Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aguefort’s Adventuring Academy wasn’t a normal school by any means.

Frankly, the only reason it still operated at all was because so much of Solace’s economy relied on adventuring, and because Arthur Aguefort was a nonsensically powerful wizard. Otherwise they’d have been shut down long ago. Between rampant faculty deaths, disappearing students, dangerous missions, and frankly ridiculous academic standards, their credibility as an actual institution should absolutely be under more scrutiny.

None of this bothered March Nettlebloom, though. She loved Adventuring School, and she was more than a little excited for her first day of Junior Year.

Summer had been something of an adventure in and of itself. The sun had disappeared from the sky due to the reemergence of the Night Yorb, which had seriously ruined her garden and her plans to spend the summer camped out by the pool. Still, she’d had fun. They’d had tons of movie nights (and days that were technically nights), and sleepovers, and March had even come up with ways to make their normal activities feasible. And they’d gotten a couple extracurricular quests in, mostly involving her and her party chasing Yorbies out of Elmville’s more populous areas. By the sixth time she’d had to defend the local library, she’d gotten it down to a science. Everyone had. It had become the new normal for awhile. 

And now the sun was finally back, and after some delirious adjustment, life was back to normal. And today, the start of her Junior Year, was going to be perfect.

She’d already gotten her outfit picked out, although it wasn’t anything special. She mostly wore loose, darkly colored clothing, and she had to wear leather armor over it. Even during a normal school day, she was prone to injury. It was easier to just accept that and wear the damn armor. As soon as she was dressed and her backpack was packed, she ran downstairs and into the kitchen.

As always, the lights were already on, and there her father stood, cooking on their small stove.

Her father had been an adventurer back in his day- a brilliant sorcerer, best known for his work sealing away an ancient curse that threatened to turn the entire world into one big dollhouse. That had been with his old party, including her mother, though they rarely spoke about her these days. He’d gone into retirement once she’d been born, and now March knew him best for his pancakes and his shockingly nervous disposition. But mostly for the pancakes.

“Morning, kiddo! Pink hair today?” they said, looking up from the stove. Their eyes landed on her hair, which was indeed hot pink, still damp from her shower. Already her curls were beginning to jump from her attempts at styling them. That was probably a lost cause, but she’d never stop trying.

“Yeah,” March said, dropping her bag by the kitchen table. “I was kind of debating going for green though.” She focused for a moment, watching as out of the corner of her vision, a pink curl slowly faded into a soft green. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ll look good with any color,” her father said. March rolled her eyes. Leave it to her dad to give the safe answer.

“Come on, Dad. Honest answers only,” she said as she made her way to the fridge. It was milk time, after all.

“That was an honest answer,” he responded, rolling his eyes back at her. He looked away for a moment, flipping the chocolate chip pancake he was cooking. “You're my daughter. You could turn into a bug-infested corn-demon and I’d think you were perfect the way you were.”

“You know, I’ve never tried to do that before,” March replied. “Thanks for the idea.” She grabbed the milk carton out of the fridge and popped the cap off.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. March raised the carton to her lips, only stopping when her father’s gaze returned to her. “March Nettlebloom, you better get a glass out of the cupboard. Don’t drink directly from my milk cartons.”

“Fine, fine,” March relented. She weaved around the table and past her father, narrowly avoiding tripping on his tail. She opened the cupboard, which had most of their dishes placed as low as possible. She and her father weren’t quite tall enough for the top shelf- and neither liked to waste magic on trivial things.

Little things like that were what made them more obviously related. March looked more like her mother- at least in terms of her general appearance, the shape of her face and the smaller details of her body. The rest was an odd mix of the two; her lineage wasn’t exactly clean-cut. A lot of people in Solace kind of assumed you would have two parents of the same race- you were an Elf, a Human, a Halfling, an Orc, or a Dwarf. Maybe you were a rarer race, like a Firbolg, a Pixie, a Giant-kin, or a Minotaur. Maybe you were something like a Genasi, that could show up in any bloodline, or you were a more common mixed race like a Half-Elf or a Half-Orc. No one really thought about the more complicated mixed lineages, and it could make explaining things or correcting misconceptions very difficult indeed.

Her father was Half-Goblin, which already drew questions. He looked more like his father than his mother- his skin was pale white, his hair curly and grayish-silver, but his eyes were unmistakably goblin, and his sharp teeth, claws, pawed feet and tail singled him out as an Other to many unsavory people. He was very clearly his mother's son, and though her father was proud of it, a lot of people looked down on goblins. The other half of his parentage, her grandfather, was even harder to explain. One couldn’t simply say ‘yeah, my dad’s an angel’ without drawing questions and attention.

Because yes, her father was part-angel. He was also an Aasimir- technically those two things didn’t have to be linked, but for simplicity’s sake that was always how she explained it. March had never met her grandfather- he was some Elven angel that was all about ‘honesty’ and ‘clarity’ and ‘divine truth’. She didn’t really care. He certainly hadn’t tried to meet her in her seventeen years on earth, so as far as she was concerned, he was non-existent.

Her mother had been a Changeling- rare in Solace, and rarer still in Elmville. That made March Half-Changeling, technically, though you’d never guess it. She had her dad’s complexion, albeit closer to gray than most elves, and the most she could change was the color of her hair. And her eyes, sometimes, if she tried really hard. It was nothing special- something that could be said about most of her. She didn’t really care all that much. She liked the way she looked- and she didn’t really need to change it. Although not having to pay for hair dye was always nice.

Life was complicated when you were mixed like she was, but she’d gotten used to it over the years. She was lucky to not stand out too much. Her more visibly mixed friends had more issues to face.

Speaking of bloodlines… “Dad, is Grandma back in town yet?” she asked, pulling down a glass and pouring herself some milk. Strong bones were important after all.

“Not yet. She’s still getting things in order in Bastion City,” he replied, sliding a perfect pancake into the stack with all of it’s brothers and sisters. “We spoke last night. She told me she’s excited to see you.”

“Great,” she said in between chugs of milk. “I wanted to ask her about the Mountains of Chaos, since she like, grew up there. We went to- there were some feral oozes we had to wrangle, and I saw some old ruins. I figured I’d ask her what she knew.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to talk,” her father said. “She told me all kinds of stories myself growing up, you know. She was very proud of her heritage- you know, if you’re interested, we could always take a trip out there together.”

“I’ll think about it,” March said. In truth, she was more than a little nervous at the idea. Her Goblin wasn’t all that strong, and the last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself. “Breakfast almost ready?”

“Just about. I’ll make some eggs- sunny-side up?” he asked.

“You betcha,” March said. “Don’t forget you have a meeting at three o’clock today, alright?”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he said. “Go sit down- and don’t you forget, drive safely today, alright? If you get another speeding ticket, I’ll make you bike to school.”

“I’ll be careful!” March said. “And by the way- the last one was not my fault, the cops were totally entrapping me.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t want you to end up dead because you were going twenty miles over the speed limit,” he said.

March sighed. He always was a worried. And he did have a point, even if March didn’t like it. She only sped when there was danger to thwart. Saving the world had to be more important than driving by the books. Still, she wouldn’t want to worry her dad. And she definitely didn’t want to bike to school. She was tired enough after classes were over for the day.

Speaking of classes, she really did need to eat something quickly. She had a long, long day ahead of her.

Parking at Aguefort was always like pulling teeth- on the first day it was practically impossible. The only reason she got a spot at all was because her party arrived at school before she did.

She pulled up just before the spot, leaning out the window. There they all were- crowded in a circle in the middle of the parking lot where they were way too likely to be hit by a car. She sighed, before laying on the horn like it owed her money. “Oi! Get out of the road!” she shouted.

Her friends all turned to see her. Some of them immediately moved, because they were reasonable and rational people. Others did not. Well, one other.

“Make me!” Raven shouted back. She planted her feet firmly in place, hands on her hips. Behind her, Haldir rolled their eyes as they retreated back to the safety of the sidewalk. March couldn’t help but echo the motion.

Raven Onyxhammer had been her best friend since diapers. She was their party’s warlock; her patron was her mother, the enigmatic and absurdly doting Melodica, Vampire Queen and The Bleeding Rose of Fallinel. She was some cross between a lich and a fairy, and the magic she granted her daughter was absurdly powerful. So powerful, in fact, that it was definitely wasted on her daughter, who basically used her magic to pull pranks. Raven was mischievous, chronically unserious, and always picking a fight. She was also March’s girlfriend, and despite all of that, March really was in love with her.

(She’d gag at her own sappiness if she wasn’t frustratingly happy about it.)

“Raven,” she said, unable to make herself sound even a little bit stern. “I will hit you with my car if you don’t move.”

“No you won’t,” Raven said. “You love me too much to do that. And, anyway, your Dad will totally make you bike to school.”

God damn it. She hated how well Raven knew her. She sighed, drooping forward a little. “Raven,” she whined, looking up at her girlfriend with the saddest eyes she could muster. “Please move?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Raven said, giggling. She rushed away to join the others on the sidewalk, and finally March could pull into a parking spot. She slipped her parking pass into the front window, and then hopped out of the car.

She was immediately greeted by an energy drink being shoved into her hand. Standing directly next to her was Sunsugar, her hair still damp, presumably from her swim lessons. “I got you the coffee flavored one,” she said, yawning.

“She was going to buy the weird one that tastes like grass and I made her change it,” Rosamunda chimed in from where she was sitting, having climbed up onto a nearby statue. (Of Aguefort, because when you got to be wizard-rich you could afford to just build statutes of yourself all over the place.)

Rosamunda and Sunsugar Lotusgarden were twins, and they were as inseparable as movies would make twins out to be. There wasn’t a day in their lives that they weren’t together- and frankly, March couldn’t imagine any reason they wouldn’t be. The pair were probably the single closest friends she’d ever met. That didn’t mean, however, that they were perfectly identical.

They looked similar enough: they were both Halflings, with darker skin and curly hair, although Sunsugar had cut hers very short to accommodate her swimming needs, and Rosamunda had had braids for as long as March could recall. They both had Pixie blood, making them smaller than most Halflings, and it sometimes made adventuring a challenge for them. Two years of experience had been enough to overcome that hurdle, however, and they were scarily competent.

Rosamunda was an incredible fighter- even for her short size, she could wipe the floor with bigger opponents, and she was probably the best monster-hunter out of their entire party. And Sunsugar was a gifted cleric. She worshiped Sule, the Halfling God of Merriment and Joy, and it made her the life of any party. It helped she was also a Bard, making her the only Multi-class of the entire party. She had a much heavier workload than the rest of them, but she somehow was always available to hang-out when people asked. March had learned to stop asking.

“Thank you, Rosa,” she said, immediately cracking into her drink. “You’re a hero.”

“You’re welcome!” Rosamunda replied. “You know I’m always happy to help. Speaking of which, I’m going to be late to our club meeting after-school. I promised my mom I’d drive one of my cousin’s to band practice.”

“You’re good,” March said. “Tell Richie I said hi.”

“Yeah, tell Richie hi for the rest of us- and that we’re excited for his next concert,” Moryore said.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that,” Rosamunda said. “He’s really proud of the pieces they’ve been working on.”

“He’s a great musician. Even if I still don’t really get the whole ‘ska’ thing,” Moryore said. He paused for a moment, looking at his watch. Moryore was always the more punctual one out of their group, and he was also the one who was still upset they’d been late for the first day last year.

(March wasn’t apologizing for that. It’s not her fault she had to stop to coax a bear out of a neighbor’s backyard.)

“Okay, we have time,” he said. “March, how’s Uncle Byrd? Did he get around to fixing his bike?”

“Dad’s fine,” March replied. “And he did- though he’s going to end up popping the tire again by the end of the week, mark my words.”

“Yeah, that’s Byrd for you,” Moryore said, shaking his head. His expression was one of deep familiarity and a little exhaustion. He’d been privy to her father’s accident-prone behavior for long enough that it had stopped being surprising.

The two of them weren’t actually related, but Moryore’s folks had been friends with her father back in the day, and they’d grown up together. And honestly, March had trouble remembering sometimes that her own father had been just as cool as Moryore’s parents were.

His mother was a talented actress, a gifted writer, and a wondrous musician, making her a real triple-threat. She was usually away from Elmville, performing all over the world, but when she was around she kicked absolute ass. She was an adventurer back in the day, and she’d clearly instilled her son with that same tenacity and bravery. She was also gorgeous, and Moryore had clearly taken after her in that regard. He had less feathers than his mother, being only a quarter harpy compared to her half, but with his darker complexion and thick, coily hair, he was a dead ringer for what she looked like at his age. He was seriously blessed in that regard. March was only a little jealous.

His father had been a similarly talented adventurer, although now he was settled down and doing work for the Council of Chosen within Solace itself. He’d been an amazing combatant in his day, and was probably the single most noble person in town. Moryore had taken after him in that regard, and as a paladin of Epiphania, the God of Curiosity and Adventure, he was doing all sorts of amazing things himself. He’d probably be actually famous if he wasn’t in the Blue Moon Buddies, a fact which the group was more than aware of.

Still, there was no use dwelling on things like that. Especially because Moryore loved their party, and wouldn’t leave it even if they tried to convince him to.

“Where’s Ven?” March asked, changing the subject as she looked around the parking lot. “Are they late to school again?”

“They texted and told me they left their backpack on the kitchen table,” Sunsugar chimed in. “So they had to run back home to get it.”

“They’d lose their own head if it wasn’t attached,” Moryore said, rolling his eyes. “They better not miss their first class. We all have to get good grades this year or we’ll be stuck doing summer make-up. And I want to enjoy the summer before Senior year, especially since this year’s summer ended up being so weird.”

“You worry too much,” Haldir said, tail flicking in the air. “Ven’s grades are never improving. They’re like, the only person failing sorcery classes right now.”

“Haldir!” March said, glaring daggers at them. “Be nice!”

“I am being nice. It’s not their fault their magic doesn’t listen to them,” Haldir said. “I keep telling them to just switch tracks to a different class. I’ve seen them practicing with a sword when they think no one’s in the sorcerer’s classrooms. They’re not half bad.”

March sighed. Haldir had always been practical to a fault. As their rogue, they’d been in the background a lot in their time here. They liked it better that way- Haldir was the one who gathered intel, learned things about their missions and assignments and peers, and kept them on track for whatever their next goal was. They could definitely be using these powers for evil. Instead, they mostly used it to give unsolicited advice.

A lot of people assumed Minotaurs couldn’t be sneaky- a fact which March knew Haldir delighted in disproving. Of course, they were only half Minotaur, but that didn’t really detract from their size. They were built almost like a Satyr, with hoofed feet and bull legs, thought their upper half was more clearly Elvish. One of their mothers was a half-elf, and another Aasimir, like March’s father. Haldir had inherited some of those divine features, but not much. Only their eyes, a clearly magical emerald green, matched those features of their mother.

Mrs. Ziasra Morose-Bearhide was a descendant of the Arastacia, a group of celestial angels who served as guardians of nature in the Elvish pantheon. She was specifically descended from the Saint of The Eldest Trees and the Growth of New Forests, which was a mouthful of a name. It meant that she had a strong connection to plant life and nature- one she used often as a druid, and one that gave her little gardening shop a magical feel. Haldir’s other mother, Teskane, was an artificer, and a competent one at that. Right now she was away for a conference involving some sort of rare metal that had been discovered in a mine in the Chaos Mountains, but when she was around, she was basically the party’s go-to for magic equipment.

Haldir had a pretty steep reputation to live up to, but somehow they kept their cool. March wished she had half their chill. Life would definitely be easier.

“We should get inside now, before the halls get too crowded,” Sunsugar chimed in. “I want a good spot in the auditorium.”

“Oh, right! Who’s ready for the first day speech?” March asked, practically jumping forward. “This is my favorite part of the day.”

“I am! I hope it’s Vice Principal Gilear,” Rosamunda said. “That dude rocks.”

“Much better than Vice Principal Goldenhoard,” Haldir agreed.

“Well, anyone’s better than Goldendoodle. He tried to kill a whole bunch of students,” Sunsugar said. “I feel like ‘actively evil’ is kind of the rock bottom for these things.”

She did have a point there. It was definitely weird how many evil ass teachers they had. It was hard to think about anything else, though. Right now she was just really excited for school to start.

“Last one inside has to lug the fertilizer in after school today!” she shouted, before promptly taking off into a dead sprint.

“Fuck! Cheater!” Raven called out, sprinting after her. She could hear her friends behind her scramble to follow, and the rush of wind in her lungs and the excitement of a good race was enough to tell her this was going to be a very good day indeed.

Chapter Text

Ven’s day was off to a very bad start.

They’d left their backpack at home, so they had to run all the way back to grab it. And since they were already running late, by the time they’d returned, they’d missed the bus. So they had to run ten minutes to the next stop, where thankfully they’d managed to catch it on time. They were sweaty, tired, and nauseous and it wasn’t even nine in the morning yet.

They weren’t even going to have time to change before first period. Their father had been home this morning, so they’d had to leave the house in a skirt, because he always got mad when they wore jeans. Or pants of any kind. He was pretty fundamentalist. They’d have to ask to go to the bathroom. Maybe they’d get lucky and Mr. Stardiamond would be too busy to even notice.

The thought of their teacher was enough to further turn their stomach. They were not excited for sorcery class this year.

They hadn’t even known they were a sorcerer when they first started at Aguefort. They’d been planning to attend paladin classes, if only to make their father happy. But on the first day, they’d been startled by a classmate throwing a book at their head, and they’d retaliated instinctively, hurling a small Acid Splash in her direction. (Sunsugar had apologized profusely afterward, claiming she’d been aiming for her sister, but it took a couple days before they forgave her.) Mr. Stardiamond had seen it, and they’d talked, and then Ven was suddenly in sorcery class.

Later that year, they’d officially been labeled a Wild Magic Sorcerer. It wasn’t an uncommon type of Sorcery, particularly for people who’s ancestry was unknown. Because Ven had no idea where their magic came from, and their father… well, they tried not to talk to him. He was either too drunk to answer anything or he was angry- about their hair, their clothes, their grades, the cleanliness of the house, their brother’s toys in the hallway, the weather, anything really. He wasn’t exactly helpful, and when he got really upset, he tended to throw things. Ven didn’t like having things thrown at them, and their father was terrifying when he was angry. And they couldn’t ask their mother. They didn’t know the right spells to talk to someone who’d been dead for years.

Regardless, they’d been working at sorcery for two whole years, and they were still a terrible caster. Their magic flared all the time . They had poor control, and they were far behind their similarly aged classmates. Honestly, they’d drop out, but then they’d lose access to the few parts of their life they enjoyed. Because Adventuring was fun. It was exciting, and their party was so nice to them, and this was the only place they could be themselves. Everyone called them Ven here. That alone was worth the embarrassment of sucking at their classes.

They made their way into the school building at last, having hopped off the city bus and run for another five minutes to make it to the school. They were lucky to be there before the first day assembly- if they’d been late, Ven would probably have to curl into a little ball and disappear forever.

The first face that stood out to them as they finally entered the school building was the school’s guidance counselor, Jawbone. He was sitting at a table in the hallway, which was already a little odd for him. Shouldn’t he be in the auditorium for the start of the semester? Maybe he was handing out pamphlets again. Probably about drug safety or class schedule changes.

(Maybe Ven should switch over to paladin after all. They could fake devotion to Sol- they’d been doing it for ten years.)

And hovering by the table was a group of student’s they knew all too well: The Bad Kids. (Well, they didn’t know them personally, but it was impossible not to recognize the faces of the party that had saved the world thrice in two years. It was pretty damn impressive.) They did a quick head-count, and sure enough it was the whole party. Riz Gukgak- formerly known as Briefcase Kid, before Ven learned his name- and Adaine Abernant, and Fabian Seacaster, and Kristen Applebees, and Gorgug Thistlespring. And there was Fig Faeth, with a little bit of what appeared to be yogurt on her jacket. She must have been eating breakfast in a hurry. Honestly, they were still a little intimidated by the Bad Kids, even if they were supposedly ‘nice’. They were barely confident enough to walk past them in the halls, and Ven kind of wanted to talk to Jawbone anyway. So they’d just… quietly hide behind the large potted plant by the door and wait for them to leave.

Yeah. That was normal. Ven was winning at high school.

They peaked around the plant’s fronds, continuing to observe. They didn’t quite recognize the girl they were talking to. She was a shorter girl, definitely a Halfling, with nice straight blonde hair in a too perfect ponytail and what was absolutely a school uniform. And not an Aguefort one, because Aguefort didn’t have uniforms. It wasn’t from another school either, just a plain checkered blue argyle sweater vest over a white button up and spotless Mary-janes. It wasn’t the weirdest outfit in the hallway, but it did strike them as interesting. Willingly dressing like you went to Hudol took effort- whether it was the effort of not caring what other people said, the effort of faking it till you made it, or the effort of not bursting out laughing and announcing a prank video. This girl was clearly very interesting indeed.

They stood as silent as they could while the group talked. They only caught a few snippets here and there. Something about four little dogs was definitely said. Had they gotten therapy dogs? Ven hoped so. Jawbone was nice, but sometimes fluffiness is all you need for a bit.

The exchange continued- it seemed like it wasn’t necessarily going well. Then again, the Bad Kids were known for sometimes getting into weird rivalries with random people. Usually they were fairly right- everyone remembered how Dayne picked on Riz, and he turned out to be evil. Sometimes they were not. Everyone knew how much Fig hated Porter, especially the Barbarian kids, and that had never panned out.

Eventually, the blonde girl walked off, and the Bad Kids shuffled around enough that Ven could see the other person standing next to Jawbone. It was the current president of the student council, Mazey… something. Ven didn’t remember her last name. They did know she was pretty cool. Most Dance Bards were. It was a fun way to express oneself and wield magic, even if they didn't necessarily grasp how it worked. The next part was said loud enough for Ven to catch.

“Kristen’s actually running for class president,” Riz said, loudly. Ven’s eyebrows nearly lifted off their forehead. That was… well, Ven didn’t know Kristen personally. But any member of the Bad Kids being in student government was going to be interesting. Unless this was a plot or something? Was another member of the faculty secretly evil?

Or maybe they were just doing random bullshit again. They did so much random bullshit. There wasn’t a kid in the school who hadn’t witnessed them getting into hi-jinks or heard about tales of their exploits through the grapevine. Adventurers were natural gossips- that’s how you got jobs, found new party members, earned acclaim and fortune. No adventurer worth half their salt wasn’t at least a little nosy. Mostly in their party, Haldir was the one out collecting intel, but Ven heard a lot themselves. People kind of tended to gloss over them like they weren’t there, and they said all kinds of shit they wouldn’t otherwise say if they respected them. It bothered Ven, but at least it helped with quests.

They continued observing the commotion, including what looked to be something between Mazey and Fabian. Honestly, good for her. Fabian wasn’t not cute, even if Ven didn’t really go for men. Usually. Some men were pretty cute- it was honestly a toss-up. Call them bi-curious, just in the direction most people wouldn’t think of looking at them. There was that brief earthquake that sent Ven into the nearby wall, but afterward the Bad Kids cleared out, as did Mazey, and it was just Jawbone sitting at the table, reorganizing his booth.

They were just debating leaving their hiding spot when something startled them out of their own head. “Kid- you gotta get to the auditorium,” Jawbone called out. “Why are you hiding by the doorway?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t realize you could see me,” Ven said, scooting out of hiding. “Um- I was- I just didn’t want to- I- the table’s in front of my locker?” Which was a complete lie, but if they didn’t make eye contact maybe Jawbone wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Oh! Sorry about that,” Jawbone said. “It’s Ven right?”

“Uh, yeah,” they said, a little surprised he recognized them. They only met like, once, when Ven needed to ask about something for class in freshmen year, and they’d been too scared of Vice Principal Goldenhoard. He was fucking terrifying. Thank the gods he was dead, and hopefully suffering big time in Hell.

“Well, Ven, good luck today,” he said. “Let me know if you have any questions or need anything this year.”

“Of course!” Ven said, nodding frantically. They put their hands in their pockets, before skirting away as quickly as possible. They had to find their friends, after all.

The Aguefort’s auditorium was incredibly packed, and Ven would be worried about getting lost if it wasn’t so easy to spot their party in the crowd. They knew the shape and composition of their group all too well. They always crowded Sunsugar in the middle, because she could take the least damage of all them, and Haldir always stood a foot or two behind them, even outside of combat, to stick to the shadows.

They slid in next to Raven and March, wrapping their arms tight around them. They hated standing in crowds with so many people so close, but they’d put up with it for now.

“Ven!” Rosamunda said cheerfully. “You made it! We were worried you’d get lost or hit by a bus or something?”

“I had to run, but I managed it,” they replied. “Anything interesting happen yet?”

“Not much,” Rosamunda said.

“Marco Williams, that paladin that vomited on his first day right on Mr. Halo’s shoes, did it again this year,” Moryore said. “He entered the auditorium, bumped into the wall, and blew chunks everywhere. Poor guy.”

“I heard his party’s cleric say something about him eating a grilled cheese off the pavement in the parking lot,” Raven said, leaning in to whisper that information.

“Yikes,” Ven said, grimacing. Gross. Why did people keep doing that? And who was leaving all those grilled cheeses in the parking lot? The world may never know.

“I think they’re about to start,” Moryore said, grabbing the party’s attention. He gestured to the stage, where it seemed Mr. Stardiamond was busy turning on his mic.

Soon, his voice was ringing through the auditorium, as insanely cheerful as always. “Good morning, students of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy!” he said. “I know this summer wasn’t exactly a normal one, but the sun is back, and I can only hope everyone is ready for another great year! Now, I know Arthur isn’t going to be here this year, and our beloved vice principal Gilear isn’t with us-”

Suddenly, a voice ricocheted through the building- it was obviously one of the Bad Kids, quickly joined by the rest of the group. “GILEAR! GILEAR! GILEAR!”

“Oh hell yeah,” Rosamunda said quietly, before joining in on the chant. Around the auditorium, many voices also joined in on the chant. Not wanting to be left out, Ven quietly followed suit.

It took them a while to quiet down. The entire building seemed to be really enthusiastic about Gilear- Ven didn’t really know the man themselves, but he had seemed nice. Definitely better than Kalvaxus.

(Gods, they really had such a low bar.)

“And so, without further ado, we’re going to be hearing a few words from the Interim Emergency Backup Principal, Arturus Grix!” Jace said, stepping back.

“Backup Principal?” Moryore murmured, just as Sunsugar said, much louder, “How many fucking adjectives does one guy need?”

Rosamunda shushed her sister, elbowing her in the side. “You’ll get detention!” she whispered. Sunsugar just shrugged in response.

As they bickered amongst themselves, someone rolled out from behind the curtain. The figure was entirely metal, something either brass or copper. Their build was strange- clearly robotic, though shaped like a humanoid, with one of those over the shoulder ribbon-things people wore when they graduated in the same metal as their body, and a large ball of some sort with which they moved around.

Jace stepped back to let them speak- and speak they did. “Welcome, one and all, to another exciting year at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy, where the next generation of adventurers are trained. But what is an adventurer? One who goes on adventures?” the robot, who Ven finally realized must be Principal Grix, said. He had a very strong, if monotone voice, and normally that wouldn’t register as off to them. (Plenty of very nice people had monotone voices- that wasn’t something you could really control.) But something there was raising their hackles.

“Was that a hypothetical-” Moryore mumbled, though he was cut off by Grix’s answers.

“Yes,” he said, metallic gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I have been created, constructed, and designed by your principal, Arthur Aguefort, to enact perfect adventuring order.”

‘Perfect adventuring order’ as a phrase only solidified their discomfort. “Ah,” Ven said, very quietly.

They didn’t think they’d spoken too loudly, but someone obviously heard them. March scooted closer, leaning in. “What?” she whispered.

“Kristen Applebees is running for class president,” they mumbled back. “I heard the Bad Kids talking in the hall.”

“Oh? Weird,” she said. “And this has to do with this guy how?”

“Well, you agreed it was weird, and it’s definitely weird. And so I thought maybe it meant there was something going on, and, you know, they’ve taken out evil faculty before. I think this is the evil guy,” they whispered.

“...Agreed,” March said, eyes narrowing on Grix.

“We can leave that to them, right?” Ven mumbled back. “I don’t think we can take on something created by Arthur Aguefort. We almost got murdered by hell-hounds just two months ago.”

“That did happen. I should have asked Mr. Fallowglade about hell-hound handling before we left,” March mumbled. “At least no one died.”

“There’s always that,” Ven agreed.

Around them, there was some sort of commotion. Ven looked up just in time to see Grix wheel out of the back of the stage (when had he left?).

Then they were standing in a line outside the sorcerer’s classroom. Alone. Well, that fucking weird. They’d probably have to regroup and talk about it later. For now- class time.

The dreaded first class of the day had finally arrived, and Ven found themselves sitting in the back of Mr. Stardiamond’s classroom, trying not to draw too much attention. The auditorium had been confusing, and they were trying to make sense of it all. Which mostly meant chewing on the end of their pencil, trying to figure out why on Earth Arthur would make a robot to replace him. Why not just hire a teacher?

Maybe he’d been put up to it. Maybe it’d been hacked. After all, ‘perfect order’ was a weird thing for anyone to say, and plenty of people were whispering about it in the hallway. Of course, if he was evil, Ven was not getting involved in that. They had zero desire to save the world. Sure, they’d like to go on some big adventures, maybe explore the world, maybe even the multiverse. But they didn’t- they’d never be strong enough to save the world. Or even fight a powerful wizard. Especially with how unreliable their magic was. They were a supporting role at best, and they were mostly okay with that. Their little brother needed them around anyway.

Lost in thought, they were still paying enough attention to hear someone approach them. “Hey Ven! Any luck over the summer with your surges?” someone called. They looked over to see it was another sorcerer in their class- Marquisha Vaneweather. She was always rather nice to Ven, even though she was the best student in their class and Ven could barely cast a spell without exploding or summoning a swarm of angry bats. They almost envied how easily it came to her- even as a Storm sorcerer, she wasn’t as destructive as they were.

“No,” they said, resisting the urge to sink under their desk.

“Rough,” Marquisha said, genuine sympathy on her face, which only made Ven feel worse. “I’m sure you’ll get there! These things take time.”

“Ven’s still surging uncontrollably?” another student interjected. This time Ven actually winced. That voice was definitely Zervius Lockheart, who had no fondness for them. He’d been stuck siting next to Ven in freshmen year, and Ven’s constant surges had apparently annoyed him to the point of genuine hatred. They could only hope this year he’d cool down a little. “Seriously, dude, get it together. I get you’re like, Wild Magic or whatever, but it’s annoying.”

“Zervius,” Marquisha said. “Lay off. It’s not like they’re not trying. And anyway, you’re failing this class too.”

“Only cause my party bombed our mission last year,” he said. “Seriously. I’m like, the only guy who actually gives a shit. I can’t wait to go solo once I graduate.”

“If you graduate,” Marquisha corrected. “And get your feet off the table. It’s rude.”

“Like Jace gives a shit,” he grumbled, though he did remove his feet from the table. “I bet he’s not even going to make it to class before noon.”

“He’ll probably drop off the syllabus for the year and then give us free reign to ‘practice on our own’,” Marquisha said. “He’ll be busy with the freshmen anyway. They’ll need way more help than the rest of us.”

“Definitely,” Zervius said. “Most of us, anyway.” He didn’t have to look at Ven for them to know that sentence was meant for them. Ven tried not to react, but it was always so difficult. They had no idea why Zervius couldn’t just leave them alone. They both sucked at being sorcerer’s. Why did they have to get catty about it?

Before they could dwell much further on the subject, the door swung open. Immediately students rushed to sit down, stuffing phones in pockets and pretending like they’d been waiting patiently. Maybe Mr. Stardiamond wasn’t the most conventional teacher, but he was still a teacher, and no one wanted to risk detention on the first day. They weren’t The Bad Kids after all.

“Good morning class! We’re going to have an easier day today- I’ve got freshmen to talk to,” Mr. Stardiamond said as he walked in.

“Good morning Mr. Stardiamond,” the class called out in perfect unison. Well, actually most of them said ‘Jace’, because he was that kind of teacher, but Ven said Mr. Stardiamond. The range of tones in the room, from ‘already bored’ to ‘way too excited’ made it easy to pinpoint who didn’t want to be here. By Junior Year, most sorcerers felt the class was kind of pointless, unless you were failing. Then it was the only lifeline between you and being a high-school dropout.

“I’m glad to see we’re all in high spirits today,” Jace said, standing directly behind his desk. “I hope everyone had a good summer. I’ve seen a couple of you already today, but just as a reminder, anyone who didn’t receive a physical before school started needs to sign up for one. The nurse is getting on my case about it and I’d like to be able to sign off on everyone’s papers by the end of the month.”

Gods, the physical. Ven wasn’t excited about that. They had to do all kinds of stuff to make sure they weren’t developing magical sicknesses or having problems caused by magic overuse. Sorcerers using innate magic were particularly susceptible to them. Ven themselves had caught a magic cold that turned all their spells into fog for a full month. They’d had to attend class wearing three layers of clothes and a mask just to prevent anyone else from catching it. It sucked.

“As for coursework, we’re going to start with filling out inventories today about what spells you know and how your control is,” he said, which made half the class grow. “Look, I know we do it every year- but it’s good to know your starting point so we can see how you improve.”

“I can’t believe you’re making us do paperwork,” one of the students, a tiny gnome they were pretty sure was named Paula Peppercap, shouted.

“Stop complaining,” Zervius said, rolling his eyes. “When you’re an adventurer, this’ll be like half the job. Get used to it.”

“Easy for you to say, nerd!” someone else shouted back, a half-orc who Ven knew was named Duke Crushrock, because he’d been made fun of for it exactly once. The guy who did that transferred to Mumple after getting his ass kicked so hard he lost three teeth, and people learned not to make fun of Duke. He could be kind of brash, but he was usually a pretty okay guy. Ven didn’t talk to him, but Ven hardly spoke to anyone in the class. “You do your parents taxes for fun.”

“At least I can do math,” Zervius snapped. “How’s that D in Adventuring Statistics going?”

“Fuck off!” Duke shouted.

“Okay, knock it off you two,” Jace called. “I’m passing out forms now. I have to go babysit the freshmen, so don’t cause too much trouble in here, alright. Looking at you, Ven, please don’t cast anything until after your physical.”

God damn it. Did he have to say that in front of everyone? Fuck, Ven hated him. Ven hated all of this. They sank deeper into their chair, ignoring all the looks from their classmates. Jace muttered something, hands moving quickly, and the papers appeared on everyone’s desks. Then in a flash he was gone. Fucking Misty Step.

“Why is this fifteen pages?” Paula whined, earning her a swat from her sister next to her, whose name they definitely didn’t recall. Ven sat up, staring glumly at the pages. It wouldn’t take them that long, but this always sucked.

Then someone tapped quietly on their desk, and they looked over at the source of the noise. “Ven, if you’re going to slip out to change, I can start filling out the forms for you,” Marquisha said, leaning across the aisle with her hand out-stretched. “I remember your answers from the end of last semester.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Ven said, quickly passing off their paperwork. “You don’t have to, though, I know-”

“Just let her do it,” Zervius interjected, rolling his eyes again. “Seriously, go change. You look like you’re going to burst into a storm-cloud or something.”

Ven bit their lip. That was one time. But Zervius was right. Today was going to be stressful enough. Dysphoria on top of that wasn’t a good idea. “Thank you,” they said again, already rising from their seat. They quickly grabbed their backpack and scurried out of the room. Hopefully it wouldn’t take them too long to change.

They still had a long day of school ahead of them, after all, and Ven was going to get better at magic this year, no matter what it took.

Chapter Text

March's first day of school passed by mostly without comment. It was all syllabus stuff, or basic warm-ups, the things that would define the vibe of the year. Her classes were what she was expecting by now, and she suspected it’d be another year of learning about the many natural beasts, plants, and phenomena of Solas, the ancient history of druids in their own country and beyond, the gods and spirits of the natural world that most closely worked with druids, and all manner of basic adventuring shit. More advanced than freshmen and sophomore year, of course, but all of it was extremely practical. Supplies and navigation and tactics, all the things that made a solid foundation. It was stuff that was easy for her, but she was holding out for a real challenge down the line. Maybe this year they’d go on a real quest.

(She felt bad about it, but she was kind of tired of not being able to travel too far or too long because of Ven’s situation. It wasn’t their fault, and she would never in a million years say this to them. It was really their dad’s fault anyway, and she wished they’d just be able to get rid of him. She hated complicated situations with the full weight of her heart.)

She arrived to school the next day on a slightly sour note. Her father had left early in the morning- something about an emergency at work- and she’d nearly got into a car accident on the way to school. That one hadn’t been her fault- some asshole had been texting and fully blasted past a stop sign. So she was definitely pretty miffed, but she’d already accepted it was going to be a pretty bad day.

She practically swam through the halls, avoiding all the clumps of students yelling and talking and irresponsibly casting magic, as was Aguefort’s tradition, to find her own party, all clumped around Moryore’s locker.

“Hey babe,” Raven called, waving as she slipped into the small circle. “Rough morning?”

“Don’t even get me started,” she grumbled. “I just can’t wait till I can get to class.”

“I’m sure it’ll get better,” Rosamunda chimed in. She was leaned against the lockers, writing in her planner for the day. “It’s the second day, so it’ll probably be more interesting. For the druids, at least. Fighter classes are all just sort of the same after three years.”

“Yeah, I imagine it’s all just combat training,” Moryore said. “Paladin classes have flavor, at least.”

“But you have to work with Halo,” Raven said, grimacing. “He’s so chipper it’s downright nauseating.”

“He’s not that bad,” Moryore said. “He could be like Jace. I don’t envy you for having to take Jace’s class, Ven. He’s so weirdly positive all the time. It’s like, he works with the worst kids in the school. You’d think he’d be grumpier about it.”

“He doesn’t teach too much,” Ven mumbled. They were crowded behind Raven, using her ambient shadow to stay out of the brighter lights. Migraines and Wild Magic were not a good combination. March still couldn’t eat grapes after six months, so she’d know. “And Mr. Stardiamond’s not that positive. He can get really mad when you mess stuff up or you don’t turn homework in on time. He’s not a yeller or anything but he’s just… I don’t know, he’s got a really intimidating aura. It’s like, you don’t want to disappoint him, because that feels super bad.”

“I get it. Zara’s pretty cool but I’d be mortified if I did poorly in her class,” Raven said. “Especially with who my mom is, y’know?” March nodded at that. You couldn’t exactly flunk your vampire teacher’s class when your mother was both a vampire and your patron. That would be deathly embarrassing. It’d be like if she was a cleric of… whatever her Granddad's name was. Fuck, she should totally know that. Whoops.

“Ms. Sool does seem nice,” Ven said. “...Is it Mrs. Sool?”

“I don’t think she cares. Everyone I know just calls her Zara,” Raven said, shrugging. “You might be the only person in the school who calls anyone “Mr.” or “Mrs.”, Ven.”

“I bet you the cleric kids do,” Rosamunda said, turning to Sunsugar. “Do they?”

“Some of ‘em,” she replied. “Only the real stuffy ones, though. We don’t have any, like, clerics of Sol or Helio or anything, though, so most of us are worshiping Gods who are a bit less formal than that. Not to like, generalize or anything. It’s just that their worshipers tend to have long histories of being hyper-formal and polite in that very Human way.”

“Don’t have to tell me that,” Ven mumbled. “Dad would kill me if he heard me calling an elder by just their first name.”

March winced. She had a feeling that sentence might not be that much of an exaggeration. Seriously, fuck that guy. “Well, regardless, if Zara doesn’t care, I don’t see why any of us should either.”

“I agree,” Haldir chimed in. “Do you guys want to move to a table or something? I want to check my notes before class.”

“Sure,” Moryore said, swinging his bag back over his shoulder. “I want to reorganize my prayer book before class anyway.”

“Let’s get moving now if we’re going. I don’t want to be trapped in the hallway when people start rushing to class,” March said, gesturing for her party to move forward. They all began to quietly scuffle with their things and make it down the hallway.

As they walked, March took a moment to check her phone. She had several notifications for Fantasy Tumblr, which were probably just more bot spam, and a text from her dad. She looked up briefly to make sure she wasn’t about to trip, and then went back to read her father’s message.

Dad <|:^] : Hey kid, sorry I missed you this morning. I love you, hope you have a good day at school. I’m making pasta salad for dinner tonight, let me know if you’ll be late coming home.

March smiled to herself, hearting the message and then tucking her phone back into her pocket. Her Dad really was the best. She hoped he wasn’t working too hard, especially not if it was on her account. He was owed like sixteen vacations by now.

They were almost to the doors that led to the outdoor seating area when suddenly, someone skirted around a group of lockers and fully hip-checked Haldir. They barely kept to their feet, stumbling but managing to right themselves.

“Oops,” the stranger said. March narrowed in on her face. She was clearly Elven- a Wood Elf like Ven, if March had to guess. She was wearing ripped red jeans and a black tank-top, which March had to admit wasn’t a bad outfit. She had a bow strapped to her back, which meant she was probably an archer-type fighter, or maybe a ranger. She was chewing gum in a frankly obnoxious way. It was terrible.

“Sorry about that,” Haldir said, because they were far too nice. It was clearly not their fault. They’d been looking where they were going, and the stranger had definitely not done anything to avoid running into someone since she’d been staring down at her phone. She should be the one apologizing. March waited, half-expecting her to at least graciously accept the apology.

If only that was what she had done, they might all have been spared a lot of trouble.

“You’re kind of clumsy for a rogue, huh?” the girl asked, popping her gum with a raised eyebrow. “You should look where you’re going.”

The rest of the Blue Moon Buddies began to look at each other, a mix of honest disbelief and mild annoyance on their faces. March echoed that. Actually, she amplified it. She half wanted to curse her out- but the stranger was very quickly gone, down the hallway before March could get a word out.

As soon as she was out of earshot, March burst open like a soda can let in the freezer over-night. “What the hell is her problem?” she hissed. She felt an uncomfortable amount of anger bubble in her throat, though she just barely managed to tamp it down. She wasn’t sure what it was about that girl, but she was definitely under her skin now.

“She’s probably just having a bad day,” Rosamunda said. “We all have bad days.”

“She knocked into Haldir and then called them clumsy! Who the fuck does that? Assholes, that’s who,” March said, crossing her arms.

“March, really, I’m fine,” Haldir said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I barely even noticed.”

“Well I did. Fuck that girl,” she grumbled. “We’re like- fuck it. We’re enemies now.”

“March, isn’t that a little-” Haldir began, though they stopped themselves. They backed off slightly, just sighing. “You know what, I know that look. If you need to be a hater, I’ll let you be a hater.”

“I’m going to be the hater supreme,” she mumbled. “The Queen of Hating.”

“Okay, so, we hate that… whoever that was?” Ven asked, poking their head from around the corner. When had they ducked behind the corner? Had that girl scared them? Just another thing to add to her reasons to be a hater.

