Abstract Proxy
Noctis
Antlers
wintersoldier
Villamvihar
Snowdrops
X Fiendfyre X
Silly
Little Bird
TokyoPewPew
Xiuyang and Roslyn
Trouble Brewing: How the Mächtig Fall
Trouble Brewing: How the Mächtig Fall
The Hoch und Mächtig had ended with Xiuyang receiving a token from Maura; a gesture for which she'd be extremely appreciative in the near future, and one which did a great deal to clear the fog in Xiuyang's mind regarding their relationship. They were friends first, and business rivals second.
However, the night's revelry would continue, and the warm notes of rekindling friendship would once again be overtaken by the dry aftertaste of failure. Just as she had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, so too would Trypano; but that wasn't what bothered her. No—Ashon and Penny were flirting, and the conversation that ensued treaded the line between Ashon's usual jovial ribbing, and a serious argument regarding his questionable taste in baby names. Xiuyang had exercised no small amount of willpower to resist the temptation to... check—but Penny was a friend, too. She respected her privacy.
Yes, Penny was a friend. That made it worse. It was childish, she knew, but still, she fled the scene with a poor excuse that she didn't feel well, hobbling off through the bushes of the Arboretum, towards the Ever Tree and Hedda's Lake, one of the few places she still felt safe—though Juulet would soon take it from her. Xiuyang looked over her shoulder, and to be sure, she saw Roslyn, but didn't suspect for a second that the girl was following her. Few students batted an eye at the sight of Xiuyang being drunk. She always seemed to make it back to her dorm by herself just fine, and come back stronger tomorrow.
This made it all the more surprising, then, that once she entered the foliage of Hedda's Lake, she began walking steadily. It made sense in hindsight; the girl was always swimming in low-level chemical magic. It would be strange if she didn't know how to purge the toxins from her body. What was also strange was that she had covered herself in a sonic bubble.
One might have suspected the girl, who wore the shady Revidian merchant look as an almost "ironic" fashion statement, was up to no good. However, she soon knelt down onto the soil, hands pressed up on a tree, looking as if she was going to puke despite being sober. She shook, in agonizing pain.
When Roslyn spotted Xiuyang against the tree, the alcohol in the Hendlish girl's stomach twisted. Any questions in her hazy mind vanished instantly. She hitched up her skirts and rushed forward. Shoes kicked off in her wake letting her feet hit the soft grass. In moments, she kneeled down at the woman's side. Her hand reached out and gingerly touched Xuiyang's shoulder.
"Are you okay?" Frowning at her ignorance of the obvious, she scolded herself for the stupid question.
"Scratch that question. It might be better to shift into a sitting position. It looks like you had a bit too much to drink." Roslyn hoped that was accurate because she wasn't the most skilled healer and she doubted there was any Zenos nearby.
Xiuyang's ears rang and her vision blurred as her face became another's. A sensation like a million hot pokers all across her body blinded her to her surroundings. Her heart nearly stopped as the hand touched her shoulder. On instinct, she veiled her face in shadow as she whirled around to confront her pursuer. She could barely hear Roslyn's voice, but she could recognize her, and knew from body language cues that she was trying to help. Her body trembled violently, as if she were on something much stronger than alcohol. She pushed the girl's hand aside and faced away, making hand motions like she was fine, but she wasn't.
No! Not Roslyn—she could never know.
No one could know. The cost was too great.
Upon closer inspection, Roslyn's eyes narrowed with concern. Something was off, her gut screamed. She had seen excessive drunkenness and its effects before, but never this harsh. The way Xiuyang's body shook hinted to something stronger. She fought the urge to jerk back when Xiuyang's blotted out face turned to her. Past the shadows, a pair of eyes stared at her. They seem to shift in color causing her breath to still in her chest.
What the... Her heart dropped into her stomach as her eyes adjusted. For a moment, Roslyn wondered if she was seeing things. Was it the trick of the light, maybe? Some primal instinct argued otherwise.
