way! You don’t mean that.” Idalia raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, not the second part, anyway…”
…That’s true, she relented. If he died, Woya would be sad. And we can’t have that.
“You’d be sad, too!”
No I wouldn’t.
“Yes you would! You’d cry and I’d give you hugs to make you feel better.”
Yeah, Idalia wrote with a smile. You would — if I got sad over him. They were quiet for a while after that, neither of them having anything else to say — not even about the game they had been playing. But after a few minutes, Idalia came up with something. I thought of a new game we could try out.
Edelweiss sat up at that, having laid on the floor out of boredom during the silence. “What is it?”
It’s called “APA Board of Ethics”.
“Cool! What’s it about?”
~~~
Day 18: DND Version*
“Newbert, roll for initiative.”
Newbert nodded and took the die they had been playing this game with into one of his hands. What was it called again? “Dinner & Dragons”, or something like that? He wasn’t really sure – all he knew was that Nexus and some of their friends had needed another player for it, and he had been the one who was asked to join them. Although, he didn’t really know why – he didn’t really have much experience with board games, especially not one as complicated as this.
But that wasn’t going to stop him from helping everybody! So he agreed to show up, thinking that maybe he could just… fake his way through it. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time he’d done something like that, and it was definitely preferable to admitting that there was yet another thing he didn’t know about, another thing he was ignorant to that everybody else knew about and understood. And lucky for him, even though he had been winging it so far, everything seemed to be okay…
Newbert released the die after rolling it around for a good few seconds, watching as it hit the table – only for everyone to groan when he landed on a four. He went to ask if that was bad, but – no. He got the message based on everyone’s reactions.
Elmira, who was the group’s “DM” (whatever that meant – Newbert didn’t get that either. They weren’t sending messages to her while playing the game, or anything…), let out a sigh. “Well, since Newbert’s roll was abysmal, I guess there’s only one thing to do…” She cleared her throat and began what Newbert understood as her “narrator voice” as she began to add on to the game’s story (now as a fellow storyteller, that was something he could understand). “Stephan attempts to slash the skeleton, but ends up slipping and falling on his back. The skeleton then takes his sword and puts it into one of Stephan’s legs, leaving him impaled on the floor.” A few sympathetic hisses of pain and a few phrases of “Ooh!” and “Tough luck, ami,” went around the room while Newbert blinked in confusion. Elmira raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, Newbert? That means you.”
“Wha’ – oh! Righ’...” He stifled a huff. He didn’t really get the point of all the fake names and whatnot. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just have all the characters named after themselves? It would make it easier to keep up that way… “Um… ouch?”
“...Yeah. Ouch.” Elmira rolled her eyes (looks like Newbert had messed up despite his plans not to…) and turned to Finn. “Anyway, it’s your turn, Finn.”
Finn smirked, pushing his hair back. “I seduce the skeleton.”
Nexus (along with everybody else, including Newbert (while he did like the lad well enough, Finn’s antics could be a bit… much sometimes…)) let out a groan. “No. You are not doin’ that.”
“Oh come on, Nexus! It’s my turn! I can do what I want on my turn, can’t I?”
“I guess, but don’t you get sick of trying to flirt with anything that even looks like it might have a pulse? I mean, you’d think you could at least give it a rest for the game, but no. You can’t, apparently. Now look at you. You’re going after skeletons. They ain’t even got no skin. You want your character to have a skinless side chick, Finn?”
Despite Nexus’ comments, Finn was insistent. “Look, flirting with the enemies is a viable strategy. My charisma is at, like, fifteen at this point. I got this in the bag.”
“But it’s annoying! We missed out on a perfectly good boss fight because you decided to make out with the witch instead of stabbing her.”
“Yeah, but it was worth it! We got all her loot and my guy Jacobi has a hot witch wife. Everybody got something out of it. It’s not my fault you wanna be so negative about the whole thing. Everyone else is cool with it.”
“...I wan’ed ta figh’ the witch,” Newbert muttered under his breath. While he understood literally nothing else about this game, he did understand that it was a story. And from what he could tell, the witch they had been going after had been casting spells on some townsfolk and turning them into frogs. As far as he knew, that witch needed to be dealt with. But instead, she’d married Finn – er, Jacobi. And was still turning people into frogs.
Even though he thought nobody heard him, Nexus pointed to him with a sharp “Aha!” sound. “See?! I’m not the only one! Newbert wanted to beat her up too!”
Finn raised an eyebrow at them. “Really? But Newbert’s terrible in combat. He would’ve been the one getting beaten up, if anything. Seriously, it’s – it’s kinda sad, if I’m telling the truth.”
Newbert crossed his arms. “T’at’s nae true! I may nae be able ta shoot a gun or make it t’rough a fistfigh’ the same way you lads and lasses c’n, bu’ I c’n ‘andle meself! And wha’ does ‘at ‘ave ta do wit’–” He paused, seeing the strange looks the others in the room were giving him.
Finn… was talking about the game, wasn’t he…
Newbert looked at the table, his face flushing. “I – I mean – erm – Stephan’s no’ bad in combat. He… totally could’ve… killed that witch…” He cleared his throat, embarrassment inching up his spine. “Um… I… I ‘ave ta go.” He got up and pushed his chair in, before ducking into the bathroom.
Only to sneak out of the window and never come back.
---
“An’ ‘at’s why I need yer ‘elp, mate.”
Palice thoughtfully took a sip of his tea, considering the tale of woe Newbert had just recounted to him. “I’m flattered that you’ve come to me for assistance,” He said once he finished. He set his teacup back on its saucer. “But I’m not too sure as to what I can do.”
“Well, we’ve go’ a few options! I mean… t’ere’s, er…” Newbert sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, okay. Maybe t’ere’s only one option.”
Palice nodded in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Newbert’s eyes widened, hopeful that what Palice had in mind was better than what he did. “Oh? What’s yer idea, Palice?”
“Perhaps you should go first – you are the one in the thick of things, after all.”
“But–! …Oh, alrigh’. Well, since push is really tryin’ ta shove… maybe… We could fake my deat’? No’ in general, o’ course, I can’t ‘ave Cerise and Katherine t’inking somet’in’s ‘appened ta me, an’ I’d still like ta talk ta you an’–” Newbert was cut off by Palice’s barely restrained chuckling, a hand over the blond reploid’s mouth. “Don’ laugh at me! T’is is serious!”
Palice couldn’t help it anymore after that, his hand falling from his lips and his laughter unrestrained. “Ahahaha! Oh – Oh, I’m sorry, Newbert, I’m not trying to – to m-mock your circumstances–” A little snicker escaped him despite his attempts to control himself. “But – But the issue really isn’t so dire! Perhaps you could take — take an easier approach?”
“Well, I can’t really t’ink o’ one, besides flakin’ on ‘em. Bu’ t’en – t’en t’ey’d all hate me, and I…” Newbert’s voice quieted as he continued. “...I don’ want t’at…”
Palice finally sobered at that, nodding solemnly as Newbert spoke. “If it is any consolation,” he began, “I don’t think that they would – although, I can’t imagine abandoning your obligation would be good for your relationships…”
“Exactly! So wha’ else am I ‘sposed ta do, mate?!”
“You could, as I was thinking – simply tell them that you’re having trouble understanding… What was it called again? ‘Dungeons and Delights’?”
“Ta be ‘onest wit’ ye lad, I ‘aven’t the foggiest idea. I just know t’ere’s some alliteration goin’ on.”
“Alright. Well, in any case… surely they would be much more sympathetic then?”
But Newbert shook his head. “I can’t do ‘at, lad!”
“And why not? Surely it would be easier than… well… trying to make five people and only five people think that you’ve died.”
Newbert moved his gaze to the floor, tapping his foot against it absentmindedly. His voice was low, hesitant to admit what he was thinking. It was bad enough that he was bothering Palice like this. To bother him even more would just be awful. But at the same time, Palice was the type who would want more of an explanation, now that Newbert had involved him in his nonsense. So he eventually gave an answer, albeit a quiet one. “I… I dun’ want t’em ta t’ink ‘m stupid, eit’er...”
Palice gave him a thoughtful look, trying to figure out a response. “Do you, perhaps, think that I’m stupid?” He tried. “After all, I’m ignorant as to the nature of the game as well.”
“Wha’ – no way, Palice! Yer one of the smar’est people I know! An’ – An’ it’s not a big deal if you don’ know ‘ow it works. Ye know so much abou’ e’eryt’in’ else ‘at if you forge’ somet’in’ or find somet’in’ ye don’ know abou’, nobody t’inks it’s a big deal. Bu’ I don’ know much abou’ anythin’...”
“Oh, that’s not true. I’d actually say that you're rather intelligent. You’re rather skilled at repairing things, and your mathematical prowess is simply unmatched. And you’re emotionally intelligent, as well. You’re always considering other people’s feelings, and doing your best to help everyone.”
“Mate, anybody could learn ‘ow ta fix somet’in’. An’ a calculator can do math jus’ as well as me, an’ faster. An’ t’ose las’ two are jus’... t’ings everybody should do.”
“But not everyone does.” Newbert shrugged, still tapping his foot. “...And in any case,” Palice continued, attempting a different approach, “It’s only a game. I’d say that anyone who thinks you’re lacking in intellect simply because you’re having trouble getting your head around a board game is the problem, not you.”
But Newbert only shrugged again. “...I guess…”
“Hm…” Palice leaned back in his chair, unsure of what else to say. He hadn’t any idea that Newbert was insecure about this kind of thing – or anything, really. The man’s charisma and overall natural charm tended to make it appear as if he hadn’t any worries in the world. Although… that was the dangerous thing about that, wasn’t it? How would anyone know if he needed help if he rarely asked for it, and did everything in his power to keep it from showing as well?
…The issue, it seemed, ran much deeper than the game he had been invited to play.
But how could Palice help him, then? His words didn’t seem to be getting through to him, and Newbert was proving to be surprisingly guarded (it reminded Palice somewhat of a fellow service reploid he knew…). And while they had known each other for a decent amount of time at this point, he didn’t know if Newbert trusted him enough to open up anymore than he already had.
So with that in mind, perhaps a… quick fix was the answer. Not one that Palice was particularly proud of having thought up, but… “From what I can tell,” he said, changing the subject, “The game involves playing as a character with a different name, yes? So why don’t you… get your character killed off? That way, you won’t be able to play anymore.”
Newbert let out a gasp, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, Palice! Yer a bloody genius! Mo mhaitheas, why didn’ I t’ink of t’at?!” He beamed at Palice before getting up and giving him a hug. “T’ank ye, lad. I don’ know what I would’a done wit’out ya.”
Palice returned the embrace, patting Newbert on the back while trying to stifle his guilt (this really wasn’t a good solution to the problem, but… what else could be done?). “Of course, Newbert. I’m glad–” He paused, rethinking his words. “…It was my pleasure to help you.”
---
The next meeting for the game came around, and this time, Newbert was ready.
He took his place at the table with confidence, grinning as the others sat down. “Good evenin’, lads an’ lasses,” he greeted. “‘Ow is e’eryone doin’ tonigh’?”
“...I t’ink we should be asking how you are, monsieur,” Tim muttered. “We were rather worried when you went missing last time.”
“We thought you got lost in the bathroom for a few hours,” Nexus teased. Newbert laughed a little, amused by the joke. “But seriously. Where’d you go, Newbert? We broke the door down when you didn’t answer after a while, only to find the window wide open and you nowhere to be found.”
“I wasn’... I wasn’ feelin’ too well, so I wen’ ‘ome. I jus’... didn’ tell the lot o’ ya because I didn’ wan’ ye ta worry abou’ me.” Newbert swallowed. He felt bad about lying, and telling a lie that wasn’t even that good didn’t help matters. But… he truly didn’t know how else to explain himself.
Luke, who had also been playing the game with them (Newbert had to admit, it was a wee bit odd to be around the lad when Katherine was nowhere in sight, but hanging out with his lass’ classmate wasn’t as awkward as he thought it would be), nodded to him. “I’m glad that you’re okay now,” he said. Words of agreement went around the table.
Newbert exhaled in relief, his lie having been accepted. “...T’ank ye.”
They then picked up where they picked off, with Finn flirting with one of the skeletons much to everyone else’s chagrin. The turn-of-play moved to Tim, who decided to deprive Jacobi of having a “side chick” (whatever that meant – although, what was wrong with having a baby chicken? Did the “side” part mean that it would live in his pocket? Newbert thought that would be nice. He missed all the chickens he raised when he was in the Resistance (especially Penelope…), and being able to have another would be a welcome change in his life. But maybe “Jacobi” didn’t know how to raise a chicken. Or perhaps everyone was freaking out because the side chick would be a skeleton? That would certainly take the fun out of things…) by slicing the skeleton in half with his sword.
The group pressed on, despite Finn’s protests, with Luke using magic to set all of the other skeletons on fire and Nexus forcing the door into the Skeleton King’s room open. But that then meant Newbert had the next move. “Alright, you’re up, Newbert,” Elmira said.
Newbert cleared his throat, ready to go. He knew what to do. “I rush a’ the Skeleton King, as quickly and aggressively as possible.”
Everyone gave him a wary look while Elmira cocked an eyebrow at him. “Alright… Roll for initiative.”
“Gladly.” Newbert took the die and haphazardly tossed it on the table, hoping that would somehow make it more likely for him to get a bad result. He ended up landing on a fifteen (fifteen! Before this game, he had thought dice only ever went up to six!), which got a gasp out of everyone. “Wha’? Did I do it?”
“Dude,” Luke started. “That is the best result you’ve gotten this whole time.” He looked up at Elmira with wide eyes. “Does that mean he succeeded?”
“Well, kind of. Unfortunately, Newbert would’ve had to roll an eighteen or higher for Stephan to survive that interaction…” A loud “Awww!” came from everyone else (except for Newbert, who put a hand over his mouth to hide his Cheshire-like grin). “But his sacrifice is not in vain. Stephan is able to throw a knife into the Skeleton King’s head, mortally wounding him before he’s struck by the King’s magic and killed. Tim, your move.”
“I take my crossbow and finish the King off,” Tim answered, forlorn.
“Roll for dexterity.” Tim did so, and got an eleven. “It is done. With a strike from his crossbow, the King is killed via the combined efforts of Stephan and Eric – but one of them isn’t here to see it. Finn, how does Jacobi feel about this?”
“I drop to my knees and sob next to his body,” Finn said, shockingly serious for someone of his nature.
Elmira sighed in an effort to match his tone. “Jacobi falls to his knees, taking Stephan’s lifeless hand, tears falling onto his body. Grief fills every part of his being at the sight of his deceased comrade. Joan then looks over, and she decides to…”
Luke hesitated for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. He drummed the tips of his fingers on the table, trying to think of his next move (come to think of it, Newbert had seen Nexus doing something similar earlier. Like mother like son, it seemed). “...I Cast totalis reditus on Stephan,” he said after a beat.
Elmira let out a gasp. “Luke, are you sure you want to do that?! You can only do that once per campaign, and if it fails–”
“I understand what I’m risking. But I’d say it’s worth it. And besides – I didn’t spend all that time last campaign killing slimes for my health. Let’s revive this guy!”
Newbert gaped. Did – Did that mean Luke was going to try and do what he thought he was going to do? “Luke – lad, ye don’ – ye don’ have to–”
Luke cut Newbert off by slamming his hand against the table. “No! I’m sure of this! I want to keep making memories of this campaign with you! And I’m positive that this is what Stephan would want, too!”
You’d be surprised, Newbert thought, stifling a groan.
“Well,” Elmira muttered hesitantly. “If you’re sure, then… roll for wisdom.”
Luke took the die in one decisive movement and rolled it around in his hand a few times, blowing on his hand twice for good luck before dropping it.
And it landed.
On.
A twenty.
The room erupted into cheers, with everybody other than Newbert running up to Luke and hugging him. “Hell yeah!” Luke shouted, managing to shoot a fist into the air in triumph between the others’ limbs. “Nat twenty, baby! Let’s gooo! That’s how the leader of the Junior Soldiers does it!”
While Newbert wasn’t entirely sure what a “nat twenty” was, based on everyone’s reactions, he could gather that meant Luke’s spell was most likely successful. Which, in turn, meant that his plan had failed.
That meant there was only one thing left to do. Well – one sensible thing, anyway.
By the time the cheers ended, everyone separated and happily turned over to where Newbert had been sitting. “Newbert! Get over here and thank Luke for–” Nexus stopped, seeing that the Irish reploid was mysteriously absent. “Hey… where’d he go?”