“I think it’s less ‘we’ and just March,” Moryore said.

“No, we’re a party. If one of us is a hater, all of us are haters,” Sunsugar chimed in. “March, if you say that’s enemy numero uno now, that’s who it’s gonna be.”

March ground her teeth. Realistically she really should say it was fine. But the emotional part of her brain wanted that girl humiliated for the slight, and she couldn’t quite convince herself not to. “She’s one hundred percent our enemy now,” she said. “Fuck that girl.”

Moryore sighed. “...Fuck that girl, I guess. But if this takes away from our ability to pass our classes, I am calling a meeting to rethink this,” he said.

“Speaking of classes, y’all should get going,” Raven called, drawing their attention in. “I’ve got a day class in the afternoon, so I’m going to chill until then, but the rest of you should probably start getting ready soon or you’ll be late.”

“We’ve got forty-five minutes,” Ven said, flashing the party their phone screen briefly. “We’re good.”

“Thanks Ven. Wait, Raven, what day class do you have?” March asked. She thought all the Warlocks took night classes. At least, since the new teacher took over. She supposed some of them did take Gen Ed classes during the day, but that was mostly for the Freshmen. Warlocks had lighter Gen Ed requirements than some other classes (Wizards definitely came to mind) purely because they often didn't really need it. Your Ranger had to know monster identification, your wizard needed to know the fundamentals of magic and why it worked. Your Warlock, and hell, even your Cleric, didn't really need to know more than the basics to succeed at their personal skillset. Sorcerers barely took any Gen Eds for that reason (although plenty did just to avoid boredom).

“I’m taking Advanced Dungeon Crawling,” Raven said. “Apparently I’m ‘behind on Gen Ed classes’, whatever that means.”

“I told you to take more in sophomore year,” Moryore said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, I kind of didn’t care. It’s not like Aguefort really enforces most of the graduation requirements that aren’t the adventuring ones,” Raven said.

“True, true. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever read any of the requirements,” March said. “If I fail, I fail.”

“Don’t let your Dad hear that,” Ven chimed in.

“Dad’ll love me even if I drop out and start performing as a street clown,” March said. She was super lucky to have him, really. She’d have to see if he was home when she got back from classes. Maybe they’d watch a movie or something.

“You’d make an awful street-clown,” Sunsugar mused. “You’re not a ‘loud make-up’ kind of girl.”

March gasped. “That is the single meanest thing you’ve ever said about me,” she said, putting a hand to her chest.

“I think you’d make a great street clown, babe,” Raven said. March smiled back at her, because even if that was a truly strange compliment, it was a compliment all the same. Next to her, Sunsugar pretended to gag, and caught an elbow in the side from her sister for it.

“Let’s just go sit down,” Haldir said, rolling their eyes. They started walking off again, and the group followed, still chatting among themselves. March put aside her feelings for the moment, preparing herself for another long day. She was coming back to that hating, however. If only because if she didn’t, she’d feel like a coward. To be a hater, one must embrace hating to their very core.

But first, she needed to embrace her secondary true love- nature.

Her classes that day passed much like the first one. She had three different Druid classes before lunch, the first of which was a 'self study’ class that mostly involved her studying the stars and practicing her wild-shapes. It was much harder than most people thought; she had to fully understand the composition of an animal to accurately shift into one. And it took a lot of energy, which meant she was eating more than most of her peers. Honestly, she kind of got why Bloodrush players were all scarfing down sixteen bazillion chicken sandwiches a day. It was rough.

Her second class was a basically just adventuring preparation. She spent a lot of it memorizing edible plants. Truly, there were way too many, and you’d fail the class if your identifications weren’t solid, so she really had to pay attention in that one. At least her party would be able to survive should they ever forget to pack food on an adventure. Not that she ever expected them to do that. Haldir and Moryore constantly stressed about supplies in the weeks leading up to an excursion, and even if they had to leave in a pinch (a thing which had never happened) they had means and ways of making sure they survived a journey. Still, knowledge was knowledge, and someone ought to know these things.

Her third class was on the History of Druid-craft; they were deep in it now, and March had several papers to write by the end of the month. Honestly, too many papers for a druid. There was a reason people became Druids instead of Wizards. And then came lunch, where she spent the period watching Sunsugar get her ass kicked by Moryore at Dragon-chess and eating a truly absurd number of almonds. Lunch-time was definitely the highlight of her day, and getting to hang out with her friends for a bit almost made it worth the hassle of navigating the crowded hallways.

Then came her Gen Ed courses: a medicine course, because she was the one they’d expect to pull her injured party members back from the brink, a math class (because contrary to popular belief, you did need to know math to be an adventurer), and a home EC. class that was basically just an excuse for a bunch of stressed adventurers to make cookies. And when she was stressed, a cookie was exactly what she needed. She had a feeling this year was going to be much more stressful than last year, so maybe this would be something to keep her mind clear. Or at the very least, to prevent her from stressing herself to death.

By the time the day was over, she was definitely tired. It wasn’t the same kind of tiredness that she felt after a day of traveling and adventuring, but it was still pretty potent. She definitely was going to need a long bath once she was finally home. That’d have to wait, however, because she still had a club meeting to attend.

She gathered her things after class, making a brief stop by her locker to pull out an energy drink. She normally kept a whole bunch of energy drinks stuffed into the back of her locker. Throughout her sophomore year, she’d gone from someone who rarely drank anything but water to a ‘three energy drinks a day’ type. It probably wasn’t healthy, but she did make the effort to drink enough water to cope with that.

She walked towards the club room, downing her drink as she went through the mental lists of her tasks for the day. She’d have to open up the club room, do some cleaning, water the plants, make a list of things they’d need before they had the freshmen club rush, make the schedule, start her first essay… truly, there was far too much to get done.

Just then, her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She pulled it out, glancing at the Caller-ID to see that it was her father. She looked around, and not seeing anyone skulking around, picked up the phone.

“Hey Dad,” she said as soon as the call started. “How’re you?”

She could hear the sounds of Elmville on the other end of the speaker. Not cars, thankfully, but the sound of distant conversations and a very faint sound of rain. Was it raining outside? The sky had been clear this morning. “I’m fine, sweetie,” her father said. “I’m just calling to ask if you need anything from the store. I’m on my way home from work now.”

“Hm… not that I can think of,” she said. “Is it raining?”

“Oh! You can hear that?” he asked. He laughed a little, and she could almost picture him smiling. She couldn’t help but smile too. “No, one of my coworkers accidentally broke open a bottle with a rain spell in it. The office is flooding as we speak.”

“What?! Dad!” she said, laughing. “Can’t you just dispel that?”

“I could. But I told them if they fucked around and found out, they’d be the one cleaning it up,” he said. “I can’t always clean up their messes.”

“Obviously,” March said, thinking back to her own similar experiences. Like the one time Sunsugar and Moryore were forced to lug a mimic back to the animal control in downtown because March had told them not to buy a random vase from a literal hooded figure outside a fucking Fantasy Denny’s. They brought that one on themselves. “Oh, Dad, can Raven come over after we get out of our club meeting today?”

“Of course she can. She’s always welcome here- I’ll make sure we have food she can eat in the house,” he said. “Oh, and hey- I got an email from the school this morning. Are you thinking about multi-classing?”

“Huh? Not that I’ve thought about. Did they email you about that?” she asked. Maybe it was for Ranger classes. A lot of people multi-classed into Ranger for better martial capabilities. March hadn’t thought about it, but maybe the school sent it out to everyone as a ‘just-in-case’. She’d have to ask her teachers about it.

“They wanted to ask you about sorcery classes,” he said. “I haven’t replied- I figured I’d let you handle it yourself.”

March sighed. Okay, yes, technically she did have the potential to hone in-born magic. She was almost certainly a sorcerer of some kind- probably technically classified as Divine Soul, if she had to guess. But you had to cultivate that kind of magic, and March hadn’t. She didn’t really want to be a sorcerer. She liked working for her powers- she liked drawing them from the movement of the heavens, the stars, her own knowledge. She didn’t, like, hate sorcerers or anything, but she didn’t want to be one herself.

“I’ll go ahead and let them know I’m not interested,” she said. “I have zero desire to work with Jace, and I like my Druid coursework.”

“Alright,” her father said. For a moment, she was suddenly intensely grateful for having such a chill dad. She knew many of her peers who had parents obsessed with continuing family legacies and traditions. He could easily be mad at her for her refusal to carry on their sorcerous legacy, and he never once had been. She was luckier than many of her peers. “And if they give you grief about that, you tell Aguefort I’ll kick his ass.”

March snorted. “Dad, Aguefort’s a literal legendary wizard. He’d like, vaporize you or turn you into a turtle and throw you back in time,” she said. Mr. “Chronomancy is the strongest magic” isn’t exactly someone March would recommend fucking with. There was a reason he was Aguefort’s usual principal, despite kind of sucking. (She’d read his autobiography and it was truly unthinkably wild.)

“I never said I’d succeed at kicking his ass. I’m just going to attempt it,” he replied. “You know I’m always willing to start a fight for you if you need, March.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” March said, her heart warm in her chest. It was always nice to have someone in your corner, even if you had to sweat a little at the idea of your father fighting an extraordinarily powerful wizard when you weren’t looking. “I’ll talk to you later?

“Of course. Oh, and I’m bringing home some ice-cream,” he said. “Ask Raven what she wants for me?”

“I will,” March said. “Love you!”

“Love you too, kid,” he replied. After a moment, the call ended, and March stared at her own reflection in the now dark phone screen. Strangely, the only thought she was left with was that green hair did indeed suit her nicely. Maybe she’d keep it for awhile. Probably not, though. Change was nice. Maybe she’d ask Raven when they hung out later.

For now, though, it was time to get her ass to her club meeting. And maybe on the way there she’d do some snooping online and see if she could figure out who that girl that bumped into Haldir was. They couldn’t be nemeses if she didn’t know who she was, after all.

And it’d give her something to do. An idle adventurer was a dangerous one, for everyone, after all.

Chapter Text

Ven’s second day of Junior Year was exactly the same as their first, which meant that it was highly unpleasant.

At least they’d gotten to school on time, meaning they were able to change into comfortable clothes before class. (Their father hadn’t commented on the hoodie the last time they wore it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. They couldn’t deal with another argument so soon after the last one.) And they’d gotten a chance to compare notes with Sunsugar- they were both taking a History of Magic class, one of the higher level ones. Ven was the only sorcerer in the class, shockingly. They never understood why so many of their peers seemed disinterested in the academic side of things. It was always interesting to learn the how and why of what people once did, even if Ven could never hope to measure up themselves. Sunsugar took more notes, albeit less detailed ones, and her work was always helpful to study.

Then they’d gone to their first class- Mr. Stardiamond had discussed more advanced spell work with them, and their peers had all done fantastically at the demonstrations. Ven stayed in the back, silently praying not to be called on. Blessedly, they didn’t have to cast a single thing that period, and Marquisha snuck them half a chocolate bar when Paula Peppercap cast a wind spell that made everything in the room spin wildly. (For the nausea- Ven had never told her about that, so they weren’t sure how she knew, but they appreciated it, even if it was only out of pity.)

They had a rest period for their second class, so they’d gone to their physical with the nurse then. These were always a humiliating experience, even if the nurse worked very hard to make them comfortable. There was a lot of poking and prodding- they had to have their heart rate measured, their  eyes examined, a hearing exam, and dozens of other tests. Normally sorcerers would have blood tests and other evaluations done by a family doctor, but Ven didn’t have any of that information.

(Their father was of the opinion one shouldn’t go to the doctor unless they were extremely physically ill- you could just ‘tough it out’ otherwise. Ven didn’t really have the energy to fight that battle. They had enough on their plate to deal with, and it was a battle getting him to do the basic things sometime. The rest could wait.)

The nurse also had a battery of magical testing to do, and vaccinations to give. Sorcerers being so susceptible to magic diseases meant they had to take way more preventative measures than your average adventurer, and by the end of their second period they’d had about six shots and a very sore arm.

(School nurses were maybe not qualified to give vaccines, but Aguefort had been doing it for years, from what Ven knew, so clearly it was… fine, if not necessarily legal.)

Then came class number three, all about magical control and understanding one’s own limits and strengths. It was officially called “Your Magic and You” though everyone who took it had their own pejorative nickname for what was essentially a class for baby sorcerers, people just coming into their magic. And Ven.

Most Wild Magic sorcerers didn’t take this class for as long as Ven did. Wild Magic was a recognized subclass for a reason- you could learn to master it. Ven, however, was failing miserably at that very task. Everything they did blew up in their face. A very basic cantrip was usually safe, but anything more complex with a straight toss-up. And they could barely manage to keep focused on most days. Anxious casting was difficult, and Ven was never anything but anxious.

It didn’t help that their magic often took loud, flashy forms. Lots of bright lights, colorful explosions, and a chaotic spray of magical energy that was overwhelming. Ven hated it. They wanted to be more subtle, but no matter how hard they tried, their magic refused to do anything but stand out. It would be more bearable if Ven could just learn to live with the brightness, but alas, it seemed this was the one thing Ven couldn’t manage to adapt to. As much as they were used to putting up with all sorts of minor horrors everywhere, this was one thing he couldn’t get used to.

Lunch was spent just recovering from the ordeal of casting, sitting quietly amongst their party and trying not to be sick. Then came the electives: History of Magic, a truly boring math class, and some random rune-reading class they picked for lack of anything better to do. At least runes were something useful, even if Ven spent that period half-asleep, since they’d wasted most of their energy preventing themselves from panicking during their physical.

And now, finally, they were at the high point of their day: The Gardening Club.

Ven had been enamored with the Gardening room since Freshmen year. When they found it, it was mostly desolate and empty; it used to belong to the former Cleric teacher, but once he retired and Ms. Yolanda took over, most of the plants had been moved to the Druid rooms and the room had been left to rust over.

Their party had used it as a hide-out at first, a place to relax after long days and practice their newfound skills away from the prying eyes of their parents or classmates. And then, slowly but surely, they began to grow new things in the room. It started with some starters March was given by the Druid teacher to grow for an assignment, and then flowers that Sunsugar and Rosamunda brought home from their aunt’s house, and then they’d gotten some vegetable seeds from one of the older ladies at church, and it had spiraled out from there.

The club officially formed at the start of their Sophomore year- they’d gotten a couple Freshmen on board, but it had always been mostly their party. It was part of their routine now, and Ven looked forward to it more than even most holidays.

When they arrived, they immediately made a beeline for a small stool in the shade of one of the large trees they’d been cultivating since freshmen year (impractical for a greenhouse, maybe, but the smell of the thick sap leaking from the holes in the bark was too beautiful a sight to disturb). It was their spot- the stool was old and slightly wiggly, but comfortable, and the tree had been the one they’d planted and grown themselves. It was special. For as terrible as so much of their life could be, little things like this were reminders that it could be something better.

As the first person in the room, they had the chance to just fully unwind, taking the first real, calm breath they’d had all day. The beginning of the school year was always rough. Soon however, they’d be settled into a routine- their fuck-ups would be unnoteworthy, their successes mild but just frequent enough to keep them motivated to show up every day, and they’d forget all about the pit in their stomach for a long time.

They unlocked their phone, dropping tucking their backpack under their stool, and opened their email. There was mostly nothing of interest- a whole bunch of ads for random adventuring stores, several emails from people who attended their father’s church (and were still trying to convince Ven they had enough time to come in more), and dozens of emails of school files, schedule changes, and random memes from Moryore. (Seriously, Moryore sent more emails than texts some weeks. It was kind of weird, but Ven respected it.)

And then there was the email that Ven was actually looking for. It was definitely someone’s terrible burner, but Ven knew that was probably to be expected. They clicked on it to find it was a single line, containing an address (Ven would have to look it up, but they were pretty sure it’d be some sort of old warehouse or an empty club) and ‘20 silver pieces’.

Ven knew that was a rip-off for an entrance fee, but this concert was supposedly going to be really good, and it’d been such a hassle to get an invite in the first place. Especially getting around their father to do it; he’d probably sooner see Ven missing every bone in their body than let them go to a rock concert. They might as well tell him they were going out to worship Lucifer, have a million teenage pregnancies, and piss on the Church’s altar. He’d take it the exact same way.

Still, they were excited, and it should be easy enough to sneak out. Ryo had a sleepover with a friend from school after school, and as long as they played their cards right, their father probably wouldn’t check on them once they said they were going to bed. Especially if he was busy watching television- they were pretty sure it was still baseball season, so he’d be completely focused on that, which suited them just fine.

The next person to arrive was Moryore, followed quickly by Haldir, and then Rosamunda. Rosamunda was wearing her training gear still, and as she pulled off her gloves and shoved them into her pockets, she clapped Haldir on the back. “You have a good day?” she asked.

“It was fine. Everyone’s been talking about the fact that Kipperlilly passed all her rogue classes,” Haldir said. “I’ve been fuming trying to figure out how the hell she did it.”

“I bet you they keep records about that kind of thing,” Moryore said. “You could check the counselor’s office?”

“Maybe at some point- but I want to try to figure it out on my own, y’know?” Haldir said. “I don’t want to ride off the back of someone else’s work. And I feel like I’m so close. She has to be here somewhere, right?”

“I mean, she can’t be nowhere,” Rosamunda said. “That’s not how people work. But you’ve been trying for a straight two years. What if it’s, like, a luck-based thing?”

“All adventuring is a little luck-based,” Moryore said. “Raw skill only gets you so far.”

“I’d argue luck doesn’t play that much of a role,” someone called out as the door to the room swung open again. This time it was Raven, with Sunsugar right behind her, busy tapping away at her phone. “You have to have more skill than luck, or you’ll just end up getting eaten by a monster.”

“Eh, I’ve seen adventurers who are all luck and no skill,” Rosamunda countered. “They survive by being in advantageous positions near constantly. It’s rare, but it happens.”

“I feel like being consistently lucky is a skill in and of itself,” Haldir said. “At some point, that luck becomes a skill you’ve actively chosen to develop. It’s like, half of what Bards do, isn’t it?”

“Can’t argue with that,” Sunsugar said, still staring at her phone. “Bards do have pretty absurd luck. I mean, one time this girl in my class fell off a ten story building during a fight and managed to land safely in a passing wheelbarrow filled with jello. That kind of stuff only happens by the will of fate or whatever.”

“I feel like Bards are some of the strangest forms of magical casting,” Raven said. “I mean, your magic being tied to your art is cool and all, but where does it come from?”

“...My music?” Sunsugar said, raising an eyebrow. “It stems from my music.”

“Yeah, but like- not all music is magic. So doesn’t that imply there’s something special about Bard music in particular? I mean, it’s obvious where a Wizard or a Sorcerer gets their magic from,” Raven said. “But Bards just- they just pull it from thin air?”

“We use the innate magic of our world just like Wizards do, we just don’t have to study the actual mechanics of magic to do it,” Sunsugar said. “We’re cool like that.”

“That is pretty cool,” Moryore said. “...I still don’t really get it.”

“You should take a Mechanics of Magic class,” Sunsugar said. “It’ll really help you grasp this sort of thing. I loved taking it last year.”

“I’ll have to see if I have time for it,” Moryore said. “Anyone seen March yet?”

“Not yet- she’s probably just a little busy,” Raven said. “Let me text her.”

Just as she pulled her phone out, however, March burst into the room. “I have identified the girl who we hate!” she said, excitedly brandishing her phone in the air.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Moryore teased. “Don’t shout in the greenhouse, you’ll scare the plants.”

March scoffed at that. “You think, as a Druid, that I would do something to hurt the plants I cultivate?” she asked. “These little guys love noise. Its why I let Sunsugar play her music in here.”

“The begonias love rock and roll,” Sunsugar added.

“I thought you didn’t play Rock and Roll?” Rosamunda asked.

“I had the radio on,” she answered. “Anyway, March, who is she?”

“She’s in the Ratgrinders,” March said. “I found her name on the Ranger’s roster list. She’s Ivy Embra. Which, okay, so she’s not famous famous, but I kinda can’t believe I didn’t recognize her with how much her party came up last year.”

“Oh, wow, the Ratgrinders?” Sunsugar asked. “I haven’t heard that name all summer.”

“Who are the Ratgrinders again?” Ven asked, leaning forward slightly on their stool.

“Whoa!” Moryore said, jumping away as they spoke. “Sorry, Ven. Didn’t see you there.”

“Imagine getting startled by Ven, of all people,” Raven teased.

“They’re sneaky!” Moryore protested. “And quiet!”

“They’re harmless,” she shot back.

“You try keeping calm when someone just pops up behind you!” he argued.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Ven said. “I was here first.” Honestly, it was a relief to know they could fly under the radar sometimes. It meant they were staying sharp. The best way to guarantee your own safety was to never come under any scrutiny. If only they could manage that in their classes.

“Well… okay, fair,” Moryore said, shaking his head. “Anyway, Ven, the Ratgrinder’s are Kipperlilly’s party.” As he spoke, he pulled a water bottle out of the pocket of his backpack and took a long drain of it. Come to think of it, Moryore’s armor probably got really hot, huh? Poor guy.

“Is it fair to call them ‘her’ party?” Raven asked. “I mean, I don’t think she’s their official leader.”

“She’s just the only one who’s name I know,” Moryore said with a shrug. “And only cause Haldir gripes about her all the time.”

“She’s one of those rogues who thinks that as long as she does everything in a literal, letter of the law way, that she should be the top of the class. No ingenuity whatsoever,” Haldir said. “I hate rogues like that. Why pick the class if you aren’t willing to get creative? To push boundaries?”

“You’ve literally hated this girl since freshman year,” Moryore said.

“They have? Why have we never heard about this?” March asked, turning to Haldir with a slight pout. “We’re meant to be a team.”

“It was never that serious,” Haldir replied. “I thought she was a little annoying, but it was whatever. She can do whatever she wants. I’m just pissed she found the rogue teacher first. What the hell am I doing wrong?”

“You’ll get there eventually,” Moryore said. “So, how’s everyone’s days been so far?”

“It was fine. But, like, did anyone else already have a crazy amount of homework?” Sunsugar asked. “Like, an absurd amount of it? Cause I do, and it sucks. You think my Bard teacher would know that none of us want to be doing homework when we could be, like, having a good time.”

“You’re lucky. Bard homework is performing and stuff like that. I have two essays due at the end of the month already,” March whined. “It seriously blows.”

“Two whole essays?” Moryore asked, eyes wide. “Dude. Even Halo doesn’t give us that much work and he’s a stick in the mud.”

“It’s lame,” March agreed, nodding. “I didn’t become a Druid to write .”

“Has Jace given you a pile of work, Ven?” Raven asked, turning to look at them. “I know he was kind of tough on you last year.”

“Not yet,” Ven said, though they began chewing on the inside of their cheek on instinct. They just knew there was a whole lot of remedial coursework in their future. “I’ve mostly been sitting in the back and trying not to look at anyone for too long.”

“That sounds miserable,” Rosamunda said, reaching over to sympathetically squeeze their arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Ven said with a small shrug. It wasn’t like they could change anything about it. Their magic was a pain in the ass. It was fine. They could still adventure, and that was all they cared about. They were better at all the logistical stuff anyways. “What about you, Rosa? You have a lot of work?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s mostly in my Gen Eds, though. Fighter classes are mostly training and combat history. I haven’t written an essay in three years.”

“I wish that were me,” Sunsugar groaned. “You’re so lucky. I wish my classes were more like that. Martials have it so goddamn good. I mean, probably not the rogues or the monks or the paladins, but in general." 

“To be fair, the Rogue teacher has never given us a real assignment,” Haldir said. “...I’m not actually sure how they grade.”

“Oh yeah, your coursework is mostly Gen Eds and stuff,” March said. “How is that even… why did Aguefort hire someone who’s never in the classroom?”

“I don’t know. We go to a wacky ass school,” they replied with a shrug. “Don’t question it too hard. That’s how you end up having to do more work.”

“Or how you end up the victim in whatever evil plot is going on in Elmville this year,” Ven said. “And maybe you end up like the Maidens did, but more likely you get fucked over hard-core and maybe even die like Jonny Spells did.”

“Ah, Jonny Spells,” Raven said, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. “That dude was so fucking lame, man. I can’t believe girls liked him.”

“It’s the power fantasy of an older, hotter, more independent and mysterious guy giving you special attention,” Sunsugar said. She swung herself up into the branch of Ven’s tree, crossing her legs. “Older men know that and take advantage of it. Which is gross and weird of them, but they don’t care. You would not believe how often this happens in the Bard classes. I’m gonna be spending half my semester talking to Freshman and telling them ‘hey sweetheart, that super senior isn’t into you because you’re emotionally mature, he likes you cause he thinks you’ll be stupid enough to ignore his red flags’. I swear, some people join a mildly successful band and suddenly thinks they’re allowed to do whatever the hell they want without consequences.”

“Good luck with that,” March said. “I think you should be allowed to kill people.”

“I mean, technically we are,” Haldir said. “Adventurers are very much above the law in many instances. Which is fucked up- but like, as the Cubbys always say, ‘Laws are threats carried out by the dominant socioeconomic class and enforced by the military and police violently and without regard for the desires or rights of oppressed classes’. So, when you think about it, maybe adventurers are good to have around, to remind the government they’re not untouchable.”

“If they fuck around, they’re probably gonna find out,” March said. “Man, I would kill to get to be the party that topples a corrupt government. That’s peak adventuring.”

“Absolutely. Probably not in the cards for us, though,” Sunsugar said. “I mean, I know we all have adventuring families- or, sorry. I know a lot of us have adventuring families, but they weren’t like, thwarting ancient evils kind of adventurers.

Ven sighed a little. They knew Sunsugar only corrected herself because they were here. And, really, they got it. Their parents had been pretty damn average. That didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t going to go places themselves, but it did mean they didn’t have the sort of background their friends have. “Didn’t your parents like, stop an evil witch from turning the entire world into a dollhouse?” they asked.

“It would only have been all of Fallinel,” Raven clarified. “And they had a lot of help with that. It’s not like they were fighting the Night Yorb.”

“Don’t fucking say that!” Moryore snapped, clapping his hands. “Do you want to end up as an entry on Questpedia?”

“Right, right,” Raven said, wincing. “But, like… the Bad Kids handled that, didn’t they? Do we have to worry?”

“Do you want to risk it?” Moryore shot back. “Because I cannot fight any more Yorbies. I can’t do it.”

“Is it safe to say Yorbies?” Ven asked, tilting their head. They thought any variation of ‘Yorb’ was off limits.

“Maybe we should just change the subject entirely,” Rosamunda suggested. Her voice was a little strained. Right. Rosa hated the Night Yorb’s whole ‘eternal night’ shtick. She was probably having heart palpitations just thinking about it. “Are you guys excited for adventuring this year?”

“I am!” Sunsugar said. “I’ve been thinking about getting a real quest under our belts for ages. We haven’t fought a real monster since Spring Break. It’s been so boring.”

“I agree,” Haldir chimed in. At some point they’d drifted off to the side and began unpacking fertilizer and divvying it up into the little cups they used to spread it. “I want a real fight. I have new stuff I want to try out.

“I’m with you all on that. I’m excited for the year to really start. Where do you guys want to go?” March asked. “Are we hoping to stay nearer to the school this year? Do you think we could branch out a little?”

“I’m sure they’d let us go out to the Chaos Mountains,” Moryore said. “And we could probably be approved for some spelunking out there if we applied for it. Personally, I kind of want to go a little further out this year. We were barely even in the Chaos Mountains proper last time.”

“Totally,” Raven agreed. She had her phone out, scrolling through whatever app she was currently hooked on this week. “I bet you we could get approved to go out to my mother’s territory too, if she agreed to sponsor us.”

“I’d love that,” March said, grinning. Ven couldn’t help but echo that smile. The two of them really were precious. Ven was honestly expecting them to get married straight out of high-school. They just had that kind of energy. “Of course, we do have some stuff to consider with that- like, if most of us could even go out that far. I know some of us have responsibilities in Elmville we can’t just abandon.”

“My parents would probably want me to do that over the summer,” Rosa chimed in. “They don’t like the idea of me missing classes.”

“It’d be school-approved,” Haldir pointed out. “But that is something to consider. Ven, you have any preferences? Besides, the whole… ‘shitty dad’ thing?”

Ven laughed a little. Man, Haldir was so fucking blunt. Honestly, Ven admired them for it. They wished they could be so upfront about things. “I’m okay with wherever,” they said. Which was mostly true- you couldn’t really be picky about adventuring. You went wherever the quest took you. Of course, they did have some preferences.

They’d love to go on an adventure on the high-seas. Maybe it was because of all the pirate media they’d consumed as a middle-schooler (in secret, of course) but the ocean had always been a source of fascination for them. And they did have some interest in Fallinel, or maybe even the Red Wastes, although they didn’t really like hot weather.

But they also knew they wouldn’t be able to go far- for one thing, their father would never approve of them traveling overseas without him present, and he never wanted to leave Elmville. And they also couldn’t fathom leaving Ryo alone with their father for that long. A quick trip to the Chaos Mountains was maybe the farthest they would feel safe going.

(Five months. They’d be eighteen in five months, and then they could leave. It’d be rough, but they could do it. Their father would probably fight them about taking Ryo, but if they had to they could leave Elmville with him for a bit. Surely if they explained everything, someone would vouch for them. They couldn’t risk it till then, of course. No one would ever give custody of a kid to a seventeen-year old, and they couldn’t risk getting separated from their brother. Ryo needed them.)

“You guys could always go without me,” they suggested. “I could probably find a temporary party for something closer?”

“No way!” Sunsugar said, straightening up. “We go together or not at all. No man left behind.”

“Agreed,” Moryore said. “We’re not going to let you stay back, Ven. It’s not a problem for us if we have to work around your… situation? That doesn’t feel like the right word for it.”

“We’re talking about the shithead that haunts Ven’s house, right?” Raven asked. “The one that somehow always smells like smoke even though he swears up and down he doesn’t like cigarettes? That guy?”

“Yeah, that guy,” Haldir said. “Ven, I know you’ve shot down the idea before but I’m sure we could make it look like an accident.”

“We’re not killing my father,” Ven said, sighing a little. They knew their friends were trying to be supportive, but they really just didn’t get it. All of them had lovely parents. They just needed a couple months to prepare, and then they’d be free. They could ride it out till then.

(Deep down, they were bitter at having to do this alone. Bitter, because Aimar and Cosmos had promised they’d come back for them, promised they wouldn’t be alone, and yet here they were, doing everything by themselves. And remorseful for it, because Ven knew they didn’t owe them anything, that they’d suffered just as much. That it was a good thing they were away from their father. The feelings mixed into a deep pit in their stomach, and they knew that pit would be there forever, somehow.)

“Alright. Options always on the table, though,” Haldir said. “We should probably get started on the chores around here if we want to be out before sundown.”

“Right. Who wants to do the weeding?” Moryore asked, already beginning to roll up his sleeves. As the rest of the group slowly spiraled out into their usual afternoon routines, Ven let themselves have a moment to just close their eyes and breathe it all in again.

No matter how the rest of the semester went, at least they’d always have this.

Chapter Text

March’s neighborhood was always a little spooky when it started getting dark.

It was probably just the way it seemed to be emptied. Everyone shut themselves up in their houses, their garages locked up tight. The wandering packs of kids and grandparents enjoying the sun slipped away as it descended in the sky. And the trees always looked like they had hands when cast in shadow. Or maybe that was just her anxiety speaking.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to be outside for long. She too had a home to shut herself up in. (As long as no one had blown it up while she was at school. Knowing the company they kept… it actually wasn’t uncommon.)

“You sure your Dad’s okay with you not coming home for dinner?” she asked as she pulled her car into the driveway. In the passenger seat next to her, Raven was leaning out the window, taking in the early-dusk air. Her backpack was stuffed into the trunk of March’s car, and March had a feeling she’d forget about it when she ran off for her classes. She’d have to make sure to remind her before she left.

“Yeah, he has a few work friends over tonight anyway,” she said. “And I hate eating with them. They always pester me about whether I can turn into a bat, or summon wolves, or dissipate into mist. You know, the classic vampire stuff.”

“Yikes,” March said, wincing sympathetically. She knew that kind of stuff was always a little bit of a sore spot for Raven. She was proud of who she was, of course, but… well, it did suck not getting some of the cool powers her mother had. “Well, my Dad’s always happy to have guests over for dinner.”

“What’s he making?” Raven asked, leaving the window to turn and look at her. In the dim light, her eyes were glowing a little, tinged with red. It was like looking at a photo where someone had stared straight into the camera. It was pretty neat. March had to wonder if Raven knew that was what it looked like.

“Pasta salad,” March said. God, she loved pasta salad. During the hot months it was basically two-thirds of the meals they ate in the house. You could do so much with it! All kinds of veggies, dressings, cold meats and cheeses, different seasonings, different pasta types, the possibilities were endless. She could eat it for days and never get sick of it.

“Fun,” Raven replied. “Your dad does make pretty good pasta salad. You think he’ll put olives in it this time?”

“If he doesn’t eat them all straight from the jar first,” March said. “Oh! And we have plasma in the back of the fridge if you need some.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Raven said, dramatically clutching at her chest. “I thought the bags grossed you out?”

“Dad bought them and put them in a paper bag,” March said. The only downside to loving a dhampir was dealing with the fluids. March didn’t despise blood- she saw plenty of it. But the little plasma bags freaked her out. Blood not directly linked to a clear source was primally upsetting. “We have silly straws any everything.”

Raven giggled a little, unbuckling her seat-belt as she spoke. “You know, that is so much better than using my fangs,” she said.

“I figured you’d enjoy it,” March said. “Also, the plasma packaging isn’t good for your teeth, and we both know you hate the dentist.” She couldn’t help but break into a cheeky smile at that. Raven had confided in her that until she was thirteen, she’d been so terrified of the dentist she’d hexed her father every time he so much as mentioned setting up an appointment. Really, the poor guy was a trooper for dealing with that. Raven’s hexes itched like a mother-fucker.

“Not as much as you used to,” Raven shot back. “Didn’t you bite the dentist last year?”

“Hey!” March pouted. “I had a toothache, and my canines are sensitive!” She turned her car off, pocketing her keys.

“Right, right. You know, your father hounds you about the special toothpaste for a reason,” Raven teased.

“You and him are too damn similar,” March said, sliding her own seat-belt off. “It’s going to drive me mad one of these days.”

“Sure,” Raven said, though her tone said she wasn’t buying it. And honestly, she was right. March loved how much they cared, even if they could be a bit much sometimes. “You ready to go in, or do you want to sit in your car for a bit?”

“Let’s go in before it gets cold,” March said, opening the door. “You sit there, I’ll come around and let you out.”

“What a gentlemen,” Raven said, and though her tone was teasing, there was sweet edge to it March always enjoyed. It was nice to be appreciated.

When they got inside the house, March picked up on the smell of a scented candle- it was some sort of floral scent. Maybe roses? Maybe something else? The only reason a scented candle got lit in this house was burnt food. Or more accurately, burnt cookies. Again. Why her father ever tried to bake was a mystery to her. She’d just end up baking them herself afterward, like she did every time.

“We’re home!” March called out.

“Good evening!” her father called from the kitchen. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

“Tiring,” March called back. “You won’t believe how much homework I have.”

“It’s a stupid amount,” Raven added, shutting the door behind them and shrugging off her jacket. She tossed it onto their couch, which had about six other jackets over the arm. Really, they needed to get a coat rack, though March suspected it would never get used.

“Ah, Raven! Nice to see you,” her father called. There was a short pause, and then he added, “Or, hear you, I suppose.”

“Corny!” March called. “You’re getting a bad review for that one!” She kicked off her shoes, leaving them in the bin by the door, and made her way to the kitchen. She found her father standing there, mixing something in a large bowl. There was an empty baking tray on the stove-top covered in dark black crumbs, and a trash bag by the back-door that appeared to have been Prestidigitation-ed. Burnt cookies it was, then.

“You’ll change your mind once you get some of this pasta,” Byrd said, looking up from his bowl. “I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble today?”

“Not really,” Raven said. She leaned over Byrd’s shoulder, staring into the bowl. “Looks good!”

“Thank you. I’m almost done in here,” Byrd promised. “You two go wash up so we can eat.”

“I’m gonna drop my bag in my room first,” March said, already making her way towards the stairs. She left the two of them to speak in the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. Her door was slightly open- she peeked in to see there was a folded pile of clothes on the bed. Her father must have done the laundry, which was nice of him. She really hated doing the laundry. She’d rather scrub every inch of the house by hand then do the laundry.

She left her backpack by the desk and took a brief detour to check her laptop. She didn’t have any notifications, but she took a moment to stare at the desktop photo. It was a picture of her and her party from the end of Freshmen year.

It was honestly a shock to think of how much they’d changed. All their faces seemed so young now. Moryore had yet to to get that scar on his right cheek from the miniature Griffin they'd fought, and his hair had been permed straight back then. He was also so much shorter- he’d really hit a growth spurt over that summer, and now he was giant. It was weird to think about. And Rosa and Sunsugar were equally different looking- they’d had the same haircuts the entire time they’d known one another, but they’d been so much smaller back then, somehow. And Sunsugar’s fashion had changed dramatically. To think she’d once been best described as ‘prep-school ready’, and now she dressed like she was straight out of some magical girl anime.

And then there was her and Raven. Her hair had been so much longer back then- she’d cut it short once it started getting in the way during combat, and honestly she missed it sometimes. She liked her new style, of course, especially as it was so much easier to brush, but the feeling of long hair in the wind was maybe the best one ever invented. And she’d been almost paper-white, back then- even for an elf, she’d looked ghostly. That she didn’t miss. She got so many sunburns back then it was almost ridiculous. She was paler than her dhampir girlfriend, for gods’ sake! Speaking of Raven she… hadn’t changed, to be honest. Her hair was darker now, and she was older, but the Raven staring back at her was the one currently waiting in the kitchen downstairs. And behind them was Haldir, who was similarly unchanged. There were a few scars missing from their dark skin, mostly picked up from crawling through tight spaces and accidental arrow misfiring, and their hair was shorter now than it used to be, but otherwise they looked the same. Older now, sure, but not by much.

Ven was probably the biggest change of them all. Their hair used to be so much longer, always braided, although that never really made it look neat. The dark color didn’t help their complexion at all, making them look pale and almost sickly. Their clothes had always been stiff and stuffy back then, and they smelled like a grandmother most of the time. (‘My dad has a church friend do my clothes shopping’ they’d admitted once, to everyone’s mild horror. March had insisted on taking them to the mall immediately. That’d been a good day.) They also just looked happier now- not entirely free of the gloom that was their personal life, but they certainly smiled more. March could only hope they could make things better someday.

Basking in the warm glow of her fond memories, March left her room to return downstairs. When she got there, her father was squeezing a lemon over a large salad bowl, and Raven was drinking out of a big, black plastic cup. It had the words ‘BLOOD CUP, DO NOT USE’ on the side in yellow marker. Maybe March should bedazzle it. It’d make it seem fancier, at any rate.

“I set the table,” Raven said. “I also poured you a drink- you good with orange soda?”

“Obviously,” March said, grabbing the seat next to her and taking a sip of her drink. “Thank you.”

Her father brought the bowl to the table and grabbed his serving spoon. As he did this, he said, “So, tell me about your days. Anything interesting happen in class?”

“I just had a Gen Ed,” Raven said. “It was fine. Boring, though. The kid in front of me was playing some weird cooking game on his laptop so I mostly just watched that.”

“You’re so real for that. A lot of the Gen Ed teachers are boring as sin,” March said with a sigh. “I’d rather eat glass than take another Common class.”

“I guess that would be pretty boring when you’re so used to adventuring,” her father said. He had finished serving up their plates and had finally sat down at his seat. His chair had longer legs than theirs so he could sit comfortably at the table, and though March would never say it out loud, sometimes it did make him look tinier than he really was.

“I wish it was more interesting. They never hire cool teachers,” Raven said. She took a bite of her pasta and made a happy little noise. “This is good, Mr. Nettlebloom.”

“You don’t have to call me that, kid,” her father said.

“Are you gonna say ‘Mr. Nettlebloom’ was my father?” Raven teased. Byrd rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling.

“Well, my father didn’t have a last name, as far as I’m aware, so no,” he replied. “You’ve just known me long enough that it feels a little strange. You can call me Byrd, kid.”

“Alright, alright,” Raven said. “Well, Byrd, this is good pasta salad. You should give me the recipe.”

“Over my dead body,” he said, almost on auto-pilot. Then he blinked, before nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t write them down, usually.”

“Ha! It’s okay, Byrd, I get it,” Raven said. “We all have our secrets. “

Byrd nodded, looking away from the table briefly, out the window. Maybe he had spotted a bird or a squirrel or something. He was always fussing about animals eating the berries growing in their backyard, because unlike normal families, they were never entirely sure what they’d do. They’d started growing randomly when March turned eleven, and they’d both figured it was some sort of innate magical effect. “Ah, how was your club meeting?” he asked.

“It was fine,” March said. “We have to do some re-potting this week, though. Some of my herbs had a lot of root growth.”

“I swear those things are growing faster than they should,” Raven said. “Druid magic is wild.”

“I actually haven’t hit them with anything in particular. I’ve just got a green thumb,” she said. “And I think Ven’s switched up their fertilizer again.”

“Didn’t that result in man-eating plants last time?” her father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, that was just a Wild Magic surge,” she corrected. Ven’s wild magic did some weird shit sometimes. It was part of their charm, even if it did seem to embarrass them. (Thinking of Ven made her worry about them, alone in their house tonight. They should do more sleepovers- maybe they could convince Ven’s dad to let Ryo stay with them too. Since murder was off the table, that was probably their next best bet.)

“Ah, Wild Magic. I had a few classmates like that. I’m sure that’s frustrating for them- you know, they’re always welcome to come over. I could give them a few pointers,” he said.

“I’ll offer, but they’re kind of sensitive about it, so I’m not sure they’d take it,” March said.

“Yeah, they’ve got a complex about not being able to control their magic. Which is fair. I have no idea what that’d even feel like,” she said.

“That’s fair,” he said. “Is there anything else interesting that happened today?”

“Hm… I’m not sure,” she said. “There was that incident with that Ivy girl in the hallway. Speaking of which, Raven, I think we should, like, figure out where they hang out after-school and see if we can’t get a peek at them. I need to see what Ivy’s like with her party members. I wanna know if that’s where she gets her stank ass attitude from. Though we’ll have to be careful cause I don’t wanna get caught following them around the school.”

“Sweetie?” her father said, his tone suddenly very concerned. “Are we talking about you stalking a classmate?”

“It’s reconnaissance,” March corrected. “She fucked with us! I’m just doing the adventuring thing.”

“...Maybe I’ve been in retirement for too long,” Byrd replied. “I don’t recall doing this sort of thing when I went to Aguefort.”

“Yeah, well, in the modern world adventurous teens are encouraged to do crazy, out of pocket shit and be ‘full on nightmares’,” Raven said. “Arthur Aguefort himself said that.”