Xiuyang had only done this a few times before, and it was always horrific, but she had no choice. She immediately began to reverse the facemimic process. Agony compounded on agony as her body returned to her normal. Shit, she was actually going to hurl. It was unbearable. Hastily, she removed her mask with a silent hiss. No noise escaped the sonic bubble as she relieved herself of the alcohol in her stomach.
Damn.
"Godsdamn it, Roslyn! You shouldn't do that. Scared the fuck out of me," came the disembodied voice from the mask in her hand. She exhaled, her breath ragged. She seemed more relieved than annoyed. The shivers started to die down as she leaned up against another, unsoiled tree.
Swallowing the rising anxiety, Roslyn stood there and let the masked woman sort herself out. Her right thumb rubbed her fingers before a foul odor like sour carrots invaded her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose, but did her best to hide her disgust. All she could do was stand there and watch. When Xiuyang spoke, Roslyn breathed a sigh of relief. Her hand dug out a handkerchief and then offered it to Xiuiyang. Whether it was for the eyes or mouth, she didn't bother clarifying.
"I didn't mean to sneak up on you." Roslyn didn't point out she was anything but quiet. For a moment, she considered her next words. Her form lowered into cross legged sitting position in front of Xiuyang. It wasn't lady-like, but at this point the brewer girl didn't care.
"You going to be okay? Cause whatever that was, it seemed really bad." She tried to put on a comforting smile, but her worry bled through.
Though Xiuyang's mask was removed, a veil of cloth still covered her face. She never showed her face to anyone, nor much of her body aside from her eyes and hands. The rumors why she did so were as absurd as they were numerous. One thing many students thought they knew was that Xiuyang couldn't breathe properly without her mask, but that didn't seem to be true, since she was breathing quite heavily now.
As if she were just suddenly thinking about it, she quickly put it back on. This time the hiss was audible. "I must be losing my edge. You actually snuck up on me." A hollow chuckle echoed from inside the mask as she wiped the tears from her eyes. The pain had passed, and she seemed to be doing fine. She waved her hand dismissively, declining the handkerchief, though she did use the cloth on her face for it. "Sorry you had to see that. Drinking too much doesn't pair well with migraines and chronic pain."
Reaching into her medicine box, she retrieved a pipe and set its contents to flame, but rather than smoking it, simply absorbed its chemical energy, using it for pain relief. "Don't like to mention it. Complaining ain't very classy, 'specially for me. 'Binder, heal thyself,' yeah? There's nothing for it, though."
Seeing the polite decline, Roslyn placed her handkerchief in her dress pocket. Her form leaned back with her hands planted behind her. Absorbing Xiuyang's words, her lips shifted to the side in thought. Garith and Xiuyang had something in common it seemed. Her eyes softened with empathy while she listened.
"Yeah, pain and alcohol are never a good mix. My brother avoids drinking because of that. Not ideal when we're suppose to run a brewery together." Roslyn kept her voice steady when she brushed the sensitive topic.
Xiuyang shrugged in her usual blasé fashion. "Anyway, I'm not sure what else you expected to see, following the school drunk into the bushes. A lovers' rendezvous, perhaps? That's just a rumor, though."
"I will note, I've seen many different types of drunken reactions, but yours... That's a first for me." She began to realize she might be thinking too much into this. Everyone was different after all. Moving on, Roslyn noted the medicine box and the pipe taken out. She considered asking questions, but she dismissed them. It had to be for the pain, she thought and moved on.
"As for rumors, I never take them seriously. After being the subject of them last year, I realize how easily gossip spreads. All it takes is for a lady to strike up a friendship with a gentleman and everyone becomes very chatty." She rolled her eyes at the memory, chuckling softly over how farfetched some became. They mostly died down a month or so later much to her relief.
Xiuyang turned her head slightly, as if she were just a little bit taken aback. Did Roslyn just... dodge a question? Roslyn inwardly cringed spotting Xiuyang's reaction. She realized too late how she sounded and let her smile drop for a moment. Garith was the more articulate one compared to her, rarely fumbling over his words.