By the time the rest of the players realized Newbert had snuck out of the room and was nowhere in the building, he had already run all the way to the nearest bus stop.
And this time, he really didn’t come back.
French-to-English translation: Ami = Friend
~~~
Day 19: As a Human
So do you want to go with me?
Wren blinked at what Idalia had written down in her notebook – it was the first time an older girl other than Katherine had invited her to go somewhere. And it was to a high school event, too. All the kids in their orchestra class who were in 9th grade and above were throwing a party to celebrate them being done with the spring concert.
And Idalia wanted Wren to go with her.
“Sure! When is it?”
Today at four.
Wren paused. Today? And right after school? There would be no way she’d be able to get permission to go. “Oh – I don’t think anyone will be able to drive me…”
Idalia thought about this for a moment before coming up with a solution. I could take you, she offered. It’s only a short walk from my house, and my place isn’t too far from the school.
Wren nodded. Something like that would work out much better. “Okay! I’ll tell Mr. – Erm, my… my dad that I’m going to your place, then!”
Idalia gave her a little smile. Okay. I’ll wait for you at the front then.
Once Wren had finished up at her locker (she got invited to go somewhere! At her locker! Like a real teenager!), she ran off to Mr. Blaque’s classroom. A quick peek inside revealed that he wasn’t doing anything other than grading some papers on his desk. She then scampered inside, going right up to him. “Mr. Blaque!”
Mr. Blaque looked up from his papers with a smile. “Hello, Ms. Wren. How was school?”
“Good!”
She tried to take a peek at the papers, only for Mr. Blaque to cover them with his hands. “And what do you think you’re doing, hm?”
“I wanted to see how I did on the test this week.”
Mr. Blaque responded with a chuckle. “I don’t think so. You’ll find out on Monday, just like everyone else.”
“You won’t even tell me how I did when we get home?”
“Nope. I’m off for the weekend once I finish these. And even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be fair to let you know your grade ahead of time.”
“Oh, bother…”
Mr. Blaque laughed inwardly again as Wren pouted. “Don’t be upset with me. I would tell anyone else the same thing, you know.” He then gave Wren a look of consideration. “Although…. I get the sense that you didn’t come in here to inquire about your grades.”
Wren smiled as she remembered. “Oh! Yes, that’s right. May I go to Idalia’s house after school? She said we can walk there.”
Mr. Blaque thought for a moment. “Idalia… The name doesn’t ring a bell. What year is she in?”
“Ninth.”
“A high school student? And how do you know her?”
“She’s in my orchestra class. She plays the viola.”
“I see… And why would she invite a girl two years younger than her to go to her house..?”
“The same reason why Katherine does. We’re friends, and friends hang out at each other’s houses.”
“Alright… and what are her grades like?”
Wren let out a huff. “Mr. Blaque!”
But Mr. Blaque was adamant. “Don’t you start with me, young lady. I have to vet the people you associate with. Remember when I let you visit those twins? What were their names…”
“Ethos and Pathos.”
“Yes, them. That was a complete disaster.”
Wren looked away sheepishly. “It wasn’t that bad…”
“Wren, dear. You three ended up stuck on top of their garage for three hours. You weren’t able to get down until I came back to pick you up.”
“Well it’s not our fault that their older brother had trouble coming up with ideas on how to help us!”
“...I had to call the fire department, Wren.”
“Okay, well – It was one time! I’ve never gotten in trouble besides that!”
“That’s true…” Palice let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll let you go. But I’ll be picking you up at around seven, just to make sure you’re not out too late. And I don’t want you getting into any mischief. Do you understand me?”
Wren nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I do!”
---
The mischief started as soon as they got to Idalia’s house.
For starters, Wren wasn’t the only person Idalia would be bringing – she had agreed to babysit Edelweiss, a boy in sixth grade who was also in their orchestra class. His older brother Atticus had dropped him off, and the eleven-year-old curiously followed them up to Idalia’s room. “I didn’t know you were bringing Wren!” He gave her a shy smile. “Hi, Wren.”
Wren smiled back. While she hadn’t really talked to Edelweiss before, she had always thought he was nice. “Hello!”
“Are you going to play cars and stuff with us?”
We’re not playing any of our usual games today, Idalia interrupted to explain. Instead, we’re going to the end-of-year orchestra party.
“Woah, really?” But then Edelweiss paused. “But… But I thought middle schoolers weren’t allowed.”
Wren blinked. “We’re not?”
It’s different if someone invites you, Idalia assured. I asked Ronin, and he said so. And I heard some people are even bringing band kids along.
“Ohhh,” Wren and Edelweiss sounded in unison, understanding the situation better. Are there gonna be snacks there?” Edelweiss asked.
Yes. Lots of snacks. She stopped them at the door to her room. We have some time before the party starts, she said, So I’m going to change. Which means that you two have to wait out here.
The two middle-schoolers nodded, and began to stand around idly as they waited. But Wren soon recognized the opportunity to make a new friend, and decided to ask Edelweiss some questions. “So, Edelweiss… What’s your favorite color?”
“...Blue,” Edelweiss said, his voice small.
But Wren didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was just like that in front of new people. “Cool! I like blue, too.”
“You do?”
“Yeah! Especially dark blues. Like navy and stuff.”
“Oh! Those are cool! I like neons! And teal. Teal is the best.”
“Ooh, teal’s a good one…”
“Um…” Edelweiss twiddled his thumbs for a moment. “Did – Did you know that like – some college people accidentally found a new blue a while ago?”
Wren’s eyes went wide. “For real?! People just – just found a new color?!”
“Yeah! My brother told me about it. It’s called Yi – Yim – Yin – ugh, I can never say it right…”
“Could you spell it, maybe? Then I can help you.”
“Sure! It goes… Y-I-N-M-N and then blue.”
Wren blinked at him in disbelief. “...I’m going to be honest,” she said after a beat. “I’ve got nothing. I mean, why did they just put n, m, another n at the end like that..?”
“I dunno. Maybe college people give stuff complicated names on purpose.”
“...I hope I don’t do that when I go to college.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
At that, Idalia opened the door again. She was no longer in her school uniform, and was now donning a black pair of shorts and a light gray shirt. Okay. You guys can come in now.
Edelweiss had no problem walking in, having been in Idalia’s room plenty of times before. But Wren took a bit of time to look around. It was clean, but in a way that suggested she had put away a few things before letting them in (Wren would know — she had perfected the art of shoving things into her closet quickly herself). But she really didn’t mind. Although, Wren was put off by how her face seemed to be different now, too. Although, it wasn’t different in a bad way. The change was pretty! But still jarring, in some way. “What did you do to your face?”
I put some makeup on, Idalia answered. My mom bought it for me, and I decided to try it.
Wren pursed her lips, confused. “Why would she do that? You look pretty without it, too.”
Idalia blinked, shocked by the compliment. But Wren wasn’t sure why – it was true! Thank you, she wrote after a moment. She did it because she saw me looking at some when I went with her to the store a few months ago.
“Oh, I see…”
Do you want to try some?
“H-Huh?!” Wren looked around, as if there was someone else Idalia might be talking to. Edelweiss was there, sure, but he didn’t seem like the type to be interested in that kind of thing — in fact, he pulled out a toy car from his pocket, seemingly trying to decide whether he should keep listening to the conversation or start playing with it. So that just left her. “You – You mean me?” Idalia nodded once in confirmation. “O-Oh! Okay! Sure!”
Soon Wren found herself sitting in a chair, with Idalia taking a brush to put blush on her face. My skin is a little lighter than yours, she had explained, So I won’t put foundation on you. Otherwise your face will look pale.
Wren wanted to nod or say she understood that, but she didn’t want to run the risk of messing anything up – and she was extra careful when Idalia started putting eye shadow on her, as she didn’t want to get poked in the eye.
But eventually, Idalia finished up, and gave Wren a hand mirror to show her what she looked like. What do you think?
Wren let out a little gasp upon seeing her reflection. “I love it! Now I look just like you, Idalia!”
Idalia laughed at that, a surprising sound – normally, she was so quiet that she didn’t do so much as sniffle. Yeah. You do.
“Oh.” Edelweiss spoke next, having looked up from rolling his toy car on the ground. “You – Uhm.” He’d gone back to being shy, looking away from Wren as he stood up. “You look pretty.”
But just like before, Wren didn’t mind. “Thank you!”
Idalia pulled her phone from her pocket, only to quickly put it back. We should get going. I want us to be back before things get too busy.
“Yeah! And I wanna be able to have something to eat, too,” Edelweiss added. Wren nodded vigorously in agreement.
Alright. Let’s go, then.
---
When they arrived at the party, Wren had to do a double take. She expected parties that high schoolers went to to be more lively – for there to be cars parked around the block, and loud music to be coming from the scene. But instead, the neighborhood was quiet, and there were only five cars parked out front. “Are you sure we have the right place?”
Positive, Idalia wrote. This is where Ronin told me his house was.
“Why are we going to Ronin’s house?” Edelweiss asked. “I thought he was a band kid.”
He is. But his older sister’s in orchestra.
“Ohhh! Okay, I get it now.”
After walking up to the house, Idalia knocked on the door. They waited for a moment, only for there to be no answer. Idalia went to knock again, but the door finally opened. But instead of Ronin being behind it as expected, or maybe his sister, Katherine was the one who opened the door. “H-Hello — oh! H-Hi, Idalia! Did you… come here f-for the party, too..?”
Idalia nodded, her usually stoic expression brightening at the sight of Katherine. Sure did!
“C-Cool! And — Oh! Wren and Edelweiss are here, too! H-Hi!”
“Katherine!” Both of the kids yelled her name in unison, but Wren was the one who kept talking. “You’re here, too! But I thought you didn’t want to come?”
“I — I didn’t. B-But I talked to Newbert about it, and he… said I should try… so…” She cleared her throat, trying to shake off her anxiety. “B-But it’s been fun! It’s just been Ronin, Luke, me, Léame, and Floris. Ronin’s sister and all the older kids went into… the basement.”
Edelweiss let out a squeal, realizing that his favorite upperclassman was present as well. “Luke’s here?!”
“Sure am!” Luke called out from inside the house. “Can’t really come to the door, though. I’m getting my hair dyed.” The excitement just about rolled off of Luke’s voice.
“Cool! Can I see it when it’s done?”
“Heck yeah, you can! But — they can come in, right, Ronnie?”
“Sure.” Ronin spoke next. “You can go ahead and let them in, Kathy — dude! Hold still unless you want dye in your eyes.”
“Right, sorry…”
“Nah, it’s fine. I’m just a little on edge. I’ve never done this before, and I want to make sure it turns out right.”
“Oh, okay. I understa— What do you mean, ‘You’ve never done this before’?! That’s not what you told me earlier!”
“Uhh… It’s fine! It’s cool, just — don’t worry about it.”
Luke and Ronin continued to bicker back and forth while Katherine shuffled aside. Idalia nodded to her as they entered. Thank you, Katherine.
“Y-Yeah! No problem.” She shuffled around from foot-to-foot after closing the door, unsure of what to say next. “We… have some p-pretzels in the — the living room… i-if you want a-any..?”
“Yes please.” Edelweiss walked right into the living room, happily helping himself to them.
Wren put a hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “You’re doing a great job hosting,” she assured. “Even though this is Ronin’s house, and he should be the one doing it. I’m sorry that he ditched you to go dye Luke’s hair. …If that’s what happened. I don’t know. I just got here.”
How did you get stuck answering the door, anyway? Idalia asked.
Katherine let out a sigh. “We d-drew straws… and I got the shortest one…”
Wren and Idalia proceeded to follow Katherine into the living room, where they saw Léame and Floris waiting for Katherine to come back – only for them both to become surprised by the new guests. “Yoooo, Ida!” Léame ran up to Idalia and gave her a high-five. “Glad you could make it! And you brought my favorite middle-schoolers?” She ruffled Wren’s hair (did that mean she thought she was cool?!), grinning at her. “What’s up, birdie? You came to hang out with us?”
Floris, on the other hand, had a different reaction. Before Wren could answer Léame, she spoke up. “I thought middle schoolers weren’t allowed?”
It’s fine, Idalia promised. Ronin’s sister isn’t going to care. She’s in the basement. And even if she wasn’t, she told Ronin he could invite whoever he wanted. And he told me I could bring whoever I chose, too.
But Floris just shook her head. “That doesn’t mean you should’ve brought children, Idalia.”
“You’re a kid, too!” Edelweiss piped up, having swallowed his pretzel. “Just an older one!”
“Yeah! And it’s not like we’re babies,” Wren insisted. “I’m a whole half a score and two years! And Edelweiss is only a year younger than me–”
“So, you’re twelve and eleven?” Floris interrupted. “Everyone else here is in high school. You really shouldn’t be here–”
“Quit with the whining, Floris,” Léame said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like anything crazy’s going on.”
“Well – still. I don’t want them to be interacting with anyone that they shouldn’t–”
You say that like Ronin would invite a bunch of freaks over, Idalia scribbled. And if he would, what does that say about you?
“I – I wasn’t saying that! I just don’t think a girl shorter than Katherine and a boy who can’t keep his sticky fingers out of the pretzel bowl–”
“My hands aren’t sticky! I washed them before I came here!” Edelweiss screeched, thoroughly offended.
“I wasn’t trying to say – ugh! Katherine, help me out, won’t you? You know what I’m trying to say, right?”
Don’t involve her in this, Idalia scolded. Wren and Edelweiss are fine. I’m watching them, so you don’t have to worry about them. And if you have an issue, you can leave.
“But – I was just –” Floris stammered, trying to phrase her words properly.
Wren stepped forward, seeing an opportunity to really look cool in front of the high schoolers. “You know what? We’ll prove we’re mature enough to be here!”
“Maturity’s not the issue–”
“Shush! Let me finish!” Floris went quiet, as if stunned by Wren’s assertiveness. “Give us one high school thing to do. If we succeed, we can stay. But if not, then we’ll go home. Deal?”
“YEAH!” Edelweiss cheered, thrilled by the idea. “Let’s do that!”
Floris went to protest, but Léame spoke before she could. “Sounds cool! And you know what? I have just the thing in mind…”
---
“You can’t do that! That’s cheating!”
Léame shook her head. “No it isn’t. House rules allow for extra turns.”
Wren slammed her hands on the table. “You can’t keep making things up and calling them ‘house rules’!”
“Sure I can. That’s how they work.”
Edelweiss put his head down. “This is the worst game of ‘Sorry’ ever.”
“I - I don’t think it even is ‘S-Sorry’ at this point,” Katherine murmured. “All of the pieces are in the wrong spots…”
Agreed, Idalia wrote. She was playing yellow, while Edelweiss and Wren were sharing blue. Katherine was red, and Léame was green.
Floris was supposed to be the referee, but even she was at a loss for words. “What is even going on, Léame?” she challenged. “I trusted you because you said this was how your family played the game, but this doesn’t even make any sense! I mean, you implemented a rule where a player has to do a handstand for a full minute before sending someone else’s piece back to start. And most of us can’t even do a handstand!”
Léame shrugged. “Sorry, Flori. But them’s the breaks.”
“What – oh, come on! Now you’re just messing with us!”
“Rude!” Léame chided, pretending to be insulted. “Are you trying to say that how my family plays ‘Sorry’ is a joke?”
But Floris proceeded to fall for the bait. “You know what? Yes! Yes I am!”
Floris and Léame proceeded to get into a yelling match with each other, even though Léame was in it more for the heck of it than anything else. But while they argued, Wren noticed a small, white piece of paper sticking out of Léame’s pocket. She squinted at it – she didn’t think she had something like that on her earlier…
And then she saw it.
There, in fine black print, was the word Sorry! on the paper, along with what seemed to be various directions. And it didn’t take long for Wren to figure out what this all meant.
Léame had hidden the rules in her pocket.
“Edelweiss!” Wren shook Edelweiss until he sat up, and whispered to him while subtly pointing at Léame’s pocket. “Look! She’s hidden the rules in her pocket!”
Edelweiss blinked, trying to get a good look – only to gasp once he had spotted the same wording Wren had. “Oh! You’re right!” he whispered back. “But what do we do?”
“Hm… good question…” Wren pondered their dilemma for a moment, before coming up with an idea. “You do something crazy to distract her – I don’t think the argument will be enough. Then I’ll creep around and grab the rules!”
“Great idea!And I know just what to do! It works on my brothers all the time.” Edelweiss then climbed up onto the table, immediately getting everyone’s attention. “Hey! Check this out.” He then did something that nobody expected:
He started tap dancing. On top of the game board.