March nodded in agreement. Sure, he’d never directly said those exact words, but the sentiment was there. Their job as future adventurers was to get shit done, irrespective of whatever ‘laws’ they might break or ‘unforeseeable consequences’ they might invoke.

“Well… just don’t get expelled, I guess,” he replied, shaking his head.

“We could kill someone and not get expelled,” Raven said, mouth full of pasta. “That’s a low bar.”

“The bar is in Hell,” March agreed. “Seriously, there’s so much evil bullshit that happened on campus. Wait, speaking of which- Dad, was Kalvaxus the vice president when you went to Aguefort?”

“Well, yeah,” Byrd replied. “I didn’t interact with him much. He was very… he tried to seem like he took his job seriously and cared, but he felt off. Also, I was a wimp who didn’t know how to tell a lie till I was seventeen, so my party kept me away from authority figures.”

“You were a wimp? Really?” Raven asked.

“Really,” he said, laughing. “I was super tiny until I hit my twenties and finally hit a real growth-spurt, and I had all these noble ideas about ‘divine gifts’ and ‘protecting the weak’. Which, the latter was fine, but I was so… sheltered, I guess? I knew bad people existed, but I couldn’t fathom the idea of real, bonafide evil outside of like, devils and demons. Plus, my first party wasn’t exactly the best environment.”

“I didn’t know you had a party before Uncle Siraye’s,” March said.

“I did,” he said. “It wasn’t full of great people- I mean, Peachy was part of it. She’s the reason I ended up leaving for Siraye’s party. She got into a fight with our former party, and convinced me to transfer with her when she dropped them.”

“Huh. You know, that does make sense, somehow,” Raven said. “What year did you guys end up joining?”

“Sophomore year,” he explained. “All of us left other parties- we were sort of the left-overs, y’know? But we had fun. Once we blew a hole into the side of the gym during training and spent the next week filling it in. Of course, we didn’t realize that Anthony Markers teeth were still embedded into it, so we ended up patching over them.”

“You’re why we have the teeth wall?” March said, sitting up straighter. “Dad! That thing is metal as hell!”

“Oh dear god. They never fixed that?” Byrd said, frowning slightly. “I would have thought someone would have gone back and redone the repairs by now.”

“Nah, I’m sure the teachers thought it was funny,” Raven said. “It’s not even the worst thing that's happened in that gym.”

“There was a dragon in there two years ago,” March agreed. “...You think we’ll get to fight a dragon someday?”

“Duh,” Raven said. “We’re adventurers. We have to fight a dragon. It’s like, the law or something.”

“You’ll get one eventually,” her father agreed. “Our first one was in Senior Year- we ended up fighting two adult green dragons. Which, I will say, was not fun.”

“Two?! Just one was like, nearly the end of the world,” March said.

“Well, they weren’t ancient evil like Kalvaxus. Just normal, boring evil,” he said.

“I’ll take anything but more Yorbies,” March said, sipping her drink, her mood darkening a little. Fuck, she’d fought nothing but Yorbies for months. She needed a real fight- something she could sink her teeth into.

“Agreed,” Raven said, finishing the last of her cup of blood. The slurping sound from the straw made March wince a little, but she powered through it. An adventurer couldn’t be defeated by a little noise. “Fingers crossed?”

“Fingers crossed,” March said.

“Well, I’ll be rooting for your party to have something exciting happen as well. Why don’t you girls finish up in here, and then we can eat some ice cream and watch some television before Raven has to run off to classes?” Byrd said, standing up from the table. “They finally released the last season of House Flippers: Fallinel Edition on Grymflix.”

“Oh, hell yeah! I can’t wait to see the dumb ass houses they’re gonna build,” Raven said, beginning to speed up her pasta-eating. “Sad beige houses for sad beige rich people.”

“If I ever get that rich, I’m gonna make my house a neon nightmare,” March said, sipping her own soda.

“Glad to hear we’re all excited,” her father said. “Make sure you rinse those dishes before you put them in the dishwasher.”

“We will,” she replied, watching as her father stepped away from the table to clean up his own dishes.

She could already tell she was in for a good night.

Sneaking out was always a hassle.

A necessary hassle, but a hassle regardless. Their father’s schedule was usually consistent, but not always, and Ven had to be careful. If he found out Ven was out at night, alone, and somewhere he didn’t approve of… Ven didn’t want to think about the results of that.

And look, they were not a rebellious person by nature. They liked punk music, sure but they’d never really ‘gotten’ the scene. They liked having rules to follow! As long as the rules were fair and just, and protected people, they sounded good to them. But their father’s rules never made sense, and they certainly weren’t fair. Hence, sneaking out.

They waited until their father was invested in his television, before feigning tiredness and excusing themselves to sleep. They’d made sure to clean the kitchen, do the dishes, take out the trash, they’d even vacuumed the living room earlier in the day. A clean kitchen always put their father in a better mood. He hadn’t even screamed at them today when they forgot to change into their skirt before their father came home.

(“That school of yours make you wear shorts for gym?” he’d asked, sounding disgusted, but not as mad as he could be. Ven didn’t correct him. Sure, they didn’t have gym, but their father didn’t need to know that.)

Then they’d gone up to bed- showered, shut up the shutters in the upper hallways like they were supposed to at the end of the day. (“I don’t want neighbors peeking in during the night,” their father always said. As if it wasn’t more likely they’d be snooping during the day. Honestly.)

They’d waited forty-five minutes, until their father seemed completely engrossed in the game. Then they’d slowly opened their window, careful to avoid creaking. They’d made a good ‘fake Ven’ in their bed, grateful that it was lofted in here, so it’d be harder for their father to check. They had an old tape recorder, ripped from a teddy-bear they’d gotten from a lady at church. It used to say sayings from their Holy Texts, all sorts of sunshiney Sol-based stuff. So they’d taken it down to the tech lab sometime at the end of Freshmen year and had it rigged so it would make sleeping noises instead.

They’d climbed out the window, kneeling on the windowsill as they redid the shutters to make it look good as new. They had all the usual stuff they needed in an over-the-shoulder bag. (Cross-body? Ven wasn’t sure they knew the difference.) Just- phone, keys, wallet, ear-plugs, small first-aid-kit, small dagger just in case things got messy. Being an adventurer sure did make you paranoid.

Then, slowly, they’d climbed down the rain-gutters and snuck through the backyard. Once they were over the back-fence, they were in the clear.

Getting to the warehouse on foot was a little irritating, but the night was clear and the warm, and they had enough time that they didn’t have to rush. They tilted their head back for a moment, smiling at the stars twinkling above. March could probably tell them what the constellations were, what the positions of the stars meant magically, but to Ven they were just very pretty. They’d never been allowed out this late at night as a child, so little moments like these were especially precious to them.

It took them about an hour and a half to finally get to their destination. The warehouse was in a mostly abandoned neighborhood. There was a group of cars parked (illegally) along the curb, and a small circle of leather-clad strangers smoking under a broken street-light.

Ven wrinkled their nose. They’d always hated the smell of cigarettes. These parties were always… something. One of their earliest concert memories was stumbling out back, drenched in sweat, coughing from the thick cloud of smoke. It’d been terrible. And then they’d gotten offered what they thought was water from some kid who was clearly a high-schooler as well, albeit a much older one, only to discover it was actually blueberry-flavored vodka. Which was a terrible taste.

(And they’d only had a little of it, but their magic had not liked it.)

They made their way to the front door of the warehouse, pulling out some cash for the entry fee. The warehouse’s door was made of slightly rusting metal, guarded by some beefy human guy with a very deep scar over his lips. It was jagged- so it was probably from a beer bottle or something else glass.

Once they’d paid the entrance fee, the man let them in with a short nod. They ducked into the club, immediately casing the joint. The club was filled to the brim with people. Their contact had been right- this was definitely the place to be. (‘Contact’ made it sound so sketchy- it was just some guy who hung out in the back parking lot at Aguefort and always smelled like earth and smoke. Normal stoner behavior, honestly.) The crowd was mostly on the younger side, and their clothing was all very punk. Lots of very grimy, grungy looking clothing and fantastic make-up. Ven almost felt a little out of place in their over-sized black t-shirt and jeans. (They couldn’t keep much clothing in their house- couldn’t risk their father finding anything out.)

The music wasn’t starting yet- the live stuff anyway. Someone was playing a clear ‘top fifty rock bands of all time’ playlist over the venue’s speakers. They weren’t great speakers, a little squeaky and staticky, but that was honestly how they preferred it.

Pulling out their ear-plugs and popping them in, they began to wade through the crowd to find a good place to hang around. They didn’t want to be in the pit-proper, because their bones would break into a million pieces if they moshed and their father always noticed bruises or cuts. They’d just sit on the side-lines, enjoying the music and the atmosphere. Maybe someone would talk to them, maybe they wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. They didn’t come here for the people, not really.

The act of wading through a crowd was one that felt extraordinary. They’d never really enjoyed church- Sol’s worship wasn’t as sunny as one would assume of a Sun deity. There was a lot of preaching and prayer, a lot of people standing up to ask to pray for someone in their lives. A wife who wasn’t working as hard to maintain the home, a naughty child stealing cookies from the jar at home, a member of the church’s ‘family’ who refused to do their clerical homework, or snuck out at night, or cut their hair without permission, or wanted to be a paladin of another god, or who swore at dinnertime, got a tattoo, gossiped, looked at you funny, whatever potential seed of sin one might have seen in them. It was a public shaming disguised as genuine concern, and afterward everyone would put on fake smiles and talk about how loving Sol was, how forgiving, how just and righteous. Everything was just peachy, so safe and controlled, and no one complained about anything ever. They just wrung their hands about the sinners outside the church and their very lost souls, and patted themselves on the back for loving Sol in the right way. Which, of course, was always whatever way you loved Sol, and never the way your neighbor did.

The ‘closeness’ the church bred was restrictive. It was like being in a pot too small for you- Ven had pulled many plants out like that. They were always sick, their roots impacted and starving for space. Concerts… they were different. Sure, all the people around you were perfect strangers, but that was delightful. No one judged you- and if they did, they simply vanished back into the crowd. You weren’t entirely safe, but you were as close to invisible as one could get without magic, and yet you were still connected. It was like holding your hand just before a fire, feeling the heat without singing your skin. It was relaxing. Here there was no worrying about school, home, the future, or the end of the world that always seemed just beyond the horizon. There was just the waves of bodies around them and the music overhead.

When they finally found a good spot, close to the wall, not too far from an exit, they settled in, just outside the motion of the crowd. They could spot the band getting set up on stage, over the many heads milling about- people of all kinds, dragonborn to tiefling to elf to human to dwarf to gnome, even a few goliaths and pixies. This was basically a slice of all of Solace, a microcosmic of the real diversity here.

(Their father sometimes lamented how many ‘new kinds’ of people moved to Elmville, grumbled about humans being forced to share their land with people who ‘didn’t care about their traditions’. Ven had learned to stop bringing up that he had married and had four children with a Wood Elf. He really didn’t like that.)

They enjoyed the little moments in a concert like this: friends laughing in the crowd, old heads bumping shoulders, new concert-goers in fresh make-up and too-shiny boots nervously toeing the sidelines, people comparing pins and patches and battle-jackets and battle-scars. Even some of the seedier elements- the smell of alcohol and smoke and a sour undertone a little like vomit or sweat already seeping into the air, odd and slightly suspicious stains near the stage and on the walls, hushed whispering in the corner, it was all wonderful.

They must have spent ten or twenty minutes like that, leaned against the wall, just observing. It was honestly decent adventuring practice. Knowledge was like, nine-tenths of the battle after all.

Close to the time where the set was about to start, Ven caught a small commotion in the crowd, a wave of chatter louder and more intense than usual. They knew what the usual ebbs and flows of the typical concert were, so they searched immediately for the cause. They found it in a short halfling boy with dark hair and badly running make-up pushing his way through the crowd, dodging people shouting for his autograph.

Ven raised an eyebrow. They knew who he was- Ruben’s new single was very popular these days. It made sense he’d be at a concert like this. They’d not really liked his new single- it wasn’t bad, necessarily. It just felt… wrong, somehow? There was something missing in it. A sense of heart and passion that made punk music feel right to them. Like he was singing something out of obligation rather than respect for the medium. It honestly made their skin crawl.

They watched, mildly fascinated as much as they were instinctual wary, as Ruben signed a few t-shirts and dodged most of the adoring fans. He seemed like he was above it all and yet simultaneously being dragged deeper down into something Ven couldn’t quite see. Or maybe he was just high? His eyes did look a little red, but the whole building was filled with smoke so that didn’t say much. Honestly, with all the work he did, he probably deserved to get a little high on the weekend.

Watching Ruben naturally led to them thinking about him in the context of his party. Honestly, the Ratgrinders were… interesting. Perhaps Ven should learn more about them. Maybe more about Ruben specifically. They almost felt like they might recall more about him from the past two years, but nothing came up. The music thumping around them and the chatter of party-goers was enough to keep them distracted.

Especially as the band looked like they were ready to play. Ven put aside their curiosity for the time being, settling in for the show. Hopefully it would be good this time.

And maybe tomorrow, they’d mention all this to their party.

Chapter Text

The next day went exactly as well as March expected.

She woke up early, got some stretching in before breakfast, went to school, had a few normal classes. They were boring, but normal. She was used to that sort of normalcy. The kind where nothing exceptional happened, the kind where her adventures were mundane and the sky was clear, cloudless. She liked days like this, as exciting as days not like this could be. You needed a few grays to make the brighter colors really stand out, after all.

After a very normal morning, where the only highlight was one of the other Druids getting their head stuck in a soda bottle while in cat form, she decided to use her lunch break to do some sleuthing. Not in a kiddie, junior detective way- by the time you got to be a Junior at Aguefort, you either learned how to poke around without drawing too much attention, or you flunked out and transferred to Mumple. Maybe you dropped out of high school and went solo, if you were lucky. March, of course, was no Mumple-student, and she was very capable of sneaking around, even in her full-human form.

So she was doing some sleuthing. Well, more accurately, she was just wandering the hallways, listening for anything she could find about Ivy Embra. Sometimes the simpler methods paid off. But, frustratingly, she wasn’t coming up with much this time around.

Ranger students didn’t really hang out around the school that often. If they weren’t in class, they were almost always outside somewhere. The woods around Aguefort were vast, and plenty of rangers preferred the open air and quiet woods to the buzzing hallways of the school. Frankly, March did too, but she was always more at home in them at night. She liked to see the stars. But most Rangers didn't really care what time of day it was, and the woods were a tempting retreat from the very busy hallways of Aguefort's buildings. Their social circles could remain tucked into tree-tops or caves without much of a fuss, and so it was an odd day if you saw more than one or two Rangers hanging out in the classrooms or hallways outside of classes.

And with few Rangers about, it was difficult to really get a sense of what Ivy was like in class. She couldn’t even seem to get a good read on her extracurricular activities either. No one seemed to talk about Ivy. She may as well vanish into thin air once the school bell ringed, for what it was worth. And she didn’t sit anywhere public at lunch either. None of the Ratgrinders did; they were a big, party-shaped hole in the dining hall. Strange, for a party that was so well known, even if they were only well-known for their dislike of another.Not that March could blame them for being so jealous of the Bad Kids.

The Bad Kids did shine brightly, in a wild, untamed way. They were exceptional even amongst the top students at Aguefort. They were hardly stellar kids, academically speaking; sure, some of them were top-notch students, but they had Fig and Kristen in their ranks. Neither of them were getting ‘Student of The Year’ in anything. Kristen hadn’t written a single paper in her entire tenure, and Fig didn’t even attend Bard classes. Yet they all were prodigies in their chosen fields, the sort of talents one could only dream of. March envied them a little. Everyone did. How could you not want to shine like they did, to stand out? The Ratgrinders were just more obvious about it. They griped. They grumbled. They shook their fist at the image in the sky, as if it might turn down to look at them.

(Stars, of course, never looked down at anyone. They were all so far beneath their notice. They were one great equalizer, in a sense. Then again, March was hardly a philosopher.)

Still, their obsession was definitely just that, an obsession. It all just felt a little ludicrous. Fishy, perhaps, but that seemed a little much. As far as March knew, they were just a normal adventuring party who had a little bit of a grudge. That was basically half the campus these days.

 As she considered this, she wandered aimlessly around the hallway, her mind moving much faster than her feet. She just couldn’t help but let her imagination wander. Perhaps the Ratgrinders had some nefarious scheme up their sleeves. Probably nothing world-ending, of course, but even a small adventuring party could cause some trouble. Maybe Kipperlilly Copperkettle running for student council president was part of it. (And it had been Kipperlilly Copperkettle, she was certain, from Ven's brief description.) Ven hadn’t been able to give them details, but if she was interested in it… well, that might be a bad sign. Maybe someone around them was convincing her to run. Or maybe she was just some sort of control freak. She’d seen her in the halls, once, in a brief, hazy memory. She looked so uptight, not at all what March would expect from an Aguefort student. That was never a good thing.

As she considered this, she was distracted by a buzzing in her pocket. She reached in and pulled out her phone, checking it to see that she had received a text from her father.

Dad: Hey kid, have to stay late at work again today. Sorry :( I’ll bring home ice cream to make-up for it!

March groaned. Another late night? At this point, she was going to see her father once in a blue moon. What on earth could be happening at work? Why all the late nights?

If this was a movie, she’d worry about her father having some secret workplace affair. Of course, her parents weren’t together anymore, she hadn’t even seen her mother since she was a baby, but the thought did occur to her. She didn’t think she’d be opposed to having a step-parent. It might even be fun. She loved her dad, but the house got real quiet sometimes. It might be nice if it was busier. 

But, of course, this was real life, which meant it was more likely it was something financial. She had to hope they weren’t in debt. Her father would tell her if they were, right? He had to. It had to be like, illegal not to. Right? And surely he could trust her to be mature about it. Adventurers going broke during retirement was super normal. If they needed to get back into the game, March would be supportive. Hells, she'd encourage it! It'd be so cool to go along on a mission with them. But the fact that he wasn't saying anything made her a little nervous.

She didn’t know what was going on, and she really wasn’t sure how to approach that. ‘Hey Dad, are we in financial straits’ wasn’t exactly an easy conversation to start. She didn’t have the foggiest idea of even where to start, and she wasn’t about to try if she might fuck something up. Maybe she’d ask one of her teachers. Ms. Yolanda might know what she should do. Or maybe Halo- although she’d use that as an absolute last resort. (The Druid teacher was more familiar with animals than people, so he was automatically out.)

As she resolved to track down the Cleric teacher at some point, she heard footsteps approaching down the hall, rapid and familiar. She turned to see it was Sunsugar, arms full of random drawing supplies. Her short hair was dusted lightly with glitter, probably from one of her pop-star-esque classmates, and she had a small smudge of lipstick on her hand. Probably from wiping her own lips off- she never seemed to be able to keep her make-up on properly during school hours. Probably all the energy drinks she insisted on downing.

“Earth to March! I’ve been calling your name for like, five minutes now,” she teased once she noticed March noticing her.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I was thinking,” she said. “What’s with the art supplies?”

“I’m taking an art class,” Sunsugar said, shrugging, though she was careful not to drop anything she was holding. “You never know when it’ll come in handy.”

“Sounds fun,” March replied. That made sense, honestly. Bards had to be pretty versatile, and expanding one’s artistic horizons was always a worthwhile endeavor. Honestly, that was why she’d spent so much time growing up flitting between recreation centers and art clubs. She wasn’t really good at any of it, but she had fun. “You excited for anything in particular?”

The bard considered it for a moment as she fell into step with March. She was half her size, so Sunsugar really had to speed-walk to keep up, but she was good at that by now. Certainly she was much faster than March ever was. “We’re doing charcoal stuff later in the year,” Sunsugar said. “I think I’ll have fun with that.”

“Charcoal is a fun medium,” March agreed. Messy, but that was hardly something that bothered her. As a Druid, she was never one to shy away from getting a bit of dirt under her fingernails or on her knees. Maybe she should get back into drawing. She did plenty of it for her star-maps, but something less structured might be fun. “You’ll definitely have to show us any of the pieces you finish.”

“Oh, I will. You guys are literally not going to be able to get me to shut the fuck up about it,” Sunsugar said, giggling to herself. “I’m gonna be insufferable.”

“More than usual?” she teased. Sunsugar huffed, elbowing her. She was just high enough to get her in the side right above her waist, and March winced, raising her arm to block afterward on instinct.

“Ow,” she grumbled. “Okay, I take it back. You’re delightful.”

Sunsugar rolled her eyes, clearly hearing the sarcasm laced in her voice. She didn’t mention it though. Poking and teasing one another was just par for the course in their party. And, obviously, Sunsugar knew March loved her. They’d known each other since middle school. (Well, they’d known one another longer than that, with their parents being old friends, but they hadn’t really become friends themselves until middle school. Funny, how life worked out sometimes.)

She switched the subject again shortly after, though she took a moment to readjust the pile of art supplies in her arm. “I’ve been gossiping with the other Bards,” Sunsugar said. “Apparently one of the Bad Kids, Fabian, is hosting the first party of the year this Friday.”

“...I feel like we’ve had this conversation before, somehow,” March said, frowning. It cleared up quickly, however. “I am excited, though! I can’t wait to see how the first party is. You just know Seacaster Manor has to be epic.”

“It’s going to be a good party,” Sunsugar said. “I’m, like, thrilled to get to party in a nice mansion. You think their pool’s gonna be good?” Her eyes were full-on sparkling, which was not uncommon. Sunsugar had always been incredibly social, and of their party, was probably the one attending the most bashes and get-togethers and events. Besides Moryore, of course, but his Mom was Fantasy Hollywood famous, so he didn't count.

“God, I hope so,” March said. A nice pool party would almost make up for their terrible, terrible summer. “Are you bringing any instruments?”

“I dunno,” Sunsugar said. “I mean, nobody wants to be that guy at the party who insists on playing Wonderwall on his guitar. But it’s kinda cute when I do it, don’t you think?” She batted her eyelashes as she said that, though her smile was obviously joking.

“Girl, if you play Wonderwall I promise I’ll kick you out myself,” March said.

“You’re such a hater,” Sunsugar shot back. “But fine. I’ll play something better. Though I might forget with how wasted I’ll be.”

“I can’t wait to see you get drunk off like, one beer and vomit in their potted plants,” March teased.

“I’m not going to vomit. I’m a classy drunk,” Sunsugar said, pretending to whip her hair over her shoulders. With it cut so short, it didn’t really achieve the same look, but the energy was there. “I’m probably going to just insist on swimming fully clothed and write bad songs about people’s shitty exes on request.”

“Or get really sleepy and have to be driven home early,” March said. That’d been their first party together in a nutshell. For the girl who worshiped the God of Partying , she was definitely a light-weight. Not that March was any better. She'd sworn off all intoxicants after the disaster that was her first party in sophomore year. Probably for the best, anyways. A drunk Aasimar was not a very safe one to be around.

“That happened once,” Sunsugar groaned. “Okay, that’s it, I’ve got class. See you after school?”

“I’ll see you,” March agreed. Probably for the best they separated now, anyway. March should probably look over her homework before her next period. She wouldn’t want to hand anything in that was blatantly unfinished, after all. Not this early into the semester.

And maybe she could get a nap in. It would definitely make getting through her afternoon classes easier.

Although, she’d probably still sleep through some of them.

Ven was a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of Freshmen in the club-room.

They were probably lucky today had been a fairly easy day, school-wise. If they’d been even a little more stressed, the amount of people here would be unbearable. As it was, they were managing by staying stuck to the sides of the room, smiling faintly if anyone caught their attention and answering questions when asked. Much less stressful than their classes usually were.

(Today they’d succeeded at casting a second-level spell without a surge, at least. Jace had immediately told them to be ‘less sloppy with your aim’, but that hadn’t been so bad. At least they’d hit the target. And Marquisha had given them a high five! A pity one, probably, but it was nice of her.)

At present, they were sitting there and filling watering cans to lug over to various students watering plants. And chilling water bottles. Lots and lots of chilling water bottles. Ray of Frost was a cantrip, which meant it was basically one of few things Ven could cast without fear or stress. Granted, it was also a much wider range than was technically safe in the garden, but as long as they stuck to the areas where the plants were freeze-resistant, they could cast it all day and be just fine. And in the August heat, basically everyone wanted cold water.

It was nice, to feel helpful.

There was a bit of a lull during the club meeting. Ven scanned the room as they continued to fill one of the watering cans, keeping tabs on their friends. March and Moryore were busy sitting in the corner having a long chat with some of the more inquisitive students. March was definitely the most passionate about the subject, and Ven just knew her captive audience would walk away with way too much information about the life cycles of honeysuckle and milkweed. (Then again, maybe that would mean more butterflies come autumn. Ven would never complain about that.)

They couldn’t see Rosamunda or Raven, though if they had to guess the latter was probably off pestering one of her Warlock classmates and the former was probably still training. Rosamunda always was super serious about her training. And Sunsugar was in the other room- Ven could hear her playing her flute softly, probably for the pea-patch. The peas had rather taken to classical music as of late.

Thinking of Sunsugar led them to thinking of music, and before long they had pulled out their phone. They’d been thinking a lot about clubs since the year had started, and they’d been staring down at a few listings all day.

There was a few ‘listening clubs’ for different genres of music. Some of them weren’t Ven’s style; they weren’t really a pop person, but they didn’t really hate it either. They were very interested in some of the rock and roll groups, and there was a metal club whose listing looked very cool. The poster had this design of a minotaur who’s horns were curled up so that against the black background it made the anarchy symbol. They kept going back to stare at it. It was a really good design. And the listed bands were all good ones. They especially enjoyed Black Veil Brides- and they were a rock band and not a metal one, which maybe didn’t bode well for the knowledge base of the group, but Ven didn’t really care that much.

As they briefly became engrossed thinking about music, they didn’t notice the near-silent footsteps behind them. Not until the shadow cast over them blocked their phone screen.

“What are you looking at?” Haldir asked, leaning over them to check their phone. Which wasn’t at all hard; they were very tall, even for a Half-Minotaur, and easily towered over Ven, despite the fact that they were fairly tall themselves. They didn't quite pull it off the way most Half-Elves did. All their peers leaned on the side of tall and willowy and frankly, gorgeous, and they kind of looked like they’d been taken out of the proverbial oven a little too soon. Their proportions were more gangly and awkward than anything else, and though Half-Elves ran the gauntlet from quite human looking to near identical to a full-blooded elf, they always felt like they just looked wrong somehow. That Ivy girl they were enemies with now looked much more like a typical Half-Elf. And she’d seemed so confident. Ven had no idea how she did it, what they’d even have to do to get that confident themselves.

Gilear had been a little bit of a relief, if they were being honest. Seeing another elf who was so markedly different from what elves ‘should’ be, and one who was treated with kindness by the people in his life, was… nice. A little peek into what could be.

(Then again, Gilear wasn’t living with a fundamentalist, religious father who preached human-superiority to his friends at church and then went home to lecture his children about how much more lady-like their very-much Elven mother had been. That’d put a damper on anyone’s spirits.)

They zoned back into the moment to note that Haldir was definitely reading the poster on their screen now. “I’m just checking club postings!” they said, quickly locking their phone screen. They could feel their face heating up already. Undue and probably over-dramatic embarrassment flooded them, and they had to bite down the urge to run away. That would be rude, Ven, Haldir is your friend. Keep it together.

“You interested in joining something else? You know we’d be like, fine with that, right?” Haldir asked. “You don’t have to hide it.” The tone of their voice, paired with the very gentle hand squeezing their shoulder, was so obviously concerned that it made Ven feel a little bad. They hated worrying their friends. They couldn’t stop doing it, it seemed.

“Um, I don’t know, maybe,” Ven said. “I wasn’t, like, hiding it or anything. Just… don’t want freshmen looking over my shoulders, y’know?”

“I get it,” Haldir said, though they clearly weren’t satisfied with the answer. “They’re nosy this year. Were we that nosy our freshmen year?”

“You were worse,” Ven pointed out. They’d broken into several staff rooms last year and done all sorts of mischief. Honestly, their detention record was one of the higher ones at the school. “But yeah, they’re clearly excited to get around and up to some nonsense.”

“It’s probably because of how much nonsense has happened in the last three years,” they said. “Everyone’s looking to form the next ‘Bad Kids’ or ‘The Seven’. Which, fair enough.”

“Aim high and never stop blowing up, right?” Ven said, grinning to themselves. Never Stop Blowing Up had been the action movie they’d all watched during their first sleep-over. (One Ven had not mentioned to their father would contain Boys. He’d have been pissed. Even if he had believed Ven when they said there was zero chance they’d ever be interested in Moryore.) It was a great movie. Ven had been obsessed with Kingskin, something that was a part of their own journey with gender. The should re-watch it sometime.

“If they take that advice, we won’t have a school to attend anymore,” Haldir said, chuckling a little. “But, back to the normal topic- look, if you want to join a music club, you should go for it. I think you’d have fun.”

Ven paused, worrying the inside of their cheek with their teeth as they considered the statement.

In truth, they would love to join one of the music clubs on campus. They liked music. They liked collecting CDs, still, and they had an extensive mp3 collection, and they loved talking about music and hearing other people talk about music. But the idea of actually showing up to a meeting was terrifying. All those people, probably judging them about their taste in music, whether they were a real fan of this or that? It sounded like a nightmare.

Still, Ven really, really wanted to try it out. They didn’t have a lot of chances to talk about their favorite artists, and they were desperate to talk to other Fig and the Cig Figs fans in real life. Because online fan groups just didn’t feel as special.

They’d been basically obsessing over her Freshmen year album since she’d released it. Fig was maybe the coolest artist they’d ever seen in their entire, meager life. And the other members were also pretty cool; Gorgug t-shirt designs were always fun. Not that Ven would ever have the courage to wear a Gorgug t-shirt in public. I mean, they went to school with him. They’d probably just come off as some weird stalker. And besides, wearing band merch meant someone might talk to them unprompted, and as much as that sounded like it could be nice, it left a very uneasy feeling in their stomach, like they’d just swallowed a thousand live bees.

They wanted to do it so badly, and they were so anxious at the idea of actually taking any steps towards it. Whatever they did, they knew it’d be agonizingly embarrassing. So they just weren’t going to do anything! That seemed preferable to the pain of learning, one way or another, that they just didn’t belong.

“I’ll think about it,” they offered, just to weasel out of the conversation. They knew Haldir was trying to be nice and supportive, but they just couldn’t deal with it right now. “Have you been working on figuring out the rogue teacher yet?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Haldir said, folding their arms up. Their tail swished behind them as they kept speaking, in that slow, steady pattern of theirs Ven had come to associate with deep brooding. Haldir did a lot of brooding. Ven was pretty sure it was a rogue thing. “Not a lot, this early in the year. I admit I’ve been stewing over the fact that Kipperlilly got there before I did.”

“She is a Mastermind,” Ven reminded them, pulling from their very scattered history of the Ratgrinders. “She probably has a lot more experience using research and making plans then you’d have. Not that you’re not good at it! But you’re, like, a Phantom rogue? Your skill-set is a lot different.”

Haldir sighed in response. “I mean, maybe. But I’m not so sure. The rogue teacher wouldn’t give us a lesson that was much more doable for one form of rogue over another. I’m just not as skilled as I thought I was, apparently,” they said. Their was an edge of sadness to their tone, one Ven really knew all too well. It was hard, facing down the idea that you weren’t good at the thing you had been studying for ages.

They stood up a little straighter to look Haldir in the eyes. For a second. Not for very long- Haldir’s eyes were a little intimidating, and they’d both just get uncomfortable. Just for long enough that the rogue could tell they were being serious. “Haldir. You are a kick-ass rogue, and you are going to find the rogue teacher this year. I just know it,” they insisted.

Haldir blinked for a moment, and then a small smile folded onto their face. “Well, if you’re so sure of that, I guess I can’t argue with you,” they said. “...You know, I think you’re gonna do well this year too.”

Ven shook their head. “I mean, maybe. I’m not hoping too much for anything myself,” they said. Getting your hopes up was how you got yourself hurt, and Ven was great at avoiding pain.

“Give yourself a credit. You really have come a long way,” Haldir said. They nudged them to the side to help fill the watering cans. “In Freshmen year, you could barely cast a cantrip without freaking out, and now you sling spells around… a lot better than you used to. Could still work on that panic response, though.”

Ven nodded. That was fair- they really did panic quite a lot more than they should. They wouldn’t slow the party down nearly as much if they could just control their reactions, not worry so much about what their magic might do next. Unfortunately, if they could just turn their brain off, they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. “Thank you. I’m… working on it,” they said. “You want to finish up these watering cans and then go check on the blueberries?”

“By ‘check on’ do you mean ‘eat a whole bunch of them and then run away before March catches us’? Because I’m fully down to do that,” Haldir said.

“If I didn’t mean that, would it really be me?” they asked, putting their phone back in their pocket. They were a little relieved to slide into something safe and familiar. They could think about more complicated things later. For now, all they needed to think about was gardening and maybe taking a nap before they got home.

If they got all their homework done. Frankly, it wasn’t looking good. 

Chapter Text

Rosamunda was getting seriously bored of reading chapters of her textbooks already.

Fighter training was a lot of practical, combat-oriented training, obviously. Her first two classes were basically all practice matches and drills, though they were more engaging than they’d been in her freshman year. And she was getting much deeper into the tactics than she had in the past two years.

It was a lot of homework, however, in every class. Her first class of the day was a double-block of training of all kinds, with Ms. Jones who was by far the coolest teacher at the school. Rosamunda had been so excited to work with her when she first came to campus. And it had been great. She’d learned so much from her and had gotten experience she was extremely proud of. But this year they’d all been assigned out-of-class training hours, and Rosamunda was supposed to average an extra ten hours of training outside of class-time. Which was going to be rough, but if she managed to squeeze in four or five hours on Sunday, she could still take Saturdays off. Hopefully.

Her third class of the day, Advanced Tactics of War and Combat, was another one she really enjoyed. She had picked Battle-master as her subclass precisely for curriculum like this. She loved managing a battle field, picking up tactics to move people around, to force enemies to retreat or put her party in favorable situations. And she felt the stuff she learned in class was genuinely useful.

But this class? This class was filled with homework. And lots of it. They were reading at minimum three chapters of a textbook every week, and taking so many notes Rosamunda was worrying about carpal tunnel. No amount of stretching had any hope of fixing that cramp. So that was something she’d have to deal with it.

The rest of her other classes had a similar amount of work, so Rosamunda was pretty certain she’d be spending the rest of her semester reading with every moment she had to spare. Still, it could be worse. She could be a wizard. And she’d gotten something of a break while they showed the new students around the greenhouse and introduced them to the gardening club, so she couldn’t really complain.

Once their club hours ended, their party had sequestered themselves into an empty class-room after their club meeting finished; it was the one just next to the greenhouse, which was rarely used these days, and to which Haldir had stolen a spare key so they could get in when there weren’t any teachers about. With all their books spread out between them, the group had settled in for a very relaxed study session.

They were quiet for some time, as they took notes and flipped through text-books. Eventually Moryore set his notebook down, groaning. “Fuck my life,” he said. “I’m never going to be able to remember all these fucking names.”

“I feel that,” Sunsugar agreed, leaning against the wall behind her. There was a bag of sour gummy-bears ripped open and scattered between her and March, and she reached over and popped one into her mouth, her face bearing an equally sour expression. (Rosa was pretty sure that was from her stash, but she wouldn’t complain about it. Right now, anyway. She’d definitely make her sister buy her another one later.) “I think they’re just making some of the guys up, honestly. It sounds like they’re just stringing names together to make up priests on the spot."

“I bet cleric classes are a drag,” Raven said. She was on the other side of March, leaning into her with her text-book propped on one knee. “Warlock classes are so much easier.”

“Warlock classes do sound kind of fun,” Rosamunda said, laying her book down. She wasn’t really interested in multi-classing, and especially not into anything magical, but warlocks did seem to have a lot of fun. Really, how different were contracts to any other kind of tactics on the battlefield? (Maybe she’d take a magical law class next year, for fun. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t have the time.)

“They’re always pretty good. I love Zara. Zara’s basically the coolest teacher on campus for sure,” Raven said. “Maybe even the best faculty member, although I really like Coach Gorthalax. Oh, and Jawbone!”

“Everyone loves Jawbone,” Haldir called. They were sitting by the door- well, they were laying by the door. Honestly, it looked a little uncomfortable, but Haldir was always in a position like that. “The guy is the coolest teacher they’ve ever hired.”

“He is pretty nice. I mean, he seems like it,” Ven said. They were sitting cross-legged on top of a table, a whole bunch of sorcery textbooks spread out around them. Really, Rosamunda had never seen a sorcerer do as much studying as Ven did. Rosa felt a bit sorry about that, but Ven could do so many cool things already. She was sure they’d be over the hump soon.

“Jawbone’s cool,” Rosa agreed. “...I think Ms. Jones is cooler, though. I mean, she got her teacher’s license just to figure out what happened to her sister. That’s super metal.” Would that she were half the soldier she was.

“We know you think she’s cool. You never shut up about her,” Sunsugar teased, sticking out her tongue at her sister. Rosamunda rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to chuck stuff at her. She’d just throw an Acid Splash back, and they weren’t allowed to scrap in this room anymore. Not after that time March blasted Moryore through a wall practicing her ‘big jaguar leap’.

“Lay off her. You’re just salty because your teacher blows,” Moryore said.

“Aw, Lucinda’s not that bad,” March said. She couldn’t keep a straight face through that sentence, clearly, as she immediately hid her mouth with her sleeves. “She’s passionate.”

“She cried for three whole hours last year because someone said an album she recommended was ‘just okay’. She’s not the most well-adjusted teacher at Aguefort,” Moryore said. He paused for a moment, before sighing, his eyes closing. “Really, though, she does know her stuff. She’s a good teacher. Way more permissive than Halo is, anyway. I could never get away with half of what Bard students get away with.”

“To be fair, you really can’t make a Bard do anything they don’t want to do,” Rosamunda said, taking a brief glance at her sister. Sunsugar didn’t notice, too busy making a face at a gummy bear. “She’s basically herding cats all year long. The only guy with a worse gig is Jace.”

“He’s definitely fighting entropy to make those kids do anything,” Raven said. “Then again, adventurers are all extremely independent. You don’t exactly decide to pick up and try to explore the wild continent because you’re a good team player and you love authority.”

“You do if you fucking suck at adventuring,” Haldir said, grinding their teeth as they spoke.

“That goes without saying,” March said. “Honestly, why come to the ‘fuck shit up and murder everything’ school if you’re dedicated to preserving authority so much? Wouldn’t you want someplace with more… I don’t know, real rules?”

“We’re the only real adventuring school of any acclaim in Solace. Well, the only one in this area, anyway,” Rosamunda said. She briefly scoured her brain for the names of any others, but came up with nothing. They weren’t exactly remarkable schools, the other high-schools. Some of them were mostly normal schools with adventuring slapped on top like an ill-fitting coat of paint. Plenty of adventurers got their start in college for just that reason. “Anyway, isn’t super rigid rule-followers like, half of all paladins and clerics?”

“You’d be shocked,” Moryore said, at the same time Sunsugar chimed in with, “Clerics can do whatever they want depending on their God, really.”

“Yeah, clerics come in all sorts,” Raven said. “Clerics here are way more relaxed then they are in a lot of places, though. I wouldn’t want to be in a boarding school with a whole bunch of Helioc clerics, for example. I’ve heard some horror stories.”

“Helioc followers are a bit… much,” Moryore agreed, grimacing. “I try not to pass judgment on those I do not know, but… they really do seem to like their racism in that church.”

“Well, there’s a huge amount of human-supremacist history in their past. Especially when you consider the history of the Helioc crusades,” Sunsugar said. “We did a whole unit on it in the History of Solace class I took. Which, by the way, I’d suggest you all try to take if you haven’t already. It was very enlightening.”

“I took that class last year,” Ven said. “It was a very interesting experience. And, of course, there was a lot of things I learned that would really piss my father off to hear. I used to get a kick out of thinking about what he might say if I told him. Never had the courage to do it, but it would have felt so good.”

“I bet it would,” Raven said. “You know what else would feel super good?”

Ven sighed in response. “We cannot kill my father no matter how often you bring it up,” they replied.

“No! I was going to say we should go swimming,” Raven said. “It was so hot today, wasn’t it?”

“Gods, it was,” Sunsugar agreed, groaning. She laid her head back against the wall, taking a deep breath. “We still have so much homework, though.”

“I mean… we have plenty of time, don’t we?” March said, looking around the group, but particularly at Moryore. “We could afford to slack off a little bit, right?”

“Careful. That sort of thinking snowballs quickly,” Moryore said, though he did seem more amused than scolding. “...Maybe just for today. But find a good place to stop in your work first.”

“Oh thank the gods. I think if I have to read another page of this book right now, I’ll have a breakdown and… I don’t know, just run off into the woods and join a commune,” Haldir said, covering their face with their hands.

“You know, somehow I think your mothers would approve of that,” Rosamunda said. A druidic Aasimir and an artificer whose knowledge was forged in adventuring weren’t the sorts to really care about convention all that much. “Maybe you could join that Barkstock commune I’ve heard so much about.”

“Hm. Maybe,” Haldir said. “Sounds a bit too crowded, though. I was thinking ‘shack in the woods’.”

“Shack in the woods sounds nice. Definitely cheaper than rent in Bastion City right now,” Moryore said, yawning. “I was looking at some places, for college, and good lord it’s expensive.”

“Everything’s expensive. At least we can punch politicians in the nuts about it here,” March said, stretching with an audible pop. Gods, they all really needed to stretch more. Rosa could not be more flexible than the Druid. It simply wasn’t a good thing. She watched as March pushed her books back into her bag, clearly done with her work. “Speaking of expenses, I’ve been thinking about getting a part-time job.”

“Really?” Moryore said. “I mean, do you need one? You’re already pretty busy.”

“Eh. I figured it might be good to have some work experience outside of adventuring. And pocket money would be nice,” March said. “I don’t always want to have to ask my dad, y’know? It gets like, weird.”

“I get what you mean,” Rosa agreed. After the third time your parents gave you money to buy tiny virtual creatures, you started to feel a little self-conscious about the whole thing. Or, you would if you had the capacity for shame. She knew her parents didn’t really care, and it could be worse. She could be spending money on a Gacha game.

“If you need help looking, I’m sure I could manage the… yellow pages?” Raven said, frowning. “Do people still use those?”

“No, Raven. God, you act like an old lady,” Sunsugar teased, jumping to her feet from a sitting position in what Rosamunda could only describe as an insane feat of acrobatics. “Are we sure you aren’t secretly a thousand years old?”

“I killed the last guy who asked me that!” Raven said, cackling. “You’re all so mean! So mean!”