Well, two could play that game, anyway. "You're better off. People only spread rumors because they have nothing interesting going on in their own lives. I'm sure you've heard the rumors that I'm a major tree-rider. I'll screw anything that has pointy ears, apparently. Oh, or that I must be a sanguinaire, because I never show any skin. That's a good one. If only my secrets could be kept so easily," she japed with a wink.
When Xiuyang mentioned sanguaires, a raw ball of emotions twisted in her gut. Her form tensed a bit against her will. Forcing herself to relax, she pushed away the discomfort. "You're definitely not a sanguaire." Her confidence was strong about that fact. "As for the other stuff, a good punch in the jaw might set them straight."
Xiuyang took a deep breath, like someone enjoying the aroma of tea might. "I'd never heard you had a brother. Funny thing is, I also have two sisters no one talks about, aside from my dad—who reminds me every chance he gets that they were already married at my age. Whenever he visits, I like to ask him if he's secured any alliances lately. Hopefully he'll get a sense of humor before he gets that joke."
Was it a sore spot or harmless fun? Roslyn wasn't sure, but she didn't pick at it. When her thoughts turned to her own family, the mirth seemed to fade. "Yeah, we didn't exactly leave on the best of terms. He was suppose to be here instead of me." She took a small breath and hid away the hurt. "So what are your sisters like?" She leaned a bit forward, her elbows rested on her knees.
Xiuyang shrugged. "One's a proper snooty lady, living her best 'snootily ever after.' The other at least has a sense of fun and sneakily visits Ersand'Enise from time to time. Neither of them were impressively gifted with magic, though, so it's just me here." She might have looked like she wanted to say more, but kept her pessimistic musings about her father's possible motivations for sending her to Ersand'Enise private for now.
More interesting was what Roslyn said a moment ago. "You're rather confident that I'm not a monster. Can't help but be a bit curious about why." Perhaps, after she allied with sanguinaires in ReTan, she needed some confirmation that she wasn't, in fact, a monster. Perhaps it was her admittedly large ego about her secrecy. Perhaps both.
Roslyn mused over memories she had of Garith before they drifted apart. In his youth, he held a strong wit and mischievous nature. The years wore it away and replaced it with a serious air and bitterness. Things were so much simpler before the disease. She bit her lip when Xiuyang mentioned her confidence. Her eyes shifted downward and considered what to say next.
"I'm not sure you'd believe me, if I told you. I learned things I wish I didn't and even... killed someone by accident. I have regrets and deep down, I wonder if I did anything right." Her face fell when thinking of her last mission.
"I am still having nightmares about it. The good thing is, I found beer helps numb the guilt." She tried to smile, but the eyes didn't match.
Xiuyang had to resist the urge to laugh—not because what Roslyn said was amusing, but because of the absurdity of this situation. She was an honest girl, and it wasn't hard to guess that her true intentions in following Xiuyang were pure. Now she was the one spilling her guts and seeking counsel from the school drunk—counsel which, having gone through a similar experience, she should ostensibly have.
But she didn't. At least, not any that helped.
Some of the tension left Xiuyang's body as she acclimated to the change of subject—not the topic of conversation, but the subject of their attention: Roslyn, rather than herself. Content with this turn of events, she settled into her role as a dispensary of dubious sagely advice.
"I'm guessing you've met one, though I'd say it's not much of a guess. Here's the thing, though," she said, taking a "drag" of her pipe. "There's nothing especially 'evil' about them. They're the result of putting a human in a moral dilemma—drink blood or die—and letting them fester in it for centuries. There's very little a human heart can do in that situation except grow numb. If you ask me, the ones who grow numb to the suffering of other people within a normal human lifespan are infinitely more deplorable than the 'evil' sanguinaires."