And he was good at it, too. He was able to get into a rhythm almost immediately, and effortlessly avoided the different game pieces. The shouts of surprise from everyone at the table didn’t distract him either. Wren found herself unable to do anything else but watch for a moment, until she snapped out of it and remembered the task at hand.
She got down on the floor and crawled under the table over to where Léame was sitting. And then, she moved over towards the side and carefully reached her hand up…
Snap!
Snatching the paper out of her pocket with ease.
Once she had achieved her goal, Wren stood and held the paper triumphantly. “Edelweiss! I did it!”
Edelweiss grinned at her, stopping the dance and taking a bow. “Thanks for watching my performance, everybody!” Then he completely shifted gears, and scowled at Léame after jumping down. He pointed to her accusingly. “Now let’s talk about how you’ve been cheating!”
“That’s rich from the kid who just completely messed up the board by tap dancing on it,” Léame quipped.
“And that’s even richer from the girl who hid the game rules in her pocket!” Wren slammed the offending document down on the table. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?!”
Léame’s eyes widened, stunned at having been caught. But then she smirked, and put her hands up in the air as if surrendering. “Congratulations, kids,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. “You guys just won the game.”
Wren’s brow furrowed, not quite sure of what she meant by that. “...How did that cause us to win, exactly..?”
Léame gave her a two-word answer, her mischievous look not fading in the slightest. “House rules.”
---
The party ended quickly after that. Mostly because everybody switched gears to yelling at Léame for throwing the game in the most convoluted way possible. Once the dust settled, nobody was in a “party” sort of mood – and the guest bathroom had been stained blue and red by Luke and Ronin’s hair dying adventures (Ronin got “inspired” after seeing how Luke’s hair turned out, and asked him to help him become a redhead). So needless to say, it didn’t take long for everyone to pack it in.
The walk back to Idalia’s house was quiet. The sun was starting to set, and there wasn’t a whole lot to talk about – at least, not for the others. Wren, on the other hand, definitely felt like she wanted to say something. And after a while, she figured out just how to word it: “That party was bloody terrible.”
Edelweiss let out a gasp. “That’s what I was thinking, too! Except – not the ‘bloody’ part. That was all you.”
“We didn’t do anything interesting,” Wren continued. “I mean, what about all the crazy stuff high schoolers do? I really thought we would at least play a game of pool or something.”
Idalia let out a snort. Is that the kind of thing you think teenagers do?
“Yeah. And you guys do other things, like playing ‘spin the bottle’... I guess. I don’t think watching a bottle spin around would be very entertaining.”
“Oh, no, it definitely is!” Edelweiss insisted. “How it works is that you throw a bottle at a person you like, and if it hits them you get to kiss.”
“Then why is there a ‘spin’ part?”
“Because of the style points! Whoever pulls off the coolest throw wins.”
Idalia inhaled sharply, her breath stuttering as she tried not to laugh. Who told you that was how the game worked?
“I dunno. It just seemed right.” Idalia let out another snort. “And anyway, there should’ve been more snacks besides pretzels. Or at least better ones. The ones they had were a little stale.”
Wren let out a little “What?” at that. “Then why did you eat so many of them?”
Edelweiss shrugged. “Why not?”
Idalia cackled, unable to stop herself from doing so any longer. Her hand trembled as she tried to compose herself enough to write, making her handwriting loose and harder to read. Never change, Edelweiss. Never cha She stopped midsentence, freezing in place at the sight of the driveway. A new car was there, while the van that was present previously was gone. Crap. My dad’s back. And my mom’s not here.
“Why is that a bad thing?” Wren asked. “Does he not know you left?”
Yeah. And he doesn’t know that you came over, either. My mom doesn’t mind any of this kind of stuff, but my dad… He’ll get upset that I didn’t leave a note or ask about having you over. Idalia sighed as she tried to think of a solution. I want to keep the lecturing to a minimum. So here’s what we’ll do: we’re going to smuggle you into the house, and you’ll wait in my room until you get picked up.
“Oh!” Wren beamed, excited. Now this was more like it. “How will we do it?”
Stand by the window, but stay out of sight. Once Edelweiss and I get past my dad, I’ll let you in that way. Then we’ll hang out until your parents are about five minutes away. Then we’ll get you back out, and get you over to the car before they have a chance to park. Edelweiss can distract my dad in the meantime.
“Can I tap dance again?” Edelweiss inquired, just as invested in the plan as Wren was.
Yeah. But stay on the floor. My dad got upset about you scuffing the counters last time, remember?
“Yeah, I do…” Edelweiss shuddered. “Your dad is scary.”
house. You should be able to see which room’s mine. I left my curtains open.
Wren wasted no time in sneaking around the house. She peeked through the windows, searching for Idalia’s room. Soon, she was able to locate the familiar sight of Idalia’s room. But before she could move into an appropriate hiding position–
“Don’t you walk away from me young lady!”
Wren froze, horrified at the voice she heard. No. It couldn’t be…
Idalia’s room door opened up, and in walked a mildly peeved Idalia, with Edelweiss trying to hurry in behind her and hide in a corner – and, just as Wren feared:
Mr. Whytte.
In the flesh.
“Honestly, Idalia,” he continued, “Anything could have happened to you!” Idalia whipped around to face him, writing furiously in her notebook before showing it to him. Mr. Whytte let out a huff after reading. “Well, that’s why I used the word ‘could’, isn’t it?”
Wren ducked behind the wall, not wanting to run the risk of being seen. There was no way that this could be true, right? Someone as nice as Idalia having Mr. Whytte for a father? It was just too far-fetched. And yet–
Yes, Idalia confirmed once Mr. Whytte had left and Wren had been successfully pulled back in. He’s my dad.
Wren’s face fell, becoming downcast. She reached out and gave Idalia a hug, squeezing her as tightly as her twelve-year-old arms could muster. She could hardly stand seeing Mr. Whytte occasionally at school, but having to live with him and have him as a father would be just terrible. “I’m sorry you have to share your genes with him.”
Idalia snickered a little, hugging her back. Don’t worry, she assured once they separated. I’m adopted.
---
“Ah, there she is!” Mr. Blaque greeted as Wren entered the car. “How was your time with Idalia?”
“Good!” she said, shutting the door behind her. She buckled her seatbelt, kicking her feet happily.
“Someone’s in a cheerful mood,” Mr. Blaque observed, starting to smile more himself. “I take it you two had fun?”
“Yeah! We did.” Even though the party hadn’t been what she expected, she supposed it wasn’t too bad in hindsight. After all, she did still get to spend time with a bunch of her friends, sneak into a house through a window, and she had gotten Léame to think she was cool.
So all in all, everything had worked out just fine–
Mr. Blaque abruptly stepped on the brakes, making Wren lean forward a bit. He turned around to face her. “...Lift your head up for a moment? I thought I saw something on your face.”
“Okay..?” Wren tilted her head up, and was quiet as Mr. Blaque looked over her – only to realize she had forgotten to ask Idalia to help her get rid of something very important before she left her house as he gently ran a thumb over one of her eyelids. “Is this… eye shadow?”
Whoops.
~~~
Day 20: In the Snow*
(Note: this response contains descriptions of blood and violence. Reader discretion is advised.)
Idalia woke up with a shiver, shaking underneath her covers. She sat up, trying to understand why she felt so cold. There was nothing in the room causing it, as far as she could tell. But that just made things more confusing. She started to check her window to see if it had been opened somehow, thinking that the issue must be outside — and found that she was right.
While there was no problem with the window itself, she could tell from touching the glass that it was freezing outside. Cold enough to make the house’s insulation seem like it meant nothing.
Idalia got up from her bed, deciding to remedy the situation. She knew that there were spare blankets upstairs, and it was early enough to assume that neither Demiastle and Woya were awake. So she would be able to get what she needed without confrontation.
Or at least, that’s what she thought.
Because for some unknown reason, she found that someone was awake when she went downstairs. While she didn’t see who it was at first, she definitely saw the results of their wakefulness: the fireplace which had never been used before, was suddenly full of logs that were set ablaze.
She walked up to the fire, wondering if there was any merit to the concept of people huddling around one for warmth. And she soon found that there was — a soothing heat radiated from the fireplace, and she soon sat next to it. The chill she had felt quickly left her, and she started to forget why she had come downstairs in the first place.
But wind started to blow outside, the sound harsh and alarming. The temperature seemed to drop more, and Idalia was soon on her feet again. She quietly padded over to the laundry room, noticing that Demiastle and Woya’s bedroom door was open. She crept inside, gently opening the door to keep its creaking to a minimum. She grabbed the first blanket she saw, which was thankfully a heavy one, and left the laundry room and shut the door behind her. She walked back into the living room, only—
“Ack!”
She let out a yelp in shock, and leaped back at the sight of what was outside the window.
The ground had been bathed in a solid substance as white as her hair, with more white falling from the sky.
Idalia stared outside, unable to comprehend what was going on. How could she have not noticed it earlier? And how come nobody was outside, trying to make sense of all of this? Was what was going on dangerous? And it had gotten colder, too — was this just what happened during winter in 56XX?
“Are you alright?”
Idalia startled again at the sound of Demiastle’s voice. She resisted the urge to huff. So much for returning to her room uninterrupted. She reached for her notebook to answer, only…
She didn’t have it.
Because she hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake, or getting caught.
With no other way to respond, she resigned herself to a nod.
Demiastle looked at her curiously, still in his nightclothes. “Are you sure? I thought I heard you cry out a moment ago.”
Idalia shrugged, both unable and not wanting to get further into that. But she couldn’t help but flinch at the white continuing to fall in sheets outside.
Demiastle noticed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Is something scaring you?” he asked, somehow unaware of what the problem was. Did he not see what was happening outside?
Idalia sighed, holding the blanket tighter. She opted for ignoring him, and contemplated heading back up to her room. The whole point of this was to eventually go back to sleep, after all. And she was kind of cold, standing here like this. She shivered, the temperature continuing to drop.
“Are you cold? You can sit by the fire for a little bit, if you would like.” Idalia nodded at Demiastle’s words. The fire did offer a nice kind of warmth that blankets just… didn’t. So she stepped back over to the fireplace, and sat down with the blanket wrapped around herself. Demiastle briefly came over, seemingly to check that she was alright, before heading back into the kitchen.
“Are you cold? You can sit by the fire for a little bit, if you would like.” Idalia nodded at Demiastle’s words. The fire did offer a nice kind of warmth that blankets just… didn’t. So she stepped back over to the fireplace, and sat down with the blanket wrapped around herself. Demiastle briefly came over, seemingly to check that she was alright, before heading back into the kitchen.
After a moment of listening to the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen, she got up and temporarily abandoned the blanket as she went to go get her notebook and a pencil. She considered heading back to her room completely, but she suspected that the cover she had gotten might not have been enough anymore.
She shivered further and rubbed her hands together for warmth as she went upstairs, silently wishing she had learned sign language at some point. Maybe she still could. It would certainly keep situations like this from happening…
Once she retrieved what she needed, she practically raced down the stairs, eager to stop being cold. She couldn’t get back to the fire fast enough, wrapping herself up in the blanket even tighter than she had before.
Demiastle soon came back, setting down a plate and a bowl next to her. The bowl had oatmeal in it, while the plate had scrambled eggs on one side, and carefully arranged strawberry slices on the other. Idalia blinked at the food. She wasn’t sure why Demiastle bothered taking care of her like this. She didn’t need or want any of this. She was just fine getting by on recharges, and organic food didn’t usually taste good. She had no idea how everyone else could suffer through it.
Or maybe she was the problem…
Regardless, she knew it would only lead to an argument if she rejected Demiastle’s good will. Thank you, she wrote, hoping that she didn’t come across as too annoyed…
“You are most welcome,” Demiastle said with a nod. “I’ll be back with silverware and something for you to drink.” He left the room again, leaving Idalia by herself once more. But she didn’t mind. She considered taking the opportunity to toss the food into the fire, since that would get her out of eating it. And even if there was no feasible way for it to burn before Demiastle got back, he would at least be unable to stop her.
…But that would be a waste, wouldn’t it?
Idalia sighed, staring at her breakfast. Even if she didn’t like eating, she would prefer choking down the food than throwing it away. Especially when there were humans that could use–
…She needed to stop doing that. It wasn’t 22XX. And it hadn’t been for a long time. Humans didn’t exist anymore, and the Betas didn’t have anything even resembling a food shortage.
Even so, the thought of wasting the meal in front of her still disgusted her even more than the thought of consuming it.
She started on the strawberries, since she knew those were at least palatable. After taking one slice and putting it into her mouth, she began to chew. But to her surprise, this strawberry was much sweeter than the ones she had eaten previously. But not too sweet, like ice cream or icing or any of the other things she didn’t really care for. She paused, shocked. How could that be? It didn’t seem like there were any obvious differences between this one and the others. She ate another slice once the first one was swallowed, finding the result to be the same.
“Alright, I’m back.” Demiastle returned from the kitchen, and set down some napkins, as well as a fork and a spoon for her. He also gave her a glass of water, and two… glass things with silver tops, The tops and holes in them, and both of the glass containers held something different. One had fine, white grains in it (Idalia wondered if they had anything to do with what was happening outside), while the other had black, brown, and gray grains.
Demiastle left again, and Idalia took the opportunity to investigate the containers further. She shook the white one out into her hand, a few of the grains falling out. She sniffed them – there wasn’t a smell, as far as she could tell. So she gave the grains a lick, attempting to taste them. And–
They…
They tasted like the ocean.
Horrified, Idalia slid the white container as far away from her as she could. She shoved two strawberry slices in her mouth, trying to get the taste out. Why would anyone try to make the sea edible like this? It was an awful idea. Horrible, even. Terrible, terrible, terrible!
She moved on to the other container, once she recovered. The grains inside that one offered a completely different experience – they made her sneeze when she tried smelling them (a reaction reploids rarely had, if ever), and they made her cough when they hit the back of her throat. She frowned when she put them aside. Were they meant to make reploids simulate human illness, or something like it? What would be the point in something so stupid? Especially when there were plenty of computer viruses that already did that…
Annoyed, Idalia drank some of her water. It was cold. Reliable. And not ocean-like or something that would make her sick. She ate the rest of her strawberries, and then got ready to take on the oatmeal. It would be hard, but she figured she could manage the bowl. Especially if she took breaks in-between with the water. She gathered a spoonful, and–
The oatmeal was sweet, too.
Idalia’s eyes went wide. The surprises just kept on coming. She continued to eat, trying to figure out what could have possibly made things different. Again, the oatmeal didn’t look any different…
But then it occurred to her.
Had… Demiastle put sugar in her food?
It would explain all of this. She had complained about food being bland to him before, in a (futile) effort to get out of eating it. And he did know that she didn’t like sweets, which would explain why it wasn’t sugary to the point of making her get sick of eating. But why would he do such a thing? What was the point? He didn’t have to. And it wasn’t like she had asked him to, either…
Speak of the devil, Idalia thought, seeing Demiastle return with his own dishes. He was able to bring everything in for himself at the same time, since he had chosen to save room for the oatmeal on his plate by combining his with the strawberries. He sat down right next to her. “So,” he said. “Is everything to your liking?”
Idalia pursed her lips, not wanting to admit that it was. But she really didn’t have it in her to lie at the moment, either. It is, she wrote reluctantly.
Demiastle gave her a smile, a rare occurrence – if he wasn’t trying to figure out why she was the way she was, then he was usually scowling and scolding her for something. “Excellent. I’ll be sure to remember how you like your oatmeal, then…” He frowned, taking on a more familiar expression when he realized the white container had been moved no less than two feet away from them. “What’s this doing over there?”
Idalia shrugged, feigning ignorance as she handed it to him – only to watch, feeling flabbergasted as he shook both it and the other one out on top of his eggs, and then ate them.
What the hell.
Demiastle gave Idalia a perplexed look as she stared at him. “...Are you alright?” he asked, once he finished the bite he had taken.
Idalia went to write something, but found herself at a loss for words. She ended up shaking her head and focused on finishing her oatmeal. Weirdo, she thought. And he had the nerve to see her as the strange one most of the time.
Demiastle eventually turned away from her, looking outside. “It’s really coming down out there,” he commented after a moment. “If this keeps up, they may cancel school on Monday. Assuming that the snow doesn’t melt, of course.”
Idalia snapped her head up. Snow? Was Snow here? And what was that about her melting? How would that happen, if it was so cold out? And did that mean she was hurt? And what did she have to do with missing school? Idalia turned to the window herself, only to find that Snow wasn’t outside. Just more of the white stuff. And how would Demiastle know who Snow was, anyway? They had never met, as far as she knew. She went back to staring at him, hoping to get some answers.