“You’re ridiculous. All of you,” Haldir said, rolling away from the door a few times, till they were lying on their stomach in the middle of the room. “Are we going swimming now?” They looked up at the group with wide eyes, pleading in their strange fashion. Seriously, that expression of their always worked and it was bewildering.

“Well… fuck it, sure, let’s go,” Moryore said, beginning to pack his things. “March, can we all take your car? It’s okay if the answer is no, I can call a cab.”

March considered it for a moment, crossing her arms. Then, with a sigh, she heaved her bag over her shoulders, “I’ll go pull my car around,” she said, heading for the door. “You all have to promise you won’t wreck my seats this time, though.”

“We’ll be careful!” Raven promised, miming a pinkie promise in the air. “And this time, there’ll be no open packs of cranberry juice.”

“In my defense, Sunsugar bumped me,” Rosamunda chimed in, before going back to start packing up her own things. She heard the door swing open as March left, and the rest of the group quickly swept through the room, resetting chairs and making sure all back-packs and weapons and snacks were accounted for.

Once they were all set, they filed out of the room, with the last person to leave being Haldir, so that they could lock the door. Once the room was exactly as they left it, the group exploded back into their usual activity. Even Ven seemed excited, though they kept checking their phone with a slightly darker look.

Rosamunda hung back as the rest of her party moved forwards, arriving in a clump by the door at the end of the hallway, peering into the back parking lot like children crammed at the top of the stairs the morning of Moonear Yulenear. She shook her head a little, fondly, before turning to look back towards the intersecting hallway.

Sometimes at this time of day, she’d spot other students going about their lives, completely unaware of their party. It was a normal occurrence; in a school so large, it was impossible to know every single person who attended classes there, harder still with the deaths and the transfers and the sudden revelations of ancient evils, but there was still something about it that made her feel old. Not in a sad way, really, just… odd.

It was the idea of being perfectly typical, of blending in to the background of someone else’s life. Maybe she shouldn’t like that, being an adventurer, but it was oddly comforting. Just existing for its own sake was pressure-less. How many people saw her every day? How many stories did she have a background role in? She might not be important, but she’d never chased glory the way her teammates did. She was just content to be along for the ride, really.

As she thought about that, she heard the sound of footsteps down the hall, and her eyes caught on someone as they walked through that connecting hallway. It was a kobold, an incredibly short one, with bright pinky-orange scales, in a bold pink hoodie and jeans. She had a gleaming battleaxe at her side, and a bright blue backpack with an adorable little strawberry charm hanging off of it. Her expression wasn’t one Rosamunda could really read, but she didn’t pay a lot of attention to it. The thing that Rosamunda really narrowed in on was the Quoky pet in her hand.

Her mood immediately skyrocketing, she quickly abandoned her spot in the hallway to rush towards her, waving. “Hi! Hello!” she called out. When the kobold didn’t turn to her, she forced herself to speak up more. “You! With the cute strawberry!”

That got the kobold’s attention. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to Rosamunda with the same blank gaze. “Yeah?” she asked.

“Hi! Sorry, one second,” Rosamunda said, finishing up her advance and stopping right next to her. “What’s your name?”

“Mary-Ann,” the kobold said simply. She continued to stare at Rosamunda in what could have been annoyance or curiosity, though neither seemed particularly right.

That, of course, hardly deterred her. “I’m Rosamunda, you can just call me Rosa if you want. That’s a Quoky pet, right?” she asked, excitedly. “What kind is it?”

“It’s a Pelliephant,” Mary-Ann said. There was a slight sparkle that appeared in her eyes, a sudden interest that one might have missed if they weren’t paying attention. “You play?”

“I have like two dozen of the handhelds at home,” Rosamunda admitted. “And I’ve played the browser game since I was eight years old. Oh, and I even collected the training cards when they were still making them!”

“That’s cool,” Mary-Ann said, her voice still neutral, though Rosamunda hoped she was feeling at least a little positive. “I didn’t know anyone else here played.”

“Oh, yeah, I get what you mean. It’s like- I didn’t expect to find many other fans here, because it’s an adventuring school, and I know a lot of people think it’s a baby game even though it totally isn’t. I mean, it’s a fun game. The designs are great! Pelliephant’s a good one especially, you have great taste,” she said, unable to stop herself from bouncing in place slightly. What? She was excited, sue her. “You’re… what class are you in?”

“Barbarian. You’re a Fighter,” Mary-Ann said. “I’ve seen you outside Ms. Jones class.”

“Yeah! I am!” she said, a little giddy at the idea she’d been recogonized. Fading into the background was nice, it was all fine and dandy, but this was a little bit of a thrill. Screw glory, recognition from a peer was fantastic. “I’m with the Blue Moon Buddies.”

“The Blue Moon Buddies?” Mary-Ann parroted. There was a question in there somewhere, though with little elaboration, she had to kind of just guess what she was getting at.

“Yeah! I know it’s a weird name- we actually got it in sort of a weird way,” she said. “We didn’t have a name right away, when we first started. I mean, we’d kind of all known each other since we were kids, except for Ven. Ven fits right in though, they’re like, insane in the right kind of way, you know? Anyway, so we didn’t really have a name for a while.”

“Uh-huh,” Mary-Ann said.

“Yeah! It was really, like, it was fine right? But then we went out on our first real adventure over Winter Break, and we didn’t go that far we were just out in the Farhaven woods, but like, the deep Farhaven woods, not the baby area, right? Not that there’s anything wrong with the starting areas, but they don’t give credit for adventures there for your big assignment. Anyway, we were out there in the winter and camping was a little cold, but March and Moryore packed well so we were fine. And I like the snow, not like my sister, she complained the whole time. Anyway, so we found these caves, by accident cause Raven stepped down a hole and fell in, and we crawled in afterward, and it was weird as hell cause it wasn’t on any of the maps. And then a tree fell over the entrance so we couldn’t get back out the way we came in, so we started walking to figure out if we could find an exit, and the thing was massive. It had to go on for miles, you know, and it was super dark, but warmer than it had been outside. And it seemed fine for a bit, but then we encountered all these giant spiders, so we were just fighting through giant spiders for at least an hour until we get to this main chamber that looks like it was a ritual circle at some point, and we think we’re out of the woods and then a shit-ton of skeletons start flooding in. We killed truly so many undead. I like, specialize in it now, you know? I can cut through hordes of zombies like it’s nothing and it’s all because of that skeleton army. Too many skeletons! There can’t have been that many dead people down there even if it’d been like, a century, some of them had to be fake.”

“Were they being animated by anything?” Mary-Ann chimed in when she paused to breathe. Eagerly, she jumped straight back into her story, just excited that someone wanted to talk to her about it.

“Not that we ever found. Moryore theorized that there was some magic in the rock causing the animation effect, but we didn’t have time to do a really thorough investigation because we were getting constantly attacked,” she said. “Honestly, it was a real rough day or so, but we did find an exit eventually! It was nighttime outside, we’d barely escaped with our lives, we were out of spell slots and components, we were desperate to sleep, and we came out and there was this huge lake. It was massive and the water was so pretty, and the night sky reflected in it almost perfectly, and there weren’t any clouds so the stars were super bright, and there was a huge blue moon above us. It was just… we were so relieved at being alive, I think a few of were actually crying, and when we got back, we decided to pick the Blue Moon Buddies as a name as a reminder of that feeling. It’s kind of what makes adventuring worth it, you know?”

“That’s pretty cool,” Mary-Ann said. “I have to get going. I’m supposed to be training with my party.”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” Rosamunda said, eyes widening.

Mary-Ann just shrugged, and then moved on. “You should follow me. On the Quokypet forums,” Mary-Ann said. “It’s mangosodaluvr. Spelled ‘l-u-v-r’. If you want.”

“Oh! Yeah, I will. Mine is, just so you know, it’s ‘cottoncandygrl’, spelled ‘g-r-l’. It’s a little old,” she said. “...Mango soda?”

“It’s good,” Mary-Ann said. “You should try it.”

“Hm. I will!” she said, nodding. She always did like a new food recommendation. It was basically the only reason she tried anything new at all, if she was going to be honest.

Before she could speak any further, she heard something behind her. “Yo, Rosamunda, we’re leaving!” Sunsugar called, pulling her attention away. “Last one to the car’s a rotten egg!”

“I’ll be right there!” she called back. She had to say a proper goodbye to Mary-Ann, after all. However, when she turned back, Mary-Ann was already gone. That might have offended someone else, but she just shrugged it off. She was never really one for goodbyes anyway.

Besides, they’d talk more on the Quokypet forums.

Raven really had missed Warlock class over the summer.

Sure, she’d enjoyed her free time over the break, hanging out in her folks’ place. It was her home, after all, and she had plenty of stuff to do around the house, although she had found that it felt a little empty. Her mother had been off in Fallinel handling her court while the whole endless night thing happened, so it had just been her and her dad. And her father was pretty much always swamped with work trying to keep Yorbies from causing too much havoc, but when he was around the house, they watched a lot of television together. It was basically the only thing he did the whole summer, when he wasn’t working, which didn’t really shock Raven.

Her father was always a bit melancholic when his wife wasn’t around. They really were the ideal couple, the kind of romance people fantasized about finding on online forums. A dashing, handsome adventurer on a quest for glory, stumbling upon a beautiful ruler, immortal and powerful beyond comprehension. Winning her heart by fighting for her, stealing a magic jewel back from a wicked witch who had stolen it from her, a jewel Raven had seen only once. Supposedly it was the jewel that had led her mother down the path she was now, had whispered to her the necromantic secrets she now wielded to command her undead kingdom. Her mother had been so enamored with his bravery and strength she’d proposed on the spot.

That was the story they told anyway. According to some of her father’s old friends, it was a little messier than that, and a lot more embarrassing. For her father, anyway. Her mother was unflappable as she ever was. He was… well, he was a barbarian, and a bit of a bumbling idiot. Well meaning, but an idiot nonetheless. She loved her father but he was winning no awards for his intelligence. She had an inkling her mother liked him because he wasn’t conniving or hyper-intelligent. Most of her other suitors, from what Raven had gleaned from her very gossipy advisors, tried to trick or beguile her into marrying them. No wonder she fell for the first guy who didn’t immediately try to lie to her.

Regardless, as much as she loved her father, being around him could be a little bit of a bummer sometimes. She missed her mother too, but she had work to do. Raven could understand that. (“It’ll be your work someday as well, Raven,” she could hear her mother say already. Someday being the key word. She had like, a hundred years at least.) So being back at school, having more to do besides adventuring and hanging out with her party (and her wonderful, amazing, beautiful, talented, extremely special girlfriend) was nice. And she loved the Warlock teacher. Honestly, she was incredible, and an amazing mentor.

(And look, it was always nice to see a vampire be well-liked and respected. There was history in Solace that wasn’t always the nicest, and getting to be seen as just another member of society was a recent development. It was great to have someone to look up to.)

So yes, Raven was very glad to be back in Warlock classes. She had a much shorter schedule than her peers, only having a singular elective during the day and all of her other courses at night. She’d tested out of her required Skills courses; every warlock had to take three Art of Persuasion courses, the same ones the Bards took, and she’d aced her exams in the first year and gotten a waiver to skip the rest. (Granted, she lied through her teeth on most of the exams, but good deception was basically impossible to tell apart from honest charisma anyway.) That left her with her main Warlock course, a double-block that covered a great deal of history, arcana, and magical law (mostly contract law, unsurprisingly), and a third ‘self-study’ course that was really just her sitting through online modules on the ‘basics’ of different sources of magic. She would have to finish up her Infernal coursework this year so she could get to the stuff she was actually interested. Really, she ought to have finished it last semester, but… well, she’d gotten a bit distracted.

(She’d been enjoying her youth! So what? She wouldn’t be young forever, after all, even if she was going to age slower than most. She might as well enjoy it while it lasted.)

Regardless, she was incredibly excited for class tonight. Getting to the school after dark was its own experience. Those nightly walks were honestly part of what she’d missed. She knew most folks would feel uneasy, walking the suburban streets at night, perhaps even unsafe. And she knew that there were indeed real dangers to be found, but she was one of them. She felt stronger at night, her magic feeling closer, especially the magic bound up in her book.

The book was a birthday gift from her mother, given to her the day she turned 15, in her first year at Aguefort. She had been gifted with some magic since she was a small girl, though typically only for brief moments, her mother testing whether she had a knack for wielding it. She was always eager to share in her gifts, though it had always been more exploratory than instructive when she was little. Her mother had never pressured Raven into becoming her Warlock; she’d recognized she might take after her father instead, that she might become a Barbarian and follow in the path of her Giant ancestors, perhaps even becoming a Paladin to preserve their ways. Or perhaps she’d take interest in magic, but go the way of a Wizard, or decide to become a more martial class, or even decide to forgo training whatsoever.

(Given her eventual inheritance, if her mother ever passed for the final time, that last one was less of an option, but her mother loved her so much, she’d have let her go if that was what she wished. Raven knew that. It was what pushed her to work so hard, knowing that even if she failed, her mother would love her no matter what. It was an incredibly powerful motivator.)

The book was a unique connection to her mother, a copy of her mother’s first spell-book, filled with cantrips of all kinds, though she could only prepare three a day. Just holding it comforted her, connected her to her mother. Holding it at night was the safest feeling in the entire world, and she had missed it dreadfully, even over the summer. The night lost its magic when it was eternal.

That was the last thought she had before she stepped back into the school. The front doors unlocked with a whisper- the warlock students had individual passwords, to make sure other students stayed away once the night fell, though that never stopped the rogue students. She remembered constantly forgetting hers in her first year, and having to crawl in through a window by the gym into the locker room night after night. She was lucky she seldom bruised, or she’d have a hell of a time explaining why she looked as if someone had kicked her in the stomach every night for weeks on end to her party.

She made her way to her classroom, which was tucked into the darkest corner of the building, just down the hall from the good water-fountain. (Which incidentally, was also the water fountain that was most often booby-trapped. Aguefort students really were too predictable for their own good sometimes.)

She opened the door and slid in. She found that the classroom was incredibly dark, and at first she assumed that the lights had yet to turn on. She didn’t think she was that early, but perhaps the others had all decided to smoke in the parking lot or bother the spirits at the nearby graveyard before class. She’d done that a few times in Sophomore year, and gotten a lot of things thrown at her by the graveyard’s caretaker for her trouble.

(If the ghosts didn’t want her to sleep on the cold grave dirt beside them, they hadn’t said anything, so really, he was over-reacting.)

Regardless, she searched for the light switch, though she couldn’t seem to fight it. It was taking a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, a little longer than it should have. That was when she noticed that she he could almost taste the mix of magic on the air. Immediately she recognized that she was looking at magical darkness. She rolled her eyes a little, allowing for the extra few moments her eyes would need to kick into gear past her usual dark-vision.

Once her Devil’s Sight came on, she was able to see the room fairly well, enough so that she was fully able to watch as her classmates bumbled about, some of them even crashing into walls. Why you would cast Darkness if you didn’t have the ability to see in it, Raven didn’t know, but it seemed like their kind of tomfoolery. She did love her classmates, no matter how terrible they could be sometimes, but they really pushed it.

She skirted around Bingleson Burroughton, who was standing perfectly still in the middle of the darkness like he was trying to stealth (poorly), and scanned the classroom. All the desks were in the same places as usual, including the one permanently fused to the ceiling from when one of their classmates had utterly failed casting Feather Fall. She still didn’t understand how that had even worked.

As she was considering whether this would be the year someone would figure out how to un-glue the desk, she heard a crashing noise. She turned to see that someone had landed face down in a bucket of Spackle. Spackle? Spackle? Had they not finished patching the wall from the end of last year? She was starting to suspect that someone on the maintenance team was either pocketing the money and going home, or was trapped in the horrific tunnel dungeons you could fall into in the second story bathrooms. And the latter was not going to be pleasant to fix.

The person sat up, wiping the Spackle from their face. It was then that Raven clocked who it was. Fig Faeth? Holy shit, Fig Faeth was taking Warlock classes now? The Bard teacher was going to be fucking devastated. She would have to ask Sunsugar to tell her how she reacted to the news when she inevitably found out. (Lucinda Lullaby was always a little emotionally volatile. Artistic types were just like that sometimes.)

She looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, but no, it seemed literally all of them couldn’t fucking see. Maybe she should see about multi-classing after all. How did all of them suck in the exact same way? It simply wasn’t statistically possible.

She made a mental note to freak out to her friends about this in the group-chat later. Honestly, the fact that anyone could be normal about going to class with Fig Faeth was absurd. Even she was a little starstruck, and she usually felt she was above all that.

Before she could say anything, someone cleared their throat at the front of the room. Raven turned to find that Zara had appeared at some point and was leaning against her desk, her bag fully unpacked and a large cup of coffee in her hands. “It appears that all of you are currently concentrating on Darkness. I would suggest dropping it so we can get on with class,” she said. “Unless you all wish for me to mark you all as absent.”

Slowly, the Darkness began to creep away as people dropped their concentration. Raven watched as Fig pulled herself from the ground, cleaning her arms off, and stood by the door, hands in her pocket. Should she say something? No, that’d be weird. It wasn’t like she knew her, after all. Gods, Ven was going to be so jealous. Maybe she should get her autograph for them. Would that be weird?

As she contemplated whether it was an acceptable level of weird, Zara began to go through her beginning of class spiel. “I’ll be taking attendance today- Don’t look at me like that, Andromeda, I won’t be doing it all year – so please raise your hand when I call your name,” she said. “And I mean your hand. No one is allowed to raise skeletons or other spectral horrors in the classroom outside of the designated spell-casting times.”

One of her classmates grumbled a little after she said that, but for the most part they politely settled in, forming a crowd while Zara began to call out names. There wasn’t rhyme nor reason to whose name got called when, so they were all forced to stay alert as they waited for their names to get called.

Eventually, Zara paused, looking at the clipboard curiously. Her eyes darted over to Fig, who was standing there almost too confidently. Something flashed behind her eyes, and she marked something off on her clipboard. “Well, Figerouth Faeth, it is wonderful to see you’ve finally elected to join us,” Zara said, with a very small smile. “I was very pleased to see you were added onto my roster for this year.”

There was a small moment with no response, before Fig seemed to perk up. “Ah! Oh, yes, I’m very happy to be here,” she said.

“That’s excellent to hear. And please, don’t hesitate to ask if you have questions. You may have saved this school and the world several times over, but this is an advanced warlock course, and I don’t expect you to be familiar with all the details,” Zara said. “You may also ask your classmates for help, at your own discretion.”

Fig briefly looked over to the rest of the class, and then shrugging, joined them in their little crowd. Well, that was fair. They probably weren’t an impressive lot compared to rock-star and literal saviour of the world Fig Faeth. Hell, Raven was starting to wish she’d worn something cooler to class. She hadn’t even put on any eyeliner. Zara continued on with her roll-call, and it soon it was complete. There was a brief period afterwards while Zara put everything away that their classmates began to chatter amongst themselves.

Everyone was staring at Fig, or at least glancing at her, curiosity and perhaps even a little awe floating around the room. Honestly, it was its own kind of entertainment. Raven was almost more invested in the rest of their reactions as she was in Fig’s. She seemed like such a natural new addition, novel but still slotting in perfectly, not causing too much of a fuss, seemingly right at home. She wanted desperately to know what she was thinking. Alas, she couldn’t cast Detect Thoughts, and so she was forced to instead analyze the way she leaned against her bass guitar, tail curled in the air and hands jabbed in her pockets, as cool as a cucumber. Ironic, for a literal arch-devil.

Once Zara was ready for class, she cleared her throat, summoning their attention. “Today we’ll be discussing some things about the nature of contracts,” she said, crossing her arms. She looked over all of them with a gaze that could only be described as judgmental, though not in a mean-spirited way. She was always appraising them, in a sense. It was what made her such a good teacher. “I will let you know now, by the end of the year I will be expecting physical copies of all your contracts. I let it slide last year, but you’re all in advanced courses now. I’ll be expecting some sort of proof you actually negotiated one, or you’ll be going to Cleric classes in your Senior year, mark my words.”

A few students laughed at that- it was commonly joked that bad Warlocks made excellent Clerics. They were all faith and no planning, all words and no promises. Without a contract, the only thing you could rely upon between you and your patron was belief. Of course, Raven was slightly closer to her patron than most Warlocks, being that hers was her mother. Their contract was so laughably unbalanced most people would assume Raven had tricked her into it if they didn’t know the nature of their relationship. The threat of being forced to switch classes, however, was a very real one. No one who chose Warlock on purpose wanted to be a cleric. Clerics were a very different kind of profession to pursue, the kind that many Warlocks were ill-suited for. Raven would die before she did half the work her peers did.

“Now, everyone, please take a seat. And no fighting over them this time,” Zara called. She began to write something on the board behind her as the class began to disperse throughout the room. Raven turned from her spot, scanning the area, and began to push towards her preferred seat. She only stopped on her way there for one reason.

“Eleanor, your weird homunculus is trying to escape again,” she said, just loud enough for her to hear as she weaved around the thing crawling across the floor. The other warlock student snapped to attention from whatever she was doing on her phone; Eleanor Sparrowling’s patron was a very scientifically-minded Fiend, and she’d been trying to create a fully functioning homunculus since freshmen year. Raven didn’t think that was ever going to work out, but she’d been encouraging it. For curiosities sake, if nothing else.

“His name is Barry!” she said, shoving her phone in her pocket and bending over to pick up the wretched thing. God, he was ugly. Why was he periwinkle?

“What number are we on? Six or Nine?” she asked, in the most innocent voice she could muster, though it was definitely undercut by her giggling. “I can’t recall after so many failures.”

“Six! And it’s your fault Barry Five was a failure,” she said, pouting. Raven just shook her head. Look, if your home-grown homunculus was vulnerable to fucking lemonade, you needed to rethink your process.

“I don’t know, I think your methodology just sucks,” Raven said.

Eleanor gasped loudly, clinging Barry to her chest and glaring at her. “You take that back!” she said. “You take that back right now, or I’m going to turn you into a rat and lock you in the janitor’s closet with a cat.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Raven said, gleefully noting that Eleanor’s puffed up cheeks and red face made it look like she’d just chugged a bottle of hot sauce. Gods, she was way too easy to rile up. No wonder so many trickster deities existed. There was nothing more fun than messing with someone.

“Eleanor, Raven, I will make the two of you do a group project this year if you two continue to fight,” Zara warned, cutting through their conversation. “I’m sure your patrons would hate to hear that you are not conducting yourself in a manner that glorifies them. We spoke of this last year- your reputation is exceedingly important. Many patrons will eventually cut their losses if maintaining a contract becomes detrimental to their relationships with their other allies or their own reputation amongst the gods. Also, frankly, it’s getting a little old.”

“Yes, Ms. Sool,” Eleanor said, briefly glaring at Raven before marching over to her seat.

“Of course, Ms. Sool,” Raven replied, already gliding to the back of the room. She was sufficiently chastised- for now, at least. There was always next time. She let herself settle into her seat, crossing her arms as she prepared for the very long class ahead. At least she’d remembered to pack herself a snack this time.

She was definitely going to need it.

Chapter Text

Fridays always seemed to sneak up on Ven.

Maybe that was because of how much schoolwork they were doing. They scarcely had time to process one thing before it was right on to the next assignment, the next thing to read, the next spell to practice. Club meetings, homework, classes, extra studying on top of that… they were one busy sorcerer.

Tonight was going to be a nice break from it all, however. Tonight they were going to a party.

It was the first one of the semester, being hosted at one of the Bad Kid’s homes. Fabian Seacaster, who Ven only sort of knew anything about. They knew his family was very rich, that they lived in a pirate ship turned mansion, and that this was going to be some large, elaborate affair. They were equal parts excited and dreading the whole thing. They liked concerts, but parties were different beasts entirely. They’d skip it if they had an excuse, but this time they didn’t.

Ryo was away with a friend for the night- some Hudol elementary kid who he had met at another friend’s birthday party. His mom had picked him up, and she’d seemed like a very nice lady. She’d even told Ven she liked their hair, which was… kind of her.

(They’d curled it in a desperate attempt to look a little different, after catching a side profile in the mirror that was just a little too much like their father. They had mostly their mother’s features, but something about their nose… or maybe their jaw? Whatever it was, they obviously had some of his features. They had to, people always said they looked alike growing up. It was something, and they just needed to figure out what, and changing their hair was easier than reshaping their nose.)

And him being away meant there was no reason to stay in the house. Which meant it was smarter to go run off and maybe suffer at a party then stay holed up in their room all night.

Getting ready was its own hassle. They couldn’t leave the house in anything that would arouse suspicion, which meant they had to bring a backpack. Which meant they were going to have to claim to be going to a study session, which was always a toss-up. Sometimes their father was content to let them go off and study without much of a fuss, and sometimes he’d get pissy about it. It was never easy to tell. Tonight, however, he’d seemed to be in a better mood, so hopefully he wouldn’t give them too much trouble.

They’d gotten dressed in something ‘sensible’ and ‘modest’, and then spent a good hour sitting around their room. They’d done a little homework review, mostly looking at notes from this week’s classes, and nervously checked over their backpack several times to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Charger, wallet, keys, change of clothes, water bottle, aspirin, over and over and over until the words stopped meaning anything.

When they’d gotten a text that Moryore and their friends were five minutes out, they grabbed their backpack, pulled on a jacket, and went downstairs. The house was mostly empty and quiet, but they could hear the distant sound of the television in the living room. Steeling themselves as they paused briefly at the top of the stairs, they made their way down to talk to their father.

They found him, sitting in his usual chair, his eyes fixed on the television as he watched some Bloodrush game. They didn’t recognize the teams, but then again they’d never really paid attention to this sort of thing. They scanned the living room, noting that their father’s briefcase was on the coffee table, and he was still in his work clothes, sans his tie. He hadn’t been home when they’d got in that afternoon, so he must’ve just gotten off work. Great. He was always in a sour mood right after work.

They stood in the doorway, quietly waiting for a commercial. As soon as one started playing, they spoke up. “Father, I’m leaving,” they said. “I should be home by curfew.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, looking briefly up from the television. There was a slightly gruff, irritated tone in is voice that made Ven want to shrink back, to slide into the shadows along the wall and hope he didn’t see them after all. They didn’t, however, instead focusing on the wall across from them, one of the only one’s in the house not bearing some sort of religious painting or symbol. Instead it had their father’s diplomas on it, and a few old medals from their grandfather’s old days in Highcourt’s army, before he came to Solace.

“I’m going to study with some friends,” they lied. “We have a few big tests coming up we have to prepare for.” They then waited, with bated breath, to see if he would buy the excuse. He didn’t have a reason not to believe them, but sometimes he could get prickly about things.

There was a moment of silence from him, and then he turned to look at them. “Well, good on you for actually doing something productive with your time,” he said. Then he seemed to actually take them in fully, and a deep frown crossed his face. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Um. Yes,” they said, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

“That skirt is a little short for a study session,” he replied. He looked pointedly at where the plain white skirt fell, which wasn’t actually all that short. At least, Ven really didn’t think it was.

“It’s below the knee,” they said. They immediately regretted it when he sat up straighter, and for the briefest of seconds they expected him to throw the bottle in his hands. He didn’t, however, though the vein in his neck twitched like a worm dying on the sidewalk. Ven hoped they hadn’t flinched. They could already here what he’d say. (‘You act like I beat you or something’, as if what he did didn’t fucking count. ‘Discipline’ in his eyes was just barely under the legal limit for what you could do to a child and still call it ‘spanking’. Not that regular spanking would be any better. If Ven ever got onto the Council of Chosen, they were going to make hitting kids in any capacity a crime.)

“Don’t talk back to me. Just go change, Celosia,” he sighed. “I swear to Sol, you’ve been so difficult since you stopped coming to church.”

“...Sorry,” they mumbled. They caught a flash of anger in his expression again, and quickly corrected. (Getting yelled at for ‘muttering’ was never worth it.) “Sorry, sir.”

“Thank you. At least you haven’t completely forgotten your manners,” he said, shaking his head. “Honestly, this is why I wanted you to study as a paladin or a cleric. They would have instilled some manners into you, even if your teachers would have been pagan heathens.”

Ven didn’t say anything, knowing better than to interrupt him when he was like this. They wanted desperately to correct him on his definition of ‘pagan’, but that wouldn’t be worth it. Instead, they just stood, arms at their sides to avoid crossing them (which would also get them yelled at) and tried to keep a neutral expression. “I should have known that your mother’s heritage was going to cause problems. Sorcery is barely respectable as it is. And Wild Magic? Do you know how embarrassing that was to tell Father Aurelius?” he asked.

Fuck. This was going to require an answer. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” they said, feeling sicker by the minute. This happened every time. It was humiliating. They hated him for making them do it. They hated themselves even more for being a coward, for not doing anything about it.

“You can always make it up to me by actually doing well this year. If you come back with another C, I swear to Sol, Celosia, you’ll be sleeping on the streets. It’s bad enough your sister dropped out, I will not have another washed-up good-for-nothing leeching off of me,” he said.

“Yes, father,” they said, looking over his shoulder and out the window. Still no sign of Moryore’s car. Gods damn it all. ‘Five minutes out’ their fucking ass. Maybe traffic was bad? Honestly, it was probably another car crash. Everyone and their mother drove like they’d gotten their license in the school of ‘driving like you want a manslaughter charge’.

“Now go change,” he said, turning back to the television. “And I might have to go meet with a work associate tonight, so take your key with you in case I’m not home. The code to rearm the security system for tonight is on the fridge.”

“Yes, sir,” they said, before quickly scurrying away. They silently cursed having to find another skirt, just to end up changing in the car later. At least it hadn’t been too bad this time. They didn’t want to have to worry about covering bruises before a party, especially one that promised to be humid with the way the weather had been all week. It was a small victory, perhaps, but they’d take what they could get.

And once they got home, they’d definitely burn this skirt, ‘fire hazards’ be damned.

March was seriously regretting not taking her own car.

Sure, she’d have had to stay completely sober for the party (she didn't drink, but she would occasionally smoke if the mood struck her), but she’d take that over being crammed into Moryore’s car. The van was a nice one, but it was technically only a five-seater. The back was spacious, but since it lacked actual seats, they were all crammed into two rows. And since Moryore was driving, and Haldir had been given the front seat (‘I’m the only one who knows the neighborhood the party is at’), the rest of them were all sitting in the back together. It was cramped and a little too hot, and it definitely wasn’t her idea of a great time.

It wasn’t all that bad, though. Sunsugar was making it her mission to keep the ‘party vibes’ up before they actually arrived, which apparently meant commandeering the aux to blast her playlists. She did have good taste in music, but of course she did, she was the bard. Right now it was some emo music that’d apparently been on the radio all summer. Not that March had been paying much attention. She was more of a podcast kinda gal herself.

She sat, bobbing her head along with the music, listening as Sunsugar loudly sang along to the radio and Haldir and Moryore had some conversation in the front. It was something about teachers and Bloodrush? She really wasn’t paying all that much attention.

She did start paying attention, however, when the door to the car opened, and someone poked their head in. She turned to see it was Ven, looking a little worse for wear.

“Ven, how are you doing?” Sunsugar asked, with an edge to her voice one could only describe as ‘concerned’. Which was fair, given how gloomy their expression was.

“Fine. Dad was a dick, but when isn’t he?” they asked. They climbed into the back-seat, and then over Rosamunda and Sunsugar into the back of the car. “Moryore, can you go slowly for a bit? I need to change.”

“Yeah, I can cruise,” Moryore said, turning away from his conversation. “I’m not leaving the neighborhood till we’re all buckled in, okay? Use the magic seat-belts if you need it.”

“Heard,” Ven said. There was the plop of a bag on the floor, and then rustling as presumably Ven started getting their actual clothes out. March politely made sure to turn so that she couldn’t even see them out of the corner of her eye. Ven was always a little self-conscious about these things, so even if she didn’t care, she was going to keep their comfort in mind.

“Was he more dick-ish than usual?” Haldir asked.

“Kind of? I don’t know, apparently the skirt I had picked out was ‘too short’. Which if anything, is his fault, he bought it, I wouldn’t fucking wear them without him,” they said. They ended that sentence with a bitter sigh, and March put that down as another point towards just murdering the guy and being done with it. Or at least thinking real hard about it, because fuck that guy for how he treated their friend.

“I think he’s just taking out his shitty mood on you,” Rosamunda said. “He’s always doing that.”

“Probably,” Ven said. “It just sucks cause I don’t even like the skirt and I got yelled at for it, but he would sooner die than let me wear jeans.”

“Because we all know blue jeans are of the devil,” March said, unable to help rolling her eyes. “He’s so uptight. I’m sorry you have to live with him.”

“Thank you,” they said. “But, hey, enough about my shitty father. Are we ready for the party of the year?”

March could tell from their voice that they weren’t exactly thrilled, but maybe they could still have a good time. Perhaps the Seacaster Manor would have a nice quiet section for their more introverted friends. Or a dog. A dog would be nice.

“I sure as hell am!” Sunsugar said, pumping her fist in the air. “We’re going to have a great fucking time!”

“Hell yeah we are!” Raven said, leaning over to high-five her. “I heard he gave invites to literally everyone, freshmen included. It’s going to be crazy.”

“Not too crazy, hopefully. I want to be in one piece when Monday rolls around,” Ven said. There was a final shuffling of clothes, and then they climbed back over the seats. They squirmed for a moment, before settling into the small gap between Rosa and the door. Rosa scooted over a little, leaning into her sister. “Last time we went to a party things got a little out of hand.”

“It did. Speaking of which, ground rules for the party,” Moryore said, leaning over his seat to look at all of them. That prompted an immediate groan from Raven and Sunsugar and a very amused snort from Ven. He rolled his eyes, but pressed onward. “Look, I know this isn’t fun, but I also want everyone to be safe.”

“Fine, dad,” March teased.

“I will turn this car around!” he said, though he was laughing, so March had to assume her joke had landed. “But, seriously: let’s try to stick together, check in on occasion so we know everyone’s alive and well. Don’t drink or eat anything weird- we don’t want a repeat of the last food poisoning incident- and don’t get into any fights.”

“Reasonable requests,” Raven said. “Can we negotiate on that last one?”

“No,” Moryore said. “We’re trying not to end up getting arrested, remember? None of us are going to do well in jail.”

March hummed in agreement. Jail didn’t sound like an especially fun time, and it probably wouldn’t be worth it anyway. “We can behave ourselves. Do you all remember what to do if we do have to deal with cops?” she asked.

“Fight them,” Sunsugar replied, just as Rosamunda added, “Shut up and don’t say a word.”

“One of those is right,” Moryore said, sighing. “Look, guys, let’s just try to stay out of trouble?”

“With us? There’s always going to be trouble,” Haldir said, looking up from their phone. “I put the address on your maps, so we should be good to drive there.”

“Thank you, Haldir,” Moryore said. “And… also, fair. I guess… if we get into trouble, let’s do it as a team, alright?”

“As a team,” March responded. She held her hand out to the center of the car, and after a second, the others joined her. Once their hands were all in the circle, she continued with, “Team on four?”

“Why not Buddies on four?” Ven suggested.

“Fair point. Buddies on four,” March said. “1, 2, 3-”

The group’s hands flew into the air as they all shouted ‘Buddies’ at the top of their lungs. They then quickly devolved back into a cacophony of chatter and excited chanting, and with a fond sigh, Moryore returned to staring straight ahead, starting the car. March leaned back into her seat with an eager grin, more than ready for the very fun night ahead

The drive there wasn’t too long, made shorter by the sheer amount of conversation they had. They’d started talking about classes, and by the time Moryore had pulled into the right neighborhood, they’d been talking about the teachers this year and who might have been dating at some point.

“I’m telling you, there’s something going on with Jace and Porter,” Sunsugar said. “I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it’s something. Is it possible to be in a gay relationship without dating?”

“I think anyone can do whatever they want, forever,” Ven said. “I will say, I don’t think Mr. Stardiamond likes Mr. Cliffbreaker. Every time they pass one another in the halls, he makes a weird face.”

“I think that ‘weird face’ is some kind of weird homoerotic glare,” Sunsugar argued. “And they’re always together. Why would you be constantly around someone you hate?”

“Masochism,” March suggested. She figured that there had to be at least a couple masochists in every group of adventurers. She didn’t know that stats on that, but she had to assume that they were a little more drawn to super dangerous work.

“Exactly! Look, I’m not saying they’re in a romantic relationship or anything, I’m saying there’s something there, and whatever it is it’s weirder than we could possibly imagine,” she said.

“Okay, sure, they’re probably up to something weird. But you know who I think are definitely hooking up? Lucinda and Yolanda,” Raven said. “I totally saw them flirting in the halls the other day.”

“...Is Ms. Yolanda not married?” Ven asked, frowning. They could have sworn he’d seen a wedding ring at some point. “She’s got that ring.”

“I think she wears that because it’s a family heirloom,” Sunsugar said. “She’s never mentioned a partner in class. But she could just be a private person, y’know?”

“I think we should stop speculating about this,” Moryore suggested, the second time he’d done so since the conversation had started. Which, fair. Moryore had always been the more subdued one out of all of them. Well, aside from Ven, who was maybe a little stuffy sometimes.

“You’re just worried someone’s gonna bring up Halo,” Haldir said.

“I don’t think anyone wants to think of Halo doing anything with anyone,” Sunsugar said. “No offense but the guy is… well, he’s very chivalrous.”

“He talks like a Medieval Times performer,” Raven said. “He’s a cool guy, though. I bet you he was popular back in his hey-day.”

“We are not considering that!” Moryore said. As if to cut the conversation off, he abruptly began to pull into a parking spot. March looked out the window to see that Seacaster Manor was indeed visible in the distance. Damn, they really had made the drive fly by.

“Aw, okay, we’ll drop it,” March said. “...But circling back to Jace and Porter, it is kind of weird that they’re always together, isn’t it? Like, Jace is almost never hanging out with the other spell-casting teachers.”

“Porter does spend a lot of time with the spell-casters in general, though,” Haldir said. “He and Zara seem pretty tight. Which is weird, cause she kinda seems a little too cool for him.”

“I mean, if there was a hot barbarian guy interested in hanging out with me, I’d be all over that,” Sunsugar said. Next to her, Rosamunda sighed, and March chimed in by pretending to gag. Porter was not hot. Porter was the kind of guy who’d t-bone you with his truck and then tell you to watch where you parked. Porter drank protein shakes every day for at least two meals.

“I cannot believe you just said that,” Raven said, pantomiming plugging her ears. “Gross! I don’t want to think about that guy being hot to anyone.”

“Oh, so when I make an innocent observation, it’s wrong, but when March obsesses over a rat-faced motherfucker from a bad horror movie, it’s fine?” Sunsugar said, throwing her hands into the air.

“He was not-” March began, feeling a little flush, though she was swiftly interrupted by the sound of all the door’s on the car unlocking.

“Everyone out! It’s party time!” Moryore said, circling a pointed finger in the air as if to ‘round them all up’. With that, the party scrambled out of the car in a mass of tangled limbs and hair getting caught on one another. March was silently thankful that her hair wasn’t as long as it used to be. Getting it caught on people’s bracelets was a sensation she no longer missed.

Once they were all out on the sidewalk, Moryore locked up the car, and they began to make their way towards Seacaster Manor. It wasn’t too far away- close enough, in fact, that they could see the large crowd forming on the lawn outside.

“Wow, that’s a lot of people,” Rosamunda said. She looked around with something like trepidation in her gaze. “This really has to be every freshman in the school.”

“I guess he wasn’t lying when he said everyone was invited,” Haldir said. “This is going to be a good time.”

“You think there’ll be good wine?” Raven asked.

“Nah. I bet you it’s cheap beer and bad vodka,” March said. No one ever got good alcohol for parties like this, and that kind of wasn’t the point. They were going to drink horrifically bad alcohol, dance the night away, and get up to the kind of wild shenanigans befitting of Aguefort students.

“Well, cheap beer or good wine, I guess the company’s more important,” Raven said. “Speaking of company- let’s get in there!” Saying that, she immediately charged down the street to join the other students on the lawn. March took off after her girlfriend, laughing already. She could feel her heart-rate already increasing, excitement already coursing through her veins.

“Hey! Wait for us!” Ven called, the sentiment echoed by Sunsugar and Haldir. She could hear their footsteps following- the quick, sharp hits of Haldir’s hooves, the shuffle of Ven’s ratty-old sneakers, and the barely-audible, impossibly quick beats of Sunsugar’s feet, ones that seemed to rarely hit the ground.

Soon they were at the edge of the lawn, among the throng of students excitedly mumbling to one another. March slid in close to Raven, hooking her fingers into her belt-loops so as to not lose her. She turned with a quick grin, kissing her on the cheek, and pulling her in closer.

“We’re not gonna be able to see anything from here,” she said. “We need to get in closer.”

“I was going to barrel through the crowd, but figured that Moryore would be upset if I destroyed some poor freshmen,” she said.

“I would indeed,” Moryore said, coming up behind them. “Don’t think we gotta worry about that, though- look, the front of the crowd is moving.”

March looked ahead to see that indeed, the crowd had begun to move. The front of the crowd was trickling off to either side, as if parting for something. On closer inspection, it appeared they were circling something. As the crowd closer to them began to move forward, she joined, looking briefly back to make sure the rest of her party was there. Sure enough, they’d all managed to keep up. Sunsugar had, at some point, climbed up onto Haldir’s shoulders, and Ven appeared to be keeping track of them by holding onto the edge of Moryore’s shirt.

As the front of the lawn came into view, the group immediately began to have verbal reactions to what they were seeing. “What the fuck is Kristen Applebees doing on the roof?” Raven said, eyes widening. She turned to March with her mouth slightly agape. March followed her gaze to see that indeed, Kristen Applebees was sitting on the roof, next to… a giant shrimp creature?

“There’s a half-pipe on the roof!” Rosamunda said, with a gasping quality to her voice somewhere in the ballpark of pure awe. “That’s the ancient half-pipe of Dwarven Kind! What the fuck?!”

“What the fuck indeed,” Sunsugar echoed. “I can’t believe they let them do that. Like, I’m telling you, if we did anything even remotely similar with something sacred to our culture, I think granny would crawl up from the grave and kill us both where we stood.”

“Grandma’s not dead,” Rosamunda replied.

“She might as well be,” Sunsugar shot back. Rosamunda rolled her eyes, but didn’t reply. March shook her head. She knew very well that this was just normal for them. She’d met their grandma. She was kind of intimidating.

Next to her, she watched someone gasp and point at the pool. She followed the gesture, squinting to try to figure out what she was looking at. Fortunately, someone else beat her to it.

“Holy shit! The pool is filled with tartar sauce!” Haldir said, tail shooting straight into the air. “What the fuck?!” The rest of the crowd seemed to have similar expressions, some people exploding into excited noise and others slack-jawed and in awe.

“That’s… that’s so expensive,” Moryore said, physically shaking from contained laughter. “That’s such a waste of money.” He clutched at his chest for a moment, taking a very deep breath. He seemed so overwhelmed with joy about the whole thing, and it was very cute. She was so gonna tell his mom about this later.