It was an opinion that would be shouted down as heresy in any Quentic church—but it was very "Xiuyang." "Any evil you might see out there exists in all of us, to some degree. Sometimes, it's not our fault when it comes out. What matters is trying to be good. You got regrets? Hold on to them. They keep you human. I'd say you can't change the past, but, well." She shrugged and winked. "Thing is, we actually can change the past, and just look at what good it's done for us. I don't look at the world and see perfection—do you? If the wealthy and powerful can't get it right, what chance do you or I have? We can only do our best, and accept that the mercy of our Pentad has to make up the difference. That's our lot." She said it so simply, and tried to make it sound more convincing for Roslyn than it was for herself. She reached down to her medicine box—not to take anything out of it, but to make the sign of Oraff, in a silent prayer that her killing was just.
If Xiuyang was good at anything, it was her way of considering all the factors and justifying her decisions to herself before she made them. It always felt cynical to weigh lives on a scale as if they belonged in a ledger—but when all you had was a merchant's skillset, every problem presented itself as a type of accounting. Her friend from the brewery club was clearly more distraught by her first kill than she was. She'd hope that fact at least made her sound like an expert. As she finished her silent prayer, she nodded as if to confirm the soundness of her own advice—if that's what she was calling it.
Roslyn nodded, confirming Xiuyang's suspicions. On a small degree, she knew what the masked woman said to be true. Vel was an example of this and his struggles reflected it. She prayed to the Gods he didn't turn into a blood thirsty monster one day. Her hands had settled into her skirt where they toyed with the folds. It was a childish gesture, but she didn't care. As Xiuyang finished, she seemed to digest the words bit by bit.
"That makes sense. Sadly, I don't think the Gods have much mercy for my family." She needed more time to think, but some of the weight in her chest had faded.
Roslyn leaned back again, her eyes fixed on her fellow student.
"Do the nightmares ever stop? I imagine you had a few of them thanks to the mission in ReTan. Vel mentioned something about having issues with a giant squid."
Xiuyang paused as the pieces started to look like they might fit together—but, even if Vel had become a sanguinaire during their visit to ReTan, surely he wasn't the one who'd scared Roslyn so badly. It remained a theory, for now, but it did make her even more wary of Ingrid.
"I've never been much of a sound sleeper. Don't really get a lot of dreams to be honest, either." She shrugged. "Probably the alcohol—but uh, don't follow my example. Obviously."
"I think that's a bit too late. I started when I got back from Vossoriya," Roslyn replied. She knew her collection of bottles were growing each night. At this point, she needed one to two mugs just to relax then more to pass out. Her hand lifted to rub her neck which became sore at the thought.
Of course, Xiuyang had been given some time to think about the knower titan. A small part of her refused to accept that what she'd seen was real, but either way, there was no sense in burdening Roslyn with even more worries. "Giant squid" suited her just fine. Perhaps if she did have a dream about ReTan, she'd try to superimpose a giant Ashon into the scene and have him eat the thing like a dish of calamari, just as he said.
"Try to think of something, or someone, pleasant to dream about, and maybe they'll show up instead, or help you out. If you get yourself a new weapon or something that makes you feel safe, you might see it in your dreams too. In the end, though, whether or not the nightmares end is up to you. Grow as a person, and outgrow your fears."
She shrugged. It wasn't a totally satisfactory answer, even to herself—but as the words left her mouth, she realized that perhaps she was stronger than she thought. She'd never fight a knower titan with confidence, but perhaps the feeling of cosmic helplessness would subside eventually. Or maybe she'd just grow old and tired, like everyone else. Only time would tell.
At the mention of weapons, Roslyn snickered. "I don't really have any. I might get a pistol from the Magehunters, but that doesn't make me feel safe. As for outgrowing my fears... That's hard to imagine." Roslyn let out a breath. It felt good not having to be careful with her words now. With Esmii, Niallus, and even Vel, they had so much to carry. It was not fair to add more on.