And it didn’t take long for Demiastle to notice her confusion – in fact, he even seemed to make a realization of some kind. “Oh! That’s right, you’ve never seen snow before, have you? Unless you spent a winter in Neo Arcadia before your mother moved you two to that compound..?”
I know who Snow is, Idalia insisted, her confusion only growing. Why do you keep talking about her like she’s an object?
Demiastle furrowed his brow, but it was clearly out of puzzlement rather than anger. “My apologies, I’m having trouble understanding. Do – do you mean what instead of who?”
No. I have a friend named Snow. I know her from before we all came here.
“Oh! No, no, I mean – do you see all that white precipitation falling from the sky?” Idalia nodded, unsure where Demiastle was going with this. “That’s what I’m referring to.”
Oh… That… made sense, now that Idalia thought about it. She gave another nod, understanding things somewhat better now. But at the same time, she also had more questions. Is it dangerous? Is that why you brought up school being cancelled?
“Not quite – snow by itself is quite harmless, unless you’re ill-dressed for cold weather. But the temperatures required for it to form are often around freezing, so it could make roads rather unsafe to use.”
I see. Now it was all coming together. Is that why nobody is outside?
“It could be. But it’s also rather early. It’s only eight thirty.” Demiastle put a hand to his chin, thinking. “Perhaps we could use that… put on that coat Woya bought for you after you finish eating. I want to take you somewhere.”
Idalia took that as a sign to take her plate and scrape her eggs onto Demiastle’s, much to his consternation. But she didn’t get what he was complaining about. She had eaten the other two food items just fine, and he seemed to like eggs, nasty grains on them and all. And the sooner she could get whatever outing Demiastle wanted to drag her out on (who the hell willingly went places when it was cold outside?) and back into bed, the better. I’m finished.
---
Demiastle ended up driving them to a nearby park, the roads not yet frozen over. She huffed as she exited the car after he parked, only to find her breath being revealed as some sort of vapor. She narrowed her eyes at it. Was that some kind of effect related to the cold?
“Alright.” Demiastle motioned for her to follow, taking her away from the parking spaces and into the playground area. The ground beneath them was covered in snow. And although it had stopped falling, the clouds above them were still gray and ominous looking. “Have at it,” Demiastle said, motioning at the snow. Idalia pursed her lips at him, not knowing at all what he meant by that. “I mean… go and… have recreation. In the snow.”
Idalia blinked slowly at him, trying to figure out if she heard him right. Are you telling me to go play in this?
“Well… yes. I thought it would be a good activity for you.”
How? How is anybody supposed to play in a bunch of half-frozen water? She kicked at it, thoroughly caught off guard by the concept alone. She wished Edelweiss were here. She and Edelweiss would figure out how on Earth they could make this fun.
But luckily for her, fate decided to send her the next best thing.
Before Demiastle could answer her question, a familiar voice called out to her. “Idalia!” She looked up, beaming at who she saw. There, running over from the parking area, was Wren. Palice trailed dutifully behind her. “Idalia, is that you?!” She continued coming over, her face red from the cold and the hat she was wearing having to be repeatedly pulled down to keep it from falling off. “It is! It is you!” She laughed, only stopping her running when she was right in front of the older girl. Like Idalia, she wore a thick coat and boots – but unlike her, she was wearing gloves, too. “Hi! Did you come to play in the snow, t–” She paused, gasping at the sight of Demiastle. “Oh, bother! Mr. Demiastle’s here, too!” Idalia snickered as Demiastle rolled his eyes. If there was ever a child who somehow managed to get on his nerves more than she did, it was Wren. And if there was anybody someone like Wren managed to hate, it was Demiastle. “Why did you bring him?!”
“Pfft–” Idalia put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. I didn’t. He brought me.
“Oh, boo! Does that mean you had to endure a whole car ride? With him?”
Yes. Unfortunately. Never mind that said ride was mostly silent.
Wren let out what would’ve been a long, drawn-out sigh, but was cut off by Palice. “Now, now, Wren. There’s no need for all of that. Be polite to Demiastle. He hasn’t done anything to you.”
“Not yet,” Wren corrected, like Demiastle made it a habit to make her life miserable whenever he could.
“Oh, good grief,” Demiastle muttered, having had enough. “Stop acting that way for no good reason, Ms. Wren. It’s unbecoming.”
“Your face is unbecoming.” Idalia had to put both hands over her mouth at that one.
Demiastle exhaled hard through his nose while Palice scolded Wren. “Wren, that is enough. Either you start behaving, or I take you home.”
“Aw, but–! Oh…” She sighed, defeated. “Okay. I’m so’ry, Daddy…”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Demiastle.”
Wren made it a point not to make eye contact with the brunette in question. Some might have interpreted it as a sign of genuine remorse, but Idalia knew better. Wren was only doing that because she felt bad about making Palice upset. “‘M so’ry, Mr. Demiastle…”
“...Apology accepted,” Demiastle answered. He then turned to Palice. “...Is there a reason why our children are like this? Idalia’s often out to get me, too.”
Idalia let out a sharp tch at the insinuation. I’m not your kid, she wrote, trying to give a glare dark enough to kill Demiastle where he stood. Maybe if she thought about it hard enough, it would actually work.
“See what I mean?” Demiastle said, not answering Idalia’s rebuttal. “Completely uncalled for.”
“...Perhaps it’s… simply your deposition that puts them off,” Palice quipped, smirking.
Demiastle let out a squawk. “And what’s that supposed to mean?! That yours is any better?!”
Wren and Idalia shared a laugh. Watching them argue made for great entertainment – it reminded Idalia that she wasn’t alone in finding Demiastle irritating more often than not. But Wren soon started tugging on her sleeve, even though she would normally be just as content to watch. “Let’s go play while they’re busy,” she suggested.
Idalia nodded, and followed her over to a part of the playground where the snow had piled on. She watched curiously and Wren laid down like a plank in the snow, and started moving her arms and legs back and forth in rhythmic fashion. What are you doing?
“I’m making a snow angel!” Wren explained, giggling to herself. “You try!”
Idalia decided to give it a shot – if this was what playing in the snow involved, then so be it. She trusted that Wren knew how to make this whole thing into a good time. She laid down a few feet away from her, and started to copy her. She looked up at the sky, not sure if she was doing it right or what the appeal was meant to be. But she kept at it until Wren got up and came over to her. “Get up! You have to see what we did!”
Idalia obliged, standing up and stepping out of where she had laid. And sure enough, two little figures were in the snow in her and Wren’s places. They didn’t look unlike two cartoon angels, with big white dresses or gowns and little wing-like shapes at their side. “See! Aren’t they pretty?”
They are, Idalia agreed. They did have a certain cuteness to them, especially with how Wren’s was noticeably shorter than hers. And the idea of making art in the snow seemed like an interesting idea.
But her train of thought was soon broken by the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow, followed by a soft, slightly stuttery “H-Hi!”
Both Wren and Idalia turned around, their faces lighting up. There, right behind them, stood Katherine. Idalia grinned, feeling no need to hide how happy she was about seeing her. She walked right up to her and gave her a hug. Having Wren out here was great, but being forced to play in the snow seemed like a privilege with Katherine around.
The organic let out a surprised squeak, not expecting that. And she let out another when Wren joined them, hugging her as well. “Katherine! You’re here, too?!”
“Y-Yeah! I – I wanted to show – to show Newbert the snow, since – since he’s never seen any!” Katherine explained once she had been released. And sure enough, a certain orange-haired reploid came over, eyes wide in wonderment as he looked around. Idalia watched, amused. She’d met Newbert before – he was a kind reploid, one who was from the Neo Arcadian era; just like her and Wren. But he was also a bit of a far cry from the other reploids she had known – he was a bit… – How could she put this? – …ignorant around the edges, when it came to knowing about how the world worked. But what he lacked in knowledge, he made up for it in heart. And that often made for him doing some things that were rather funny to watch, from time-to-time.
She wondered how someone like him would get along with Demiastle…
She hoped he wouldn’t be mean to him, if they ended up talking. She’d beat him up if he was. Never mind the fact that he was six feet tall and a fully grown adult. She’d find a way. Idalia had done it before with others, and as far as she was concerned, Demiastle was no different.
“Yes!” Wren agreed. “Snow’s the best! You can do all kinds of things with it, like making snowmen!”
Idalia blinked at her, with Newbert looking just as confused. Snowmen?
“O-Oh — those are — are balls of snow stacked on top of each other and d-decorated to — to look like a person,” Katherine said. “B-But I don’t know if we have enough for one…”
“We won’t know unless we try!” Wren insisted. She started taking some of the snow into her hands, only to reveal a lot more underneath. “See, look! There’s plenty of snow!”
“Th-There is!” Katherine looked to Idalia. “Do you want to build a snowman with us, I-Idalia..?” Idalia nodded vigorously in response, making Katherine beam excitedly. “O-Okay! Let’s do it!”
“Do you t’ink ye’ll need any ‘elp?” Newbert asked, looking curious as to where this might lead.
“That’s okay, Mr. Newbert!” Wren said. “We’ve got it under control!”
Newbert looked to Katherine for confirmation, and she gave him a little thumbs up. “Alrigh’! I’ll be continuin’ me walk, t’en! Jus’ ‘oller if ya need anyt’in’!” And sure enough, Newbert walked off, stopping nearby to marvel at some pointy-things made of ice hanging from a tree branch.
The girls worked together to gather a bunch of snow, putting it into something of a pile and trying to round it out by pushing it on the ground. Their first ball of snow ended up a little lopsided-looking, but they weren’t discouraged. They repeated the process to make a second, smaller sphere, before ending the whole affair with a third one.
They stood and looked at their work, feeling impressed with themselves. They somehow managed to make it about Idalia’s height, and she was only an inch or two taller than Katherine. “Now for the next part,” Wren declared. “Decoration! I’ll go find some rocks and sticks! You guys try to think of a name for him.” She ran off, searching the ground for any visible pebbles as she went.
“U-Um…” Katherine looked over the snowman thoughtfully. “It’s — It’s a little hard to… think of a name for him when he — he d-doesn’t have a face,” she said.
I disagree, Idalia wrote. I can think of a few right off the top of my head.
“R-Really? What are they..?”
Jim. Tim. Kim. Demitrius.
Katherine let out a laugh. “W-Where d-did ‘Demitirus’ come from?!”
I just figured I should spice things up a bit. That and the only other name I could think of that rhymed was the word “Slim.”
Katherine laughed some more, and Idalia couldn’t help but laugh with her. “That’s — That’s funny— Eep!”
Katherine cried out in surprise as a ball of snow came out of nowhere and hit her on the back of the head. Idalia immediately whipped her head around, looking for the source. There stood Ronin, a boy in the grade above them. And in his hands was another ball of snow. “Hey guys! Are you up for a snowball — Woah, hey, wait! I-Idalia, put me down! What — What did I do?!”
In no time at all, Idalia had crossed the yard of distance separating them and grabbed Ronin by the collar of his turtleneck, arm reared back and fist ready for a punch.
“Idalia!” Demiastle called out for her, but Idalia couldn’t care in the slightest. She had her mind made up from the moment she realized what Ronin did.
But she did, however, listen when Katherine beat Demiastle over. “I-Idalia!” She grabbed her arm in an attempt to keep her from hitting Ronin. “It — It’s okay! He was just — just trying to have a snowball fight with us.” Idalia raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s – It’s a game! Like — Like, uh… dodgeball! It’s kind of like dodgeball. In — In P.E. class..?”
Oh. So that’s what this was, then.
With a nod, Idalia released Ronin and lowered her arm. It was then that she noticed that she had gotten everyone else’s attention. Wren was staring at them, unblinking, her mouth in a small “o” shape. Newbert wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, with him looking stuck between being concerned and like he wanted to throw a punch at Ronin (which Idalia couldn’t blame him for, since he was Katherine’s guardian and most likely hadn’t heard the “snowball fight” explanation). And Palice looked like he was trying to stop—
“Idalia!” Idalia found herself being spun to face Demiastle, who was glaring daggers at her and had a tight grip on her shoulders. She should’ve known that they would’ve been at each other’s throats soon enough. Breakfast was a fluke — this was more like it. “What is wrong with you?!” he hissed, asking an all too familiar question. “You can’t just go around trying to attack people!”
Idalia huffed, rummaging through her pocket for her notebook and pencil, only to realize that she had dropped them in her rush to deal with Ronin. Katherine came over, hesitantly giving them to her and avoiding Demiastle’s gaze. She then squeaked and took a few steps back, nervous (Idalia could understand. Demiastle was definitely the kind of person who would scare her). He hit Katherine, Idalia explained. I was trying to protect her. I didn’t know it was a game at first.
“I — okay, fine. I understand. But you still can’t do that. You understand what a serious hit from you could have done right?”
It’s not maverick if you don’t kill anybody.
“What — that’s not even — that’s not how that works, for one thing,” Demiastle snapped, his hold tightening on her shoulders. “And secondly, that’s not the issue. The issue is that you could’ve seriously injured him. You’re made out of metal. That boy clearly isn’t.”
Idalia rolled her eyes. It wasn’t clear at all, really. Betas and reploids were rather similar in appearance. Not to mention how she knew Ronin would get hurt. She just didn’t care. If she did, she wouldn’t have tried hitting him. So? Maybe he should’ve thought about that before throwing things at people.
Demiastle ran a hand down his face. “You,” he growled, “Are impossible.”
Then why the hell do you still bother trying to do anything with me? Am I supposed to be upset by that? Because I’m not. After all, it takes one to know one. And I’ll have you know what you’re not any easier to deal with as a person than I am.
Demiastle opened his mouth to speak, but — “Demiastle.” Palice came over at last, grabbing his friend’s shoulder. “I — I think it’s alright. The children worked things out on their own. And I don’t think Idalia knew the young man didn’t mean any harm. So how about you just—”
“Do I tell you how to handle your daughter, Palice?”
Palice pursed his lips, realizing his blunder. “…No.”
“Alright. Then don’t tell me how to handle mine.”
“…Right. Of course, Demiastle. My apologi—”
WHACK!
Palice gasped while Demiastle blinked rapidly, the latter having been smacked in the face by a wadded-up ball of paper from Idalia’s notebook. Unfolding it revealed three words in thickly written, volatile script: I’M NOT YOUR DAUGHTER!!!
Idalia stood there, breath trembling with anger as she watched Demiastle read, but was soon met with a low sigh. “...That’s enough now, Idalia.”
She stood there for a moment, trying to wrap her head around how Demiastle didn’t seem to be acknowledging what she said, or why he insisted on pretending he wanted anything to do with someone like her. She knew how he really felt about her. How him acting otherwise was just him trying to save face. But all of that led to another question:
Why keep putting up with it?
With that in mind, she turned around, and off from him as fast as she could.
There was a brief moment of confusion, but it didn’t take long for Demiastle to realize that this was an attempt at actually running away rather than simply storming off. “Idalia!” She continued running even when he called out to her, and even made it to the street, only for him to yoke her up, grabbing her from behind. She had honestly thought it would take him longer to catch up, if at all (curse him and his stupidly long legs). She kicked and thrashed in his arms, and nearly yelled for him to let her go — only for the sensation of needles pricking her tongue to keep her quiet.
But Demiastle did have to put her down to unlock the car doors. She tried to make a break for it again, but was yanked by her coat’s scruff and practically thrown into the car once he got it open. She immediately opened the door once he shut it, but it was slammed closed right afterward. A loud beep-beep came from the car, and she found it locked when she tried opening it. Panicking, she tried the door on the opposite of the backseat — but that didn’t work, either. Which meant she was trapped. He must’ve used the car keys—
Beep-beep!
Demiastle entered on the driver’s side, locking the door again once he was in his seat. Idalia got up and made a mad scramble for the car keys, but he grabbed her by her coat and pushed her back into the backseat. “Behave,” he hissed, totally and utterly done with her. “You are acting worse than a blasted toddler—”
CRACK!
Idalia kicked Demiastle in the nose, feeling it break under her boot. He took his hand off her and put his hands to his nose. A strangled scream came from his throat, silenced only by him keeping his mouth stubbornly shut. He looked at his gloves afterward, the black, fuzzy material made shiny by the dark green liquid streaming from his nostrils. He wiped at it, cursing and sputtering all the while, a cough coming from him after he made the mistake of sniffling to try and keep more blood from coming out. He sighed and returned to the driver’s seat, buckling his seatbelt and pulling out of the parking spot.