“It’s such a waste of money and I love it,” March said. She was a little sad she wouldn’t be able to swim (the idea of warm tartar sauce on her skin was disgusting) but she’d enjoy the gimmick. And the stories she’d have by the end of the night were already promising to be wild.

“Is the shrimp playing Crazy Train?” Haldir asked. March listened, and indeed she could hear Crazy Train beginning to blare over the shrimp’s speakers. That couldn’t be a shrimp then. Was it… holy shit, they’d dressed Seacaster’s sick-ass motorcycle as a giant shrimp. What the hell?

“Holy shit! Shrimp-cycle!” Sunsugar shouted, practically exploding with excitement. “Guys, we have to get photos with the shrimp-cycle.”

“We have to,” Rosamunda agreed. She had pulled out her phone at some point, and appeared to be filming the whole thing with a gleam in her eyes. They were definitely going to wake up tomorrow with a whole bunch of edited gifs in their group-chat.

“She’s doing magic,” Ven pointed out. March looked back, and sure enough, she was doing rapid somatic components, and then all of a sudden there was a huge booming sound, and the pool erupted into a ball of fire.

“Fireball!” shouted several students around the crowd, alongside several bards (who had clearly committed the cardinal sin of bringing your guitar to someone else’s party) hit the riff from that one Pitbullesong. Immediately, Fabian Seacaster appeared at the entrance to his home and began speaking, his voice booming over the crowd.

He said something about the presidency, and announcing a new president. Then, he shouted ‘KRISTEN APPLEBEES’ at the top of his lungs, and suddenly Kristen Applebees mounted the Shrimp-Cycle and took off. Literally taking off- in fact, she was even glowing somehow. Or, well… shining? Kind of like she was covered in… oil? No, not oil. Butter?! That wasn’t even the weirdest thing happening, though.

“She’s jumping? She’s jumping!” March called out. There were cries of pure excitement going up around the crowd. People were absolutely losing their mind, March included. Behind her she could hear the wild laughter of her friends, Ven especially, as Kristen Applebees, who March swore could not walk and chew gum at the same time, stood up on the shrimp-cycle and fucking kick-flipped it.

“This is the best day of my fucking life,” Sunsugar shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. “This fucking rules!”

“Holy shit she’s doing- That’s two more fireballs!” Raven shouted, immediately beginning to whoop and holler. People were pumping their firsts in the air, shaking each other, high-fiving. March scanned the crowd and saw students she didn’t even think liked parties losing their mind. This was genuinely a wild moment, something so purely Aguefort she didn’t even have the proper words to describe it. Someone next to her was actively weeping. There were goth kids leaning against each other under the string-light-clad topiaries, people huddled together clutching friends hands, one kid on his knees full-on vomiting from pure, overwhelming excitement.

“This is gonna be a great year,” Moryore said, almost too quietly to be heard but no less true. March nodded. This was going to be a great year. She could feel it in her bones; everyone was going to be just fine.

Then the bike hit the tartar sauce. Seconds later, Kristen Applebees emerged covered in tartar sauce (on fire) and threw her arms out in a wide greeting. The crowd exploded further- more kids flew off the ramp attached to the manor’s roof, some even sailing into neighboring yards. The spell had broken, and the year’s wildest party kicked off in earnest.

The giant crowd of students began to make their way into the house. The doors had been flung wide-open, music was blaring at a truly absurd volume, and the kegs were being opened at a rate previously thought impossible. This was going to be a wild fucking time.

“I think people are getting fucking buttered up there!” Sunsugar said, wide-eyed. “...I want to go slide down the ramp covered in butter.”

“Let me come with!” Rosamunda said. Punctuating that statement, another kid went flying off the roof, landing in a splash in the tartar-sauce filled pool. Okay, that was equally as gross as it was fucking sick as hell.

The twins, clasping hands, ran off to go join the people rocketing off the roof, Sunsugar whooping and hollering and Rosamunda quietly pleased. March laughed, shaking her head. Ah, that was just like them. Hopefully they didn’t break any bones this time.

The rest of the party briefly circled together, looking amongst one another, waiting for someone to say something about their next moves. Sometimes they all stuck together for events like this, but with Sunsugar and Rosamunda already gone, that seemed like it was out the window.

Moryore was the first to say something, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I’m gonna see who’s running the music,” he said. “I have requests to make.”

“We should probably be worried about that,” Haldir teased. “Last time you had them play a Dad Rock song. I’ve never seen a party stop so fast.”

Moryore frowned a little, but didn’t seem to outwardly complain about the teasing. Ven frowned as well, in that overly exaggerated way where they weren’t really upset, but they wanted them to see they were a little offended. “I like Dad Rock,” they said.

“You’re unique in that,” March said, putting a hand on their shoulder. “Look, Dad Rock is fine. It’s not really party music, though. It’s like, road trip music. It makes people all nostalgic for their childhoods. Being reminded of your parents when you’re up to things they wouldn’t approve of can be a little… eh?”

Ven shrugged. “Fair,” they said. “I don’t really see that- but then again, my dad doesn’t do rock music. He’s like… he thinks rock and roll is of the devil. He’s old school like that.” They made a face afterward, clearly lamenting their lame-ass Dad. It sucked that such a cool guy was trapped living with the lamest man in the universe.

There was a moment where they all seemed to silently appreciate this fact, and then Raven broke the quiet by beginning to speak. “March and I are gonna go dance,” she said, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

“Well, you heard the lady,” March joked, putting her own arm around her waist. “I’m being spirited away. You three have fun, alright? Don’t get murdered or kidnapped.”

“This isn’t a Hudol party,” Haldir said, rolling their eyes. Immediately afterwards, however, they winced. “You know what? Still too soon.”

“Way too soon,” Raven agreed. “I like Ostentatia.”

“Ostentatia is sick as hell,” March agreed. She’d been a little baby freshmen, and Ostentatia had been starting in the same year as her. She’d been a sick-ass Forge Cleric, with all this cool jewelry, and she’d seemed so cool and proud and confident. Who wouldn’t come to admire someone like that? She’d been distressed to hear she’d gone missing, though she hadn’t had the skills or the bravery to go off on an adventure like that. She was just glad the Bad Kids had saved the day.

(Briefly, she’d remembered the surge of jealousy that she’d felt after all of it was over. That feeling in the deepness of her chest that it could have been her, should have been her. She’d mastered it eventually, reminded herself that she could have stepped in to save the day, and she hadn’t. She had seen that giant dragon, and she’d fled like a coward. She hadn’t gotten that glory because she hadn’t earned it yet. Someday, though. Someday.)

“I hope she’s doing well on her quest,” she continued, before squeezing Raven’s side. “Now, let’s get onto that dance floor!”

Raven nodded in response, leading her off into the distance. She gave the group a quick wave, and then kept following.

Moving through the crowd with Raven was an experience, to say the least. Her girlfriend’s steps were light and quick, her characteristic near-gliding pace hard to keep up with. She didn’t feel like she was in danger of falling behind, though. Raven held her hand with such a sure grip that she knew she wouldn’t dare let go, and she looked back to check often to make sure she was still there. Those little glances, searching, always ending in a flash of relief and warmth when she was sure March was still right behind her, were worth more than all the jewels in the world twice over.

They got to what was clearly the impromptu dance-floor, some living room and/or sitting room situation, the lights low and the furniture pushed to the sides. Clumps of students, mostly shy freshmen and chatty upperclassmen, were glued to the sides of the room, and the throng of bodies in the center moved to the music in a strange blend of erratic dancing, with few people seeming to actually know what they were doing. It was the sort of strange hypnotic shuffle that March liked best about partying.

As soon as they were ensconced in the crowd, Raven whipped around, pulling March closer. They shuffled into something like dancing, though it mostly involved spinning in circles and swaying to the rhythm, staying close enough to one another to speak without having to shout. (And not making out, as much as March might want to, because March couldn’t move safely and kiss her girlfriend and if they got injured on the dance floor again, Haldir would never let them live it down.)

They danced through a couple songs, not really speaking all too much, just enjoying the energy of the room. The music choices were pretty good. The DJ for this event must have had experience catering to Aguefort’s usual demographic of wild, adventurous teenagers. March even had fun cycling through some hair colors to match the mood. She normally didn’t bother, since concentrating on stuff like that in the moment seemed like a waste of energy, but parties were so electric it was hard not to give into the impulse.

Raven for her part seemed to be constantly scanning the room, darting between different areas of focus, tuning in and out of the music. She would come back to March every time, like she was her home base. It was electrifying in a special way, to know she was what Raven would always return to. Time after time after time again, she’d come back to her. Wasn’t that what love was about? Maybe it was. March sure thought it was.

After a longer song (something with so much bass that March could still feel it pounding in her chest) Raven spun her in a short circle and then pulled them towards the edge of the dance-floor.

“You wanna go grab something to drink?” she asked. “I’m feeling a little parched after all that dancing.”

March considered it for a moment. Then, with a shrug, she said,”Why not? You think they’ll have like, soda?”

“Hopefully. I’m sure we can raid their fridge.” Raven nodded, and then led her gently off the dance-floor. Once they were out of the crowd, she linked their arms together and scanned the edge of the room. “Think the drinks were… that way,” she said, pointing towards a door. A group of freshmen weaved around them, yelling at the top of their lungs, and she winced a bit. At least they were having fun.

“I think I just heard the words Bad Baby Milk,” Raven said, looking back towards the group of very drunk freshmen. “What the fuck is Bad Baby Milk?”

“Let’s go find out,” March said, tugging her girlfriend forward. Raven followed, still mumbling about Bad Baby Milk. The pair made their way into the next room, and then the room after that, until finally they found the room the drinks were being kept in. Well, the drinks not in kegs on the lawn, that is. This room was populated mostly by upperclassmen, drunk Juniors and a few sophomores who might have been attending ‘baby’s first party’, if March had to guess by the way they held their cups so, so guiltily.

She looked over to see that there were several jugs of milk out on the counter, and directly next to that was a very large bottle of vodka. “Ah,” March said, suddenly and horrifically coming to the conclusion that she knew exactly what Bad Baby Milk was. What the fuck did the Bad Kids get up to that this was their party drink of choice? The idea made her want to gag. “Do you just want vodka?”

“Y’know what? I’ll try some Bad Baby Milk,” Raven said, reaching for a plastic cup.

“If you drink that, you’re not kissing me again till you brush your teeth,” March warned her.

“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll go get a travel toothbrush from Moryore,” she promised. (There was a fondness that rose in her when she thought of her best friend, who was so endlessly responsible he carried travel dental supplies with him.) She poured a copious amount of vodka into a cup, and then finished it off with a splash of milk. She took a sip of it and then made a horrible face. “Okay… weird. Honestly, kind of tasty.”

“That’s awful. You have terrible taste,” she said. She then turned away, determined to find something in this goddamn kitchen to drink other than milk and vodka. God, being sober at a party sucked sometimes. At least she hadn’t made the ‘Jungle Juice is actual juice’ mistake since Freshman year.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t find anything in the kitchen, except a huge fridge filled with milk and a bag of lettuce, and the pantries were filled with baking supplies instead of anything she could actually drink. Resigning herself, she grabbed a cup and filled it with just milk. Because why not? She didn't want to get dehydrated, after all.

Raven put her back around March, knocking their cups together. “You wanna wander?” she asked.

“Girl, I’m always down to wander,” March replied, taking a sip of her milk. She was just thankful the stuff wasn’t spoiled. Unlike Moryore, she was not immune to disease. Raven seemed pleased with her reply, and the two began to make their way out of the kitchen and through the house.

They walked around for a bit, listening to the music blasting over the speakers and the chatter of the crowds around them. There was a distant crashing- and March offered up a brief condolence to Fabian’s poor windows- and some loud shouting from the other room, but not much else out of the ordinary for a party.

It wasn’t until she caught sight of a familiar (and infuriating) blot of brown hair in the center of a side-room that she brought them to a stop. Through a small crowd of students playing some sort of card game on the floor, she could see Ivy Embra playing beer pong, flanked by a couple other students. She recognized one of them from her searching through the yearbooks- Oisin something-or-other, a dragonborn Wizard, and Skrank, the aaracrocka from the AV club. And there was also… Adaine Abernant? (Wait, no, was it O’Shaugnessy now? She was pretty sure she was Jawbone’s kid. Which, good for her. He seemed like he’d be a good father.)

“What the fuck is the Elven Oracle doing with her?” March hissed under her breath.

“No idea, babe,” Raven said with a shrug. “Maybe they’re friends.”

“The Ratgrinders would never be friends with the Bad Kids, they hate the Bad Kids,” she argued. She watched as Ivy held a tiny ping-pong ball in her hand, tossing it up and down and up and down as she listened to whatever conversation Oisin and Adaine were having. It was infuriating. Her head was about to explode just looking at it

“I could go join them, see if I can learn anything important,” Raven offered.

“Do it,” March responded immediately, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek. “I’ll owe you one.”

“For you? Anything, free of charge,” Raven said, returning her kiss and then slinking off into the distance. March watched her go for a moment, before slinking back to go wait for her somewhere where she wasn’t in line of sight.

Stealth was imperative, after all, for reconnaissance missions.

Chapter Text

Raven wasn’t normally the girl you’d send in for diplomatic missions.

Her mother might be a very powerful ruler and charismatic beyond belief, and Raven liked to think she had a little bit of that magic herself, but she was better suited to skulking and back-alley deals, in her mind. Still, she could make friends when she needed to. And when it came to parties, a little liquid courage (milky though it may be) and a fun beer game could be a powerful opener.

She approached the group with as casual a gait as possible. She triangulated the ideal spot answer, and prepared herself for a potentially very insightful conversation. Or a dumb one- who was to say?

“Room for one more?” she asked, sliding in between Skrank and Ivy. She folded her arms, leaning against the table, trying to keep it causal.

“Uh, I guess?” Ivy said, looking at her with a bored expression, chewing on gum. Was she always chewing on gum? From everything she could remember, it really did seem like it.

“Raven, right?” Oisin said, turning his gaze onto her. He really was strangely buff for a wizard, arms barely contained in his polo. (Fucking wizards. The only other people who’d wear a formal polo to a party were clerics.) “You’re in the Warlock class, aren’t you?”

Raven blinked; she wouldn’t have expected that he would know her. She wasn’t the most memorable gal in school by any means. Maybe he’d been considering Warlock at some point, or maybe they had a mutual friend. One of her classmates, perhaps? He didn’t seem like the type, but maybe he was in some arcana society. “That’d be me. Oisin, right?” she asked.

“Yes. It seems you already know Ivy,” he said, turning to his party member. “Friend of yours?”

“We’ve met,” she replied. She looked towards the table, frowning at the glasses of milk (and vodka, presumably). She didn’t say anything more, though Raven wasn’t sure if that was just her personality or if the girl hated her for some reason. Maybe it was both!

In front of them, Adaine carefully raised a hand a little, not all the way in the air, more like she was trying to push her way through the crowd. “I’m Adaine,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Raven said. “I’m sure you know you don’t need an introduction. Elven Oracle, huh?”

“Yep! That’s me- well, actually, I’m just the Oracle. I’m not just for the Elves, you know?” Adaine said, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Not doing much Oracling right now, though.”

“No Divination party tricks up your sleeve?” Oisin asked.

“Not tonight!” Adaine said. She looked around the room for a moment, as if expecting someone to emerge from the crowd. Maybe she was just nervous. She didn’t seem like the kind of person to be a big party enjoyer. “Ah, uh, Raven! We were talking about component requirements for class- what’s that like, for a Warlock?”

“Not really,” she said, shrugging. “I mean, my Warlock Focus covers most component costs, and it’s not like we’re doing anything as high-level as you all are. I have two level 5 spell slots. I’m not really out here trying to cast anything complex.”

“I’m almost jealous. It’s a pain keeping track of it all, isn’t it Adaine?” Oisin said. “You have to carry truly so much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adaine said, rubbing her arms some more. “Yeah, so, like- did you have to get a whole bunch of diamonds too?”

“I did, actually,” Oisin said. “Especially since I’m a Conjurer. A lot more practical magic going into that- not that there’s anything wrong with divination, obviously. Especially not the divination of the Elven Oracle.”

“Hah!” Adaine said, looking away briefly. Raven felt her eyebrows raise all the way to the top of her forehead. Was this…? She looked at Oisin again, trying to read his expression. It seemed like he was, perhaps, a tad more interested in Adaine then in a purely academic way. Ah. Well, that was good for her, probably. He seemed like a nice enough guy. “How are you managing all that?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t have that kind of stuff lying around, but my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother’s still alive and living in the mountains with a whole lot of treasure,” Oisin said. “There are some perks to the whole ‘ancient draconic bloodline’ thing. So I don’t have to really worry about purchasing them myself thankfully- she’s usually able to send a couple barrels out when I need them.”

Raven forced herself not to roll her eyes. Talk about bragging. At least he was being somewhat subtle about it.

“Oh really? That’s so cool,” Adaine said, though her voice was a little high and strained. “Are you close? Like, is she fun?”

“I don’t really know her all that well,” he explained. “She has like, thousands of descendants so it’s like, we aren’t too close, but I can get in contact with her if I need something.”

“Cool, cool,” Adaine said.

“Are you having trouble sourcing diamonds for your class?” Oisin asked, though Adaine quickly cut him off.

“No, no, I’m fine! You know, I just wanted to see if it was just my class or if everyone was kind of doing the same stuff,” she said. “Did you get all the eggs?”

“Yeah. Way more eggs than you’d expect,” Oisin said. “I got all that stuff when I got the syllabus list. I figured you’d probably have done the same. You’ve got old family from Fallinel, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I have a lot of really old, old family from Fallinel, so…” Adaine trailed off. She looked very pained as she spoke. Probably she wasn’t on good terms with them, which made sense. From what little she knew, and from what her mother had told her, Adaine’s parents were very much disgraced in Fallinel. They’d both fucked up real bad and gotten themselves in hot water with the Court of Stars. Raven didn’t say anything, however, because she thought Adaine was cool and didn’t want to upset them.

“Rich family from Falinel’s pretty damn lucky,” Ivy said. “I’m sure all the diamonds and weird egg are no big deal for you, right?”

“Yeah, duh,” Adaine said, doing her best it seemed not to wince. “My family’s really rich, so it’s… it’s fine?” As if to avoid speaking more, she took a deep drink of her cup. Immediately, she then made a face about the milk.

“Nasty stuff, huh?” Raven said, biting back a grin.

“It’s so bad. Nicer when it’s cold,” Adaine said. “Oh, here-” She raised her hand up, mumbling something, and her cup was suddenly hit with a very nice ‘Ray of Frost’ spell. Now there were chunks of ice in her Bad Baby Milk.

“Thanks,” Raven said, taking a sip. “Oh, you’re that’s so much better when it’s cold.”

“Right?” Oisin said. “Actually, can I ask a question of you?”

“Go for it,” Raven replied. She looked back briefly through the crowd to see if she could see March floating around somewhere. She couldn’t, unfortunately, so instead, she turned back to her new companions.

“Can you, like, drink? Normal stuff, I mean,” Oisin said. He paused for a moment, tapping his claws against his cup. “I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just not really familiar with Dhamphirs.”

Raven tried not to sigh. She got it, you know? People didn’t know much about Dhampirs. It wasn’t like they were very common. Still, it could be irritating sometimes. “Yeah. I have to eat and drink like anyone else, actually, I just have… additional dietary requirements.”

“Blood?” Ivy interjected.

“Plasma,” she corrected. “My body doesn’t make enough, well, any really, so I get it from outside sources.”

“Fascinating,” Oisin said. “Sorry, I’m sure you get that all of the time.”

“It’s fine,” she said. Then, for a moment, she considered whether she ought to just get out of the conversation. She wasn’t sure she was going to get anything useful from this, and the allure of being back with her girlfriend was very appealing. And then, blessedly, Sprank chimed in again with some nonsense, and she was briefly permitted the chance to recollect herself.

She chugged her drink, ignoring the awful vodka-burn and focusing on the promise of not having to be sober for a bit. She didn’t drink often-- it took a lot for her to get really drunk, and she didn’t often like the sensation-- but she’d rather be a little buzzed if she was going to be around all these people. Lots of them would have questions, and she could only answer them nicely when she wasn’t too pissed off.

(You’d think in a diverse place like Elmvile she wouldn’t stand out, but Dhamphirs were apparently so interesting. It felt a little gross sometimes, but she did like talking about her mother, so it evened out.)

As she was wiping the milk from her lips, their group was broken up as Adaine suddenly rushed away. Like, full on sprinted. She raised her eyebrows as Adaine escaped into the crowd, and Oisin called after her, “If you ever want to study-”

Unfortunately, Adaine was already too far gone to hear that. Raven pondered that interaction for a moment, hiding a grin behind her cup. She’d almost forgotten how nerve-wracking interacting with attractive strangers could be. It wasn’t like she’d been paying anyone any attention since she and March had started dating. Noticing this kind of energy, she decided that she was rather happy for them. The first rush of potential when it came to ‘maybe-sort-of’ blossoming relationships was a real high. One that she firmly believed everyone (who desired it) should get to chase every once in a while. As for this specific pairing?

She was rooting for them, actually; of all the Bad Kids, Adaine seemed like the type to very rarely engage with romance. (Everyone knew Gorgug was the most eligible bachelor on campus, and his relationship with that Zelda girl had been adorable, though now she was off kicking ass with the Seven and single, if her Instagram bio was anything to go off of. And anyone who didn’t know that Fig (of Fig and the Cig Figs fame) was dating Arthur Aguefort’s badass wizard daughter had not gotten the well-typed threat in their mail.)

And Oisin seemed nice enough. Sure, he was friends with Ivy, and they were mortal enemies now, but Oisin had been very polite so far, and he did seem interested in Adaine. And didn’t The Elven Oracle deserve to have a little fun now and again? Raven sure thought so, whatever the pompous pricks in Fallinel might think.

She watched as Oisin watched Adaine disappear into the crowd. Clearly others were watching as well, as Ivy grimaced. “Oisin, come on, you’re up,” she said, elbowing him.

“Yeah! Enough chatting,” Skrank crowed. “At this rate all the drinks on the table are going to get warm.”

Raven snorted. Did anyone want to drink good beer when they were playing beer pong? The point was to get drunk, wasn’t it? “I’m sure someone can Ray of Frost the cups if you’re that put off by warm beer, Skrank,” she said.

Skrank rolled his eyes. “Dude, if you’re going to be a jerk, go play something else,” he said.

Raven raised a hand in the air. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t help myself,” she said. “I was just a little impressed by Adaine’s careful wizardry, I guess.”

“She is very good at what she does,” Oisin said. He picked up a ping pong ball, stepped back, and made a throw. It bounced off the table, way far from literally any of the cups, and rolled away.

“Gods, Oisin, you cannot be that drunk,” Ivy crowed, nudging him again. “Get on your game, man.”

Raven bit back a hideous giggle. Someone was definitely operating under a little bit of puppy-love. She wanted to press and see if she couldn’t get something more juicy to bring back to the party, but she didn’t really think she could do so without throwing a wrench in all their potential plans.

As she contemplated this, she clocked Fabian Seacaster approaching through their group, and that was when she decided it was best to beat it and find March again.

It had been at least twenty minutes since Raven and March had disappeared into the crowd. Ven had just taken to following Haldir and enjoying the music. It was good music. Clearly Fabian had given someone with taste the aux cord. They were content to just bob their head along to the music while Haldir flitted from group to group. For someone so quiet, you wouldn’t expect them to be so social, but Haldir had lots of friends. They were the type to slot themselves into any group with ease. Maybe it was how they seemed to just know things about people, what they liked to do, what their interests were, what jokes would land and what wouldn’t. It was pretty impressive.

Mostly this meant listening as Haldir traded gossip about who was breaking up, who had pissed of who, what quests people were on and what classes were struggling with particular teachers or assignments. That information Ven paid special attention to, discovering that the Barbarian kids were already off to a rocky start. Mr. Cliffbreaker sure did love playing favorites, it seemed.

(Then again, if Fig Faeth was interested in Sorcery, Ven would probably find it hard not to be a little overly enthusiastic themselves. Come on! It was Fig Faeth.)

They’d just gotten done talking to a couple of Haldir’s buddies, two students from some Gen Ed class they’d taken who’d caught them up to speed on the ever-complicating drama between two polycules that were warring literally Shakespeare ‘Romeo and Juliet’ style, and Ven was starting to feel a little bit worn out. (The polycule drama was fascinating. More power to them, honestly. Ven thought it was probably nice to just have a bunch of people you could hang out and do things with all the time. They didn’t understand the inter-polycule war, but it seemed like it might just be good-natured roughhousing. Maybe.)

As they were pondering this, someone clipped into Haldir (this appeared to be becoming a pattern), and the half-Minotaur had to steady themselves so as not to trip. Ven looked to see that it was a familiar face. Max Durden, one of the Warlock’s in Raven’s class. (Though he’d skipped the last one, according to Raven- something about ‘protest graffiti’ if they remembered correctly). He wasn’t really one of their friends- at least, he and Ven had never talked, but he seemed pretty cool. He wasn’t the kind of punk that went to Dead Bath and Beyond and bought over-priced chain wallets, but the kind that patched his clothes and bought second hand more often than not. Which made him even cooler.

“Yo, Haldir, sorry my sibling in darkness, I didn’t see you there,” Max said, raising his solo cup into the air. He seemed completely unfazed by having almost taken Haldir out. Maybe he was just perpetually chill when he wasn’t raging against the machine, but it was more likely he was just high. Ven had been around enough high punks to know what people looked like under the influence.

“I told you, Raven was fucking with you when she said to call me that. And be careful, dude,” Haldir said, flicking the guy’s shoulder with their tail. “One of these days, you’re going to get trampled.”

“I hear ya, man,” Max said, waving them off. “Actually- you busy? A couple of buddies of mine and I are gonna go smoke in the basement, if you want in.”

“I don’t smoke cigarettes,” Haldir replied. They wrinkled their nose, ears flicking in annoyance. “And I’m definitely not smoking your weird flavored shit either.” Ven wrinkled their nose in agreement. Those pens people smoked were all so weird. Definitely not something they’d want to do themselves.

“It’s not tobacco, man. I got gorgenfern,” Max said, whispering the last bit. “It’s the good kind too. Come on, Haldir, I know you smoke.” At that, Ven’s eyes widened. They hadn’t actually known that Haldir did that kind of thing. Maybe they should have guessed so; the rogues all prided themselves in committing lots of crimes, some harmless and some... arguably horrible, but fine in context. Ven looked over to Haldir, who did seem to consider it for a moment.

“I can’t smoke gorgenfern right now, man, that’ll stay in my system for way too long,” Haldir huffed. “I have to be able to get back into my house tonight, and I can’t turn off the alarm box high. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Okay, cool. I get it, I get it. You’ve gotta be responsible. Let me know if you change your mind, though, we have enough to share,” Max said. “And hey, let Raven know I’ll return her books on Monday.”

“I will,” Haldir said. “I’m not vouching for you again if you stained them, though.”

Max seemed to barely even acknowledge the warning, just gliding past it with a quick nod of his head. “Cool, cool. Hey, what about you- Ven right? You smoke?” he asked, his eyes sliding over to Ven.

Ven froze over, not having expected to be addressed directly. Shit. They tried not to squirm, focusing on the lights above them instead of on the people watching them expectantly. “No thank you,” they said. “I don’t smoke, and anyway, I need some fresh air.”

“Understandable, man, I get it,” Max said. “You should avoid the front lawn, there’s like, some kinda fire out there.”

“Thanks,” Ven said, clapping Haldir on the shoulder. “See you later?”

“Of course,” they responded as Ven weaved around them. “I’m going to go watch people wrestle… The Crab King?”

“The Crab what now?” they asked. “You know what, never mind, I don’t want to know.” With a short nod, they disappeared into the crowded room around them, eager to find an exit as quickly as possible.

Ven wandered past the crowded lawns, dodging the clumps of party-goers, drunken revellers, and slightly-on-fire lawns, to the side of the manor where it was darker and quieter. As soon as their body hit the shadows, they felt themselves relaxing. Something about a nice, dark, quiet patch of grass outside amongst the stars at night was a panacea for anxiety.

They loved music and concerts, loved disappearing into a crowd, but tonight they felt just a little on edge. They kind of felt like something was changing tonight, like they’d all disappeared into a chrysalis and were going to emerge from it at any second now. Whether they’d be a butterfly, a moth, or a horrendous mutated monster was yet to be seen.

They rounded another beautifully decorated column, perking up when they saw a familiar face sitting on a weird, kind of out of place bench. Rosamunda was interacting with one of her… Quoky pets (?), head bowed as she stared intently at the screen. Her braids were loose from the pony-tail she’d put them up in, and there was a faint sheen on her arms, face, and her legs, probably from the butter.

“Rosa!” they called, speeding up, hopping over the roots of a large, well-manicured tree to join her on the bench. Their friend looked up, her eyes not shining in the starlight but visible enough to be obviously studying them. Ven sank back into the bench, hiding in the dappled shadows.

“You doing okay? Just need to escape the party?” she asked. She put the device she was holding into her pocket to put a hand on their shoulder. Ven smiled back at her.

“Of course, Rosa. I’m fine,” they promised. “Just too busy in there for me, at least right now. I needed a break…. Also I kind of ran from an awkward social situation again.”

“Oh no,” Rosamunda said, in a tone that would sound apathetic to anyone who didn’t know her. “What happened? Another guy try to hit on you?”

“I wish,” Ven said, snorting. People didn’t really hit on them like that. Maybe if they weren’t so pale and scrawny, and if their face wasn’t so perpetually gaunt and kind of death-like. When it did happen, it was never great. Usually it was kind of creepy. “No, Max Durden asked if I wanted to go smoke with him and his friends and the idea made me so nervous I needed to leave immediately.”

“I’ve been there. I’m sure Max didn’t judge you for saying no,” Rosamunda said. “The only people who actually judge people for that kind of shit are assholes anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” they said, looking up briefly into the night sky. The stars weren’t too visible tonight. Maybe because of all the smoke from the fireballs earlier in the night. The moon was visible, though. He had to wonder if Gallacea was watching. Not over them, maybe, just… in general. Did Sol and Gallacea trade places? How close were the two of them? Did they trade duties? Advice? What was the relationship between the two of them like?

While they considered this, Rosamunda hummed next to them, going back to her Quoky pet, though she did continue to talk. “Sunsugar’s leading ‘drunk Shakespeare’ out on the lawn,” she said. “Apparently she and a couple of her friends are retelling Hamlet, but as improv? I don’t know, I’ve never been a theater gal myself.”

“Weird. Cool, but weird,” they said. “She hasn’t drank too much, right?”

“No, she’s being careful,” she said. “Drunk Shakespeare only works if people are at least a little bit sober. But, anyway, it looks like they’re all having fun, and that’s what matters. I thought of joining for a minute, but then I saw my Munchapet needed to be fed so I decided to go find someplace quiet.”

“Understandable,” they said. “How’s Munchapet doing?”

“She’s doing wonderfully,” Rosamunda said. “I’m still trying to get a copy of her Quoky Pet: Gauntlets, but it’s hard cause Munchapets aren’t common enough to drop easily, but nobody ever sells them on the market cause they’re too common to be profitable, right?”

“Sounds like a difficult grind,” they agreed. It wasn’t really their thing, but it was nice to see her happy about something. As she went on about her Munchapet’s recent growths, they focused on the lights and sounds of the party around them, humming at the right moments to assure her that they were still listening.

Eventually, their eyes caught movement approaching them. They sat up, a little hopeful it was another member of their party. Not that they didn’t enjoy Rosamunda’s company, but they all always got along better when there were at least three of them. They rounded one another out, in a weird way.

That was not who sailed past them, however. Instead, the person who sailed past them was a Frost Genasi, their hair up in a braided bun, white and letting off soft trails of ice in the air behind them. They were wearing jeans that had clearly seen a lot of time in the great outdoors, and a big sweater, too big for what was clearly a very small frame. Their face was hauntingly familiar- maybe it was just the eyes, that even from the side seemed kind but sad. Extraordinarily sad.

Despite everything about them suggesting they might be the type to enjoy a stroll, the figure instead rocketed past on a skateboard. There was no sidewalk or even stone steps on this part of the manor’s grounds, so they were fully skating in the grass, which was so odd Ven almost cried out to them to stop. They just barely forced themselves to remain quiet, looking to Rosamunda instead, who had stopped talking and was also eyeing the figure intently.

The stranger skated into the hedge-maze, though they paused at the entrance, looking back as if to catch someone’s eye. Then they disappeared, with a quick nod to that unseen person.

Ven sat in silence for a minute, trying to wrap their head around what they had just seen. Then, very quietly, they asked, “Who was that? And why did they skateboard into the hedge-maze?”

“I don’t know,” Rosamunda said, shrugging. “Seacaster’s gonna be pissed if someone destroys his mother’s hedge-maze, though.”

“His fault for holding a party with this much alcohol,” they replied. Drunk teens damaging property was really just the cost of business, so to speak.

Something about what they had said caused Rosamunda to look at them again. Her eyes seemed to scan them with the swiftness of a skilled researcher, and her gaze softened. “Is everything alright? You’ve been on edge lately,” she said. “Home okay? Well, any worse than usual, I guess?”

“I don’t know,” Ven sighed. Rosamunda was oddly perceptive at times, and she always seemed to know how to pick apart their defenses. Maybe it was a fighter thing. Whatever the case, it meant she picked up on problems even they weren’t aware of yet. Maybe Ven was snippier than usual today, or had a melancholy gaze, or she just had a feeling about it. It was better not to challenge it. “...My dad’s always a dick. It’s not any worse than usual. I guess… I haven’t been sleeping well?”

“Not sleeping well?” Rosamunda echoed.

“There’s… I dunno, dreams, I guess? It’s… I’ve never been much of a dreamer, but lately I’ve been having a lot. There’s always… there’s me, I guess? They look like me, anyway, except weird,” they said.

“Weird?” Rosamunda echoed.

“I mean, their hair is longer and it’s white and they look- they look way more elven than I do, or, I guess they look more like a High-Elf than I do. And they keep trying to talk to me, but I never hear it. Or when I do, it’s not… it doesn’t feel right. It’s like someone else is using their mouth?” they said.

“What’re they saying?” Rosamunda asked, clearly pressing for something Ven didn’t know they could give her. Probably she’d ask them later if they were comfortable with her asking her mom to interpret. Which’d be… fine. Mrs. Brown was a nice enough lady.

“Just… I guess, some of it’s like ‘embrace the truth of the dark’ and ‘in silence there is peace’ and stuff like that. Which is like, super sacrilegious so normally I’d write it off as my brain trying to come up with the antithesis of Sol’s whole deal. But sometimes… it’s just angry. Angry at everything and anything,” they said. “It’s kind of… I guess it reminds me a bit of the righteous anger my father always talks about, but it’s… it’s scary, but there’s something there I think. Something familiar. If that makes sense?”

“Weird. Weird indeed,” Rosamunda said. “I’m probably going to see if one of my moms can tell you more about it. If that’s okay with you?”

Ven nodded. “That’s okay with me, just… as long as it’s not awkward,” they said. Rosamunda nodded, clearly still mulling over the dream they had described. Ven let her lose herself, their own attention still stuck on the figure they’d seen. Something about her face was just… too haunting to let it go. Who was that? Why was she so familiar? Where had they seen her?

They strained their mind for a minute, flipping through the memories of the past two years, classes they went to in a haze, lunch periods spent on the outskirts. Finally, they hit upon a particular memory- standing in gym shorts and one of Haldir’s old t-shirts right outside the locker room, trying not to cry. They’d just vomited all over themselves- some jerk had Ray of Sickness’d them on their way back from Sorcerer class- and their stomach had still hurt, and they were going to have to go home like that, and they’d felt so bad.

Then someone had tapped on their shoulder gently, and they’d turned, and that had been the face they’d seen. Her name sprung to mind as soon as the memory solidified- Lucy Frostblade. She’d been one of the cleric students, and had asked to walk them to the nurse or the counselor, as they’d looked ‘a little pale’. Ven remembered she’d been such a strangely calming presence: sad but in that comforting way, like someone who knew you were down in the dumps and was willing to sit there with you.

They hadn’t seen her since. So what was she doing here?

Before they could ponder that for very long, their thoughts were interrupted, as a voice rang through the quiet of the night, calling, “Oh, look who it is! Hi Ven!” Ven turned to see that it was Marquisha, with Zervius right behind her. She looked… well, she looked pretty damn good, if they were being honest. Her hair was down, and there was glitter all over her arms and her face, sparkling blue in a way that was hard to look away from. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, essentially, but somehow they looked almost elegant on her. The t-shirt had what was probably an album cover on it, though not one they recognized. And she was wearing truly dozens of bracelets in maybe every color of the rainbow, though mostly black. Behind her, Zervius looked… fine. Not bad. Well, okay, maybe Ven was lying to themselves a little. He actually did look really, really good, wearing a plain black tank-top and oddly tight jeans. Who knew that the guy was so ripped? He didn’t look like he should be ripped. Gods, was it warm outside all of a sudden? Well, it was always warm in August.

“Marquisha, Zervius,” they called back, waving to them. “Nice to see you two.”

(Well, less nice to see Zervius than Marquisha, but they didn’t want to be rude.)

“You too! Isn’t this party great?” she asked. “Have you had some of that Bad Baby Milk they’re serving?”

“I tried some,” Ven said. Not much- they didn’t trust themselves to get drunk with their Wild Magic-- but they didn’t think half a solo-cup would be too dangerous. “It’s weird, right?”

“It’s weird, but like, the milk makes the vodka feel a little less strong, right?” Marquisha asked, though it seemed more rhetorical than anything else. “It’s like a really shitty White Russian.”

“Do you think they were trying to make a White Russian?” Ven asked.

“No, I think the guys making drinks just didn’t know what to use as a mixer for vodka,” Marquisha said. “…I think a little coffee in this would be good. What do you think, Zervius?”

“I think it’s better than the Gold Schlagger or whatever the hell that beer was,” he said. “...How do both of you know what a White Russian is?”

“My mom likes them,” Marquisha answered. Ven just shrugged in response. They didn’t want to answer ‘the guy who tells me where concerts are going to be and also tried to sell me dragon-spice a couple times likes a White Russian and frequently talks to me while drunk’. One, because they weren’t’ a snitch, and two, because they didn’t want to explain that they got their concert information from a nineteen-year old who lived in a shitty apartment with six guys he was in a punk-rock cover band with and who exclusively dressed and drank like an old man. “She usually makes it with better stuff than this. I think the vodka is, like, that kind-of-bad brand… what is it called, ‘Three Tomatoes’?”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t great,” Zervius said. “You know, I’m kinda shocked you’re here at all, Ven. Thought parties wouldn’t be your scene.”

Ven looked around, feeling suddenly a little out-of-sorts as they were being analyzed, and said, “I um, I actually- I don’t hate them. I mostly just like the music, though. I’m not a big drinker.”

“That’s fair,” Marquisha said. “Do you go to a lot of these?”

“No, not really,” they said. “Do you two?”

Zervius shrugged and replied with, “We went to a lot last year. Marquisha’s usually with her party though.”

“And you’re not?” Ven replied, before they could stop themselves. They winced, feeling immediately like they’d just put their foot in their mouth. They didn’t want to be rude. Zervius hated him enough as it was.

“I’m gonna go find my sister,” Rosamunda said, standing up from her seat. She clapped Ven on the shoulder and then beat a quick path through the grass and away from them. Apparently it really had been such an awkward thing to say that even Rosamunda, who was usually so unshakable, seemed eager to run away. Ven wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

Luckily, Marquisha seemed eager to jump to the rescue. “Zervius’s party aren’t really friends outside of their adventures,” she said.

“My party sucks,” Zervius added. He said it like it was no big deal, but Ven did feel a little sorry for him. They couldn’t imagine not having their party to rely on. Their friends were maybe the most important part of their life. If they didn’t have them… they didn’t know what they’d be doing right now, but it wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Well, at least you have someone to hang out with for this one!” Ven said, before quickly trying to figure out how to change the subject. “So, uh… what do you guys think of this party? Living up to the hype?”

“Oh, for sure,” Marquisha said. “Can you believe that shrimp jump?”

Ven nodded, saying, “That was pretty sick.” They couldn’t believe that Kristen had pulled it off, if they were being honest. If they’d tried that, they’d have broken every bone in their body. Or drowned in tartar sauce, which would have been a horrible way to go.

“I do think the butter on the ramp was a little much,” Zervius said. “I mean, Ragh Barkrock went into the neighbor’s yard. It simply cannot be safe.”

“It looked fun! Not fun enough to get butter all over my skin,” Marquisha said. “The idea makes my skin feels like it’s gonna crawl right off.”

“It does sound gross,” Ven said. “...Did Ragh get back alright?”

“Yeah, he’s doing the Crab King thing right now,” Marquisha said. “I’m a little sad he graduated. The LGBTQIA+ Alliance isn’t the same without him running it. Torek’s cool, but she’s a sophomore, so she’s not that cool, y’know?”

“Oh. I didn’t know you guys were in that,” Ven said. Privately, on a very quiet internal level, Ven was very happy to know Marquisha was maybe the right kind of queer where they could maybe have a shot. Not that they’d ever get their hopes up that far. She was so far out of their league the idea she’d be attracted to them was silly.

“We’ve been attending since it got started,” Marquisha said. “Well, I have. Zervius didn’t start coming till the last few months of Sophomore year. He had problems to work out. You know how it goes. Internalized biphobia’s a bitch.”

“It’s a real pain in the ass,” Zervius agreed. Ven didn’t openly react to that, though internally they could admit that they wouldn’t have expected Zervius to be bisexual. That was probably part of the problem, though, wasn’t it? Anyone could be bisexual. Zervius was no less likely to be bi than anyone else they’d ever met. Were they overthinking things? They were probably overthinking things.

“You ever thought about coming to a meeting?” Marquisha asked. “I’m sure everyone would be glad to have you there.”

Ven shrugged. They had thought about it, but it had seemed… Well, like one more thing on their plate. Eventually, they went with, “If I could make the time for it, I would totally come to a meeting sometime.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of homework, so no pressure,” Zervius said. Marquisha elbowed him in the side, and he winced. “That wasn’t even meant to be mean.”

“You have to stop picking on them,” Marquisha said. “They didn’t choose to have Wild Magic anymore than you woke up and decided to be a Draconic Sorcerer.” She turned to Ven and gave them an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay,” Ven said.

Marquisha frowned, shaking her head. She said, “You don’t have to say that. Zervius has been really mean to you for like, no reason for the past two years. You’re allowed to be upset about that.”

“...What she said,” Zervius said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m- I’m working on it, alright? I’m just kind of an asshole to everyone. It’s my thing.”

“It really shouldn’t be,” Marquisha said.