"It's hard to go from normal to... being swept along in something way bigger than myself. Even when I had magic back, it didn't seem to make a difference. I hesitated and Penny died because of it. She's alive now, but..." Roslyn's arm wrapped about her middle, comforting herself.
Xiuyang shrugged, defeated. She couldn't think of a weapon good enough to make her feel like she had a chance, either. Resigned to her own inability to make Roslyn feel any better about her situation, she started when she mentioned Penny. "Penny died? That cheeky fucker didn't tell me shit!" She slapped her gourd on the dirt, scandalized. "I'll kick his ass later," she told herself, drinking to it.
Roslyn blinked and questioned if she should've kept it to herself. Well, it was too late to change it now. In all fairness, she only knew about it because she saw it happen. Otherwise, she would've been ignorant too. Though based on the use of he, Roslyn could guess where Xiuyang learned about Penny's situation.
Then, finally, Xiuyang decided it was time to stop sitting on the dirt. "There's better places to talk than on the ground," she said, pointing to the gazebo on the little island on the lake. "You wanna know how little people like me make a difference?" the merchant girl from a wealthy family said to the noble brewmaster, a glint of feigned smugness in her eye. "I've got a minute. Let me talk your ear off real quick, eh?"
Agreeing with Xiyuang's suggestion, she picked herself up. She paused long enough to dust off the dirt and casually followed. As she kept in step, her attention latched onto the conversation. A small spark of hope glowed in Roslyn upon learning about yet another person feeling the same way she had.
Xiuyang would while away the next hour or so recanting the tale of her struggle with Seki and Hitoshi, alongside Mountain Spring and Cold Soup. She recalled how small she felt watching the titans fight, and how Seki refused to take the "child" from Ersand'Enise seriously—but she waited for her moment to intervene, and took down Hitoshi with a single well-timed arcane lance. The lesson, she insisted, was that even little people could make a big difference in the right context. If Roslyn felt small, she could cozy up to the "big" people, find her niche, and apply it.
If Xiuyang learned anything tonight, it was that she gave more effort comforting others than she ever did herself. She held herself to higher standards, while giving others more charity. If she wanted to stop feeling small, perhaps she should stop belittling herself while propping up others. Perhaps she should be just a little more selfish. She thought to give Roslyn much the same advice, but she held her tongue for now. She'd defy her usual pattern and give her own advice a test run before giving it to others. She owed herself at least that much, right?
Feeling the tale deserved one in return, Roslyn spoke about the incident at the monastery and then the warehouse. Including information about the anti magic devices. It reminded her that she still held one in her possession. During her shock, she had completely forgotten about it until now. She would need to figure out what to do about it later.
"I have a lot of thinking to do, but thank you. So... How are you feeling now? If you feel up to it, we can pop over to the beer garden. I heard cider can help with stomach recovery..." Realizing Xiuyang might not want a second round, Roslyn then added. "Unless you have something else in mind? I'm all ears."
Xiuyang waved her hand, in a "perish the thought" sort of way. "That suits me fine," she said with a hidden smile. Perhaps, for once, she'd just made a rare, real friend.
Xiuyang and Desideria Solari
Suunei Solari
Suunei Solari
...Silence. At first, a dramatic silence. Then, a confused one. Then, a very concerned silence when the crowd finally noticed.
From within the darkness of the backstage area, a singular object became visible: a silver mask bearing a hauntingly wide and ambiguous smile that almost threatened the audience with a good time. Having secured the attention of the crowd—but not before a dramatic pause had passed—the disembodied mask moved eerily smoothly up the stairs and entered the stage, revealing the slim form of a dark-haired beauty in a pitch black wetsuit. She strode confidently onstage, in an almost spectral way as the stunned crowd silently watched. No words accompanied her appearance, only a form of music—which, like the lady's mask, was also caught somewhere between jovial and macabre.