They were quiet for a good while, before Demiastle pulled over halfway to the house. He handed Idalia his phone. “Call — Call Woya,” he ordered, sounding unusually stuffy from the nosebleed. He wiped at his nose in vain, blood staining his coat’s sleeves. “I can’t drive like this.”
Idalia threw the phone back at him, along with a note: Bite me.
Frustrated, Demiastle snatched the notebook out of her hands—
SLAM!
— and shut it in the glove compartment.
Idalia froze. He — But she…
She needed that!
She reached up to retrieve it, only for Demiastle to push her back down. “Sit down,” he said, voice low as he attempted driving again, “And buckle your seatbelt."
Idalia didn’t do any of that. She tried to get up again, risking being thrown through the windshield in the event of a car accident. Surely that had to be easier than dealing with this man for a second longer. Demiastle eased on the brakes, not wanting to risk it. “We are not going anywhere until you do as I say.”
Idalia sat down, but made no move to buckle up. She remained like that for a good while, and Demiastle eventually scoffed at her. “Oh? So that’s what we’re doing?” He took his hands off the steering wheel. “That’s fine. I’ll have you know that I’m rather good at playing the long game.”
~~~
And thus ends the responses for days 16-20. I was a little concerned that certain days getting to be too long, but I'm happy with how they all turned out! And now, as always, it's time for the discussion section:
I want y'all to know that the kind of interaction Demiastle and Palice had in Day 16 is 100% on brand for them, and that they behave like this often. Except they usually argue about more important matters than napkin folds (the only reason they got this petty was because, even though he would never admit it, Demiastle isn't a party person - just as Palice had thought).
Ms. Blaque and Ms. Whytte are the people Palice and Demiastle work for during their time as service reploids (a designation for reploids (that isn't in the games' canon, as far as I can tell) who help elderly, disabled, or mentally ill individuals with their needs on a day-to-day basis). They're also the people who I got their last names from for the human AU.
The reason why Detroit, Leiria, and London all go by different names post-flashback is because they all wanted to cut ties with Dissent, a group they were part of in the time period they originally came from. One of Dissent's requirements was that members of the group change their names to match that of a city that existed before the Elf Wars, unless they were already named after one. Interestingly, London was the name Atticus was born with; but he decided to change it anyways, not wanting to have his identity easily traced back to Dissent in case Orlando ever looked for him.
The way Idalia and Edelweiss play with toys is based on how actual children play with dolls. Because quite a few of us created the most insane storylines imaginable with our toys when we were kids.
I do have younger OCs than Edelweiss (he's about eleven years old), but he's the most developed child character I have. My other options were a ten-year-old I'm still trying to figure out, a six-year-old who's meant to be more of a comedic-relief background character, and a literal baby.
You may have noticed that the response for "Day 18: D&D Version" doesn't quite fit the prompt. And that's because I've never played a game of D&D in my life. I decided to forgo the idea of making D&D versions of my characters, and instead wrote about them playing the game instead. I googled how stat rolls and whatnot worked, but I don't really know for sure if it's all accurate.
The spell Luke says he wants to cast ("totalis reditus") is literally just "total return" in Latin. I have no idea if that's an actual thing you can use in D&D. I highly doubt it is, though, since I made it up-
The reason Newbert was invited to play D&D is because he looks the part. The man's default outfit involves a whole freaking cloak. He wears a belt with knives on it. He wears boots 75 - 90% of the time. One would be forgiven for thinking he was a fantasy novel escapee-
By the time Day 19 takes place, AitN!Wren no longer lives with her parents - Palice was able to get custody of her. Idalia is in a similar situation, with Demiastle having adopted her before she started attending the school he and Palice work at (hence why Palice didn't know who she was - she was never a student of his, nor was she a middle schooler at their K-12 school).
Ethos and Pathos are two twins that show up in Z2 that work for Elpizo. In canon, they most likely died in Operation Righteous Strike. They're also the kids with Greek names who Newbert mentioned all the way back in Day 1's response. Them living in Convergence is a result of @/bruggle and I's writing. I ended up getting emotionally attached to them and couldn't kill them off the way they died in canon. (Although this is subject to change, as I do have an idea for how their deaths would effect Newbert...)
Something that I would like to make clear is that Demiastle isn't trying to be a bad father. It's just that he and Idalia both have issues they need to work out - and the latter is an unreliable narrator. But he is trying his best to do right by her. Everyone in their household is trying their best. It's just that they all have trouble understanding each other. But they do get better eventually.
And of course, please let me know if there are any formatting issues. Especially for Day 17. Tumblr had quite a few issues with that one. I think I got them all, but we'll see.
That's it for now! Hopefully I'll return with the penultimate installment of this series soon. Have a wonderful day or night, and may God bless you!
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Okay. So. I know that October is over. And I am fully aware that it is currently November 18th. But hear me out: I want to see this through to the end. I've had a lot of fun working on these, and I think it would be a shame to stop where I'm at simply because it's not October anymore.
With that said, here are my responses for days 11-15! Just as it was before, the prompts are from @/stormyth-art's 2024 and 2025 OC-tober prompt lists!
And one more thing - Day 15's prompt is a sequel to the one I wrote for Day 7's. While it's not necessary to have read Day 7's prompt first, I would say that it does provide a bit of context.
Day 11: Fairytale AU
“I do believe there’s something wrong with me.”
Demiastle watched as Palice looked up from his chessboard, blinking in surprise. “I – I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said – I think there may be something wrong with me.”
Palice folded his hands together, giving Demiastle a thoughtful look. “...In what sense?”
“...In the sense… that I might be cursed,” Demiastle hazarded. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be having this conversation with Palice of all people. But then again, who else would he come to about this? If anybody else had experience with sort of… issue, it would be him.
Palice looked him up and down, only to snicker at him (Demiastle scoffed. The audacity of this man sometimes, honestly…). “I’d think it would be a bit more obvious if you were.”
“Not all symptoms of a curse are visible, mind you,” Demiastle scolded. “You should know.”
Palice’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe that I’m aware of what you mean…”
“Allow me to jog your memory. Prior to meeting your wife, you said that you kept hearing a voice calling you into the woods.”
“Yes, that’s… true. But what of it?”
“And you eventually made the decision to follow it, thus leading you to a tower where a woman was being held captive. That woman would later become your wife, but only after her sister found out about you and cast a spell on you that made you blind, leading to you wandering around like a vagabond for three days. The only reason your sight was restored to you was because your future wife–”
“Persimmon.”
“...What?”
“Her name,” Palice repeated with a wistful smile, “Is Persimmon.”
“Yes, well – Persimmon got moved by her sister into a swamp filled with thornbushes. One that you just so happened to blindly wander into. And poor Persimmon was so distressed at your state, along with her horrendous living conditions, that she cried on you. Which just so happened to cure your blindness… somehow.”
“Yes,” Palice agreed. “All of that is true. But… how did that make me ‘cursed’, exactly..?”
“Don’t you understand?! You had to have been cursed in order to be willing to go through all of that! And for a woman that you barely even knew–!”
“It was all mere coincidence,” Palice countered. “Had her sister not happened to be a witch, I imagine I would’ve helped Persimmon leave the tower without any trouble. And we would’ve gotten married without me having to go missing for three days beforehand, as well.”
“Oh, really? Then what about that voice you heard?”
“...It was probably from a benevolent force of some kind,” Palice muttered. “One that had wanted to help Persimmon. I… will admit that I don’t know what it was exactly, but–”
“So it could’ve been anything?! Like a ghost, or a fairy, or–”
“Well, yes! As I said, I don’t know.”
“...Hmph.” Demiastle turned his attention back to the chessboard, thoroughly displeased. This conversation had gotten him nowhere… “It’s still your move, Palice.”
But Palice didn’t pick up any of the pieces, instead preferring to continue looking at the man in front of him. “...Demiastle.”
The brunette in question let out a huff. “What?”
“...Are you hearing voices telling you to go somewhere?”
“...Well, I – I wouldn’t say that the problem is hearing voices,” he explained. “It’s – I have… these dreams. Every night.”
“Since when?”
“Since… It started four months ago.”
“And what do you dream about?”
“I keep dreaming about this – this woman. And the dreams often involve us doing things such as going on walks, having tea, sitting and talking… everyday things anyone might do with someone they were close with. And every time that I wake up I have this… impossible sense of longing…” Demiastle tried not to wince, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the chessboard. Even now, just discussing what he had been going through started to put the most horrible ache in his chest.
“...And I take it that you don’t know this person at all?” Palice asked, trying to catch Demiastle’s eyes. He had a soft, sympathetic look on his face.
“...I don’t,” Demiastle said quietly. “I’ve never seen her a day in my life. But I can recall her face as clearly as anyone else’s. And I have this… intense urge to go west until I find… something.”
“Well in that case,” Palice started, “I suggest you get going.”
Demiastle snapped his head up, indignant. “Are you insane?! What would you suggest a thing like that for? Would you like me to end up blind and stumbling around somewhere, too?”
“Demiastle–”
“It’s asinine. Absolutely and completely asinine. I won’t be going anywhere, thank you very much.”
Palice snickered again, and it took everything in Demiastle not to leap across the table and sock him in the nose. “We’ll see.”
---
“...My prince…”
Demiastle huffed, trying (and failing) to ignore the voice whispering in his ear. It had been only a week since he had spoken to Palice about his… condition, and the curse had only grown more persistent. Now, besides his dreams, the ever-growing urge to move west, and the worsening, near-constant sense of having someone missing from his life, he was hearing voices. Voices that told him to go and find someone. Voices that demanded to know what was taking so long. Voices that asked if he even cared about who he was meant to find. And a voice that sounded an awful lot like–
“...I’m waiting…”
…Like the woman from his dreams.
Demiastle sighed as he petted his horse’s mane, trying to remain focused on the hunting trip he was supposed to be on. But that was pretty hard to do, with how his princess kept–
No! No. She was not “his” by any definition. She was just some apparition made up by his mind in an effort to entertain itself, or was some trifling spirit sent to torment him. Not someone tangible. He was far better off trying to ignore–
…There was a clear path to the west of him. Perhaps, if he were to ride through there–
Stop it! Demiastle had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from saying that out loud. Once the pain had passed, he leaned forward and pet his stallion along his neck. “Tell me, Accipieter,” he muttered, addressing the steed, “Do you think I’m losing my mind?” The horse only let out a quiet whinny in response. “Hm… yes, I suppose you’re right. Asking a horse for his opinion on the matter certainly doesn’t bode well…” He chuckled to himself as he looked up. His knights and the rest of the hunting party had gone a bit of a ways ahead of him. If he were to slip off now, perhaps he could–
“Yes, you should do it! Go. Go down the path.” A different voice spoke now, one of the ones who tended to be much more insistent about him going on a journey. “What would be the harm? Nobody will notice. And who knows, maybe your princess isn’t as far away as you think she is.”
Hearing that, Demiastle knew exactly what he needed to do. He took hold of Accipeter’s reins, and carefully drove the horse…
…In the opposite direction.
“Are you KIDDING me?!” One of the other voices howled in his ear. “TURN. AROUND! You can’t keep DOING this!”
Demiastle ignored the voice, carrying on. That one tended to scream at him a lot. But he knew by now that after enough time, she would eventually leave him alone—
“If you do not act now, the princess will die.”
Demiastle froze, tugging on Accipeter’s reins and stopping him mid-trot. “...What?” He spoke aloud despite himself, his utterance a quiet expression of confusion.
“The princess cannot sleep forever,” the third voice continued. “If you do not wake her soon, she will be lost.”Demiastle remained still, watching as his knights and the other hunters disappeared into the distance. Was that voice… talking about the woman from his dreams? Was she really more than a figment of his imagination? And if so…
Was it true? That she would die if he didn’t go to her?
He stared down at the grass, completely torn. On the one hand, there was a decent chance that he would be the one in the ground if he followed along with what those voices asked of him, with what his feelings demanded. But at the same time, if there was even a chance that woman was real, and that her blood would be on his hands if he didn’t act…
…The way forward was clear. He grabbed hold of his horse’s reins once again, and directed him back toward the path that they had left earlier. And once they had started on it – “Hyah!” He commanded the horse to go faster, and the stallion whinnied again before breaking into a gallop.
---
Demiastle anxiously clenched his jaw as he continued forward, his stallion’s pace having slowed to a tentative walk. He had lost track of how many hours had passed since they had started down this path, and was uncertain of how they would get back if need be. The trees seemed to shift and change places regularly, and whenever he turned around the path behind them only looked more and more blocked. It appeared that there was no going back, now that he had chosen to take this course of action. And naturally, the voices he heard had stopped providing guidance, now that he had done what they wanted…
Perhaps that was the nature of this curse. It doomed him to a life of being lost alone in the woods with only a horse for company, sentenced to wander down a solitary path until he found a princess who might not even exist.
What a way to die.
He huffed, wondering what would become of his kingdom. He was an only child, so it wasn’t like there was an immediate relative to give it to. And his cousins were all irresponsible and dim-witted. The only good thing about one of them inheriting the throne would be the fact that it wouldn’t take long for one of them to come to power, once one was chosen. Demiastle was supposed to be coronated as king next week, so most of the preparations would already be there…
That hunting trip was meant to be a brief moment of reprieve, and nothing more. And now look at the mess he was–
Accipeter let out a sharp neigh, and stopped in his tracks. Demiastle tried to encourage him to move forward, but to no avail. The horse neighed again and raised up for a moment in stubborn defiance. Demiastle let out a sigh. “Oh, what has gotten into–” He paused, seeing what the problem was – a set of thorny vines slithered along the ground, sharp and imposing. Not to mention how they were horribly dangerous to walk on. He blinked – they weren’t there a moment ago…
No matter. It was just another obstacle that needed to be overcome. “You wait here.” He pet the stallion’s neck again before sliding off of him. Once he had gotten down, he drew his sword, a long, smart-looking rapier. “Now let’s see…” He took a few steps forward, carefully maneuvering over the vines – only for them to recede at his presence.
…How curious.
Regardless, Demiastle took this as a good sign. He returned to his steed and mounted him again, and carefully had him move forward – only for the horse to stop again a few yards later, and entire wall of vines sprouting out of nowhere and blocking the way.
And this time, they didn’t recede when he dismounted and approached it.
“…No matter,” he muttered to himself. He drew his sword again, opting to cut the vines down instead. And that seemed to do the trick; the vines slinked back to whence they had came after the first slash.
But Demiastle didn’t get back on Accipeter. Instead, he led him through the woods by the reins, keeping his eyes peeled for any more vines. And while there were a few issues, he was ultimately able to lead them both deeper into the forest without much of a real problem.
But then he saw it.
The trees had parted enough to reveal a large, worn-out castle. Thick thorny vines of green and purple coloring wrapped around the walls and windows, scaling up towers and creeping into crevices.
He tried to get closer, but Accipeter stubbornly refused to move. He couldn’t blame the steed — the flora here looked awfully hostile… “Alright,” Demiastle said to the horse calmly. “You don’t have to go any further.” I get the sense that the rest of this quest is for me, and me alone… He carefully tied Accipeter to a nearby tree, making sure that the stallion had enough room to move around a few feet in each direction if and when needed.
He then began to walk toward the castle (after giving his trusty mount a few pets on his mane, of course). None of the vines moved as he got closer. But that wasn’t a concern. For one thing, the door to the castle had been left open, the vines spilling along the floor in a way that left it mostly walkable. That, and there was something more pressing that caught Demiastle’s attention.
There were guards here.
But they weren’t moving.
In fact, they paid no mind to him at all. They laid quietly on the ground, their bodies limp and lifeless. Demiastle shivered. Were they… dead? He dared himself to get closer to one of them, only to pause when he heard something oddly reminiscent of snoring coming from one of the guards.
Were they just… asleep? Out here in the grass and vines?
Unsure of what to do, Demiastle called out to them. “Hello?” But there was no response. Not even when he raised his voice, or shook them in an attempt to make them stir. They remained thoroughly and completely asleep.
Despite becoming disturbed by such an encounter, Demiastle pressed on — only to be met with more sleeping servants inside the castle, all of which remained still in their slumber no matter any attempts to wake them. A shiver ran down his spine. What on Earth could’ve been the cause of all this?
But then he remembered.
The princess cannot sleep forever. If you do not wake her soon, she will be lost.
That warning that voice had given him — did it apply to all of these people as well? Would they perish if the princess wasn’t found?
…He had to keep moving.