“No, I mean, I really understand it,” Ven interjected. “Being a sorcerer is hard enough, and I get why my constant Wild Magic explosions during class would be annoying. And, I’ve been mean too, so we’re kind of even, y’know?” Maybe that was faulty logic, but for as mean as Zervius could be sometimes, he was never wrong in his assessments of them. He just didn’t sugarcoat things. And Ven had said some pretty horrible things back, even if they weren’t always worse than whatever Zervius had said.

“You give him to much credit,” Marquisha said, shaking her head. “But you’ve always been nicer than most people, so I guess we should have expected that.”

“I wouldn’t say nicer than most people,” Ven said. “I’m just… my family’s big on politeness.”

Marquisha nodded, her eyes softening slightly. Ven wasn’t sure how much she knew, but everyone probably guessed they were a Church of Sol kid, especially if they’d know them back in freshmen year. They hadn’t had the courage to stop wearing their religious symbols until sophomore year. Next to her, Zervius snorted a little, saying, “I wouldn’t call your father polite.”

“Have you two met?” Ven asked before they’d thought better of it. Damn it, Ven, of course they haven’t met. It was just rumors. Adventurers loved to talk, and it wasn’t like other members of the Church of Sol didn’t gossip even if they pretended to be above it all. “No, wait, you don’t have to answer that.”

Zervius held up a hand as if to steady them, and said, “No, I get what you meant. I- I’ve heard a few things. He’s not exactly popular even amongst his own congregation, and we have- he’s a druid, but his grandparents are active members. He’s got a bit of a reputation.”

“My Dad’s an asshole,” Ven agreed. Zervius’s eyebrows rose even further into his hairline; Marquisha snorted and covered her mouth. They paused, wondering what exactly was so funny about that. They didn’t seem to get an answer, however, as Marquisha regained control of herself and pushed forward through the conversation.

“Yeah, your father definitely sucks. But hey, we can’t always pick our family,” Marquisha said. “You can pick your adventuring party though. Yours has always seemed very nice. I’m kind of surprised you all aren’t together right now.”

“Sunsugar’s doing Drunken Hamlet, and March and Raven are off doing… couple stuff? I’m not sure where Moryore even went,” Ven said. That was something they’d discussed when they were planning the night- they’d have ways to keep in touch so they could leave together, and obviously they could hang out if that was what they wanted, but parties like this one were prime time to hang out with people outside their little friend group. And Ven didn’t mind being left to their own devices. They liked a little bit of freedom. And on a night like this, sometimes being alone in a crowd could be nice.

Now that Marquisha (and Zervius, they supposed) were here though… maybe they could hang out with them for a bit.

“Drunken Hamlet? I should keep an eye on the Bards of Aguefort page,” Zervius mumbled, hand going to the pocket where, presumably, his phone was in. Ven just barely stopped themselves from commenting on that. He really wouldn’t have expected Zervius to follow any school social media, let alone the bard one. Maybe he was a little bit of an artist himself.

“Well, we were going to go back and do some more dancing if you want to come with us,” Marquisha said. “No pressure if you just want to hang out back here, though!”

Ven barely considered it for a moment before they said, “Sure, why not? I’m warning you, though, I’m not a great dancer.”

“Me neither,” Marquisha said. “But who cares? Let’s just go have fun!” She held out her hand for Ven to take, and after a moment of waffling, they let her pull them up. Zervius looked between the two of them, and with a small snort Ven couldn’t quite interpret, he turned to walk away.

Marquisha tugged them along to follow, and Ven went happily. They had a warm feeling in their chest, and despite the looming strangeness of their dreams and some of the night’s events, they were looking forward to the rest of this party.

March was getting a little impatient waiting for her girlfriend.

She’d taken a seat on the railings of the stairs, overlooking a crowd of rowdy students playing some sort of drinking game in the entrance hall. There were a couple of Hudol students running it, yelling something about ‘remembering to phrase answers in the form of questions’ and ‘not drinking all the alcohol before your turn even started’. She was pretty sure they were doing a quiz game, which seemed stupid for a party, but everyone was having a good time, so who cared?

Certainly not March. She was busy looking for her girlfriend in the crowd. You’d think it’d be easy, but Raven was shockingly normal looking for Aguefort. You couldn’t throw a rock at Aguefort without running into a tall, hot goth who may or may not be a vampire. March could see at four in the crowd at a glance, none of which had her girlfriend’s signature gait or the right clothing.

She opened her phone just to give herself something to do, noting that their group-chat had been busy. Moryore had sent about sixteen messages about the music choice, and a blurry photo of him in the corner with a few of the paladin kids. Sunsugar had responded with her own photo of a bunch of drunk theater kids covered in glitter on the lawn. She was pretty sure someone was doing the ‘Alas Poor Yorick’ monologue in the background, if only because she recognized the pose they were in.

The most recent messages, however, were the most interesting.

┌

Moryore: Anyone here know a Buddy Dawn?

Ven: Buddy Dawn? Dawn as in, like, Bobby Dawn? Famous televangelist Buddy Dawn?

Haldir:?

Ven: Sol thing. Anyway Moryore why

Moryore: He just came by and talked for like ten minutes about how he’s not used to parties like this but he’s tooootally accepting even if we’re all lost souls straying from the light of Sol.

Moryore: Then he asked us how well we know Kristen Applebees

Ven: Yeah he would be interested in Applebees

Ven: That’s just how they all talk, it’s probably fine.

┘

March hummed thoughtfully at that. It seemed someone was getting interested in the Bad Kids. And a Ratgrinder no less. (A new one, new enough that he had yet to feature on Ivy or Kipperlilly’s Fantasy Instagram, but a Ratgrinder he was.) It was probably just some Church of Sol bullshit, but just in case it wasn’t, she needed to make sure she had it in her back-pocket.

As she considered that, her eyes finally caught Raven approaching her through the crowd. She hopped off the railing and took the stairs down two at a time to meet her. She could pinpoint the exact moment that she was spotted in return, the figure in the crowd perking up and moving faster.

Soon they were reunited, and Raven quickly pulled March in for a kiss. Both because they were always so excited to see one another again after any kind of separation, but also because, evidently, the close proximity made discrete conversation easier. Once they parted, Raven whispered, “I have some very juicy information for you.”

“You are the best,” March said. She squeezed her shoulder, and then began to tug her away from the crowd. “I need to hear everything.”

“And you will, I promise,” Raven said. “You want to go sit down somewhere, or are you in the mood for more dancing?”

March considered it for a moment. Dancing might be a little fun, but she was starting to get tired. And being somewhere quieter would help prevent her getting a headache later. She really didn’t feel like dealing with that, especially if she wanted to get a little sleep. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said, wrapping her arm around her girlfriend’s side.

Raven nodded, leading her upstairs. The second floor of Fabian’s house was much quieter, since most of the party-goers were outside or roaming the halls of the lower floors. They walked around for a moment, not speaking, just listening to see if anyone was around. They didn’t want another party listening in to them gossiping, after all. March didn’t want people knowing they were interested in Ivy and the other Ratgrinders. Sure, they didn’t technically have any nefarious intentions, but she didn’t want people to know she had a grudge like that. Knowing someone especially disliked another adventurer made it easy to manipulate them, or easier than it might normally be. And March had no intention of seeming easy to manipulate.

Once they found a quiet corner, they sat down in as close to a pile as possible without being actually on top of one another. Then, Raven filled her in on her interaction, with her characteristic over-dramatic descriptions. (March kind of doubted that a wizard would miss every shot playing beer pong. Aiming spell attacks was like, half of their skill-sets. If his aim was that bad, the Ratgrinders must really suck.) Still, some things did stand out as interesting to March.

“Oisin’s great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother is a real ass dragon?” she asked, whispering so as not to let her voice carry.

“Yeah. Apparently she’s loaded too. I wanted to ask more but didn’t want to come off thirsty for knowledge, y’know?” Raven said. “I think he was trying to give Adaine some gems or something? Which, I know flirting is hard, but that’s wild. For a girl you aren’t even dating yet? Like, man you have to be a little more subtle than that.”

March leaned back against the wall, staring at the wooden ceiling of Seacaster Manor. There was something in that interaction that was making her feel strange. What was it? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe she should do some more research when she was back home. “...I don’t think wizards do subtlety. It’s all big explosions and fancy spells there. Don’t you think it’s weird he was offering it in the first place? Like, even if he does have a crush on her, that’s a lot,” March said. “And Ivy’s attitude was also weird. If she knew her friend liked her, why would she act so… mean?”

“Well, we’ve already established Ivy’s a dick,” Raven said. March snorted at that, quickly covering her mouth to stay quiet. “I don’t know. It’s hard to get a read on either of them. Maybe we need to go for an easier Ratgrinder.”

“Maybe,” March said, humming for a moment as she thought back to the very basic research she’d done. She’d found Ivy Embra’s social media, which was private save for a single post she’d been tagged in of her and her adventuring party. She hadn’t quite gotten to ‘fake account to follow Ivy from and stalk all her social media’ level obsessed yet, so that had been good enough. “I don’t think we’d have an in with Buddy Dawn. If only because I wouldn’t want to inflict him on Ven.”

“Oh yeah, no, he’s out. No offense to him but I’ve never done well with Church of Sol types. They get all ‘don’t you want to cure your vampirism’ on me, and I hate explaining that I was not even turned and that I’m a dhamphir, not a vampire. It’s annoying,” Raven grumbled. March squeezed her hand sympathetically. There was so much bullshit out there, and March was always sad to hear how people talked about a part of her girlfriend’s life she loved. “There’s… what, Ruben?”

“Ruben might be a good one,” March said. “He’s kind of untouchable, though, isn’t he? The whole pop-star thing makes it hard.”

Raven groaned. “Ugh. You’re so right. Not him, then,” she said. “Who else was in their party?”

“From the photo I got? Well, Buddy wasn’t in that one, but there was… Mary-Anne, that kobold girl from the barbarian class? The one with the strawberry plushie,” March said. She’d seen her around school, come to think of it. She was the only Ratgrinder March ever saw in the hallways. She seemed nice enough. Quiet, though, and March had a feeling she might be a little much for her. “...And then there’s Kipperlilly.”

“Haldir would fucking kill us,” Raven said.

March nodded. “Haldir would be so pissed,” she agreed. That hate ran deep. Fundamental differences in adventuring philosophy really could breed powerful hatreds. No wonder Aguefort was so careful about who he hired. (Well… okay, he had known Goldenhoard was evil, so like, March gave him a pass there.)

They went quiet again, March playing with the bracelets on Raven’s wrists as they both retreated into their own minds. They weren’t the sort of couple that needed to talk constantly when they were together. March was glad for that; sometimes having someone else around was enough. It gave her the comfort of company, but the space to get up to no good. Or to plan to get up to no good, anyway.

She’d take the rest of the party to enjoy herself. Tomorrow, she was going back on the hunt for information. Something was off about the Ratgrinders, and she was going to figure out what that was.

Chapter Text

The drive home went by much faster than Ven had expected, though perhaps that was just because they were tired. They wanted to go to their room and sleep desperately, only just barely staying awake in their seat. Their friends were in similar states of exhaustion, and so they were mostly quiet. Ven spent the ride home reviewing the night’s events with a sort of sleepy sweetness they had rarely felt since they were very, very young.

(Dancing with Marquisha and Zervius had been so much fun. Their energy was exciting to play off of, and though they hadn’t talked much, Ven did feel like they’d gotten to know them better. Twister had especially been fun, and they’d gotten pretty silly with it. At some point someone had decided Twister was a team sport? Whatever the case, they’d spent most of the game crab-walking across the board or with their face mashed into the floor, and they hadn’t even minded it.)

They dropped off Sunsugar and Rosamunda first, the latter half-carrying her sister to the door while she mumbled about Hamlet. Ven sent Rosamunda a text as they drove off, promising to call her the next day and help her with a paper she was writing for her Gen Ed class.

Then they drove to Ven’s neighborhood, stopping a few houses down, just in case their father was home. If he was, they’d just sneak in through the window to avoid having to talk to him. They’d taken the alarms off their room ages ago; their father wasn’t the best with technology, and he hadn’t noticed them disabling it because they’d just unscrewed some plugs from the wiring in their room.

“Have a good night,” Raven said, squeezing them on the shoulder as they wiggled past her and out onto the street. “I hope your dad doesn’t give you any trouble.”

“Thank you,” Ven said, pulling their bag around their shoulder. They looked back at the rest of their party- Haldir was leaned up against the window, headphones in, half-asleep, and March was fully drooling on the seat. Clearly the night had come to an easy end.

“Be safe,” Moryore echoed. “Tell Ryo hi for me in the morning.”

“Will do,” Ven said, nodding, before taking off down the street. They watched out of the corner of their eye as the van pulled off, and then they made for their house.

When they got into their backyard, they noted that there was only one light on in the house- the one in the attic. Which was odd. Maybe their father was up late, drinking in the attic and looking through some of his grandfather’s old things? It wouldn’t be the first time. They felt a little pang of annoyance and worry at the idea. A drunk, nostalgic version of his father could either be a nightmare or a rare moment of peace in the house.

Well, only one way to find out.

Ven shimmied up the side of the house- first onto the fence, and then up the drainpipe and onto their windowsill. They slid in to their room, using the key in their bag to unlock the window and dropping in through the smallest gap possible. Opening it too wide for too long would make their room cold, and it always took forever to warm up.

Once they were in their room, they stowed their bag under their desk and quickly changed into pajamas so that if their father came into the room, they would look as if they’d just woken up. They ruffled their hair with their hands, wincing as they came away slightly shiny. Fucking glitter.

In the dim light of their room, they went through all the steps they usually took to make it look like they’d been asleep for a few hours, complete with undoing their made bed and covering the smell of sweat and alcohol with a little bit of perfume (lavender, from the old woman who taught them their scriptures all throughout junior high and still sent birthday gifts to this day). As soon as they determined they were ‘presentable’, they poked their head slowly out of their room. The hallway was empty, but not dark; there were small nightlights dotted about, especially on the halls around their room. Their father was very strict about never letting the house fall into total darkness, at least around the rooms where Ven and Ryo slept. Why? If only Ven knew.

They crept through the house, passing by the stairs down to the main floor. They paused only to note that there was a broken vase just visible in the downstairs hallway. Well, that didn’t bode well for their father’s mood. He must not have had an easy night with whoever had come to visit him. Hopefully it wasn’t anyone from their church. He was always in a horrid mood when he was in trouble with the congregation, and they just knew they’d be the one to pay for it.

They made their way past the stairs, winding through the halls in the direction of the attic. When they arrived, they came to a dead stop, looking up at the entrance. The ladder was still down, and the opening had been flung wide open, which struck them as strange. Their father always pulled it up after him, not wanting children underfoot when he was in the throws of his nostalgia for the ‘good old days’. He must be in a real tizzy if he hadn’t bothered to fix that.

They stood at the edge of the ladder, debating whether or not to snoop, when they clocked another strange thing. They heard sniffling from up in the attic. Immediately they felt their stomach drop, muscles tensing as if they were prepared to run, or throw an insanely stupid punch in the face of something they really shouldn’t punch.

Instead of doing either, they pushed forward, scrambling up the ladder with the characteristic speed of someone very used to running from giant monsters. When they finally made their way into the attic, they scanned the room for wherever the sound of the sniffling was coming from. The attic itself was just as they’d remembered it. There was a few stacks of boxes, most of them full of old linens and clothes, and a long row of shelves against the far wall where their father kept his family’s old war memorabilia and his own trophies and awards. Also displayed there were all the items and souvenirs he’d collected during his missionary days, which Ven had gotten many a lecture on in their youth,

Their eyes glided from those to the collection of old furniture and out-of-season decorations stacked up in precarious piles. Somewhere in those piles, Ven knew, were the few boxes and trunks of their mother’s old things left. Much of her old clothes had been donated to the Church years ago, but her jewelry, her books, and the trinkets and items that she’d cared for in life were still there. They’d snuck in a few times to look at them when they were younger, but they hadn’t looked at any of it in years.

Pulling themselves a little further into the attic, their eyes landed on a small shadow peeking from around the corner of an old armoire. They slowly (and as silently as they could manage), crawled up past the lip of the entrance and crept carefully to the armoire. The dust in the air nearly made them sneeze, but they kept it in. Something in the air (aside from the dust) was giving them an uneasy feeling, and though they wanted to flee again, they forced themselves to continue their approach.

As soon as they were close enough to see around the armoire, they caught a familiar pair of dull black shoes poking out of the darkness. “Ryo?” they called, eyebrows knitting together. “Ryo, is that you?”

Immediately, the sniffling figure seemed to jerk to sudden awareness. A thin, pale hand appeared from around the armoire, followed quickly by the tear-stained, slightly sticky face of their younger brother. Ryo looked, in comparison to Ven, much more like their father. His hair was a dirty blonde, typically kept straight and neat, though it was now a complete mess. And his eyes, unlike Ven’s, were a much paler brown, still wide and innocent, the sadness in them like a dagger straight to Ven’s heart. You almost wouldn’t realize they were siblings if it wasn’t for their shared elven features and the clear resemblance they’d had before Ven had hit the unfortunate woes of puberty.

“Cel?” he said, voice wavering. He shuffled out of hiding again, and Ven noted that his pants were covered in dust. How long had he been in here? They felt their throat nearly close up again, but they powered through it. Their brother needed them right now.

Ven knelt back down to the ground, arms out, and Ryo was quick to move in for the hug. Cradling him, Ven rubbed his back and tried not to cry themselves. “You’re supposed to be at a sleepover, buddy,” they said. “What happened?”

“My friend’s mom got sick so I had to come home,” Ryo explained. “She asked me if it was okay for me to go home early and I told her I had a spare key, and I thought Dad was home already so I wouldn’t be alone. I’ve- I’ve been alone at home before but the adults at school get weird when you say that.”

“Did you walk home?” Ven asked, feeling their heart drop. That was a long way for an eight year old to walk all by himself. He could have gotten hurt, and then what would Ven have done?

“Nuh-uh,” Ryo said. “My friend’s mom dropped me off. I know I’m not supposed to walk that far by myself.”

Ven sighed with relief, but it was bittersweet. “I’m sorry, Ryo. I would have come home if you’d called me,” they said, rubbing his back. They felt a little guilty for going out and partying and having a good time while Ryo sat alone at home.

“I didn’t wanna bother you, Cel,” he said, frowning. He paused for a moment, eyes darting around the room, before whispering, “Can I use Ven right now?”

“You can,” they said, smiling to themselves. Explaining the whole gender-thing to Ryo hadn’t been intentional (it turned out Ryo did, in fact, know enough Elvish to understand their phone conversations), but Ryo had taken it in stride. They weren’t sure if it was because Ryo was a very precocious kid, but he hadn’t even questioned the idea of using different names in different situations, and that’d been like pulling teeth with people twice his age. “Tell me what happened, Ryo.”

“I let myself in in the back-door,” Ryo said. “And I was doing homework and then Dad got home, but he was with some friend of his and I didn’t wanna bother him. So I just stayed quiet in the reading room while they talked. I didn’t really get what they were talking about.”

As he spoke, Ryo wormed his way into sitting directly in Ven’s lap, which did mean they had to shift to sit with their legs crossed on the floor, which was definitely not comfortable on the hardwood, but they’d die before they ever complained about that. His sniffling was slowly stopping, at least. “Did you know the friend he brought home?” they asked.

“No,” Ryo said. “He wasn’t from Church, and I didn’t recognize him from school or the neighborhood. I guess he and Dad work together? I dunno.”

Ven nodded. That was fair; they knew their father had mentioned going out to speak with a coworker. Clearly they’d brought that meeting back home. Still, something was bothering them. “Where’s Dad?”

At that question, Ryo went quiet for a moment. He picked at the sleeve of Ven’s night-shirt, unraveling the stupid yellow fabric. (Again, Ven would never buy these clothes themselves. They looked like they had raided someone’s grandmother’s closet.) When he started speaking again at last, it was with a slight tremor to his voice.

“I dunno. He and the friend he brought back with just started fighting. It was really loud and they seemed really angry. And then they broke some stuff and I, I got scared, so I came up here. I thought he wouldn’t come up here after me,” Ryo said. “I wanted to pull the ladder up behind me but it was too heavy.”

“Have you been up here all night?” Ven asked, though they knew the answer. Ryo nodded, burying their head back in Ven’s stomach. Ven returned to rubbing at his back, trying not to react too strongly so as not to scare him. “I’m so sorry, Ryo, that sounds so scary. I should’ve been home.”

“It’s okay,” Ryo mumbled. “I hid really well, and Dad didn’t come up to look for me. I didn’t wanna come down when the shouting stopped cause I thought he was down there still.”

“That’s alright,” Ven said. “And you didn’t hear either of them leave?”

“No… I don’t know where they went,” he said. “...Am I in trouble?” The words came out with a distinct tremor, and Ven barely caught themselves before they could flinch. They recognized the fear in his voice all too well. It hurt, knowing that despite how hard they tried, they couldn’t fully protect him.

“No, you’re not,” Ven said, as gently as they could. “You’re never going to be in trouble with me, alright? Never ever. It’s okay that you don’t know. I’m- Dad probably just went out to blow off some steam.”

Ryo nodded again, though he still seemed upset. Which was entirely reasonable. He was a little kid, he was tired and he’d been stuck in a dusty old attic all night. Which was un-fucking-believable, actually. How the hell had their father not noticed at all? What, he hadn’t seen the lights on in the reading room? He was always so uptight about turning all the big lights off when no one was home.

Powering through their anger, they ruffled Ryo’s hair a little, and slowly moved to stand up. Ryo moved with them, at first not letting go, and then slowly untangling himself to stand beside them. They watched him wipe his face with his sleeves again, and though he looked in bad shape, he was… he’d be alright. Probably.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Ven said, squeezing his hand. “You wash your face and get into your pajamas while I make you dinner, okay? And we can watch a movie on my laptop while you eat.”

Ryo looked a little bit happier at the idea of eating dinner in his pajamas and watching a movie while he ate, two things they normally didn’t get to do. “...Can we watch the fairy movie again?” he asked. “The one where they save the world from eternal winter?”

“We can,” Ven said, silently relieved that he was slowly returning to a calmer state. They’d make him something to eat, and put that on for him, and all would be well. Once he was asleep, they’d probably have to stay up late till their father came home, just to make sure he didn’t drunkenly set off the alarm or something. He was probably out getting wasted after whatever the hell had gone on at that meeting of his.

It’d all be fine. Ven had this under control, and come tomorrow it’d be like none of this had ever happened.

Moryore had forgotten how nice the after-party haze could be.

He hadn’t gotten drunk or high, so he wasn’t experiencing any of the awful come-downs. He was just pleasantly exhausted, and now, lying on the floor of his bedroom, he could bask in the warmth of a night well-spent. After he’d dropped off the majority of his friends safely at their homes, he’d driven to his own place. Haldir was spending the night with him; their parents were out of town for the weekend and they’d decided they didn’t want to be home alone after all. When they’d gotten back, his Dad had been waiting in the living room.

(“Did you have a good time?” he’d asked, looking up from the book he’d been reading. His dad had always been a bit of a night owl; that was part of why he’d become an adventurer to begin with. It gave him something to do (paperwork and research) when the rest of the world was asleep. His father had given him a quick once over, assessing the damage. Moryore had stood up a little straighter. Nothing was more important to him that impressing his father, most days. Not that he wasn’t very liberal with his compliments, but… that strangely made them all feel more special. Like he was really being seen and appreciated for his work. He just had to keep doing everything just as spectacularly as he always did.)

He rolled over onto his side, reaching for his phone half-stashed under the leg of his desk-chair. He was struck with a sudden urge to check the group-chat again, just in case someone had finally sent the photos. He wasn’t sure when Sunsugar would be sober enough to remember, but he needed the photos she took of the shrimp jump. He was putting that in this year’s scrapbook for sure.

(He’d nodded, still a little on edge from the drive home- he hated driving at night. But he had, in that moment, felt genuinely good. Not at ease just yet, but pleasantly buzzed from a long night of partying and a little nostalgic, his mind drifting back to earlier days, to previous parties. He missed this feeling. All his schoolwork and his duties as a paladin and devoted servant of Epiphania kept him busy. His father seemed satisfied with that, and he’d turned to Haldir with a very polite grin. “Nice to see you, kid. You know where the extra toiletries and sleeping stuff are?” he’d asked. Haldir had replied with a quick nod of their own, still shaking the sleep from their eyes. Humming, his father had turned back to his reading, and the pair had disappeared upstairs.)

Securing his phone, he rolled onto his back, unlocking the screen. His background was still a picture of them from over the summer, wearing adventuring equipment over their normal street clothes. He’d kept it because of the stupid smiley suns they’d drawn on their faces with old face-paint, so they were faded and chipping off in places. It’d seemed like such a perfect representation of the world’s shittiest apocalypse at the time. Moryore almost wished everything would be like that forever.

Seeing nothing more in their group-chat had arrived, he turned his attention to the rest of his room. Above him, Haldir laid upside down on his bed, their head hanging towards the floor and their legs up against the walls. Moryore always offered them the bed when they slept over; it was polite, after all, and he really didn’t mind the floor. It reminded him of camping.

(He was a little miffed they hadn’t gotten to camp over the summer because of the Night Yorb situation. It was ‘too dangerous to sleep in the woods with Yorbies running around’ apparently. Like it wasn’t normally dangerous to sleep in the woods anyways?)

Haldir looked him in the eyes once they noticed he’d put his phone down. Their umber hair was sticking up in places, either from the butter they’d all been sprayed with on their way out of the party or from glitter and cheap alcohol. The amount of people who had dropped their drinks from the second story were absurd. They shifted slightly on the bed to stretch their arms, and yawning, said, “I’ve been thinking…”

“About something fun or about school?” he asked.

“School. And, something fun, I think,” they said. “Then again, you know my idea of fun is logic puzzles, so take that for what it’s worth.”

Moryore snorted, playfully kicking the edge of the bed just to watch Haldir briefly pop up unto the air. “You’re talking to the guy who willing spends his free time reading the meeting notes for our city council. Hit me,” he said.

“It’s about Principal Grix,” Haldir explained. “I’ve been considering what he might be up to. Because, like, he’s obviously evil. Right? It’s not just me?”

Moryore considered it for a moment. Principal Grix did seem a little suspicious. But then again, half the people in town seemed like they might be in some dark conspiracy. That was just what adventuring communities felt like. Even the students at Mumple occasionally got up to no good. And yet… something about Principal Grix did legitimately bother him. “He might be evil,” he agreed. “I could always do some looking into it.”

“I knew you’d help me,” Haldir said, shit-eating grin on their face. “If Mr. ‘Dedicated Servant of Epiphania’ didn’t want to help me with an investigation, I’d have to take you to the hospital.”

Moryore chuckled at that. The mention of his goddess drew his eyes naturally to the small altar next to his closet. It was sitting on an old oak nightstand he’d dragged up from the basement, her tiny statue surrounded by bowls of incense and fruit. He needed to set up a pyre tomorrow afternoon to burn the older stuff in before he replaced it. He had to hope he’d remember that, though, because he was too tired to roll over and put it in his planner. He also didn’t want to stand and walk to the calendar hanging over his dresser.

“So, what do you suggest we do first?” he asked.

“I’m thinking we should look into how he was built. If Aguefort built him, he should be more… like Arthur Aguefort, don’t you think? He seems to flat and logical and that’s not the Aguefort we know,” Haldir said.

“Fair. But what’s more Aguefort than doing some shit no one would expect of him?” Moryore countered.

“Look, if we go down that line of thinking, we’ll be sitting here running in circles all day,” Haldir said. “And anyway, I don’t think Aguefort’s that committed to the bit. Like, he’s definitely a funny guy, but he’s more committed to having the school run in his very specific style of absurd bullshit than he is to being funny.”

“...I’ll give you that,” Moryore said. “I bet you we could find the guy’s schematics if we dug into Aguefort’s office. Or, you know what- maybe the artificer classrooms? I bet you the new Artificer teacher’s responsible for Principle Grix’s upkeep while Aguefort is gone.”

“That makes sense. What’s the new teacher’s name again? Hop… Hop something?” Haldir said, frowning. They sat up slightly, propping themselves up on their elbows, though with their head still tilted back to look at Moryore. It would be uncomfortable for anyone else, but Haldir was very flexible. It was all the rogue training; Moryore couldn’t imagine doing the tuck-and-rolling, jumping, squeezing into tight spaces, and frequent insane feats of acrobatics that Haldir did.

“Hopclap,” Moryore said. “I haven’t met the guy, but the artificer kids seem to like him.”

Haldir hummed thoughtfully, clearly categorizing the new information before they said, “Good. Let’s start there, then. And then afterward, we can try to get close to Principal Grix himself. I want to see if I can glean anything arcane about him.”

“I can probably distract him while you do so. He seems like the type to love when students have a lot of nitty gritty questions about school policy. Give me a day and I can make a good list of them,” Moryore said. If there was anything he was good at, it was asking questions.

“I’ll have to take you up on that,” Haldir said. “You think we should give the rest of the party a heads up first?”

“Probably,” Moryore said. Especially if they might be getting themselves into trouble. March would be pissed if they got themselves expelled or murdered without the rest of their party being there to help them. And he could already picture Rosamunda and Sunsugar’s disapproving faces. That was reason enough to listen to his gut.

“Then I’ll make sure to bring it up on Monday. Now, I’m still pretty gross, so I’m gonna use your shower,” Haldir said, scooting back from the wall and pulling themselves upright on his bed. Moryore noted there was a small hoof-print on the wall, but he didn’t say anything. March regularly did much messier things to his room. He was still finding the leaves from last time she spent the night in his laundry.

“Heard. I’ll pick a movie for when you get done?” Moryore suggested. Haldir nodded, brushing hair from their eyes and then leaping from the bed and towards the door of Moryore’s bathroom. Moryore didn’t ask if they needed toiletries or pajamas; he already knew they’d just grab what they needed from Moryore’s things. What was his was also his friends, after all.

Now if only he could use that to get the rest of them to do their homework.

It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and Ven was going to have to call for help.

Their father staying out all night because he was drunk and up to something stupid was not an uncommon experience. Whenever work got tough or life got tough or something pissed him off or he just kind of felt like it, he’d go to whatever bar he hadn’t gotten banned from and drink himself half-dead. Usually he’d stumble home at four in the morning, still pissed, and pass out in his room or on the couch. Sometimes he wouldn’t, and Ven would call around until someone told them ‘oh, he’s at a friend’s place’ or ‘oh, he passed out in the booth and we threw a jacket over him and called it a day’. Sometimes he’d turn up in the mid-morning, looking like death warmed over, and yell at Ven if they asked any questions. Whatever the case may be, their father being out for a while wasn’t uncommon.

So when they’d woken up that morning, late after having slept in, and he still wasn’t home, they were a little worried, sure. But not that worried. They’d just gone through the usual morning routines- they’d woken their brother up, gotten them both cleaned up and dressed for the day, and made breakfast. They’d made three plates, put their father’s in the microwave (he’d get upset if he came home before lunch and food wasn’t waiting for him), and sat around doing homework while they waited for him to get home.

By lunchtime, Ven was slightly more worried. He fed Ryo again, took him into the backyard and watched him run around and play some sort of convoluted game of pretend involving names Ven couldn’t pronounce (Hudol sure did teach them a lot of obscure, weird Elvish history). They waited for their father to get home, chewing on their pencils, barely attending to their homework. Once Ryo was tired out, they went inside. Ven tried to read while Ryo watched a movie on their laptop, but they couldn’t relax at all.

Finally, around three in the afternoon, Ven called his phone. It rang- meaning it wasn’t dead or turned off- but his father didn’t pick up. Not on the first call, not on the second, not on the third, not on the fourth, not even on the fifth. No matter how much they called, he didn’t answer. They sat on the front porch, hoping to see him approaching the house, and left Ryo to keep watching his movie. By four o’clock, Ven was certain something had indeed gone wrong.

All they really knew was that 1) their father had been in a loud, physically violent confrontation the night prior, 2) he had left the house sometime after that confrontation, 3) he had not come home, and now 4) he was not answering his phone. These things together were not promising. They knew they had to call for someone to come help, but they weren’t sure what to do about it. They didn’t want to scare Ryo, and they weren’t sure if calling the police was a good idea. Their father was an adult; what if they just said Ven was overreacting? Or worse, what if they got in trouble with their father afterwards?

Finally, they forced themselves to call someone. Not the police just yet, but a friend who they figured would know what to do. The phone only rang for a moment this time before March picked up. “Ven! Did you just wake up?” she asked, her voice clearly teasing, even over the phone. “I know last night was wild, but it wasn’t that wild.”

“Hi March,” they said, unable to stop their voice from shaking. They were so nervous it was becoming almost a physical illness, and they were pretty sure they were going to vomit.

March paused for a moment, the gears clearly turning in her head. Finally, she asked in a soft voice, “Ven? What’s wrong?”

“Um. I don’t- I guess… March, I think my father might be missing?” they said. “What do I do?”

“What?!” March said. They could hear her sitting up in bed, the creak of her slightly wobbly bed-frame too distinctive to miss. “What do you mean, missing?”

“He, um, he left last night after getting into a huge fight with a coworker of his, and he hasn’t come back. And, and he’s not picking up his phone and it’s been hours and I’ve called like eight times, and I’m trying not to panic but I don’t know what to do,” Ven said, feeling the panic setting in stronger with every word.

“That’s… fuck, that’s really bad,” she said. He heard her stand from the bed, and then the rapid sound of footsteps. “Is his car still there?”

“...I dunno. Let me check,” they said. They stood from their seat, and taking the front steps two at a time, ran around to where their father normally parked his car. Sure enough, it was still there, and appeared to have been untouched for some time, judging by the leaves covering the front of it. “It’s still here. It doesn’t look like he’s used it at all since he came home from work yesterday.”

Ven peered into the back of the car, just in case. They did not spot their father sleeping in the back-seat, nor in the front. They circled the car a few times, feeling anxiety pooling still in their gut. They could hear March over the receiver rummaging through something. “Ven, it’s going to be alright, okay? I’m going to… I’m going to get the gang together, and we’ll come over and help, alright?” she said.

Ven nodded, coming to a stop at the back of the car where they’d started. They worried the edge of their sleeve with their nails, resisting the urge to pick at their skin or start chewing their nails. They wished for a brief moment they had access to something like Scry. That would make the whole situation so much easier. At least they’d have an idea of whether or not he was alive.

“Ven?” March asked. Ven blinked out of their own thoughts, sheepishly realizing she couldn’t have possibly seen them nodding.

“Sorry. Yeah, that’s okay. I’ll see you soon?” they asked.

“Soon,” March promised, before promptly hanging up. Ven stared at their phone screen for a moment, gripping the phone like it was the only thing keeping them from getting swept away by a massive ocean storm. They certainly felt like they were on rolling waves, and the nausea became overwhelming. They ducked into the bushes by their house and heaved for a good minute or two, until their throat was raw and their eyes stung from tears.

Fuck. They were going to have to hope that the vomit was eaten by birds or something, because when their father came back and found it they were in so much trouble.

If he came back at all, that is. Ven was starting to wonder what they would do if he didn’t.

Ven sat there, waiting, for what felt like years. They tried not to pace, tried not to fidget, tried not to chew on their nails or their hair. They needed to stay calm so they didn’t vomit again. They wanted to lie down somewhere, but they were worried if their friends came by and they weren’t there to come let them in, they’d get nervous themselves and maybe do something stupid. Which, with their friend group, was all but inevitable. They were always doing something stupid.

It was a really difficult situation to be in. Ven didn’t have any love for their father, or if it existed, it was so small, and much more like a memory of affection than the reality of it, childhood wonder long forgotten. And they had been dreaming of escaping him for a long time. But… there was a difference between getting out on their own, as an adult who had legal control over themselves and could, in theory, legally care for their brother, and as a seventeen year old that would not be able to do anything legally for another five months. The paperwork for emancipation was a lot more complicated than they had time for, and they had no idea what would happen to Ryo in the interim. Would they let them stay together? Would they send him all the way to Highcourt to live with their distant relatives? Would he even be safe in Highbright? Half-Elves, especially Half Wood Elves, weren’t exactly warmly welcomed there. It wasn’t as bad as if they’d been Halflings or Half-Orcs or some other less ‘acceptable’ race, but it’d still be pretty bad. And Ryo would be so lonely- Ven would have to go with him. What would that do to their education? Their safety? What the fuck was Ven going to do?

They stuffed these thoughts down for a moment when, finally, three cars pulled into the driveway; two he recognized immediately as being March’s car and Moryore’s van, and a third that was slightly dinkier and smaller. The front windshield was cracked, but it was clear enough without the glare to see through, and they spotted March’s father, Byrd, sitting behind the wheel.

March’s car came to a stop first, and out of it sprang March and Raven. The latter was immediately sprinting across the grass towards them. “Ven!” she shouted. “You alright?”

They nodded, trying to swallow the lump in their throat to respond. Before they could, Raven was upon them, wrapping them in a big hug. Ven buried their face into her shoulder and tried not to sob. She squeezed them slightly, mumbling, “It’s okay, Ven. Things are going to be fine, I promise. I’m sure he’s just… passed out somewhere.”

Before long, the entirety of their adventuring party (and March’s father) were surrounding them. “March filled us in, but we didn’t get any details. What exactly is going on?” Moryore asked.

Ven stepped back slightly, and Raven let them go though she stayed close. “My father’s been gone since… probably around seven or eight pm. last night? I’ve called him a whole bunch and he hasn’t picked up the phone even though his phone is ringing,” they answered.

“That’s… not good,” Byrd said, frowning. “I take it that’s not common for him.”

“He’s stayed out late before, but he’s never disappeared like this. And he- he got into a fight with a coworker he invited over last night? I don’t know who- Ryo was the one who told me and he didn’t recognize him,” Ven said.

“That’s not good,” Moryore echoed. “He didn’t leave a note or anything?”

“I wouldn’t be freaking out if he had,” Ven snapped. Immediately a wave of guilt passed over them. Moryore was just trying to help. Luckily, Moryore didn’t seem to be upset. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Haldir chimed in. They were wearing clothes that were clearly some of Moryore’s meaning that they hadn’t been home yet. Ven didn’t blame them. They knew how much getting into an empty house late at night sucked. They’d have asked to stay over with someone if they didn’t have their father to consider. “This is a rough situation to be in.”

“...Thank you,” Ven mumbled. They were still being squeezed to near-death in Raven’s arms, and they all but went slack, letting her keep them standing.

“Have you called the cops yet?” Byrd asked.

“No,” they admitted. “I was hoping he’d just… show up, I guess.” They looked briefly towards the house again, as if those words might cause him to walk out of the door, looking miffed at the commotion on his front lawn. The front door remained closed, however, and Ven’s stomach remained uneasy.

March’s father nodded, slowly, the gears in his head clearly still turning. He put a hand briefly on Ven’s shoulder, and then turned to the group. “Okay. Moryore, call the cops. If you don’t mind, Ven, I want to try and do some magical investigation,” he said. “Anything I should look out for?”

Ven shook his head. “We just have a normal alarm system and that is only triggered if something gets broken or if the windows or door opens at night and the code isn’t entered.”

Byrd nodded, and then quickly bounded off towards the front door. Almost on instinct, the rest of the adventuring party followed, save for Moryore who was busy making a phone call. Ven remained in the rear; Raven had moved to simply holding their hand, and she squeezed it almost rhythmically, like she was keeping time with their heart-beat. A slower version of it, anyway. It was helping.

Soon, Byrd disappeared into their house, and their adventuring party stood in the entryway, huddled together. March kept a hand on their shoulder, like she was worried they might fall over. Ven kept their eyes locked on the ground, like it might disappear if they looked away.

“Would, um… would talking about something other than the situation happening right now be helpful?” Sunsugar asked, her voice clearly strained.

“...I think?” they said.

“Okay! Um… did you see any of the posts I sent in the group-chat?” Sunsugar asked. “Everyone from Aguefort’s been gossiping about the party all night. Especially with Kristen Applebees running for Student Body President.”

“That was… wild, yeah,” Ven said, forcing themselves to engage even if they really just wanted to vanish into the darkest recesses of their mind. They didn’t want to be spaced out when the cops finally arrived.

“It was! And like, she hasn’t said much about her campaign except that she wanted to have… some musician I’ve never heard of for Homecoming next year,” Sunsugar said. “I’m kind of excited for that, though. Last year’s DJ was awful.”

“He sucked so much,” March agreed. “He played the Hokie Pokie like six or seven times. And like, it’s fun the first time… but six times? Six Hokie Pokies?”

“I like the Hokie Pokie,” Ven said. “...Not that much, but it wasn’t the worst thing he couldn’t played.”

“Definitely not, but still,” March said. “...She also said a lot about like, taxes and the local steel mill? Which isn’t something she can actually control, but I do admire the gumption.”

Raven snorted; Ven could feel her shoulders shake from the effort of containing her laugh. “You talk like an old man sometimes,” she said.

“What? No I don’t!” March said.

“Gumption’s an old man word,” Raven replied. They could hear March’s indignant sputtering, and a smile crept onto their face. They were still flooded with anxiety and nausea, but it was… easier to push it to the side if they focused on their joking interactions.

“Well- whatever. Old man word or not, the point is, Kristen Applebee’s campaign’s going to be interesting,” March said. “I did see online though that the other person who’s put her name forth officially is Kipperlilly. She’s already got posters up, though I think there’ll be a more official announcement when the school week starts.”

“Gods damn it all,” Haldir grumbled. “Any chance we know what she’s running on?”

“Nope. She hasn’t officially announced her candidacy yet,” March said. “I’m guessing she wanted to buffer it from the Applebees’ announcement so that she wouldn't get overshadowed.”

“That sounds like her,” Haldir agreed. “Whatever she runs on, I’m not sure she’ll be more popular than one of the Bad Kids. Kinda hard to top saving the world three whole times.”

“Three whole times in two years,” Rosamunda chimed in. “Although, they did cause one of those problems, so… maybe they don’t get points for the Night Yorb.”

Before anyone could say anything else, they were cut off as Moryore shouted, “Don’t say its name!” Ven looked up to see he was climbing the front steps to their house. “We’ve talked about this!”

“The Bad Kids sealed it away! We can say the name as much as we want. Look- Night Yorb, Night Yorb, Night Yorb, Night Yorb!” Rosamunda said, waving her hands in the air. “See? No problem.”

“You’re going to end up on Adventurepedia,” Moryore groaned.

“If I do, I’ll buy you ice-cream,” she promised. “But I don’t think we’re going to summon the Night Yorb. Unless the Bad Kids really fucked that one up somehow.”

“I’m sure they took it seriously and there were no shenanigans whatsoever,” Raven said, though she couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the end of it. “Okay, okay, it’s possible they fucked it up. But I’m personally betting that the real shenanigans are yet to come.”

“Kristen Applebees is running for class president. The shenanigans have already started,” Haldir said. They made a face for a moment, and then shook their head. “I’m still thinking about that shrimp jump. Do you think they’ve taken all the tartar sauce out by now? Or has it just been sitting in his pool all day?”