The curtains parted, revealing a large glass tank, empty except for a roughly five-inch layer of sand at the bottom. Above it was another tank, this one with a live thresher inside! Some among the crowd recognized this as a setup for escape artistry of some description—and were quick to point out that, for a student of Ersand'Enise, this could turn out... quite mundane. However, before the whispers could travel far, the masked woman made her next move: she craned her neck toward the audience, in an almost leering fashion—and, invisible eyes locked on the crowd, she silently and deliberately showed off each of her limbs—how the wetsuit hugged her body, leaving no space to hide any tools.
In the meantime, two more pitch-black figures emerged, wearing skull masks. One began binding the masked lady hand and foot with rope, handcuffs, and yet more rope—while the other came bearing a plain sign that read "NO MAGIC ONSTAGE" in a variety of regionally-relevant scripts. The crowd whispered amongst themselves; some clearly didn't understand precisely what to expect—but the eerie mask, unsettling music and utter deafening silence of everyone onstage was making them anxious nonetheless. Others knew well, but whispered all the same: could the school really allow a student to attempt something so dangerous? As the girl was daintily lowered into the tank by one of her assistants, the other manned the pulleys hanging from the looming thresher tank above, and tipped it slightly, causing the masked lady's tank to begin filling with water. At last the show had begun in earnest, and the crowd began to quietly watch.
At first, the masked lady did nothing—while the music quickened and built drama, she was just... getting wet. Suddenly, however, one of her assistants just... fell over, in an abrupt and notably un-dramatic fashion, appearing disturbingly unscripted. The water began to rise faster, and the remaining assistant glanced around, appearing alarmed as the masked lady calmly and daintily looked over her shoulder at her bindings... still not doing anything. "Would someone please assist?!" he cried, finally breaking the silence of the act! Tommy rose immediately, no longer able to resist the urge to add to the theatrics and save the damsel with his machismo—but he was too slow! Mahal took to the stage, pulling the rope as she was directed—only, the water began pouring even faster! The crowd began to panic!
But the girl had been waiting for her moment—water at chest-height, her arms obscured by swirling sand, she'd used the wooden hair pin no one had noticed drop from her mask to pick open her handcuffs. She'd been using the teeth of the cuffs to saw through the ropes, freeing her wrists, ankles, and legs. Just as the crowd was begging for someone to save the girl from drowning, she leapt out of the tank, performed a handstand on the rim and landed onstage with a graceful flip, shocking the crowd and her impromptu volunteer! The crowd cheered as the masked lady patted a shaken Mahal on the back comfortingly, silently thanking her for participating in her clever little distraction.
The judges, it seemed in retrospect, had been at least partially in on it. Sunny had gasped and bolted to her feet before being pulled back down by her sister. Luna had been still and impassive until near the end, when she grinned and clapped. Johnny Fabio had leaned in to Jocasta partway through the performance, when things had been going 'wrong' and the two had exchanged a secret discussion. The former was leaning back, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The latter was wearing a smirk. She clapped quite enthusiastically, but she'd been the toughest of all judges so far and that wasn't likely to change. Still, she at least gave a 3 out of 5.
Xiuyang had gambled—correctly—that a magic-less act would stand out at Ersand'Enise, and the top five winners very much did. Unfortunately, Xiuyang was not one of them. Despite capturing the attention and emotions of the crowd, and scoring top marks with the judges, her act was less than appreciated by her fellow students. Perhaps the showing had been too morbid; there was a reason the school felt a need to go all out with the faire this time around, after all. The timing may have been bad. It may also be comeuppance for her insistent habit of remaining an enigma, even to her so-called friends. Perhaps there was such a thing as too mysterious. Whatever the case, Xiuyang was unconvinced that she deserved better. She'd needed to spend more than a mere two days planning to develop something truly excellent. She could, at least, consider the act a modest success; she didn't embarrass herself as so many beneath her had done, and none of the probing mages in the audience could figure out her trick. They'd wasted too much time on her carefully planted red herring: the layer of sand at the bottom of the tank that "obviously" hid a handcuff key, or a knife—its true purpose being to hide the wood pin from all but the most observant and skilled binding mages—provided they weren't looking for metal objects.