So off he went, walking past dozens of dozing individuals. He passed by rooms full of them — a few were in bed, while most had seemingly been attending to whatever work they had before dropping right where they were. The whole situation was intriguing, but there was no time to stop. That urge to go west had now shifted and changed into a guide of sorts, directing him down hallways and up staircases.
All until he found himself in front of a room. One whose door was covered with thick vines until he stepped toward it. The vines receded back much faster than the ones in the forest had, as if they had the sense that Demiastle was supposed to be there more than they were.
The longing he had felt earlier had only grown more and more intense as he traversed the castle, as if he had come this close to having something he had wanted for years, only to have it taken away from him at the last second. But he also got the sense that if he opened this door, things would change. He and his princess could be together for as long as they wanted, with nothing and nobody to separate them. No mysterious slumber, no strange dreams as their only means of interaction. But if only he knew for sure—
My prince! You are so close…
Well, that was all the confirmation he needed. Demiastle took hold of the doorknob and turned it, carefully opening the door with a loud creak. It clearly hadn’t been touched in ages, now old and rusting at the hinges with vines starting to encroach on it.
But the inside was what was truly worth looking at.
Even though so much of the castle had been reclaimed by nature and filled with eerily sleeping inhabitants, this room was different. The inside hadn’t been desecrated by so much as a single vine, and there was only one person resting there — a beautiful young woman, with black hair that went just past her shoulders and a face that Demiastle had seen dozens of times before, despite never having met her a day in his life.
It was the woman from his dreams.
He approached her gingerly, like the sound of his footsteps potentially posed the threat of rousing her. He rested a hand on her face as he stood next to her bed, her breathing even and quiet. “…My princess,” he whispered softly. “I’m here. I’ve come to be with you at last.”
“Well it’s about time!”
Demiastle snapped his head up, recognizing the voice he had just heard — it was one of the ones that had kept trying to get him to come here, the more pushy and insistent of the three. He looked around, trying to see where it had come from, but he didn’t see anybody around. The only thing that looked out of place was a trio of small, brightly colored lights floating around in the air. He stared at them, confused. Those weren’t there a moment ago…
But he found himself with no time to thoroughly question it, as a bright flash of light obscured his vision. He was blinded for a moment, panicking for a second. But his vision soon returned to him, and Demiastle let out a sigh of relief — only for puzzlement to seize him once more, as three figures stood in front of him. And that perplexed sense turned into dread as he realized that each of the figures had pointed ears, unnaturally bright eyes…
Wings.
Demiastle made himself narrow his eyes, standing up straight in an attempt to look intimidating. He knew a fairy when he saw one, and he was not one to be trifled with. “And what could you three want?” He asked, not willing to let his guard down even for a moment.
One of the fae scoffed. “Wow,” she said, her voice sounding eerily like the one he had heard just a few moments ago. “That’s rich. And after all we’ve done for you, too. You wouldn’t even be here without us, you know that?”
Demiastle froze, a chill running down his spine at the fairy’s words.
Had—
Had he been listening to a bunch of fae this whole time..?
He thought he might gag at the thought. To think that there was a fate worse than being cursed that might befall him…
And to think that he had stumbled right into it.
But not all hope was lost. The fae didn’t have his name — it wasn’t like he spoke much to them outside of the occasional “Be quiet” and the “What” that had escaped his mouth earlier that day. So perhaps—
“Anyway, Demiastle,” the female fairy said, interrupting his thoughts, “Let’s try that again, yeah?”
Demiastle stared at them, dumbfounded. “You — You have my name?”
“Uh, yeah? We know all about you, dude. We spent an entire week trying to personally convince you to do this quest, and a whole four months doing magic on you. Why wouldn’t we know your name?”
“…”
Demiastle went silent, unsure of how to respond. But before he knew it, he muttered a string of swears under his breath, an awful habit he’d had since his boyhood that had a tendency to come out during instances of severe frustration. “Relax,” the fairy responded, snickering. “We’re not gonna use it against you or nothing. If that’s what we wanted, we would’ve done that a while ago.”
Demiastle sighed. That was a fairly decent point. But still… “How do I know that I can trust you?”
“Sheesh, you humans are all kinds of skittish, you know that? But since you’ve such a scaredy cat, I guess I can see about giving you something of mine. Then we’ll be even.”
“Hardly,” Demiastle rebutted. “I can’t do anything with whatever you give. But you can already do everything to me.”
“Oh, fine. You have my word that I’m not going to try and screw with you anymore than I already have. Deal?”
Demiastle pondered this. The word of a fairy was as good as gold — for them, breaking a promise was a sentence that guaranteed some sort of unpleasant consequence, whether it be something as small as a brief dizzy spell to something as large as death. “…I suppose,” he answered. “But what about your companions?”
“Ugh — you are so difficult for no reason, you know that? Dynamo, Caret. Promise you won’t mess with him.”
The tallest of the three, the one Demiastle guessed was “Dynamo”, nodded in agreement with a sigh. “Fine, fine.” Demiastle recognized his voice as the more encouraging of the three, the one that was the most encouraging in trying to get him to set off on this whole journey he’d been on. “Demiastle, you have my word that will not harm you from this point on.”
“…You have mine as well,” the third fairy, presumably Caret, said. He was a young man with blond hair and shiny purple eyes, and his voice was easily recognized as the voice that had warned him of the princess’ approaching demise.
“…So what do you want with me?” Demiastle asked again, his tone much gentler now. He… got the sense that they were trustworthy enough, at this point. Most fae would have laughed at the thought of promising him anything, or would have already used his name to force him into doing their bidding.
“We want you to wake the princess up,” Dynamo explained, smiling.
“Well, I’ve gathered that much. But… how am I supposed to do so, exactly?”
Dynamo’s smile grew into a smirk. “You have to kiss her.”
Demiastle balked hard at this, blinking furiously in shock. “Wh-What?! I can’t just – I can’t just kiss some woman I’ve never even met–”
“Oh, cut the crap. You’ve met before,” the first fairy snapped. “You’ve met dozens of times. What do you think I mentioned us doing a bunch of magic on you for? Did you really think all of those dreams you had were just ‘happenstance’ or something?” Demiastle became quiet again, contemplating this. He ended up letting out a sigh, and that was enough to prompt the fae into continuing. “So you guys know each other pretty good – she’s been having the same dreams you have. So it’s not like you’ll be kissing a complete stranger or something.”
“Yes, but – still,” Demiastle protested. “She’s asleep.”
“Yeah. And she’s gonna stay that way if you don’t kiss her,” the first fairy supplied, starting to grow impatient. “We didn’t invest all this time into dragging you out here just for you to choke at the end. So I suggest you get it together.”
“...It doesn’t necessarily have to be on the mouth,” Caret murmured. “All that's required is a kiss.”
“...I see…” Demiastle sighed again. He… supposed a kiss on the forehead would be alright, in that case… But then a thought occurred to him. “Is there a reason why it has to be like this? Wouldn’t it make more sense to do something like shouting her name or shaking her, or–”
“Look, punk. We didn’t cast the curse on her. We’re just trying to fix it,” the first fairy hissed. “So stop whining about how things don’t ‘make sense’ or whatever, and do something–”
“Kai,” Dynamo interrupted, addressing the leader of the group by name. “Be patient. We’ve come this far, and it’s not like she’ll die in the next few minutes.”
“So?! Why should she have to wait anymore? She’s been asleep for a hundred years! Isn’t that long enough?!”
Dynamo and Kai continued to bicker back and forth, while Caret silently watched them. All the while, Demiastle stared at the princess, feeling something like remorse welling up inside of him. She’s right, he thought. You have been asleep for long enough. He leaned down carefully, brushing the hair covering her forehead out of her way – and, gently, placed a kiss on her face.
As soon as he moved back, the princess started to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she took a moment to look around, seemingly confused – especially since the fairies were still arguing. Surely that must’ve been a strange thing to wake up to…
But her face softened when she saw Demiastle, her countenance brightening. “My prince,” she said quietly, taking one of his hands. “You have taken such a long time to come here!”
“I know,” he whispered sheepishly, the wistfulness inside him easing at last. “And I’m so very sorry about that. I would have come sooner, but–”
“It’s okay!” The princess interrupted. She laughed and looked over at the fairies – who were still quarreling with each other. “They’re not the easiest people to work with. So I understand.”
“Ah.” Demiastle flushed a bit. “So… was I the only one kept in the dark about all this..?”
“Maybe,” the princess teased, laughing again. She sat up slowly, and Demiastle was quick to help her up. “Although, there is… one thing that they didn’t tell me.”
“What is it?”
“What happens, now that I’m awake?”
Demiastle thought about this for a moment, still holding her hand. “Well,” he began, “We could… pick up where we left off, in a sense.” Perhaps all those dreams really did come in handy, after all…
The princess beamed at that. “That would be lovely! I would like for you to meet my parents, anyhow. I’m sure they’re awake now, too…”
Demiastle gaped a bit – did that mean everyone he had seen on the way up had been cursed, as well? Had the only way to wake them been to wake the princess? “That’s how this all works?!”
The princess giggled, amused. “Yes! Oh, they really didn’t tell you anything, did they?”
“Of course not. Trying to get anything out of those three was like pulling teeth…”
The princess snickered yet again, and Demiastle felt himself blush harder. He didn’t think that was a sound he could ever get tired of… “Oh, well! That’s alright. At least we’re together now–” The princess paused, pursing her lips. And then her expression changed to one of panic. “Oh – Oh, my goodness! All that time together, and we never gave each other our names!”
Demiastle put a hand to his mouth – but rather than being horrified or surprised, it was his turn to laugh. “That’s–!” He could hardly speak, he was laughing so much. But once he sobered: “Demiastle,” he answered. “My name is Demiastle. And you?”
“Woya,” the princess replied in kind.
Demiastle held her hand a little tighter. “That’s a beautiful name.”
That mission would be successful. And as a result, several over a decade later, said princess and said nobleman would allow their daughter to attend an event, one with Palice and Demiastle’s children in attendance – an event that would end with two of the children hiding in a kitchen pantry, while a certain evil spirit was sealed up in the castle’s walls, a punishment for three separate counts of attempted murder.
Katherine walked toward Newbert’s room, somewhat intrigued by the odd noises that were coming from it. It seemed like Newbert had been trying to fix something all morning, but it didn’t sound like any of the more mechanical objects that he usually worked on…
She stopped at the doorframe, and then carefully peeked inside. Newbert was sitting on his bed, fiddling with some sort of long, wooden object. But his back was to the wall, so Katherine couldn’t really see what it was. She took a few steps forward, curious. But some of her steps weren’t as quiet as she had hoped, and it was only a matter of time until Newbert turned and saw her. “Hey, lass!” He smiled at her when she let out a squeak in surprise. “Ye don’ ‘ave ta sneak around, ya know,” he teased. “Ye c’n come take a look if ya wan’!”
With a little nod, Katherine walked to him and looked over his shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw what she was working on. “It’s – It’s a… a guitar?”
“Aye, lassie! I learned how ta play one, a long while ago. Bu’ I ‘aven’ ‘ad the chance to fer a while. ‘Till I found this beau’y on me way ‘ome from work las’ nigh’!” Newbert beamed and held up the guitar to show her. The compliment he gave it was well deserved: it was a brilliant light beige color, with the back of it being dark like mahogany. And strings were a bright yellow, like gold — but one of them was broken, snapped into two different parts. “I t’ink whoever t’rew it ou’ did ‘at because a few o’ the strings ‘ere broke. Bu’ ‘at’s nae a problem, lass! All the strings c’n be replaced as needed.”
Katherine’s eyes widened in surprise. “R-Really?”
“Aye! I was tryin’ ta do ‘at, bu’ I can’t seem ta ge’ t’is one righ’...” He flicked at the broken string, frowning at it. “I jus’ can’t figure ou’ wha’ I’m doin’ wrong…”
Katherine gave the guitar some serious observation. While she didn’t know much about string instruments, she had always wanted to play one. So she was aware of a few things. And it didn’t take long for her to see what the issue was. “Most — Most guitars I’ve seen have the strings decrease in size when they go this way,” she said, pointing to the right of the guitar. “B-But — But the one you put on seems… too sm-small.”
“Oh!” Newbert gave the guitar another once-over for himself, and untied the now broken string. “T’ank ye, lass! I didn’ realize t’ere had ta be an order to it…” He soon replaced the string with a larger one. Although, Katherine thought that one looked a little too big. But… perhaps she was just seeing things? Newbert was an expert at repairing things after all.
And she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and be a bother…
After a few moments, Newbert stood up with the newly fixed guitar in hand. “Alrigh’y, Kat’rine! Are ye ready fer a concert?” Katherine nodded eagerly, and took a seat on Newbert’s bed. “Okay, t’en! ‘Ere we go!”
He started to play the instrument, and it became obvious that he wasn’t lying about having experience with it: the strumming was light, yet intense, and he was able to figure out where to place all of his fingers without needing to look down at it. Although… some of the notes did sound a little off, as if something was wrong with one of the strings…
Eventually, Newbert opened his mouth and took in a breath, as if he were about to start singing. Katherine sat up straight, surprised – she didn’t think Newbert was the type to sing! She was just starting to wonder if he would sound any good, only–
Twang!SNAP!The string Newbert had just put onto the guitar broke, with the longer half flying and smacking him in the face. Katherine put a hand to her mouth in shock.
Perhaps that was the wrong string after all.
Newbert blinked for a second, stunned. A red mark lingered on his skin, and he winced when he went to touch it. But then he said what was arguably the most appropriate phrase for a situation such as this: “...Ow.”
~~~
Day 13: OC That Dies*
As Petra locked the door, there was only one thought that echoed through her mind: WG-251 is never going to forgive me.
And indeed, he had already started banging at the closet door, yelling in a panic. “Petra?!” He jiggled at the doorknob, to no avail. It was amazing how one could jam a lock from the outside. “PETRA! Petra, don’ do t’is, please!”
She bit her lip in an effort to keep herself from talking. She knew that she’d run out of time if she lingered to calm him down, and she knew that also carried the risk of being convinced to join him in that closet. But at the same time, WG-251 deserved to hear something from her. If she didn’t make it back, then—
…With that in mind, Petra said the only thing that she had time to say, and she meant both words of it: “I’m sorry.”
She took off afterwards, hearing WG-251 desperately scream her name again. She wanted to turn back, longed to, even, but she had something she needed to take care of.
She hurried toward the front of the factory, where she found quite a few of her sisters mobilizing toward the doors. Good. They would need all hands on deck if they wanted to beat the Arcadians back — or at the very least, keep them from getting any further.
Marsha slinked up to her, surprisingly calm despite the circumstances – just as she always was. “I was able to get a glimpse of them from the roof, before we knew for sure that they were Arcadians. They’re all wearing red.”
Petra balked at that, immediately understanding the implication. “Red? But – But that would mean that they’re Fefnir’s men!”
Marsha pursed her lips, nodding. “Sure seems like it.”
“What – ugh!” Petra tossed her hands up. As if the fact that the Arcadians were trying to get in wasn’t bad enough. “This factory’s in Harpuia’s court, isn’t it? And we were under Leviathan’s jurisdiction. What, could they just – just not be bothered to send some of their own people or something?”
Marsha raised an eyebrow at her. “...You say that like it would be any better than this.”
“Well, at least they would be open to negotiation or giving us a trial or something–” A loud banging came from the door. “Crap – okay, just make sure that–”
“Marsha!” A loud shout caught their attention. Both of the sisters turned to face it, and there stood WG-257. “Marshie, I’ve been looking for you–”
“WG-257!” Marsha cut him short, running over to him. “What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be hiding with the others–”
“But I want to help you! I – I love you, Marsha. I’m not going to just let you get – get hurt. Not without me here at least trying to protect you…”
“I don’t want you to protect me! I want you to go somewhere safe! That way I don’t have to worry about you!”
“I’d rather be in danger and by your side, than safe and knowing that you could be hurt or worse all by yourself!”
Marsha froze, her eyes wide – all while Petra silently watched the conversation with a heavy heart. She knew that was how WG-251 had felt, too. And yet, she’d gone and made the decision to make him hide, to force him into safety. She had thought, as soon as she had come up with the idea (she knew he wouldn’t be one to willingly hide, if he knew what she was going to do), that it was the right thing.
But now, watching Marsha take hold of WG-257’s hand, she wasn’t sure if it was correct. “...257,” Marsha whispered, looking tenderly at him, “I… I want you here, too.” A small smile came to WG-257’s face, only for it to fall as she continued. “But we can’t have that! Because the fact is, the members of my line are better suited for–”
BANG!
SCREEEECH!