March gagged, looking away for a moment to cover her mouth. “So gross,” she said.

“I bet he’s going to have a real hell of a time cleaning up after last night. His lawn’s covered in bottles and glitter,” Sunsugar said. That got a laugh out of March, and the group slowly shifted to naming every single thing that had been broken or dirtied during the party. Ven listened along, laughing at some of the more vivid descriptions. (Including all the fire damage to the area around the pool, which they were sure he’d planned for. Since Kristen Applebees was the one who did it, they probably talked about the fireballs beforehand anyway. Probably.)

Eventually, Venn heard the sound of sirens in the distance. And as their attention shifted to that, they felt something grab their legs. They looked down to see Ryo, hugging their leg and looking up warily at their friends. “What’s going on?” he asked. There was a shadow of fear on his face, a nervousness that they were all too familiar with.

Ven leaned down to pick him up. He was getting just a little too big for Ven to hold in their arms, but the back-pain was definitely worth it. “It’ll be alright, Ryo. The cops are coming here for a bit to help us… find Dad?” they said, wincing slightly at their own words. Great play. Ven, that definitely wasn’t even a little worrying to say to a small child. Ryo’s face darkened for a moment. He squeezed Ven, burying his face in their shoulder.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon,” Sunsugar said, sounding a little uncomfortable herself. Next to her, Ven swore Rosamunda muttered ‘might be better if he never did’. Ven’s stomach turned slightly, but… she did have a point. He wasn’t a great dad. Maybe they’d be better off if he didn’t come home; then again, it was possible it’d be much worse. He didn’t know what they were going to do yet, but their friends were here, so perhaps things would shake out.

The sirens came closer, and finally two cops cars pulled up in front of their house. Three cops ended up on their front porch. “Which one you made the call?” one of them asked, a shorter human guy with a big bald head that Ven couldn’t help but mentally compare to an egg.

“That’ll be me,” Moryore said, raising his hand to grab his attention. “Not my house, though. Ven and Ryo are the ones that live here.”

“I’m Ven,” they jumped in. “It’s- uh, I’m not sure what Moryore explained, but I’m the one who’s father’s just gone missing?”

“Alright, kid,” the officer said, turning to look them over. “I’m Officer Dennison, this is Officer Nightwind, and that is Mrs. Crumbeline, the emergency social worker for our area.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mrs. Crumbeline said, nodding briefly at both them and Ryo. She seemed like a nice enough woman, and her soft green eyes and the vines growing where hair would usually grow reminded them of some of the nicer druid kids they’d met. Actually, she looked familiar enough- maybe she had a kid at their school? They’d ask later. “You’re Ven- is that Ryo?”

Ryo looked up from their shoulder, nodding. “That’s me,” he said. “Is- Is my father going to be alright?”

“We’ll do our best with what we know to find him, kid,” Officer Nightwind chimed in. “Mind running us through where your father was last seen?”

Ven nodded, stepping forward to speak with the three strangers now standing on their doorstep. Ryo stayed in their arms as they did so; they went through all the information on their father’s disappearance, his usual habits, his routines, the people he often spoke with, what kind of work he did, truly everything there was to know about their father. Their friends stood behind them, huddled in a circle, whispering amongst themselves.

(Some information elicited very particular reactions; Officer Nightwind made disapproving faces when they spoke of their father’s frequent alcohol-driven late-night-outs, and the social worker seemed increasingly upset at Ven’s descriptions of his general absenteeism. At one point, Officer Nightwind commented on his ‘odd parenting choices’ and Sunsugar broke from the group behind them to loudly call out that she ‘didn’t know the half of it’. They had laughed it off a little, but it was hard not to feel a little sorrowful thinking of just how abnormal their life was and how much they put up with.)

When they’d at last given a thorough description, Officer Dennison put his notepad into his pocket and gave them a sympathetic nod. “Well, kid, we’ll do our best. We’ll have to give your house a once-over, see if we find anything to help, but these things… aren’t always easy,” he said. “It may be he’ll turn up tomorrow or the day after on his own accord.”

“Hopefully he’s just passed out somewhere,” Ven agreed. As much as he hated the man, him being dead would complicate their life too much. And… Ven was on the fence with whether he really deserved to die. He was a bad father, but was that really worth a death sentence? Ven tried not to kill when they fought, for the most part, and their party had always dealt with monsters and zombies and things on that spectrum of evil. Real people were a whole different ballpark, morally speaking, and not one they were super eager to jump into.

Ryo started wiggling in their arms, and Ven knelt to let him down onto the ground. As they did so, they heard their front door squeak open. They turned to see Byrd stepping out of it, eyes sweeping over the group to land on the cops. “Officer Dennison, Officer Nightwind. Nice to see you again,” they said. “Well- I mean, I’d really rather not be seeing you, but you get what I mean.”

“We get it,” Officer Nightwind said. “I take it you’ve already swept the building yourself?”

“Did some magical investigation- it’s odd in there. No sign of any spells being cast in the building itself, but some of that damage wasn’t normal,” they replied. “Looks like force damage, if I’m being honest. We’re probably looking at magical weapons being used.”

“Odd is the right word for that,” Officer Dennison said. “Kid, your father have anything like that just lying around?”

Ven shook their head in response. Officer Dennison made a face of concern at that, turning to have a brief hushed conversation with his partner. The social worker was clearly listening in, and Ven tried to ignore the anxiety building in them, instead focusing intently on their friends.

“There wasn’t any sort of teleportation magic in there?” Raven asked. When Byrd shook his head, she grunted, crossing her arms. “So if he did leave, he left on foot?”

“Unless the guy he was fighting with shoved him into a car or a van,” Haldir suggested. They then paused, looking down at Ryo. “...Maybe we should wait to talk about this.”

Ryo looked up at Ven for a moment, and Ven squeezed his hand. He then turned back to Byrd and asked in a breathtakingly quiet voice, “What’s going to happen if they don’t find him?”

Byrd looked at Ryo for a moment with soft eyes, and moved to stand closer to them. “They’ll keep looking for as long as they can, but if he doesn’t turn up soon, they might have to widen the search. They might even send an adventurer or two out if they think he’s gotten wrapped up in something quest-worthy,” they said.

“And even if they don’t find him right away, he’ll turn up eventually,” Ven promised, though they omitted the small detail of ‘they might just find him dead’. They weren’t trying to scare Ryo, after all.

“...Alright,” Ryo said. “Do we have to stay here by ourselves until they find him?”

Byrd was quick to reply, even quicker than Ven would have expected. “Of course not, kid. You two can stay with me for the time being. In fact, you two can stay as long as you need to. No questions asked,” Byrd said, placing a hand on Ven’s shoulder. “I know you don’t have other family in town, and I would hate to think of you two being alone in this big old house by yourselves.”

March jumped into the conversation with, “Yeah! You can stay with us. It’ll be like a sleep-over.”

Ryo looked briefly at Ven with the eyes of a kid who knew he was being babied and was politely tolerating it. “I guess…” he said, his face not changing. Byrd’s eyes flickered a little, and he gave Ryo a sad little smile before turning to the officers nearby.

“Officer Dennison, Officer Nightwind. Am I alright to let Ryo and Ven stay with me?” he asked. “Is there paperwork I need to fill out?”

The officers turned to look at them briefly, and then began to murmur between themselves. Next to them, Mrs. Crumbeline cleared her throat. “Mr. Nettlebloom, is it?” she asked. When Byrd nodded, she stepped forward, extending her hand. The two shared a firm handshake, and she continued with, “You’re familiar with these two?”

“Yes. Ven and my daughter are very good friends,” Byrd said. “These two don’t have other family nearby, and I know Elmville only has a couple foster families. I’m willing to let them stay with me while we get things sorted out with this investigation, and I’ll fill out whatever needs to get filled out to do it.”

“There’s some paperwork you’ll need to do, and I’ll have to see your home… but since you’re already registered with the Council of Chosen, I’m assuming you’ve had a background check in the last ten years?” she asked.

“Had another one last year, actually. A friend of mine needed to take me into a meeting for something, so I had to redo my clearance,” Byrd said. “Do you need to call someone to confirm?”

“Yes, but that shouldn’t take me too long. Let’s see,” Mrs. Crumbeline paused, and then turned to look over to Ven and Ryo. “Do you two want to stay with Mr. Nettlebloom?”

“I’m alright with that,” Ven said, looking towards their friends. March gave them a small smile and a thumbs-up, which was… comforting, even if they still just wanted all this to be over with already. Ryo nodded in response, still squeezing Ven’s hand.

“Alright. Look, normally this would take a little longer, but it’s late and I don’t know if there’s anyone who could take an emergency placement right now, so… this is probably our best option. I’ll need to get the paperwork from my car and make some calls. Officer Nightwind, Officer Dennison, is there anything the two of you need?” she asked, turning to them.

“Yeah, we’ll just need to grab some of his information. Shouldn’t be too much, we have most of it on file,” Officer Dennison said. “Will you come with us for a minute, Byrd?”

“Of course,” Byrd said. He stepped away with the officers for a moment as the social worker walked off to her car. A few hurried minutes of activity later, and they seemed to have smoothed out most of the paperwork side of things, aside from the mention of a house-visit before Ryo and Ven were officially allowed to stay with them.

Ven waited, surrounded by their friends, still trying to keep Ryo calm and feeling safe. They kept looking towards their home every few minutes, feeling as if they were missing something. There was just something so odd about this whole thing. This wasn’t like their father, and they couldn’t imagine who he would have had such a massive fight with. They could only hope the cops would be able to figure something out.

Finally, Byrd and Mrs. Crumbeline rejoined the small circle of teens. “Everything on our end should be alright. Officer Nightwind and Officer Dennison are going to continue investigating here. Do you two want to be here for that?” she asked. “I don’t think they will allow you to help them, but I you don’t want them to be in the house without someone here, I would understand that.”

Ven thought it over for a moment, and then shook their head. “I’m okay to leave,” they said. It wasn’t like they didn’t trust the cops. They didn’t, but Elmville cops were notoriously incompetent, so even if they did have bad intentions, anything they did would be obviously fucked up.

“Let’s go get dinner,” Sunsugar suggested, causally chiming in to the conversation. “They’re going to sweep through this place for awhile, and just standing around here won’t do anything. Plus, you’ve been outside for ages, Ven. Getting something to eat might do you some good.”

“That… does sound nice,” Ven said. “Is that okay? Do I have to go straight to Mr. Nettlebloom’s house?”

“You’re alright to go get dinner with your friends,” Mrs. Crumbeline said. She seemed to be distracted watching as the two officers entered the house, flashlights on. One of them was speaking into the radio clipped to his vest, and Ven had to assume they were calling more people. Which was a nightmare, but that was a problem for the Ven of tomorrow.

“Ryo, do you want to come with us?” they asked, forcing themselves not to dwell on the horrifying black hole of their father’s disappearance and what might come next.

“...No thank you,” Ryo said, quietly. He was still gripping their hand as tightly as possible. “I, um, I’m tired and I really just want to go to bed.”

“I hear you, bud. Look, how about we pack up some of your things, and I can take you back to my home and get you set up in the guest room,” Byrd said.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Crumbeline said. “I’ll have to drive Ryo over afterward- just so we can do this as by the books as possible, I can’t leave you alone with him until the house is fully approved.”

“I understand. Ven, do you want to bring your things over first and then go to dinner?” Byrd asked.

“Um… can I get them later?” they asked.

“Of course,” Byrd said. “Do you want me to drive back to pick you up once I get Ryo settled in?”

“No, Dad, that’s okay,” March chimed in. “I can drive Ven back after dinner to grab their things and pack up their bags and stuff, and then I can bring them home. We’re not going to be doing much driving other than that- McFinnegan’s is in walking distance and it should still be open. Right?”

“I don’t think McFinnegan’s ever closes,” Moryore said. “Are we doing McFinnegan’s for dinner? I though Raven was banned.”

“That was only for thirty days,” Raven said. “I swear, you try to steal a lobster once and no one ever lets you live it down.”

“...Well, I’m going to help Ryo with his things,” Byrd said, offering a hand to him. Ryo squeezed Ven’s hand one last time and then walked off with Byrd, Mrs. Crumbeline following right behind them. Ven watched them go, feeling one last pang of anxiety, though they quickly forced it down. They had to trust in Byrd to take care of things, and they had to accept that for now, this was all they could do.

Their party gathered themselves and began to walk off through the neighborhood. McFinnegan’s was close enough that it would only take them like fifteen minutes to walk there, but the neighborhood was quiet and the streets were winding, so the walk was definitely going to feel a lot longer.

As they walked, the group spoke loudly about almost nothing in particular. It was like they were all trying not to talk about the elephant in the room, and instead busied themselves talking about the homework they had to get done and the classes they were looking forward to in the next week.

Ven let their mind drift, watching as the sun set in the distance, the sky covered in orange and yellow light. They felt themselves calming down as the light grew dimmer and dimmer, like the sun had been exacerbating their dread, increasing the rise and fall of their anxiety to tempest-like levels. In fact, they had almost fully relaxed when their group came to a sudden stop.

It was Rosamunda who stopped the group, raising her hand to grab their attention. “...Did you guys hear that?” she asked, looking around them with an odd expression. Ven snapped into the moment, their hearing zeroing in on their surroundings. They heard a distant sound like fluttering wings and the shrill caw of what was maybe some sort of eagle.

“Shit. Yeah, I hear that,” Haldir said, turning around. Their tail swished anxiously in the ear as they pulled a dagger from their pocket. The group tensed for a moment, and Ven felt their heart-rate skyrocket again. Then, swooping from out of the tree-line was a flock of birds, which appeared to be some sort of falcons.

“Oh, it’s just birds,” Sunsugar said, sighing with relief.

“Don’t freak out, guys,” Moryore said, reaching out to grab Haldir’s shoulder. The rogue waved him off, eyes still fixed on the birds. Ven followed their gaze, and caught what they were focusing on. Hidden under the oddly dirty and matted feathers of the biggest bird was something that was clearly glowing. Which never boded well when it came to encountering wild animals.

“Those don’t look like normal birds,” March said, reaching for the weapon on her back. “Everyone, back away slowly.”

“Come on, March, it’s fine, they’re probably just hungry!” Sunsugar said, reaching into her pocket for… something. Gum? Candy? It didn’t matter, because either way she was doing the incredibly stupid thing of not listening to the Druid about animals. Her sister, Rosamunda, wisely abandoned her to slowly backpedal towards the rest of the group, as Sunsugar’s hand left her pocket.

As if sensing a moment of weakness, three of the birds swooped down upon Sunsugar with horrible shrieks. She screamed, dodging to roll out of the way, and March began cursing up a storm.

“God fucking damn it! I told you to back away!” March shouted.

“Fucking birds,” Moryore said, pulling his sword. “You sure we can’t just run?” March shook her head, still tracking the birds with her eyes. Ven critically decided that maybe they couldn’t run, but they should for sure not be immediately in the mix. A good Magic Missile from like twenty feet away was their best option.

As they turned around to make a tactical retreat, they were greeted with an unfortunate sight. Emerging from the sewers, a pair of giant crocodiles with the same odd glow to their eyes. They cursed, stepping back to stand back to back with Moryore. “Hey, guys? We might be fucked,” they said.

As if hearing that statement, the universe gifted them with yet another problem. The sounds of yipping and cackling filled the air, and emerging from the bushes of a nearby abandoned lot was a small pack of hyenas, their maws covered in blood and gore. They heard Raven say something utterly obscene in Elvish, followed by a ream of angry swearing.

“Looks like we’re going to have to fight them off,” Rosamunda said, reaching for the sword on her back.

March sighed, loudly, cracking her knuckles. “Looks like it,” she agreed. “Come on, folks. Let’s ruffle some feathers.”

The party groaned, loudly, at the bad pun, and Ven resigned themselves to a horrible fight. Not because they were fighting a whole bunch of rabid animals, but because March was fully going to make bad puns about it the entire time. Such was the life of the adventurer.

Chapter Text

March was absolutely tired of her party members not listening to her when it came to wild animals.

You’d think after two whole years of adventuring they’d have gotten it together by now. But no, whenever there was some strange animal, they just had to approach it. This wasn’t even the first time they’d been attacked by animals like this. She was so going to give Sunsugar a piece of her mind once they got out of this whole thing.

Everyone was scrambling to get their weapons out to defend themselves, but Raven was the fastest by far. Probably because she was a Warlock and she wasn’t exactly using a heavy sword or a bow or anything of the sort. Instead, all she had to do was whip around in place, arms raised, and chant a few muttered words under her breath. A chill settled in the air around her, as miasma pooled at the tips of her fingers and then exploded forward as two brilliant purple darts of magic. One of the blasts full on exploded a hawk, and March felt a small pang of nausea at the sight of all those feathers and the spray of blood like a fine mist. The other hawk ate the damage without falling, but it looked badly beaten, its wings struggling to keep it in the air.

“Gross!” Sunsugar called, frowning deeply. “What’s that stuff it left behind in the air?” She pointed at the spot where the bird had exploded, and March took a closer look. Sure enough, between all the blood and the slowly falling feathers, there was something else. It was a fine powder, as if the force of the blast had pulverized it, and though it was red, it shined far too much to be blood.

“March, any chance that’s something fungal?” Moryore asked, turning to her. She shrugged in response— it wasn’t like she could tell from the distance they were at. She’d need to examine it up close or use some sort of identifying spell.

“Should I be avoiding using spells that’ll explode them just in case?” Raven asked. “I could switch to something more melty?”

“We should be fine, just don’t breathe it in. Which you all already shouldn’t be doing with random stuff in the air anyway, no matter what it is,” she replied, though her words were nearly overshadowed by the sound of terrible screeching echoing from the center of their group. She turned to see Haldir snatching as ghostly feather out of thin air, before they turned to strike at one of the hyenas with one of their daggers. Moryore fell in line right besides them, both putting himself between the group and the hyena and giving Haldir cover to strike unexpectedly.

They slid their dagger directly between the hyenas ribs, and in a smooth motion took it out of commission. They then stepped back, and as the ghostly feather in their hands evaporated, a thick necrotic mist emerged from their hands and struck a second hyena, which made a horrible sound in reply. It wasn’t… right. There was a deep, powerful anger in the sound, and the hyena’s vocalizations were distorted, almost sickly. March knew without having to think too hard about it that something was off with these animals.

And then the dead hyena exploded in a puff of bright red powder, hitting four of them directly in the face. March gagged, the taste of it hitting her tongue; it was far too metallic, and the powder was oddly sharp, with a texture similar to coarse sand. Yep, definitely something wrong with these animals.

Then she felt her vision begin to warp, the world tilting red all around her, the sidewalk beneath her beginning to ripple in her vision. She stumbled back to see that Moryore and Haldir were having similar reactions. Moryore bent over, coughing hard. She reached for him out of concern for a brief moment. And then she felt something burning within her. It hurt, it felt like she’d shoved her hands straight into a hot iron. She was just… so angry all of a sudden. How dare these things hurt her friends? She was just… she didn’t know what she was going to do, she was just so mad and there was so much she needed to take care of, and she couldn’t move, she couldn’t move.

She watched Haldir back-peddle, their body heaving as they coughed things up. Moryore seemed also stuck in place, his face (even through the twisting heat of her vision) clouded with anger. She heard through the blood rushing in her head Sunsugar say something in a very concerned tone. She wanted to pick her up and throw her to safety, she wanted to scream with the full weight of her chest. She just couldn’t, she couldn’t move and it hurt so badly she wanted to cry.

In her distraction, she missed the rapid approach of the giant crocodiles. One of them lunged between her and Haldir, chomping at the rogue who barely managed to dodge out of the way, whacking the offending creature in the face with their tail. As it did so, it slammed into her with its tail. She felt another surge of rage as she fell to the ground, elbows hitting the pavement, the wind knocked from her. She heaved, wheezing, and a puff of red smoke dislodged from her throat. Immediately she felt the rage dissipate, control of her body returning like a warm surge down her legs and arms.

She was still laying on the ground, wheezing, when she heard a more powerful roar. Her eyes landed on Moryore, leg stuck in the mouth of one of the crocodiles. Blood pooled all over his legs, staining the bottom of his jeans. He screamed, gagging, trying to pull his leg loose. He didn’t seem to be paralyzed anymore either, and there was a dark red powder on his shirt like the one she coughed up. This stuff was definitely not good.

“Fuck off!” Ven screamed, as they took a tail-strike straight to the face from the crocodile chomping on Moryore. They stayed upright just barely, though they clutched their now bleeding nose. March was just about to call out and tell them to back up when she felt another tail slam into her. She coughed, feeling ribs snap out of place. Above her she heard Raven scream, and saw that the crocodile who’d just gotten a cheap shot in on her was now biting her girlfriend.

“I swear these things are fucking homophobic,” March grumbled through her exhausted lungs. She heard Ven laugh, though it was muffled by the sound of blood. Moryore made a face, probably because the crocodile was also attacking him, an ostensibly straight guy, but it was funny, so she could make any joke she wanted to.

Distracted by her own bad joke, she barely noticed the approach of the birds until they were all swarming around Rosamunda. She watched as they all swooped in, trying to peck at her. One hit and she watched her friend wince, blood streaming from the small wound on her cheek. She managed to dodge most of them, however, even striking one with her short-sword as they swooped in close. She shook off the birds with an irritated huff.

“It’s a real zoo out here!” Sunsugar shouted with a groan appended to the end. “Are we all doing alright?”

“No!” March called from the ground, waving. The sentiment was echoed by plenty of their group, particularly in Raven screaming and pointing at the wound on her leg again. Sunsugar made a face somewhere between deep sympathy and a little bit of fear. Before she could say anything, however, there was the sound of more birds screeching.

Rosamunda struck one with her short-sword, and it imploded under her blade, that red substance spilling forth again. March watched as she covered her mouth with her sleeve as she turned away, dodging the cloud. Next to her, Sunsugar ducked to avoid the cloud, covering her mouth and nose. Ven, however, was not so lucky-- they took a deep breath of the cloud and immediately began convulsing, anger filling their eyes as they turned to stare at Moryore.

Rosamunda hit another hawk on her return swing, killing it in a single broad hit, damn-near splitting it in half. Another puff of smoke blasted into the air, and as it did so she heard Rosamunda’s bellowing voice give a singular command. “March, get the hell up!”

She felt her body nearly moving on its own. She scrambled to her feet, her body still pulsating with pain. She watched as Rosamunda and Sunsugar both got hit with the red mist, and both promptly froze, locking up. The pair’s eyes clouded, meaning that three of them were now stuck. Wonderful. March was going to actually lose her mind.

Then, because they couldn’t catch a fucking break, the hyenas charged in again, all of them biting and yipping aggressively. They might have been in serious trouble, except that all of them were missing. They missed on Moryore, and he was literally trapped in the grip of a Crocodile.

“These guys kind of suck!” Sunsugar called, apparently having snapped out of her stupor as she shook off the teeth of one of the hyenas.

“They’re hyenas, they’re really not that hard to kill,” Moryore replied. Then he winced again, cursing under his breath as he shook his leg again. “Fucking crocodiles.”

March couldn’t help but echo the idea, though she couldn’t really speak as she was still coughing up blood and weird powder. She was just wiping mucus from her mouth when she heard a reverberation of sound wash over all of them. Her eyes locked on Sunsugar, who was white-knuckling her key-tar, clinging around her torso with its bedazzled shoulder-strap. The notes were familiar, though she didn’t have time to identify the melody.

As the music faded out, a bright pink light passed through the group, hitting many of them. March felt her wounds closing, her lungs clearing out. She watched as the light hit the rest of her party, save for Rosamunda who appeared barely injured in the first place. March gave an appreciative smile to Sunsugar, happy to no longer be on death’s door. Getting resurrected was the worst. She’d have a headache for ages, and her grandmother’s extended family waiting for her on the other side always pinched her cheeks and fussed in the interim.

“Moryore, you got this! Fuck them up!” Sunsugar called, turning to him and sending a small burst of magic at him. He straightened up, looking just a little bit more confident for a second. Then the crocodile apparently gripped him harder, because he swore hard, swatting at it.

In that moment, distracted as he was, he didn’t notice Ven lash out next to him. They pulled a dagger from their side and slashed at him; it was a very ineffective hit, with Ven’s daggers being quite small and frankly, cheaply made. Compounded with Ven not being a melee fighter, there was basically no way that hit would have ever done much damage, and it was strange that Ven had even attempted it. Moryore still yelped, however, turning to look at Ven with a confused expression.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” he shouted. As he did so, March watched as Ven’s eyes drained of the strange fog over them, their angry expression vanishing. It was replaced by sheer panic as they stepped back.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, I don’t know what—  I’m not sure what happened there,” they said, shaking their head rapidly. “I couldn’t control my body!”

“Well, try not to breathe that stuff in again!” Moryore replied, before heaving his battle-ax in the air. March watched as it glowed with brilliant radiant light. His first swing hit the crocodile clinging to him square in the back. It roared in pain and rage; March felt its distorted misery hit her square in the chest, and she winced away, feeling much like she too had been hit, though only emotionally. She’d always been connected to animals, and as wrong as these one’s were, she felt devastated by their pain. She powered through it, however. No time to mourn just yet, March, there was still danger afoot.

Moryore took the opportunity of its pained staggering to get another hit in; this time, there was a visible glow to his eyes, weapon gleaming with powerful light. He took a massive swing, and in one clean motion, chopped the beast’s head straight off. Blood and strange red powder burst everywhere, hitting most of them square in the face. She managed to just barely shake it off, watching as Moryore did the same. Next to them, however, Raven and Ven were not so lucky.

Ven’s eyes bulged, the rage returning to their face, a wild look to them that made March suddenly very nervous. They opened their mouth to scream, but oddly no sound came out, which seemed to only work them up further. Next to her, Raven gripped the strap of her bag so hard it snapped, her hands shaking along with the rest of her body as she snarled, fangs bared like a cornered animal. March felt herself wincing as she looked at them. That was a lot of anger. Clearly things were not going according to plan. She needed to figure this out, and fast. She needed to take care of all these goddamn beasts.

She took a deep breath, eyes closed as she envisioned the exact constellation she was aiming to draw power from. She knew this would be easier if it was night-time, but she didn’t have time to fret about that. Her friends needed her. She felt the magic pooling from her feet to her knees to her hips to her shoulders, until at last it had suffused all over her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the stars reflected on her arms and legs, knew that onlookers would see the perfect image of the chalice on her, a constellation near and dear to many gods, a constellation she had practiced many times. She knew it would help, if only she could use it effectively.

Looking up to the sky, there was an irritating lack of clouds above them. She knew that meant her spell wasn’t going to be as effective, but it was the best option she had. She’d just have to pray her dear friends managed to dodge out of the way in time. Raising her hands, she focused on the energy around her, pulling the power of the cosmos from the star-scroll tucked tight against her hip. She reached into the deepest crevices of the natural world around her; distant though the true wilds may be, there was nature aplenty in Elmville, and especially of the kind she was after.

Her hands crackled with energy as above her, forming in a rapid bloom like unfurling petals, a dark storm cloud blanketed the sky above them. She heard Raven attempt to shout something to her, but the sound of thunder filled her ears, and she knew it was far too late to stop the spell. The storm was already here, and it was fit to burst. Exploding from her hands, a beam of pure electricity hit the clouds, crackling so hot she could barely stand it, and like the first domino in the line, it set off a change reaction beyond her control, as streaks of lighting blasted from the sky above and hit the ground around them in a huge circle of power.

She was then hit square in the fucking head by a lighting bolt, and she nearly fell straight onto her back, only barely managing to steady herself. She heard several startled screams from her companions, and some swearing in Elvish that would make even the most grizzled of sailors blush. Then, to add insult to injury, a huge explosion of red dust filled the air, the light from the storm reflecting off of it in a truly blinding display. March ducked, covering her mouth and nose, eyes squeezed shut.

When the smoke finally cleared, the damage was very obvious. All of her friends were badly injured and clearly suffering from the effects of the red dust. Sunsugar was frozen in place, seemingly overwhelmed by her rage and unable to stop shaking. Rosamunda had fallen to the ground and was lying their, unconscious, though March could tell she was still breathing. The only good news was that the battlefield was looking a lot lighter; all of the hawks were gone, leaving nothing but feathers in the wind. There was only one badly injured hyena left, and the two crocodiles had clearly taken some pretty hefty damage, though somehow the one biting her girlfriend was still latched on. Maybe they had a chance to clear this after all.

She used the moment of reeling to quickly give Sunsugar the left-over pulse of energy from her spell, sending a little bit of healing light her way. She didn’t react, seeing as she was paralyzed, but the intent was there, and that was what mattered to her.

Still reeling next to her, she watched as Raven put her hands up, and necrotic energy once again burst from her in two bolts. One dashed the remaining hyena to bits, setting up another puff of smoke which shredded Sunsugar, though it seemed to snap her out of her rage-filled inaction, Moryore next to her barely dodging the blast. The other bolt hit the crocodile chewing on her leg, sending it flying backwards.

“I swear if we get out of this in one piece, I’m going to fucking kill you, March! Seriously, fucking Call Lightning? While we’re all next to you?!” Moryore shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Do you want to kill us all?!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” she shot back.

“THAT’S NOT HOW STRATEGY WORKS!” he shouted. “You can’t just claim that it’s fine because it happened to go well! That’s bullshit! If I stab you and you don’t die, I don’t get to claim that it was fine!”

“Hey guys, focus up!” Haldir called as they took a stab into the ribs of the crocodile between them and March. The creature bellowed, nearly buckling under the pain as Haldir whipped around and flung a blast of necrotic energy at the other remaining crocodile, which similarly reeled in pain. March spotted a spectral hyena ear being tucked into Haldir’s pocket as they used the moment of pain to quickly retreat, getting nearly forty feet down the sidewalk in a near instant.

The reminder came just a second too late, as one of the injured crocodiles lunged at her, biting down hard into her arm as he swiped back at Raven. March felt the wind knocked out of her sails, the bite truly so deep that she was sure she’d need stitches. Raven was already collapsed on the ground, wheezing from the strength of that blow. Directly behind her, the other crocodile once again latched onto Moryore, who could not be having a worst day, and shook his leg hard.

Then Rosamunda shot straight up from her temporary unconsciousness screaming, and March swore time seemed to speed up in that moment, events playing out at truly comedic speed. She watched as her near-dead friend launched from prone and sprinted dead-on at one of the crocodiles. She held her sword high up, dingy shield nearly busted from the combat they’d just been in. She took a harsh swing and knocked the crocodile off its feet, nearly knocking Moryore down as well. On her second hit, she commanded Ven to run in a voice that was clearly not playing around. Ven seemed to realize the same, as they were suddenly beating feet down the street after Haldir, also screaming. Rosamunda then dispatched the crocodile with a flourish befitting only a skilled adventurer.

When that crocodile exploded into red dust, it was far more messy, gory, splattering in a wet way that made March want to vomit onto the pavement. This time, she managed to wriggle to avoid inhaling any of it; when the dust cleared, her friends had clearly done the same, and quickly moved on to the next thing.

Sunsugar had clearly shaken off whatever she was going through, or at least was back to being able to do stuff. She played another small riff on her now terribly busted keyboard, the same song as before, and March felt several of her wounds close and her ribs knit together as magic spread through the small group surrounding the last crocodile. She saw most of her friends revitalized, and when her eyes landed back on Sunsugar, she mouthed ‘good luck’, and March’s heart filled with warmth. She could do this. They could do this. They were going to kick this thing’s ass so hard it would disappear in time and space itself.

Then, a volley of bright white balls of magic sped straight towards them, all hitting the last remaining crocodile (the one that currently had her gripped something fearsome), and popping it like a sad balloon. They all made one last effort to not get poisoned, and seemed to succeed. Just like that, it was over. Strewn around them was the carnage of every dead creature they’d just had to fight, and a lot of mess to clean up.

Hopefully no one had called the cops this time.

About twenty minutes later, the group was sitting in the back of McFinnegan’s, having just barely cleaned up using the garden hose of an unsuspecting neighbor. (Ven had insisted on leaving three gold as payment, in the most goodie-two-shoes way possible.) They were all still pretty beat up from their fight, though some of them were doing a little better than others. Moryore had used his lay on hands to strip away some of the damage, and she’d used spells to knit up the rest of it. Now they were just waiting on the true panacea: greasy food and truly bottomless lemonade.

She was busy shoving free bread in her mouth when the conversation turned from ‘what are we ordering’ to ‘what the fuck just happened’. Sunsugar, who had been quiet on the walk over, chugged through a glass of water and announced in the quietest voice she had ever managed, “That was fucking weird, wasn’t it?”

“Understatement of the year,” Moryore replied. He had a piece of bread in his hands, which he was tearing small bites from; it was something of a nervous tick of his, tearing things. March had lost many books to just that behavior over the years. “What was that stuff that was in there?”

“Whatever it was, I didn’t like it one bit,” Sunsugar said, making a gagging motion that was just a little too realistic for the situation. That caught her an elbow from Haldir, a silent admonishment about table manners that Sunsugar very much deserved. She was seriously going to spoil her appetite, and after that fight, they all needed to eat to refuel. And compensate for the toll that healing that many injuries so quickly took on the body. If they kept getting into scraps like that, it was going to get harder and harder to heal all those injuries. She was a druid, not a miracle-worker, damn it.

“It was all sorts of fucked up. You saw how those birds… burst. It was disgusting,” Raven said, wrinkling her nose. “And the blood was foul. It was almost like they’d been poisoned, but I’ve never come across that sort of thing before. It wasn’t any poison we’ve studied in class, that’s for sure.”

“I couldn’t identify it either. It had such odd effects, too. It was… it gave me this weird sense of paranoia that I couldn’t shake. I was convinced everyone was out to get me,” Haldir said, shivering a little. “I know there’s some substances that can cause that, but that wasn’t one of them. It was almost… earthy, but not in a plant way? I wish we’d gotten some sort of sample, but everything left over was contaminated so much it would’ve been useless.”

March winced a little, recalling that most of that contamination was probably from her lightning storm. It turns out lightning bolts left a lot of residue and did a lot of damage to evidence. She’d have to be more careful in the future; it hadn’t mattered in past battles, but that might change. “It did suck that we didn’t get anything more from it, but it could have been worse. At least we’re all still alive,” she said.

“It was overpowering. I don’t think… I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my life. And they hurt, too. I was shaking so hard I thought I was going to vomit. I couldn’t focus on anything at all; I’m not sure if I could’ve cast any significant spells like that,” Ven said. They had Moryore’s jacket tied around their shoulders, since they’d come out the other end much paler than anyone else. They’d had the hardest time shaking off the negative effects of that red powder, and March had been a little worried they’d keel over and die. They were lucky they had so many people with healing magic in their party.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Raven said from her position leaning directly into March’s side, almost fully in her spot in the booth at this point. Whether that was because she was warm and Raven was not, or because she was still fresh off the ‘almost died’ anxiety, no one could know. “We’re probably never gonna get answers, so it’s best to just not think too hard about it.”

“Come on, Raven. Where’s your adventuring spirit? We can’t back away from a mystery,” Haldir said, leaning over the table towards them. “We’ve just been presented with such a clear chance at adventure, it’d be a waste to just forget about it. What if there’s some sort of evil wizard in Elmville, corrupting the local fauna?”

“Doubtful. What kind of evil mastermind just sets their evil experiments lose on a random suburban neighborhood? What would the goal there even be? Probably that was just some sort of random pollutant, maybe some artificer dumping their waste illegally somewhere, and that’s a problem better solved by the local cops than us,” Raven argued.

“Elmville’s PD is actually useless. They’re never going to solve that if we leave it to them ,” Moryore said, shaking his head. “We should at least poke around a little . I thought you’d be totally into the chance to get up to some actual trouble instead of just practice fights and killing slimes all day.”

“I am . I just don’t think this is going to turn out to be anything important,” Raven said. “It was one group of slightly disturbed wild animals. That happens so often in Elmville, it’d be weirder if they weren’t disturbed.”

“Fair point. Still, we should probably keep this incident in the back of our minds. Who knows if it’ll come up later?” Moryore said, leaning back in his seat. “We have bigger fish to fry, I will admit. Ven’s missing father, for one thing. Again, Ven, I’m sorry this whole thing is happening, and I hope it gets sort out soon.”

“I hope so too,” Ven said quietly. Their gaze had turned to stare out the window, their face difficult to read. Still, there was something in March that knew that whatever they were thinking about, buried under layers of exhaustion, it was going to be tough to manage. Hopefully the rest of them could be there for them throughout this whole weird mess. March wasn’t sure what outcome would be the best for them, though she had her own opinions on the subject. She didn’t have the complicated feelings about Ven’s father that they did, and she could solidly hate him without any hang-ups about it.

It was just painful to know that Ven couldn’t get that kind of simplicity. They deserved an easier time of things, and it was just so unfair. Ven worked so hard and it seemed like every time they got anywhere, something terrible happened and they went sliding back. March would have gone actually insane by now if she was in their shoes; she had no clue how Ven was managing all this so well.

"I'm sure he'll turn up. If nothing else, people going missing in Elmville usually end up popping up on someone's quest," Haldir said. Which was... true enough. Sometimes they popped up and turned out to be evil masterminds, but no one was going to say that out loud. Ven didn't need to be stressed out about that right now. "We'll see. Now, in the meantime, can we review party rules about spell-casting? I think we all need a refresher." 

That sentence quickly sparked a lively debate at the table, one that March sheepishly listened to and kept her head down for. She was definitely in for a chewing out (in excruciating detail) about casting huge lightning spells with the party in the blast zone. That was alright with her, though. It'd give her something to think about other than the looming unease that odd red powder had brought her, and Ven's missing father.

Hopefully they’d get answers to both those strange mysteries, one way or another, soon. March wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling the rest of the year was about to get a lot busier.

Chapter Text

March’s house felt a little stranger now that Ven was going to be living there.

It had always felt like a fairly safe environment. One that they could rely on to stay fairly consistent, no matter what else was going on in the world around them. March’s father was organized, but not in a sterile, clean manner. No, their house was all bright colors, soft furniture, books stacked on the coffee table and shelves lined with memories of adventures long past. Their back garden always got plenty of sun, but the wild plants grew thick enough that there was always a dark and cool corner for them to curl up for a nap in. March’s room was usually messier than Ven had ever let theirs get, but it was small and comfortable, and there was the distinct warmth to the way she decorated that always soothed them.

But it had always seemed like a small reprieve from their day to day life, a haven far removed from the gloom that settled over their own home. They weren’t sure how they were going to manage always feeling so… safe. It was just not something Ven was used to. Still, for the time being, this was home, and Ven was just going to have to adjust.

Byrd had let them use the spare room in the hallway opposite of their own, setting Ryo up in the room just by the stairs. They were only a few moments from one another, should Ryo get scared in the night; that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for him, and Ven wouldn’t be able to sleep if they were worried about him. It had a bed much bigger than the one he’d had at home, and he’d immediately told Ven they wanted to make a fort, which they’d agreed to help with over the weekend.

Their own room wasn’t a large one, but Ven preferred it that way. It had a window facing the wild backyard that let in lots of sunlight, but the curtains were thick enough that when they drew them in the room could get very, very dark. They were almost looking forward to the chance to spend some time in total darkness, devoid of all the lights of their house that kept them up at night.

They’d moved some of their stuff into the house; a suitcase or two of their clothes and the personal belongings they needed in their daily routines. (They also brought a few things they couldn’t risk getting lost with the cops poking about, a chest of their mother’s old things to stash under their temporary new bed and some old diaries they would die of embarrassment if anyone ever saw). They’d set up their school-supplies on a small desk Mr. Nettlebloom had dug out from their basement, and just like that, they’d made their temporary living situation into something more comfortable.

They’d slept uneasily that night, waking up on a bright Sunday morning with the prior day’s events still looming over their shoulder. They’d rolled over in their borrowed sheets to find that Ryo had snuck in through the night, and was curled up next to them, still fast asleep. Ven watched him for a moment, an odd pang of melancholy at the sight of his gentle, happy face. After the horror that was the day prior, it was probably a good thing that he was getting some rest.

It was hard to bring themselves to slip out of bed, at least for a bit; there was a million uncertainties waiting just outside the door. Would they have found their father by now, dead or alive? Would they have more questions for them? What if they suspected they’d done something to him? They knew they hadn’t, but it was possible they might be a suspect. Pretty much anyone outside of their father’s church knew how much Ven had hated him.

(Though, if they went looking and found that he was such a tyrant at home, perhaps they could at least be forgiven for it. Even if it was a crime they hadn’t actually committed. Assuming he was dead, of course. They… weren’t sure what they should be hoping for.)

Eventually, though, hunger got the better of them. They pressed a gentle kiss to their brother’s sleeping head, and slowly slid out of bed onto the floor. They were still adjusting to how much lower to the ground everything was. Mr. Nettlebloom was not a tall man by any means, and neither was March. They both had clearly goblinoid builds, and that reflected their home. Most things were lower to the ground, there was a clear choice to avoid things that might catch on a tail or require too much precarious climbing, and there were stools practically everywhere. It made the whole home feel more compact and cozier. Yet it was also a little difficult to adjust to. Unlike the Nettleblooms, Ven was tall and thin, even for a half-elf. They weren’t quite six feet, but they were a full head taller than March, and even taller than Mr. Nettlebloom was. Plenty of half-elves ran on the heavier side of the spectrum, their different genes allowing for a greater variation in physicality than many elves did. Most elves were tall and thin, with almost statuesque proportions. Ven wasn’t quite that; they weren’t extremely tall or particularly well-proportioned. But they were still growing, would be for a few years yet. Perhaps their mother’s genes had been stronger than anyone could have anticipated.

(Their mother had been a wood elf, and they tended to look far closer to humans on average, which made it even stranger. Perhaps it was just a quirk of theirs; their older siblings had looked much more typical.)

They pulled themselves up to their feet, and after a bit of waffling, threw on a hoodie over their pajamas. (It was one of Moryore’s, offered to them sometime last year. They’d never returned it, because all creatures had to have their comforts, and Moryore’s hoodie was soft and safe, like his paladin aura had rubbed off on it over the years.) Looking back one last time at their sleeping brother, they let themselves relax a little, and went off in search of food.

They found themselves down in the kitchen moments later, face washed and sleep slowly draining from their eyes. Mr. Nettlebloom was already sitting at the kitchen table, a pot of coffee brewing behind them. The smell of it had a little hint of hazelnut, and they felt their stomach growl.

Mr. Nettlebloom looked up, ears twitching, which was definitely embarrassing because that had meant it was loud enough to be heard. Ven stuffed both hands into the pocket of their hoodie to avoid fidgeting, ignoring the flushing in their face. “Morning, Ven. You manage to get some sleep?” he asked, with a small smile that made them want to cry just a little bit.