Then there was Jocasta, who had probably figured out the trick immediately, and found herself suitably unimpressed with its simplicity. Hiding anything from Jocasta would likely be forever a pipe dream. In theory, anyone with the wherewithal to ask logical questions during her unsettling performance could have guessed that she was probably holding something in her mouth beneath her mask, and that was why the act was silent. However, it seemed as if no one did. Most were too mesmerized by the theatrics—and some, by her curves on full display.
Though, it wasn't her body.
"Xiuxiu!" came the hushed whisper of another girl from backstage.
The masked lady, Xiuyang, stared into the darkness, at her own face. It was another Xiuyang!
But, it wasn't.
Xiuyang removed the creepy mask, revealing her face. Though, it wasn't her face.
The other Xiuyang saw her own face staring back at her. "Heyhey!" she greeted herself with a wave.
"Hey Desi," replied the unmasked lady, hugging Xiuyang. Or was it the other way around?
"I thought we were gonna do a bit and prank everyone?" the Xiuyang-faced Desi asked curiously.
"Nah. Was gonna call you over when I stepped up to claim my prize. Didn't win, though. I didn't make top ten, even," she admitted, tapping the toes of her boots on the floorboards evasively.
"Oh..! These kids have no taste. I was on the edge of my seat!" Desi assured her.
"Seeing my own face pouting like a kid is so fucking surreal," Xiuyang remarked.
"Shush! Father will kill us both if he hears you using my voice like that!" Desi replied, cupping a hand over her mouth. She resisted the urge to tell her little sister that she did, too, pout like that when she was young.
Xiuyang snickered, wearing a smirk on Desideria's face that she wouldn't dare try. "You wanna get a drink?"
"Oh no, I couldn't! My husband is here too. We have, uh, plans after this," she confessed.
Xiuyang watched her own cheeks turn red. Had she ever made a bashful face like that? Is that what Ciro saw earlier? Just because he called her "bella" in that smooth voice? Good grief, she thought, shaking her head. "Oh. Well. Guess I'll get drunk by my poor, lonesome self," she teased.
"Alone? But you looked like you were thinking of someone just now," Desi fired back accusingly.
"Me, myself and I. Party of one, baby," she denied.
"Come on, sis!" she pleaded. "What about your sharp-eared friend you're always writing about? The one who's nine feet tall and handsome?"
"He's seven foot—and I never called him handsome," Xiuyang dismissed, earning herself a quiet scoff. "And watch your tongue. It's rude to comment on the ears... When did I tell you he was a yasoi?" She narrowed her eyes, suspicious.
"Just now," Desi tossed back playfully. "It wasn't much of a mystery though, you know? Even I know a few things about their culture. They're practically our neighbors! So anyway... introduce me!" she demanded with a smile. "It'll be fun! I'll be you, and you'll be me, and we'll see how long it takes for him to notice something's not right!"
Xiuyang shook her head, averting her gaze. "No," she whispered sternly. "We can't play around like that, you know this. We were pushing our luck to begin with." She sighed. She had no intention of introducing Ashon to anyone, not now that Penny was pregnant. It would be best if she—if she kept her distance. She choked up a little at the thought.
Desi didn't understand, but she certainly noticed. "He broke your heart, didn't he?" she whispered darkly.
"No!" Xiuyang denied immediately. "I did. I didn't... didn't act. I hesitated for too long, like I always do," she said through gritted teeth. She was so very, very tired of crying lately. Would her misfortune ever fucking end? "Change out of my clothes, would you?" she sighed, as if resigned to a lecture.
But the lecture didn't come. Lectures were father's to give—and lately, Xiuyang spoke with an authority that reminded her of him. So, Desi did as she was told. "You're still so young, li'l sis. You will find someone—and when you do, indulge in a little romance. If not for Ipte's sake, then for yours."
Xiuyang remained silent. She couldn't know. No one could know.