The terrible sound of the factory doors being pried open made the whole room fall into a hush. Too late, Petra realized as she looked at WG-257 and the dozens of other members of the Westman Gate line still scattered around the room, as she thought of how many dozens more were running around in other places rather than waiting in a hiding spot. It’s too late for that now.
The door continued to screech and squeal, and eventually, something was visible from the crack made in between them. A dark red eye peered at the reploids inside of the factory, before the doors were forced open completely. A lone, tall automaton with a doglike face gave the factory workers a hard, long look of cold disdain before speaking. “Mavericks!” The unmistakable low growl of Anubis Necromancess came from the reploid’s maw. “Prepare to become one with the dust of the Earth – the very same dust your creators came from.”
Petra narrowed her eyes, staring at Necromancess. She was directly in front of him, only a few yards away at the most – a whole centuria of soldiers stood behind him, with dozens of pantheons after that. She took hold of the pistol she had taken from one of the guard mechaniloids when she and her fellow workers had taken control of the factory. “...Not if we make you dust first,” she spat after a moment.
Necromancess let out a bitter laugh, amused. “You can most certainly try, my dear,” he replied, smirking. “You can most certainly try.”
And try she did.
~~~
Day 14: Pajamas (2024 Prompt)*
(Note: this response contains depictions of bullying and verbal abuse, as well as implications of past bullying. Reader discretion is advised.)
“I fail to understand the purpose of such a garment.”
Persimmon stared blankly at the clothing on display. She had always found it odd how customers, clothing stores, tailors, and society as a whole would invest so much into something so… unnecessary. After all, wouldn’t it be more efficient to simply change into the clothing one intended to wear the next day before going to sleep? It was an excellent way to save time, even if it was only for a few minutes.
“Are you referring to the pajamas?” Palice asked, pointing at a set of the folded up clothing Persimmon was looking at.
“Is that what the clothing humans specifically change into at night is called?” Palice nodded in confirmation. “Then yes. That is what I am speaking in reference to.”
“Oh — well, they’re meant to make sleep more comfortable,” he explained. “And comfort is an important part of ensuring restful sleep… But I am curious; why did you say that as if humans are the only ones who wear such things?”
Persimmon blinked a little, surprised. “Are you saying that reploids wear them as well?”
“Of course! We require comfort during recharges just as much as humans do during sleep. I have a few sets that I’m fond of myself…” But then Palice paused, an expression of alarm coming to his face. “Persimmon — are you saying that you don’t have any..?”
“…Yes,” Persimmon replied, starting to feel what she identified as… “unsure.” She had thought that it was commonplace for reploids to not have such things. But had she been mistaken this whole time? Or was Palice in the wrong, and was it only appropriate for service reploids to have those things?
“Then — Then what have you been sleeping in?” Palice asked, still surprised.
“…The same clothes I usually wear,” Persimmon supplied, not knowing how Palice would react at this point. “After they have been sufficiently disinfected, of course. It would be a serious act of negligence to potentially spread diseases via my clothing.”
“I… see…” Palice pursed his lips, looking unhappy. But Perismmon still didn’t understand why that was the case. She hadn’t said anything that would suggest something was wrong in any way. “…Are you intrigued by the way any of these sets look?”
“…I… suppose that this one with the various hearts on it is… ‘cute’ by conventional definition,” Persimmon murmured, her sense of being unsure now progressing into “confusion”. “The material it is made out of gives it a soft texture, and I am appreciative of the fabric’s pink coloring…” She stared at Palice for a moment. “But… why did you want to know such a thing?”
“So that I would know what I should buy for you,” Palice answered, picking up the clothes.
Persimmon blinked, startled. “That is not necessary. I can assure you that I do not require any of this attire.”
“I know. But… I would like to buy them for you. And as I said earlier, comfort is an important part of getting proper rest. So perhaps… wearing such clothing could lead to more efficient recharges?” Palice explained, choosing his words carefully. He knew how to get Persimmon to change her mind about something — and he could do it relatively easily, too.
And sure enough: “…In that case… It would be sensible to wear something like this… if only to potentially prove your hypothesis,” Persimmon said tentatively. “I will attempt to wear them tonight, then. I will report my findings to you at the nearest opportunity.”
Palice chuckled, and Persimmon felt her ears tingle with warmth. This was… an occurrence that had been taking place more and more often around him. The skin on her ears (and in some cases her face as well) would rise in temperature, and would gain a noticeable red hue. A significant rise in her heart rate would accompany the phenomena, and she would develop a sense of…
Hm.
She did not have a name for the emotion. More research would have to be done in order to find the proper term.
“I… look forward to hearing your report,” Palice said, smiling at her. Although, something that Persimmon had only witnessed a few times before came along with it; his face had turned pink, if only by the slightest amount.
---
Persimmon looked herself over. Her new evening attire was rather different from anything she had worn before. It was as soft as it had looked in the store, and managed to be both warm and cool at the same time. The fabric was thick and insulating, but the fact that the outfit was comprised of a pair of shorts and a short-sleeved shirt kept it from posing a risk of causing her to overheat. How remarkably logical, Persimmon thought in satisfaction.
She undid the two buns she had tied her hair up in, and set the bands in their designated place in a small drawer labeled “personal” in her examination room. It was the only place in the room not dedicated to her work, besides her charging pod. She wondered if she could somehow get permission to have a container for her things, as well. The drawer wasn’t large enough to fit her nightclothes and everything else – but perhaps it could, with some rearranging…
That was something to determine in the morning, however. She needed to go about getting rest, if she wanted to have adequate performance at her job tomorrow. So she opened her recharge pod, and started to climb inside after removing her mask–
Kshcik!
Persimmon startled at the sound of her room door opening. She turned, only to be met with a scoff while she did so. “What are you wearing?”
She stiffened at the sound of Cherry’s voice – out of all of the sisters who could have seen her like this, why did it have to be her? “...My pajamas," Persimmon answered sheepishly, not wanting to meet Cherry’s gaze.
Cherry made a psh sound as she looked Persimmon over again. “Why would you need to wear something like that? You look ridiculous.”
“...Comfort is an important part of getting proper rest,” Persimmon murmured, quoting Palice. “So I am conducting an experiment to determine if–”
“Where did you even get them?” Cherry interrupted, crossing her arms.
“...I bought them.”
“You liar. You never order anything online, and you are way too much of a goody-goody to try and leave the hospital for something like that.”
“My – My friend gave them to me,” Persimmon admitted. She should’ve known better than to think she could deceive one of her sisters. They had all known each other from birth – which meant that they knew all the habits that the other members of their line had. Including the specific tells they had when lying.
“Oh, your friend?” Cherry snickered as her face changed into a sneer. “You mean the one you made up?”
“Palice is not ‘made up’,” Persimmon stated firmly, her eyes narrowing. “He bought these for me as a gift. He wanted me to be comfortable when I slept, and he also cares about making sure that I am efficient in everything that I–”
“Come on, Persimmon. You can quit defending your imaginary friend. Nobody worth their salt would ever want to be friends with you.”
Persimmon stiffened, blinking a few times. “What… do you mean by that?”
“I mean, look at you!” Cherry gestured at her while shaking her head. “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve got nothing to offer to anybody. You’ve got basically no personality, no hobbies, no interests unrelated to work – if someone did try to be friends with you, they’d run out of things to talk about with you in minutes. And it’s not even like you're pretty or especially good at your job or anything. You’re just… here. There’s literally nothing special about you, other than how much of a freak you are. Seriously – who even acts like that, Persimmon? Robot Masters had more emotions than you do. And it’s not even like you have a reason to behave like this. You have the same kind of emotional processor the rest of us do, and mom programmed your personality module the same way she did all of ours. Are you… Are you doing this on purpose? Is that it?” Cherry tilted her head at Persimmon in pity. “Are you trying to make yourself more interesting, Persimmon? Because it’s not working. Not the way you want it to. All you’re doing is scaring people off–”
“I do not – do not scare anybody,” Persimmon said, swallowing hard. Her chest felt tight, and water was gathering in her eyes. This sort of physical reaction always happened when she was around Cherry. She had asked Palice about it once, and he had explained to her that it was likely due to an emotion known as “sadness”, or perhaps “frustration”.
And if that was true, then she was starting to get rather “annoyed” with being sad and frustrated because of Cherry.
“This – This is simply my personality. And I do not think – think that there is a problem with it. Mother – Mother doesn’t dislike it, either. And while I may not – may not have a wide variety of interests like you do, Palice and I – and I could talk for hours. And I – I am good at my job,” Persimmon continued, taking in stuttery breaths as she spoke in an attempt at keeping any of her forming tears from escaping. “In fact, I am better at it than you, if the difference in our scores from our performance evaluation last week is – is any indicator–”
“Woah, Persimmon! What are you wearing?!” A new, more chipper voice joined the conversation. Another one of Persimmon’s sisters excitedly ran into the room and went right up to her. “It looks so-o-o-o cool!”
Persimmon blinked once more, surprised by this new reaction to her attire. “...Thank you, Clementine,” she answered after taking a moment to compose herself. (Not that she needed it for her sister’s sake – while she and her linemates could understand each other’s habits, most of them had yet to figure out the subtle changes in her deadpan personality that indicated when she was upset.) “I am glad that you like it.” And she was. It was a welcome change from how Cherry had reacted.
“Wow!” A softer, smaller voice joined in next. Papaya, the only member of Persimmon’s line who was younger than her, approached her. “That looks… really cute, Persimmon!” The normally reserved girl reached a hand out, only to draw it back. “May I… Can I touch it?”
“Yes.”
Papaya awkwardly petted one of Persimmon’s shoulders, but was smiling the whole time. “It’s so soft…”
“Do you have any more of these clothes, Persimmon?” Clementine asked, still curious. “I want to wear something like this, too!”
“Yeah!” Papaya agreed. “I really like the red hearts…”
“You guys can’t be serious,” Cherry grumbled, huffing. “Look at her! She looks like a clown–”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Yet another sister entered the room – this time it was Melon, the sixth member of the line. “Persimmon! Giiiirl. You look soooo good right now. The red in your outfit is, like, totally bringing out your skin tone. And here I thought you were more of a winter…”
Persimmon stared blankly at her. “I fail to comprehend how a person could be a season,” she stated bluntly.
A laugh went around the room, but it wasn’t quite malicious, like how Cherry’s laughs usually were after Persimmon said something. “No, no! It’s like – a makeup classification,” Melon explained. “I’ll tell you more about it later.”
The fourth linemate, Mango, soon shuffled in. She leaned against a wall, and looked Persimmon over with a nod. “Nice,” she said in approval. “Where’d you get it?”
“It was a gift,” Persimmon said.
“Yeah,” Cherry chimed in. “From her fake friend–”
“Did that Palice guy give it to you?” Mango asked, as if Cherry hadn’t even started speaking.
“Yes.”
“Oho! So! Cupid has come for our second-youngest sister at last!” Peach now entered, eyes sparkling. “It is just as the Oracle foretold it!”
Cherry wrinkled her nose at her. “What are you talking about?”
“The Oracle! Our great leader in guiding us to enlightenment!” Peach waltzed up to Persimmon, pushing her way past Clementine and Papaya. She started waving her hands around in some sort of intense, ritualistic motion. “And I see… that Palice’s love for you is not one sided! You have feelings for him as well! Cupid really has come for you! What a splendid fate for you to stumble into!”
Persimmon’s brow furrowed in complete and utter puzzlement. “...What?”
“Yes, yes, it’s all becoming clear! Everything’s falling into place!”
“I do not understand–”
“Hell yeah it is,” Mango interrupted again. “You go, Peach. Get all mystic and junk.”
Cherry let out a groan. “What did I do as a mess of source code to get stuck with you guys as linemates..?”
“What’s going on in here?”
Everyone in the room froze, going quiet at the words of the eldest member of their line. Apricot walked in, the tallest and most intimidating of the eight of them. “Shouldn’t you all be recharging–” She paused at the sight of the second-youngest line member. “Persimmon,” she addressed coolly. “Why are you out of your work uniform?”
Cherry grinned at the line of questioning, crossing her arms like she had won something. You’re in trouble now, she mouthed, staring at Persimmon all the while.
“...I was given pajamas as a gift,” Persimmon explained, doing her best to ignore her. “From Palice. He… wanted me to be comfortable while I slept. He said that it is just as important for us to be that way when we recharge as it is for humans when they sleep. And he… told me that it could potentially lead to a more efficient recharge. So I wanted to try wearing them to test his hypothesis.”
“...Alright,” Apricot said after a moment’s consideration. “That makes sense. Let me know how it goes. If it goes well, perhaps it’s something the rest of us can adopt.”
The room erupted into cheers while Cherry’s jaw dropped in shock. “What?! Are you serious?! Apricot, you can’t just let her–”
“I can,” Apricot said, sharpening her gaze at Cherry, “And I did. There is no problem with her wearing that. It’s not illegal to do so, nor would it pose a threat to her being able to properly perform her duties. And from what she’s told us about Palice before, he sounds like a rather knowledgeable and trustworthy man,” she stopped, checking to make sure nobody outside the room was listening, “Or at least, trustworthy enough for me to allow her to continue going on unapproved excursions with him. If I can allow that, then why not permit something as simple as her wanting to try out a harmless gift she was given from him? And besides, it looks rather…” Apricot looked at Persimmon with a smile. “It looks rather cute on her. And to think that I thought that she was a winter...”
“Oh my gosh, for reals?!” Melon beamed, appearing to be absolutely “thrilled.” “Me too! But she seems like more of a spring now, right?!”
“Indeed,” Apricot confirmed. “She does. It makes me wonder what colors the rest of us would look good in…”
“I – But – You – Ugh!” Cherry looked away, seeming what Persimmon could infer as being “defeated”. “Fine. Whatever…”
Apricot sighed, choosing to disregard Cherry’s behavior for now. “Now that this has all been handled – to your recharge pods. All of you.” A loud Awwww! came from everybody else except for Cherry and Persimmon. “I mean it! Cherry, you have five vaccinations to administer tomorrow. To children, may I add. You cannot afford to be sluggish. Peach, Mango, you’ll be working triage. Clementine, you’re slated for a triple bypass surgery. Melon, you’re on IV and medication duty in the senior ward. And Persimmon here has both a hip replacement and a minor amputation to perform – and that last one goes threefold for you, Papaya. And as for me, I’ve got a whole slew of blood tests to run and a vascular surgery, along with a thoracotomy. So I don’t want to hear that any of you are ‘tired’ or ‘didn’t charge enough’ in the morning. Okay?”
All of Persimmon’s sisters mumbled quiet confirmations as they left with Apricot – save for Peach, who let out a loud “The Oracle does not approve!” in protest. Persimmon watched quietly, feeling “stunned” by how the interaction had ended pleasantly, despite how Cherry had tried to turn the others against her. She was typically more adept at it than that…
In any case, it was time to sleep. Persimmon slid into her recharge pod at last, grateful. As she closed her eyes, a smile came to her face. She would most definitely have to thank Palice for her gift, regardless of whether or not the experiment ended up being successful.
~~~
Day 15: Sad Memory (2024 Prompt)*
(Note: this response contains depictions of illness, medical treatments, discussions of both potentially terminal illnesses and child death, and graphic depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised.)
“Selene?” Cathniel was careful as he opened the door to Selene’s room, not wanting to be too loud in case she was asleep. “Selene? It’s me.”
Selene rolled over in her bed, smiling as she saw Cathniel. “Cath — Cath—” She was cut off by a horrible coughing fit, eventually clutching at her chest as she tried to breathe.
“Oh-!” Cathniel rushed over to her, helping her to sit up. “Take deep breaths,” he cautioned, patting her back as he assisted in moving her upwards. “Theo says — says that you should inhale with your whole chest — There! Just like that.” He let her catch her breath for a few minutes, remaining quiet as she focused on the act of inhaling and exhaling.
He tried not to think of how labored it all sounded now.
“Selene,” he said again, once her breathing was normal. “I have a surprise for you.”
Selene smirked at him in her usual way, becoming excited. “What is it?” He put a bowl that he was carrying into her lap, along with a spoon. She looked down and let out a loud gasp. “Ice cream!”
“Shh!” Cathniel put a finger to her lips. “It’s a secret! Theodore and the nurse reploids will get mad if they find out I brought it to you.” Selene nodded vigorously, and started eating it as soon as Cathniel took his hand away. The way her face lit up let him know that potentially getting in trouble for bringing it to her was absolutely worth it. “How is it?”
“It’s good! Especially since it’s vanilla. That one’s the best.”
Cathniel gave her a little smile. “I remember! You said that it was your favorite.”
“Yeah! And – Hey, wait. Cathniel, have you ever had ice cream before?”
“Hm… I don’t think so.”
“Try some!” Selene offered him a spoonful – only to pause when he simply stared at her. “Oh, right. I should’ve wiped the spoon off first.” She ate the ice cream already on the spoon before reaching for the box of tissues next to her bed. She wiped the spoon clean after grabbing a tissue, and then got another spoonful. But she found herself surprised when Cathniel only continued to stare at her. “What’s wrong? Do you not like cold food or something?”
“I… I don’t know if reploids can eat food like this. I’ve never tried it.”Selene thought about that for a moment. “...A little bit couldn’t hurt, right?” She asked. “Would it be okay if you only had a small amount?”
“I think that would be fine.” Cathniel took the spoon and put it into his mouth. His eyes widened, surprised by the taste. “Oh! This – This is delicious. I didn’t know something could taste so… ah – what word do I use..?”
“Sweet?” Selene offered, beaming at him.
“Yes! Sweet. I think.” He happily gave the spoon back to Selene. “Thank you for letting me try some.”
“Yeah! Of course! You’re my best friend. That means we do everything together.”
Cathniel snickered a bit. “I don’t think we do everything with each other. But we do end up doing a lot.”
“Uh-huh…” Selene stared down at her bowl, suddenly looking downcast. “...Cathniel?”
“Yes?”
“Can you… stay with me? Just for a little while? I don’t wanna be alone again.”
“Of course I will.” Cathniel motioned for Selene to scoot over, and climbed into her bed. He pulled her into a hug, a smile returning to the girl’s face. But interestingly enough, it was now Cathniel’s turn to frown. As he held her, he noticed that she was… smaller, somehow. Like her body didn’t quite take up enough space. He pulled her closer, realizing that it took hardly any effort to do so at all now. He pursed his lips, confused. Wasn’t Selene supposed to weigh more than this? She had a few weeks ago…
Was this what Theodore had told him about? That sickness made creatures like humans more fragile?
“Cathniel?” Selene looked up at him with curious eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I – I think so,” he said, feeling uncertain. Was he okay? He was fine physically, and yet… he was nervous. “Are… Are you?”
“Yes. I feel pretty good today. I think I might be getting better.”Cathniel let out a little hum. “Good, he said, hugging her tighter. “That’s very good.”
---
“Cathniel.”
Cathniel let out a groan as he awoke, feeling groggy. He looked around to find that he was still in Selene’s room, the girl still in his arms. But she was asleep – they must have dozed off. “Mm..?” He looked around, trying to find who had called his name, only to see a rather serious looking Theodore sitting next to him. But he didn’t look mad, which… good. Maybe that meant he didn’t know about the ice cream. And it was likely that he hadn’t missed any work, either. “...Hello, Theodore,” Cathniel greeted finally.
“Yes, hello…” Theodore let out a sigh. “I need to speak with you about something.”
“What is it?”
“It’s… It’s about Selene,” Theodore said slowly. “And her sickness.”
“...What about her?”“
...She’s not… getting any better. Not from the few tests the medical reploids have been able to conduct–”
Cathniel snapped to attention. “That’s not true!” He had to do his best not to raise his voice too much – Selene needed all the rest she could get.“Cathniel–”
“She – She told me she was feeling better today. That means she’s improving.”
“...This isn’t the kind of illness an organic’s body can reliably fight on its own,” Theodore continued. “And we don’t have what we need to treat her.”
“So what – what are you saying?”
“I’m saying… that if things continue as they have been, Selene… will most likely die.”
Cathniel gave Theodore an owlish stare. “...Okay.”
Theodore gaped at him, horrified. “What – What do you mean, ‘okay’? Do you not understand how serious that would be?”
“...I know that it would be… bad,” Cathniel murmured, “But you could just… fix and reactivate her. Couldn’t you?”
Theodore let out a huff. “It doesn’t work that way for organics,” he explained. “If they die, they usually stay dead… forever.”
Cathniel tensed, his whole body becoming rigid. He found himself instinctively clinging to Selene, pushing her against him. “N-No! No, that – No!”
“I know it’s horrible. But that’s how it’ll go, unless we take… drastic measures.”
“Like what? What – What do you need me to do? I’ll – I’ll do it. I’ll do all of it. Whatever it is.”
Theodore gave Cathniel a look of deep consideration. “...Are you certain of that?”
“Yes! Yes, I am.”
“...Alright. In that case, I’ll get straight to it.” Despite saying that, Theodore took a deep breath before he spoke next. “We… will have to send her back to the surface–”
“No.”
“Cathniel–”
“NO!” Selene stirred at the sound of Cathniel’s voice being raised. He rubbed her arm, hoping to soothe her as he lowered his volume. “I said no. Those people on the surface didn’t take good care of her–”
“You don’t understand–”
“And now you want to send her back to them?!”
“It’s not like that–”
“I won’t let you do it!”
“It won’t be the same people,” Theodore snapped, losing his composure. “They have buildings called hospitals. They’re full of medical personnel who have all the medicine an organic like her could ever need. All the medicine that we lack. They will care for her until she is brought to full health.”Cathniel narrowed his eyes at him. “...Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m positive.”
“...And she can come back afterward? I can take care of her again?”
“I–” Theodore paused, taking a moment to scrutinize Cathniel himself. “...Yes,” he responded after a beat. “...You can.”
Cathniel nodded, satisfied. He glanced over at Selene, making sure she was still asleep. “...Okay, then,” he said as he watched her chest rise and fall with deep breaths, each attempt at breathing remaining a hard task for her body – even when she rested. “Then let’s do it.”
---
“YOU’RE A LIAR!”
Reploids fled from the throne room in every direction as Cathniel shouted, his voice echoing off of the walls. His eyes were glowing bright enough to make his irises look white in color, the pale yellow diamonds that they were composed of being pushed to their absolute limit. The only one in Cathniel’s vicinity who remained unmoved was Theodore – and even he had to ignore the slamming of his heart against his chest as every instinct in him told him to run. “Cathniel,” he cautioned, his tone soft. “I need you to be more specific with me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“SELENE!” Cathniel hissed. He was in front of Theodore in an instant – the latter reploid hardly even saw him flying toward him. “You TOLD me that she would come back here! But it’s been MONTHS! And whenever I ask you about her, you don’t tell me ANYTHING!”
“Cath-” Theodore went quiet as Cathniel grabbed him by the collar, snatching him towards him.
“Silence.” Theodore found himself compelled to close his mouth, if only for the sake of not invoking Cathniel’s wrath further. “...I ought to kill you,” he said, voice bordering on a growl. “You had no right to lie to me the way you did. And now look at what you’ve done. She was safe here. And now anything could have happened to her. I bet you don’t even know where she is.”
“...It – It is true that I… do not know of her current whereabouts,” Theodore admitted, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you, I had her taken to a hospital. Just as I said I would. I – I did not lie to you about that.”
“...But you did lie?”
“...Yes. I – Was untruthful when I told you that she would come back. It… is far more likely that the betas took her into their custody–”
SLAM!
Theodore groaned as he found himself thrown into a wall, only to be dragged back to Cathniel, an unseen force pulling him back to his feet. He then was grabbed by the neck and gasped for air as Cathniel started pressing on it, his fingers beginning to crush his airways. But Theodore knew that the strength wasn’t his own. No, this was… “This – This is… a gross misuse of the Mother Elf’s p-power,” he stammered out, his throat closing up. “Don’t… Don’t you think?”
“She gave me this gift to use however I choose!” Cathniel spat, insistent. “And right now, I wish to – to-!” Theodore was suddenly released, with Cathniel falling to the ground in a heap. He was silent for a moment, his hair completely covering him as he curled into a ball. Theodore watched him silently, rubbing at his neck (his self-repair systems would hopefully take care of the damage) – but then a low, agonized sob started to come from Cathniel.
“...Cathniel?” He carefully leaned over his body, unsure as to how to proceed next. Cathniel wasn’t exactly… known for sparing people when he decided to take their lives. So really, he should have been trying to flee while he still had the chance. And yet… “Are you alright?”
A miserable “No!” fell from Cathniel’s mouth. “Wh-Wh-What if she - she – she–”
“Breathe. You’re hiccuping too much to get so much as a word out.”
“What – What – What if she’s dead?!” Cathniel suddenly raised his head up, clinging to Theodore’s vest. “What – What if – she got sicker, and – and I w-w-wasn’t th-there–!”
“Oh, no – Cathniel. Shhh…” Despite his mixed feelings about comforting the man who had just tried to choke him, Theodore found himself pulling Cathniel into his arms anyway. It was hard to do anything else, after hearing that he’d heard that he essentially thought that his best friend – who was a mere child – was deceased. “Come here.”
Cathniel obeyed, letting Theodore hold him. “She’s not dead,” he promised, smoothing out the young monarch’s hair. “Her illness was perfectly treatable, as I told you it was.”
“But – But – But why won’t she come back?”
“They probably found her a nice organic family to live with. That’s all I meant when I said she betas’ custody, really. It means they found someone else to take care of her.”
“But I’m the one who takes care of her!” Cathniel wailed, tears running down his face. “That’s my job!”
“No,” Theodore corrected gently. “Your job is to manage all of us.”
“But I don’t WANT to do that!” Cathniel shoved Theodore away from him. “I don’t want to manage anybody!”
“...But you’re rather good at it,” Theodore tried, not entirely sure what Cathniel was upset about.
“No I’m not! All I do is whatever everybody WANTS me to do! All anyone does is – is – is control me! And if I don’t do what they say, they just get mad! Nobody wants me for anything else! Selene was the only person who did, and now she’s gone because of you! And – And – And nobody else cares about me! Nobody else has ever cared about me! Not even you!” Cathniel wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing once again.
All Theodore could do was watch, dumbfounded. Is that… truly how he feels? If so, it would… explain a lot. Why he kept skipping work, why he didn’t seem to have any other advisors he spoke to without a meeting being scheduled beforehand. Why he always kept Theodore at arm’s length when they did talk. And admittedly… Cathniel was almost always alone before the Mother Elf, too. Nobody went out of their way to talk to him, and when they did, it was because they needed something from him.
And Theodore was once guilty of that as well.
But even though none of that excused Cathniel trying to strangle him mere moments ago… “...Cathniel.” He reached out and started wiping at the tears on his face. “...I want you to know that I do care about you. Very much so.”
Cathniel sniffled, looking at Theodore wearily. “You do?”
“Yes. I… Try to help you with your duties because I want to. Not because I feel like I’ll get something out of it.”
A little bird-like blink was Cathniel’s response. “...Really?”
“Yes. Really and truly.” Cathniel gave him a small smile, only for his look to be replaced by one of dread. He soon started to cry again, this time while hyperventilating. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I – I – I tried to kill you–”
“Oh, yes. That.” Theodore waved him off, wisely choosing not to harp on the issue – lest that drive Cathniel into a complete panic. “It’s alright. It happens. What’s a bit of choking between friends?”
The statement was meant to be a joke, but Cathniel tilted his head, eyes wide. “You’re – You’re my friend?”
“Yes,” Theodore answered, unaware of how much his words meant to him. “I would say so.” At that, Cathniel started to laugh, his giggles growing in both pitch and volume as a joyous grin spread across his face. …Good grief, Theodore thought. The poor man’s in the throes of hysterics. “...Let’s get you to bed,” he decided, pulling Cathniel to his feet. “I think you’re in need of some rest.”
Cathniel let out another laugh as Theodore started to lead him to his room. “Okay,” he agreed. “Whatever you say, friend.”
Theodore tried not to groan as he continued taking Cathniel through the halls. But he did allow himself to run a hand down his face as they went. Just what did I get myself into now..?
~~~
And thus ends this set of responses! I admittedly haven't started on the next set yet, but I think those ones are going to be shorter than most of the ones I've shown here.
But now for some notes:
The fairytale Day 11's response is based on is "Sleeping Beauty"! This particular version of it was directly inspired by "Little Brier-Rose" by the Brothers Grimm, Charles Perrault's "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood" (1912/1921) (in fact, one of the lines is an almost-direct reference to it!), and the Twicetold Tale novel "The Sealed-Up House" by Olivia Snowe (2013). (Has anybody else read the Twicetold Tale novels? I've only ever read three of them, and it was quite a long time ago, but I remember those books being really good.) I originally intended to take the inspiration from Perrault and Snowe farther by rewriting the second half of their version of events as well... but the response was getting too long. (Seriously. I would most likely still be working on it if I stuck with my original plan.) So I settled for making a reference to them at the end instead. Although... I wouldn't be opposed to writing a sequel sometime in the future...
Demiastle is the same guy who Woya was flirting with in Day 2's response, and he's also the "Mr. Whytte" mentioned in Day 3. And while the way he's presented here is the main version of him that I write, there's also an alternate version of him that @bruggle and I have written together! (Hence why there's a tag specifically for the Collision Course/Convergence version of him on this post. While the two iterations of his character are similar, there are a few key differences between them that make differentiating the two important!)
The character known as "Caret" is Collision Course's version of Nightmare Zero. I thought it would be nice to give him a name, and one with a mathematical theme to match the others ("Zero" being a number, "X" being a variable, the pulley and "Axl" system...); a caret is this symbol (^), and it's commonly used for writing exponents. So perhaps one could say that he's... Zero squared.
The name of Demiastle's horse, Accipiter, translates to "hawk" or "bird of prey" in Latin. (If you know, you know.)
Since the cause of Anubis Necromancess Mk. I's death was never stated in canon, I like to think that as far as Convergence goes, some of the factory workers eventually got ahold of him when he and the other Arcadian soldiers stormed the place. Petra was not part of that.
Persimmon's the same doctor who was mentioned in Day 6's prompt! The response for Day 14 takes place quite a while before that one, though.
And you may have noticed that Persimmon and all of her sisters are named after fruit. Orange fruit, may I add. In fact, a nickname for Persimmon's line is the Tangerine Line (their actual line name is "Sister Surgeon", or "SS"). Furthermore, Persimmon doesn't like taking her mask off in public, or in front of anyone who isn't a family member (i.e. her sisters or creator) or a close friend. You may be wondering what that last fact has to do with anything. But I can assure you, it is relevant.
Peach's character is inspired by Matikanefukukitaru from the game Umamusume: Pretty Derby (2021-)! Her eccentric personality and never-ending quest to find good fortune and favor from supernatural sources were things I wanted to try writing for a character, and I'd say it worked pretty well!
As always, please let me know if there are any formatting issues (tumblr keeps pulling fast ones on me - it seems to be making certain paragraphs run together, leading me to having to put big spaces in between said paragraphs to try and stop that from happening...)! Have a good day, stay safe, and may God bless you!
Perin becomes hypnotized by Amo's fragrance manipulation.
@insomniac-jay
"Amo wants to see your entire face, Miss Scarf Lady."
The request catches Perin off guard. It's not an unreasonable ask, really, but she likes the feeling of the scarf's woven texture on her face. It's a constant comfort for her, but she complies, if only to steer the group's attention away from her. Amo would insist if she didn't, Perin figures, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself.
And it's the last thing she remembers before her vision goes dark.
Perin is back at the tailor shop.
She whirls around. Where are the Cleaners? Where is Amo, the girl they were sent to question?
"Took you long enough, Perin." In front of Perin, Sera stood at the shop's doorway. Sharp hints of cinnamon and piloncillo catch Perin's attention, and she spots a small clay pot in her hand, decorated with simple flowers in Sera's hands. "You took so long at the bakery, I was getting worried you wouldn't be back in time for coffee."
Yes, that's right. Coffee hour is always at 2 o'clock, and it fell on Perin to buy today's pastries: mantecadas. How could she forget?
Perin inhales a shaky breath. The bread's buttery scent fills her lungs, and it makes her stomach ache with hunger and longing. Memories of their previous coffee hours resurface, and Perin can feel her unease slowly wash away as notes of Sera's floral perfume mingle into the mix. The familiar smells grow stronger as she staggers slowly but surely towards her.
"Granny..."
Perin can't believe it. She's back home.
She's about to hug Sera when she feels a sharp tug on her scarf. "What do you think your doing?"
An intruder!
"You will not hurt her!" Perin shouts. In a flash, she activates Halcon with a bright flash and used one of the wings to shield Amo Granny from their view. "You will never take her away from me!"
("Shit! Perin's also under that chick's spell," Zanka muttered.
"I didn't want to use my jinki on my comrades," Tamsy sighed as he pulls out his distaff from his sleeve. "But you leave me no choice.")