They nodded, still a little too sleepy to speak. Instead they gingerly moved, first to the side of the kitchen, then around in a nervous loop to take one of the chair’s at the table. They really should get something to eat, but they were always a bit nervous about just going through someone else’s kitchen. No matter how many times they said it was alright, Ven was never quite able to work up the nerve to just ‘be comfortable’.

“Glad to see you’re healing up okay,” Mr. Nettlebloom continued, clearly picking up on their mood and happy to carry the conversation himself. “I can’t believe you kids got into a fight as soon as you were out of sight. I should’ve gone with you all.” He ran a hand through his curls at that, a slightly dejected look passing through their gaze. Ven tensed a little, but quickly reminded themselves that Mr. Nettlebloom was only upset he’d not been there to help. He wasn’t going to yell at them for getting themselves into trouble. This wasn’t home. No one was stomping about in a fit, and no one was going to.

“It was fine,” they managed to say, surprised to find their voice was much hoarser than they’d expected. They coughed, wondering if they were coming down with something. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d fallen ill after a fight. That red powder had gotten into their lungs at least thrice last night, and they were pretty sure that was a bad thing. Health wise, at any rate. They couldn’t deny the rage had felt pretty nice, after the shitty day they’d had.

(It was a dangerous sort of thrill, the kind that made them shy away from it when their head was clear. It wasn’t wise to indulge in that kind of boundless anger, no matter how nice it felt to just be able to scream. Maybe they should take Moryore up on those sparring matches more often.)

“I know you kids handled it. Still… I don’t know, it bothers me. Elmville’s never been the safest place, but wild animals like that so close to residential areas is odd. Especially the hyenas. They’re not even native to this part of Spyre,” Mr. Nettlebloom said. “I’ll have to see about getting some eyes on that. Although, I wouldn’t want to meddle if this is something you kids think could get you school credit.”

Ven snorted at that. “Maybe,” they said. “More than likely it’s nothing, though. No one’s getting much credit for run of the mill stuff these days. Bar’s pretty high for our class.”

“Ah, come on kid. No one expects every adventuring party out of Aguefort to save the world,” Mr. Nettlebloom said. “Most adventures don’t make it big till they’re much older. The Bad Kids are kind of special in that regard.”

Ven wanted to groan at that. Why didn’t adults get that the Bad Kids being special made it worse? The idea that it was all being in the right place at the right time was more irritating. You could be the greatest hero the world had ever seen, but if you were born in some remote village in bumfuck nowhere, no one would ever know. Ven didn’t like, hate the Bad Kids for it. They were cool as hell, actually, and Ven really looked up to them. It was just… rough, realizing you had no chance of ever being half as talented.

Instead of voicing any of that, though, they gave Mr. Nettlebloom a soft smile. They were just trying to cheer Ven up, after all. No sense taking it out on them. “We’ll get there eventually,” they said. “And until then, we’ve got a lot of cool stuff to do anyway. I mean, the semester’s just started. Maybe once we really take off we’ll get the chance to do questing somewhere cool this year.”

“That’s the spirit, kid,” Mr. Nettlebloom said, sitting up straight in his seat. “You all are going to do great things. And, hey, if you’re looking for something to do over one of the breaks, I bet you I could get you kids an internship. All these career ties gotta be good for something, right?”

“Thank you,” Ven replied. They weren’t sure they were going to be to do an internship over either of their breaks, but that was a problem for a Ven of another day. For now, they could at least hope that they’d get a good adventuring assignment. Something fun this time. “It would be extraordinarily kind of you to help us get a quest. Maybe we could even get you out of retirement? I’m sure March and Moryore would be excited to hear that.”

“Oh, of course,” Mr. Nettlebloom said, laughing. “Those two have been hounding me to let them adventure with me since they were old enough to speak. I feel like if I give in now they’ll drag me along on their adventures till I’m old and gray.”

“A thousand years of adventure sounds pretty good to me,” Ven joked. He wasn’t actually sure if Mr. Nettlebloom had that kind of lifespan. What was the average lifespan of an Aasimir? An Aasimir that is also a goblinoid? Could you use the word goblinoid for a half-goblin? Was the word goblinoid rude? Fuck, Ven had to search some things up on their phone at some point.

“If I’m still working a thousand years from now, something’s got to have gone horribly wrong. I’m no Aguefort,” he joked.

“I don’t think anyone should shoot for being Arthur Aguefort. Have you read his memoir? It’s… well, uh, when it’s not disturbingly explicit, it’s insane,” they said. They’d read it on a dare from Raven and it had been quite the wild ride. They’d had to rapidly flip past all the oddly detailed sexual stuff to find information about the adventures they were actually interested in. Seriously, Ven didn’t even know half that stuff was possible.

“Oh, trust me, I know. I remember my first summer back from college, he crashed into the side of my best friend’s house, dragged my adventuring party from around the pool, threw a weird key at us and told us ‘go find this ancient treasure for me’. It was seriously fucked up.”

“Did he really? Wait, no, I’m not surprised. He’s always doing that sort of thing. I remember once he just showed up in Sorcerer class, picked three random kids, and sent them to something called the ‘fucked up nightmare time square’ dimension? It was weird,” they said. The kids who went came back changed in unimaginable ways, some good and some bad. One of them was a cactus now, they were pretty sure. The other had a bit of a gender epiphany while ‘wrestling a massive tangle of complex calculus’. They should check up on Horace at some point, see how he was doing.

“Ah, the Pythagorean dimension. If I never have to hear about it again, it’ll be too soon,” Mr. Nettlebloom grumbled. Ven raised an eyebrow in response. Did Mr. Nettlebloom go to the nightmare time square dimension? When? Why? They’d never heard this story before.

“If you wouldn’t mind telling it, I’d love to hear the story about that. All the kids who went told us was bits and pieces. I’m not even sure what the hell the Pythagorean dimension even is. I stopped taking math after freshmen year,” he said.

“...Elmville’s educational standards are fucked up,” Mr. Nettlebloom said after a moment. They took a deep breath, pinching their nose in clear disappointment. Ven had to strongly remind themselves it wasn’t directed at them. Mr. Nettlebloom had beef with Arthur Aguefort. It wasn’t their fault they were only required to take basic Algebra.

After a long pause while Mr. Nettlebloom clearly seemed to ruminate on the state of their education, Ven watched as he sat up straight in his chair. “I should get started on breakfast. Go wake up March for me, won’t you? She’s got stuff to do today, I think, and she’ll be grumpy if she sleeps in any longer,” Mr. Nettlebloom said.

Ven nodded, pulling themselves up from their seat. It was oddly comforting how readily Mr. Nettlebloom had let them into the house’s daily routine. Maybe this whole thing would turn out alright after all.

March had forgotten just how nerve-wracking interviews were.

She hadn’t had to have one since she was a very small child. She’d had a mock interview for the elementary school debate team, a sentence so dorkish that if she hadn’t had any sense of cringe thoroughly wrung out of her in middle school she’d be wincing just thinking about it. She hadn’t made the team- they’d told her she wasn’t a good orator. Jokes on them, though, because the debate team never won a match and she went on to crush the dreams of every kid playing on a soccer team in Elmville.

Still, that was a long, long time ago. And it wasn’t for anything serious anyway. This was serious. This would be her first ever job . A proper one, not just magically enhancing the gardens of neighbors in exchange for popsicles and lemonade during the summer. She had found a small flower shop in the downtown area of Elmville that was looking for assistance. It sold flowers and gardening supplies and homemade pots, and the website had been clearly made sometime in the early years of the internet, probably before even MyCastle had been around.

Raven had been the one to send the link to her, with a little smiley face and a ‘I think you’d be a perfect fit for this one’. And March could only hope she was right. She was a Druid, after all. Who better to give tips about plant-care than someone who could commune with nature like she could?

She’d sent her resume in the email attached to the website, along with what she hoped was a very polite introduction. She was surprised by how quickly the person running the shop had responded, just a simple paragraph giving her a date and a time for her in-person interview. Clearly her resume had been quite impressive. Or maybe that no one else had applied for the position and they were desperate. Probably desperation, but she’d take what she could get.

So now she was sitting in her car in the parking lot of a small cluster of stores, anxiously going over her appearance in the mirror one last time. She felt like she was just forgetting something, and she couldn’t place what. She’d showed up in a nice pair of pants and a button-up with tiny flowers all over it, but now she was worried it was too much. Was it too on the nose for a druid to show up in florals? Did her hair look weird? She’d kept it green because that was the color it’d been for the past few weeks, but maybe she should show up in something a bit more professional. She could go back to the dark brown her father had, or just go with white. White hair made her look older, after all; that could give her an edge for the interview.

As she was cycling through hair colors, her eyes landed on the dash of her car, and she caught the time blinking at her in cold, unfeeling digits. It was 12:30, which meant her interview was officially starting in five minutes. Cursing, she settled back on her usual green, ignoring the pit forming in her stomach. No time to fret about professionalism now; it was do or die.

She jumped out of her car, slinging her tote over her shoulder and praying that she didn’t seem rude by showing up right on time. Should she have tried to be a few minutes early? Ten minutes? Would she come off as too eager? She was really interested in this job, but maybe that’d make it seem like she didn’t have anything else going on. She didn’t want to come off as uncool or socially inept, especially not for a customer-facing position. She was probably overthinking things. She hadn’t been this nervous about anything in years . It was so unlike her she almost wanted to cast detect poison and disease on herself.

She didn’t have the time though. It took her two minutes to run to the front door of the little gardening shop, weaving through the small crop of parked cars and oddly overgrown weeds. There were so many dandelions poking from the cracks of the curb and the bottom of the light-poles that she’d almost think she was back in the woods again. The front of the shop was covered in ivy, and the sign was unreadable, but the soft light from the inside of its windows was quite inviting. It made her relax a little as she stepped inside, already deeply in her element.

The shop she found herself entering was fairly large, though it was hard to get a real scope of the size from the amount of plants all over the place. Every wall was packed with green and dozens upon dozens of plants of all sorts of colors, shapes, and sizes. The shelves in the room were packed with gardening supplies, saplings and seeds and sprouts, soil and pots and trowels galore. The air smelled of petrichor and moss, and all she wanted to do was wrap herself up in it.

She stood in the entryway, scanning the room for any sign of life (humanoid life, anyway). It was oddly quiet, with no music playing and a distinct lack of background noise. There wasn’t even the gentle hum of an aircon to focus on. It was rare to find someplace completely quiet, especially not in nature, and it would normally set her on edge. Right now, though, she was just awfully curious.

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” she called, trying not to speak too loudly, as if she might disturb the room. There was a moment where nothing happened, and she considered trying to walk into the backroom and see if anyone was in there. Before she could, however, the door behind the store’s crowded counterspace opened, and a figure popped into sight from behind it.

The person standing before her was tall , taller than most people she’d ever encountered, save for the few goliaths she’d run into. Her skin was a soft moss green, with tiny white blooms and leaves growing all over her . Her hair was a tangle of vines, piling down to the middle of her back and ending in soft curls, moving gently in the room’s air. Her eyes were large and white and moved like clouds, and watching them made March feel just a little sleepy, like she was taking a nap out in the bright sun. This stranger had such a potent magic to her that it was almost rubbing off on her, her own magic surging in her veins. It curled in the air and settled over her, and she felt the urge to bask in it, barely restraining herself from closing her eyes.

“ Are you simply going to sit there and stare, strange druid? Or are you going to say hello?” they asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. March felt herself stiffen slightly, face flushing from having been called out. The stranger before her seemed to be well aware of the fact, chuckling softly though she attempted to hide it behind her hand.

“ Sorry! You don’t see many dryads living in the city,” she said, rubbing at the back of her neck. It had been a mesmerizing experience. She really ought to know better, but around such powerful natural magic… it was impossible to resist the compulsion. “I’m the candidate who reached out by email about working here? My name’s March Nettlebloom.”

The stranger smiled at her, a soft crinkling around her eyes that March noted made her look even kinder. Adding up the smile lines and the slight wrinkle to her forehead, she had to guess the dryad was around her father’s age, perhaps a bit older. “Not to worry. I know that my visage is unusual in Elmville. It is quite nice to meet you, March Nettlebloom. I have been expecting you,” she responded. “My name is not easy to translate one-to-one with Common; the language I speak at home is impossible for most to learn without significant psychic abilities. You may call me Blossom, however, as that is what most have referred to me as since I came to these lands.”

As Blossom spoke, March felt her examining her with careful eyes. She straightened up as subtly as she could, hoping that her appraisal was going well. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Blossom,” she replied. “I hope I haven’t made a complete fool of myself.”

“There is no need to worry. I know you mean no harm. Nettlebloom… you are Byrd’s child, correct?” Blossom asked. “I have met your parent before. When I first came to Elmville, it was by the magics of their companions as an apology gift, of sorts.”

Oh. Well, that would make all of this much easier. “That’s me! Small world, huh? Well, actually, Elmville’s an adventuring town so it does kind of make sense,” March said. She tracked Blossom across the room as her new potential boss drifted off to the side and began looking through the plants. Should she be doing the same? It looked like Blossom was checking them for pests. She could do that. It might have struck someone else as odd that she had just began walking off mid-conversation, but March was used to that. Druidic types could be absent-minded sometimes; wisdom and whimsy often went hand in hand, especially when plants were involved. Besides, March could tell that though she was beginning to work on other things, her attention was still sharp. Nothing was getting past her.

Indeed, Blossom continued to speak even as she carded through leaves and carefully inspected soil, with the delicate hands of a life-time gardener. March followed her as she walked, carefully brushing her fingers over leaves, checking for harmful bugs or unhealthy spots. The plants all seemed to be in excellent conditions, but there were plenty of subtle ways a plant could be struggling.

“Elmville is much filled with both the victims and the beneficents of the adventurers it has trained. I am lucky that things here have been safe,” Blossom said, not looking back to March, though she had the distinct feeling of being watched. “Byrd was adamant that no harm come to me when I was moved here. It was… unfortunate, what happened to the forest of my home. I am lucky my tree was moved here in one piece. Few had that opportunity.”

March nodded. She didn’t know what exactly had happened, but she did seem quite melancholy. Whatever her father’s adventuring party had pulled her away from , it clearly hadn’t been pleasant. It would be rude to pry, so March wasn’t going to. Instead, she said, “Sounds like Dad to me. I guess… how does this work? Do you want me to tell you about my experience with plants?”

Blossom looked back at her for a moment, and then with a soft laugh, said, “You already have the job. The plants like you- that is all I cared for.”

March raised her eyebrows in shock. But she supposed it did make sense; what better judge of character was there than nature itself? She knew she trusted people much more when the flora around them seemed to like them than if they were wary of them. If nothing else, the soil knew one’s soul better than anything else on Earth. “Oh! Thank you then. I promise I’ll work hard and take good care of the plants here,” she said.

“I have no doubts on that front. I would hope you are willing to work about four days a week, for… five hours? That is an acceptable amount of time for a young woman to be working, I think. You may work on homework here as you please. All I ask is that you care for the plants and you are polite to any customers that come in. You will rarely be here alone, but there may be some times,” she said. She handed March a large pot of basil, and March dutifully cradled it, following her around as she kept at her work. The basil in the pot seemed to be curling towards March, though whether that was the influence of the dryad’s natural magic or March’s she couldn’t say for certain.

“I can handle that,” she replied . In fact, it sounded almost too easy. If it was a trick, wel l, she could probably fight a dryad by herself. Blossom seemed like she’d put up a good fight, but March was pretty sure she could swing. Hell, she’d probably have back-up within the first few rounds. Raven was fast when she needed to be, and her father would descend upon the place like a bad omen if she needed him to.

(Maybe she was just hiring her as a favor to her father. Hopefully that wasn’t his doing. She’d have to kick him straight in the knee for it. She could get a job on her own!)

“Excellent,” Blossom said. “I will send you an email with information about what plants we have and when our deliveries are made. You will pick things up quickly, I imagine. There is not much foot traffic coming into the shop every day. A few people here and there may wander through my doors, and there are some regular clients, though not many. I used to have more, but old Loam Farm is out of commission now, and I doubt anyone else will be purchasing the land.”

March raised her eyebrows at that. She knew vaguely about Loam Farms; it was hard not to be in the know about every patch of nature in the vicinity of Elmville as a Druid. Her classmates often gossiped about the lay of the land like a regular high-school would the football team. Trees got into a shocking amount of drama. Loam Farm was on the outskirts of Elmville; the proprietors always let druid kids camp out in the fields over the summer, practicing their spell-work and studying the plants they cultivated. March had never been out there herself; her backyard was a plentiful playground for the more casual of her studies, and she much preferred the woods if she was going out into the field. But she’d heard enough to know it was a nice place, and to feel a little pang of sorrow at the idea that it’d soon be left abandoned.

“Any idea what happened?” she asked.

“It is some… legal issue, I believe. Money or something along those lines. Awful stuff, money. It’s a useful tool to mediate trade and cooperation, but it is… an oddly corrupting force. And so susceptible to curses! It feels like a safety hazard to keep the stuff around,” Blossom said. March nodded in agreement; adventurers were always getting fucked up by cursed gold and haunted treasure. She wasn’t one to turn down gold, of course, but she knew it was a dangerous force to play with.

“It’s certainly not a peaceful force,” March agreed. “Useful for the world we live in, but not one I’m super fond of. Although I do admit, I’m not an economics person, so I don’t know much about other options. I usually leave all that to Moryore.”

Blossom hummed thoughtfully, stopping to examine an orchid that was drooping slightly. She circled the flower with her hand, and March watched as a soft green light curled up its stem and flowed through the petals. It perked up, color brightening, and March felt a smile creep larger on her face. Gods, she would never get used to how beautiful druidic magic could be. “It is not my area of expertise either. I will admit, this place has not always been the most… profitable. But it is mine, and I like it. I hope that you will find some peace her as well. And perhaps you will bring more people here. You would understand what is… ‘hip with the kids’ better than I could,” she said.

March grimaced on instinct at that. “Rule number one, ‘hip’ hasn’t been used unironically in like a decade,” she said. “But I’m sure people would love this place. Have you considered updating your address on your website to include, well, an actual address? The instructions that you sent me were… pretty impossible to follow if you weren’t a druid, actually. Like, I could ask the birds to point me to the tallest oak tree in the neighborhood, but most people can’t speak to birds.”

“... That may have been an oversight on my part,” Blossom said, with a face that very much communicated she had not considered that. “No wonder my deliveries are always being delayed.”

March couldn’t help but giggle at that, a surge of confidence forming in her. She had a feeling they were both going to learn a ton by her working here. Maybe she’d even bring back some tips for the rest of her adventuring party.

Either way, she was looking forward to this new job more than she had expected to.

For the record, social media stalking was not March’s preferred way to spend an evening.

She didn’t tend to do it. It wasn’t the most productive way to spend her time, and adventurers were prone to obsessions in ways that made that sort of thing dangerous. But she was pretty much already obsessed with Ivy by now, so that slope was long since slid. And a little bit of information gathering online was preferable to what she wanted to do, which was to just punch her in her stupid face the next time they saw one another in the halls. Her account being on private was a barrier to this plan, doubly so since most of her party had private accounts as well. She needed to get into their follower lists somehow.

Thus, she carefully crafted an alt account for this exact purpose. She’d been shocked that Adventurers of Aguefort hadn’t already been taken as a handle. She’d set the whole thing up to seem like she was some school sponsored account looking to ‘feature the amazing deeds and hilarious antics of Aguefort’s finest’, and she’d done everything she could to make it look legit. She’d photo-shopped a profile picture and a fancy introduction post, followed truly hundreds of former and current Aguefort alumni, and crafted a bullet-point list of her fake identity should anyone start asking questions. Aguefort Superfan turned Social Media Manager Stacey Fakename was a very convincing character.

She had to make a few posts to trickle out over the next few months featuring famous Aguefort alumni, usually marked as being for some big quest anniversary or holiday. She’d taken enough history courses to have material on hand for that, so it was really just a matter of obsessive graphic editing. She stayed up all night after the party at Seacaster’s Mansion making them, and by Sunday evening she was fairly stocked up. She’d just have to make sure to repost things to her story every so often and maybe make a few posts when big events happened during the year, and her cover would be solid .

Having done all this work, she was finally ready to reap her reward s. She set up at her computer, her alt account open to several different pages and a notebook in front of her to help her take notes. She wasn’t alone in her quest; sitting on her bed, Ven had their own laptop open, though admittedly they were just scrolling Fantasy Tumblr and talking to her while she worked. That was still helpful. She needed someone to keep her grounded, even if they were being a bit critical.

“March, are you sure this is, like… healthy?” Ven asked. “I mean, I know intelligence gathering is part of an adventurer’s skill-sets, but making a fake school Instagram page to stalk a rival adventurer’s a little weird.”

March turned to look at them, pouting slightly. “Come on! Aren’t you a little curious?” she asked. She should have expected Ven to be nervous about this, honestly. They were always unfailingly polite. She admired it about them, but it made getting up to no good a bit of a hassle. She’d have to work them up to any crime more serious than piracy or a little bit of vandalism. Then again, they were also probably just on edge because of yesterday’s events.

(She was still reeling from the whole thing. The memory of those poor animals and the shock of rage that boiled in her swirled in the back of her mind, difficult to really untangle. She’d always been a bit more tapped into her own emotions than her peers, rage especially, and it had been both terrifying and freeing to give into it. Whatever that stuff was, it could not be good.)

“I mean… kind of. I ran into- I mean, I saw Ruben out and about the other night and I don’t know, there’s something odd about him,” Ven said. March raised an eyebrow at the vagueness of that statement, but didn’t ask questions. Ven was allowed to do stuff on their own and not share with the rest of the party. Would she maybe pry about it later if it became important to her own quest? Certainly. Did she need to do so right this moment? Probably not.

“See? It’ll be fine . It’s not like we’re plotting to kill them or something. We’re just… poking around, seeing what we can find out. I might get a little light revenge for how Ivy spoke to Haldir, but I won’t go overboard. I want to humiliate her a little but I’m not trying to ruin her life. Unless she turns out to be evil. Is it fucked up that I really hope she’s evil?” March rambled, chewing absentmindedly at her nails.

“A little,” Ven said. They paired it with a very soft shrug, like it didn’t really matter. “I mean, it’s not the worst motivation ever. And… I don’t know, I kind of think wanting someone to be evil is par for the course with adventurers. Isn’t that what Fig Faeth’s always saying about Mr. Cliffbreaker? Fig Faeth’s fucked up but she’s cool so I think it’s fine.”

March snorted at that. “Fair. I guess emulating the Bad Kids isn’t the worst thing we could be doing,” she said. She wasn’t a Barbarian kid, but she’d hung around enough of them to be aware of Fig’s inescapable hatred of Porter for reasons no one understood. Fig Faeth’s mind was a mystery to everyone, probably even her own party. Certainly March had no hope of understanding it. “Now, let’s start with… the public accounts, probably. So that’s Kipperlilly and Ruben.”

“We should do Ruben’s first,” Ven said, and she could tell that the undercurrent of curiosity in their voice was much, much stronger than they were letting on. “I bet you it won’t have as much so you could probably get through it pretty quick.”

“I’m sure there’s a million and one photos from his tours,” March agreed, clicking on the tab with Ruben’s profile on it. His profile picture was some edgy three-quarters shot of him, fringe covering one eye. His bio was a whole lot of links and something about how people loved him even though he was the worst. God, she hated that sort of self-deprecating self-importance. People who talked about how horrible they were and how everyone should hate them but also bragged about how women wanted to date them anyway fucking sucked. Why was every headliner in an emo band these days like that?

She scrolled down through the first couple pages of posts, noting that there wasn’t anything super interesting. He posted a lot of photo shoots with his band; it appeared they traveled a lot, doing concerts all over Elmville and beyond, though there were more places in Elmville the closer they got to the school year. Probably because even he had classes. His band-mates didn’t go to Aguefort, evidently; he’d posted a photo of all of them in front of some high-school in the neighboring town with the caption ‘first day’, which explained why she had never seen them.

“I have a feeling this is gonna be useless,” March huffed after the fifteenth post of his moody face next to a badly lit window. It was mind-numbingly pointless. She didn’t normally begrudge people taking photos of themselves and preening online, it was harmless for the most part. But something about him just hit her as so disingenuous that it was hard to look past it.

“I mean, it probably isn’t going to tell you much about him, yeah. I bet u Ruben has a personal account he keeps hidden. I wouldn’t wanna use my public Fantasy Instagram if I was a famous musician,” Ven said.

“Probably. Maybe one of us needs to try to cozy up to him and figure out what he uses to talk to his real friends,” she mused. Maybe she could have Sunsugar do it. Two bards ought to have a lot in common, right? Or maybe she’d go with Raven, who could pull off broody, moody emo if she had to. Technically she was goth, but she had an inkling Ruben couldn’t tell the difference. He was a fucking poser if she could put money on it.

“I don’t know. I would be too worried that he’d guess you were trying to use him. I bet celebrities get folks like that all the time. It might be smarter to just try and learn more about him by proxy,” Ven mused. March sighed in response, continuing her scrolling journey. There wasn’t much else there, and soon she’d hit the very bottom of the page.

“That’s odd,” she said, squinting at the date as if it had done something to personally offend her. “The oldest post on Ruben’s account is from the end of sophomore year, but the account’s definitely older than that- look, one of the saved stories is from middle school. Granted it’s just a terrible meme, but still.”

“I think his band started around then, so… probably a little bit, but it makes sense. I bet you his agent told him to wipe everything for a fresh start,” Ven suggested. March turned to glance at them, finding that they’d lowered the screen of their laptop to stare blankly at hers. There was something in their interest in Ruben that seemed strange. Maybe it was just a way for them to escape dealing with their emotions about their father’s disappearance, or maybe there was something arcane about it. Who knew how Ven’s magic worked? Certainly Ven themselves didn’t.

“You’re probably right about that,” she said, paging back to the account’s more recent posts, and then clicking on the tagged photos. Maybe they’d be more informative, since all these band promotions weren’t helping.

Ven kept on for a moment, talking about ‘images’ and ‘marketing’ with the rapidness of someone speaking on their specific area of expertise, a tone she was all too familiar with. She would feel a bit guilty for not paying strict attention, but she was catching most of it, and Ven and her had an understanding. The two of them would talk one another’s ears off about their mutual interests, and if they didn’t catch every detail, well, that must meant more to talk about next time. Instead, March focused on sifting through the saved photos, noting that it was mostly just fans posting about spotting him places and promotional materials. That is, until she got further down into them and hit posts from several years back.

“ Odd. Look at these tagged photos,” March said, clicking on one of them. The photo was two people standing in front of a huge oak tree. One of them was clearly a bit older, with blonde curls and a prosthetic arm that was clearly self-made, judging by how it looked. She clocked immediately who it was- the new artificer teacher whom she had seen briefly wandering the halls, Mr. Henry Hopclap. He was younger in the photo, a few years so judging by the date on the post. The gnome next to him was Ruben, but it was much different from the Ruben on the rest of the posts. He was younger, for one, probably still in middle-school. And he had a distinctly different vibe. Rather than the straightened hair and emo clothes he rocked around Aguefort, his hair was in a thick, curly bun, and he was in cargo pants and sandals . Sandals!

“ Huh. That’s so strange,” Ven said. March could hear the soft sound of Ven’s typing slowly stopping. “He looks so different now. I wonder what happened to make him change his whole style like that.”

“Maybe he just really likes the look,” March said, although there was something about it that nagged at her. Something was off; there was a quality to his face that was subtly very different than he looked these days. A youthfulness, perhaps, that had naturally faded with time. Or something more complex than that. He looked… happier in these images, more full of wonder. Was there something that he’d seen, some horrible thing that had happened to him to push him onto the path he walked now? Or was she overthinking things? She was probably overthinking things. “I don’t know if we’ll get much more out of this.”

“ Probably not,” Ven agreed. March closed out of Ruben’s page and decisively clicked on Kipperlilly’s page next. She was greeted by her profile picture, which was a rather proper looking head-shot of her against a blank wall, like something meant to be printed on a license of some sort. Oddly, she had a little green check mark in the corner of the photo, which was probably meant to be some sort of ‘vote for Kipperlilly’ badge, though the image resolution was too shitty to really be sure. Otherwise, it seemed like a fairly normal profile.

She felt Ven lean further over her shoulder. “ Is Kipperlily’s bio seriously a quote from ‘The Game Of Spoils’? Yeesh,” they said, with a soft displeased noise attached to it. “That book is so… lame.”

“Never heard you be that judgemental about what other people read,” March said, looking back at them. Their face had an odd disquieted expression across it, and she couldn’t help but mirror it. Something was off about Kipperlilly. Maybe it was just because she was so formal about everything, and it just wasn’t what March expected from an Aguefort student.

“ I’m not normally, it’s just… I really hate ‘The Game Of Spoils’. It’s this book from this insufferable career adventurer who talks about adventuring as if it’s simply a business. It’s all about doing everything exactly by the books and regimented rules and structures and stuff like that. It saps all the fun out of exploration,” they said. “He sucks . I can’t remember his name off the top of my head, but I know he makes a ton of money off selling courses to aspiring adventurers, and they’re all so… corporate. They don’t foster the creativity or passion or self-reliance an adventurer needs to really succeed, they just turn them into… into goons for the Council of Chosen, the kind that just kind of do what they’re told and never get to really find something they’re passionate about. Which is awful, because, because adventuring should be about your own passion and love for what you do. You should have some drive to go out there on quests, rather than just doing it because it’s what’s need doing. Otherwise you might as well just be a cop.”

“ Yeesh. Well, I guess if she bought into a grift like that, it sort of makes sense why she’s so… like that. Feel kind of bad for her if I’m being honest. I’m sure she’d have a lot more fun if she let loose a little,” March said. Kipperlilly seemed like she just needed someone to pry open some of that prim and proper outer shell and let her go a bit feral. She reminded March a little of Ven, in that regard, except she didn’t have that ‘kicked dog’ energy Ven had. Or maybe she did, when she was a Freshmen, and she just grew extremely professional and neurotic instead of into a walking disaster who was also neurotic. (No offense to Ven, of course; she loved her impulsive, indecisive, nervous disaster of a friend. Someone had to be the one to remind them all they were squishy and mortal.)

“ I think it’s something you just have to grow out of. She’ll loosen up once she realizes that all the rules and bureaucracy don’t do anything to actually help or protect you most of the time. Or she’ll fully embrace the whole structure thing and become another cog in the big old wheel,” March said. “Maybe she could get pushed to join a less evil collective structure of some kind, like… I don’t know, a commune of some sort?”

“I think an Adventurer’s Union would thrive on her sort of energy if she could just relax a little,” Ven agreed. “Does she have campaign information on her page yet or is it just the bio right now?”

March shrugged, moving to check the photos. The first one was a news article about some rogue school’s alumnus successfully thwarting an international smuggling ring, with a detailed caption about how much Kipperlilly admired their work ethic and how more adventurers should strive to be like them. March understood the appeal for a rogue student; seeing the pinnacle of achievement for your respective class was always pretty cool. A glance suggested she frequently posted these kinds of updates. Well, at least she was passionate about her chosen profession.

A few dozen posts down, March leaned back in her desk chair to stretch. “Nothing about her campaign it looks like. She mostly seems to post about adventuring news. There aren’t many pictures of herself, and it looks like she either prunes her profile every so often or she has a secret account, cause I think I’m already back down into Freshmen year and there’s barely any photos of herself or her adventuring party’s antics at all,” she said.

“I wonder if the Ratgrinders did some clean up in preparation for either her campaign or for Ruben’s new career moves,” Ven mused. “Perhaps she was worried about damaging her image with embarrassing photos.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t take many personal photos,” March suggested. Best to keep all their theories as open as possible. She didn’t think Kipperlilly was evil or anything, though she had her suspicions about her intent. At least with the Bad Kids, it was obvious why Kristen Applebees was running for student body president. It was an elaborate bit of some sort, and though that should bother her, she was surprisingly cool about it. Kristen would at least care about Aguefort and want the students to have fun. She had no clue what it was Kipperlilly wanted to change, and that was more daunting. Maybe she should ask around school on Monday and see what she was telling people.

“ Could be. Maybe she’s one of those ‘live in the moment’ types,” Ven said. “She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who takes selfies without like, a reason for it. I bet you she’s mostly in shots from the rest of her party members. I think it’s a rogue thing; Haldir hates having their photo taken.”

“It’s probably a rogue thing. Leave no traces and all that. I mean, that’s actually a hiking tip now that I say it out loud, but it’s too late to take that back so I’m going with it. Let’s see what Oisin’s page is like, I guess. I don’t think we’re getting much else from her,” March said. She closed Kipperlily’s profile glumly, quietly deciding that she’d have to do more in-person research. She should have expected a rogue to not just leave too much personal information out in the open for anyone to find. If she wanted to figure out what her deal was, she’d need to be sharper than that.

She found the tab with Oisin’s page next, immediately greeted by his profile picture. The scene behind him was some vague library, probably Aguefort’s and he was wearing a polo like he somehow always was. She couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t looking at the camera, but at something he was cradling in his hands. Ven seemingly noticed too- they abandoned their laptop entirely to lean over the back of her desk-chair, and she let them hang off her. “Oisin’s profile picture is so weird. What the hell is the thing he’s holding?” they asked.

“Some sort of earth sprite it looks like,” March said. His bio didn’t offer much else of interest, just the usual ‘pronouns, student of Aguefort academy’ spiel most kids had these days. She did appreciate the little rat-boot emoji combo next to his name, however. That was pretty cute. “Do you think he owns clothes other than polos and khakis?”

“Probably not. He has real ‘pointdexter’ energy,” Ven said with a soft snort. “That’s just wizards for you. They get like three looks and Adaine Abernant’s cornered the market on the coolest one.”

“Aw, come on. Zayn Darkshadow was a wizard and he looked completely different,” March said. She paused for a moment to consider afterward whether he was actually a wizard. She’d always kind of assumed he was, but he could be a Warlock, couldn’t he? He carried that spell-book around all, the time, but so did Raven. Then again, though, assuming he was a warlock based on his appearance was also stereotyping. She was in a real ‘rock and a hard place’ situation.

“ Okay, four looks. It doesn’t matter,” Ven said, pointing at the screen. “I think he is wearing a hoodie in that one, though.” March immediately clicked where they had pointed; sure enough, he was wearing a hoodie that was clearly too big for him. It was one of the nurse’s hoodies for sure, and from the background, it appeared he’d had to clean up a mess of some kind. In the photo with him was a very large mud mephit. There were a lot of mephits on his profile, come to think of it; the further and further March scrolled down, the more she found. He’d clearly really put in the work to get good at summoning. It reminded her of something she had seen earlier in the week.

“There were Ice Mephits everywhere at the party on Friday. You think he was the one who summoned them?” she asked.

“March, summoning mephits is something most wizards can do, and there are tons of conjuration wizards at Aguefort. It’s probably a coincidence,” Ven said. “And, anyway, they seemed chill, so it’s not like it matters. Unless we think he’s up to no good.”

“I don’t know if I think he’s up to no good , necessarily. Just covering all my bases,” March said, continuing to scroll down. A lot of his posts were about things he’d done in his wizarding courses, interspersed with photos of the woods or the city at night captioned with vague statements about sleeplessness. An insomniac wizard wasn’t unheard of, and he was clearly good at taking photos. Maybe he was in the school’s photography club, or their yearbook? She’d have to ask. Really, she had a lot of things she wanted to know about him, seeing as he seemed to be good friends with Ivy. (She had commented on nearly every post for at least the last two months. That was pretty good evidence that they were a duo if March had ever seen any. “ Would it be too obvious if I hung out in one of his classes for a bit? Just to see what he’s like?”

“Oisin probably doesn’t even know we exist. I doubt he’s going to read too much into it if you peek in on a wizard class he’s in,” Ven replied. “He probably doesn’t even know your name.”

“True. But he did speak to Raven that one time. I don’t want him to think the two of us are like, stalking him,” March said, pretending like that wasn’t exactly what was happening in that moment. It was reconnaissance. She was fine, morally speaking. Probably.

“I mean, fair, but Raven hangs out with lots of people. I bet you he’ll chalk it up to her being friendly,” Ven said. They’d returned briefly to their computer, and from the cadence of their typing, whatever they were doing was long-winded. She was tempted to peep, but Ven valued their privacy and March valued her fingers. “If he even remembers.”

March sighed in response; Ven had a point. She was just overthinking things, and the more she scrolled down his page, the more she had to admit that she wasn’t finding anything suspicious. “He seems pretty normal, really. Definitely more normal than most adventurers. Although I am shocked I don’t see any mention of a partner in these posts, if I’m being honest. He’s a buff nerd, you’d think people would be throwing themselves at him,” she said.

“Maybe he’s just not interested in romance?” Ven replied almost reflexively. March chuckled in response. Right, right, not everyone wanted to be in love or date or things like that, she knew that. Ven was always hammering that point home, had been since Freshmen year. She was working on that particular set of assumptions; admittedly it hadn’t been her priority until Rosamunda had told them she was Aromantic last summer, but she was working on it.

“You’re right, I shouldn't assume. I mean, Raven did say he was hitting on Adaine Abernant, so I’m leaning more towards ‘pining after the school’s most eligible Elven Oracle’ instead, but we should keep an open mind,” she replied.

Ven nearly shot up from their position hunched over their laptop, eyes sparkling with the excitement of good gossip. March had to stifle a laugh. Got ‘em. “Oh wow. You think maybe he’s got a crush on her? They’d be cute together,” they said.

“They would,” March agreed. “Raven told me they seemed like they really hit it off. Honestly, good for her. You know I don’t like, know her, but she seems pretty cool.”

“Understatement of the fucking statement. She’s The Elven Oracle, March. The only reason she isn’t more popular is that she’s in a party with two actual rock-stars,” Ven said. March couldn’t help but snort at that. “Although… the Ratgrinders do, like, notoriously hate the Bad Kids. Do you think maybe Oisin’s just trying to get closer to them for malicious reasons?”

“Maybe,” March said. “We’ll have to do more looking into it. But, regardless, we probably aren’t going to find anything in here. I think it’s time. I think we need to check out Ivy’s page now.”

“We’re not gonna save her for last?” Ven asked. “I would have assumed you’d want to save your nemesis for last, like the cherry on top of the espionage sundae.”

“I mean, we basically already have. Mary-Anne doesn’t have much on hers. It’s literally three posts,” March replied, clicking on the profile to show them. It was as empty and barren as any half-abandoned Instagram she’d ever seen, with only two ‘end of the year’ posts from the last two years (featuring Mary-Anne and her normal looking parents in front of Aguefort) and one blurry photo of what appeared to be a giant Quoky Pet plushie. The only notable bit was that it was clear her parents were both very put-together. If she had to guess, they were probably professors of some sort. They had the air of old academics to them.

“...Yeah that makes sense. And, uh… Buddy?” Ven asked, with a tone that March recogonized. It was the same tone they got talking about anyone from Church, an awkward avoidance that March never quite knew how to broach. They never did prepare you for this sort of thing in school; maybe they should have classes on trauma and supporting your party through it at Aguefort, come to think of it. It was certainly not an uncommon occupational hazard for adventurers.

“He has one, but it’s all clips from televangelist shows and Helioc quotes and stuff. The most shocking thing to me is that Buddy Dawn has a Fantasy Instagram at all. I sort of assumed he’d think social media was the tool of the devil and poisoning the youth,” March answered. She’d barely wanted to follow him at all, but she was nothing if not thorough. Also, she needed to keep up appearances, and an impartial third-party documenting Aguefort students should follow any Aguefort student, not just some of them.

“I mean, his father’s a televangelist. He knows pretty well that mass media is the best way to keep a loyal flock together and make however much gold Bobby Dawn can fleece from his congregation. I’m sure he sees his presence online as some shining bastion against sin,” Ven said, with the bitterness of a person who was familiar with televangelism on a personal level. March had seen the DVDs their father kept stacked up on the coffee table, though only in photos. (None of them were allowed in the house. Something about their father not wanting ‘a bunch of untamed hooligans and heathens’ in his house, because he truly was the worst .)

“ I guess that makes sense, yeah. Doesn’t help us much, though. Hence, on to Ivy,” March said. With a flourish, she clicked on to her profile, feeling something like anticipation brewing in her gut. Behind her she heard the soft ‘plop’ of Ven’s laptop on the bed, and then the sorcerer was clambering over her, hanging off the back of her chair to get the best look at her screen. It was probably hell on their back, but she would let them make that mistake without comment. You had to let people learn things the hard way sometimes.

The first thing that struck her about Ivy’s profile was that it was so… normal . A bio with her birthday and a dozen aesthetic emojis, a mirror selfie profile photo, a dozen tagged photos of her and her party members out and about around Elmville, it was just a normal account, like anyone else at Aguefort might have had. That grated on her somewhat. Maybe it should have been a stark reminder that her one-sided petty hatred of someone who had, at best, been just kind of mean to her friend was unhealthy. Instead it made her wonder even harder what she was hiding. Surely she had to have more complex going on. Adventurers were never so one-note.

“...Ivy would be pretty if she wasn’t so rude,” Ven mumbled, pulling March out of her examination. She felt a little shock at the words, turning around to gape at her friend.

“She’s your type? Seriously? You refused to talk to the very pretty girl who was obviously flirting with you basically every day at the library last summer but you think Ivy Embra is cute?” she asked, unable to stop the bewilderment from filling her voice. Her friend’s face turned red, almost painfully so given their pale complexion, and they looked away with a small pout on their face.

“I didn’t say that I was going to hit on her , just that she’d be pretty if I didn’t think she was a jerk! And anyway, I can think someone is kind of cute and not want anything to do with that!” Ven said, crossing their arms, which again could not be doing anything great for their poor back. “You just talked about how Oisin was good looking.”

“Oisin’s not evil,” March huffed, turning back to her laptop.

“Ivy isn’t evil , she’s just rude ,” Ven insisted. “Why are you so sure she’s got something fishy going on anyway? She did like, one rude thing to one of us one time. Maybe she’s just having a bad day.”

March didn’t respond at first, calculating her explanation while she began to thumb through Ivy’s photos. Her account had a lot of similar photos to Oisin’s, suggesting they tended to cross-post one another’s stuff. She had a lot focused on her in outfits that were frankly kind of middling. She was clearly playing it safe with her choices- they were all practical and easy to move in. She could respect that herself. When you had to worry about getting dirty, fancy clothes were just a hassle. Ivy also seemed to like posting candids of her party members, and March noted that the captions on the most recent ones were a little meaner than she’d have expected. Maybe that was the Ratgrinders sense of humor? (Or maybe Ivy was just mean-spirited.)

“It’s intuition,” she said at last. “I know, I know you talk about how it’s unreasonable to rely upon intuition as an adventurer, but I’m just certain something is up. Maybe it’s just the whole ‘Kipperlily running for president’ thing? I don’t know. I just gotta figure out what.”

Ven sighed in response, leaning away again. “You know if you’re wrong, all this work’s going to look weird and maybe a little crazy, right?” they asked.

March shrugged, though she knew they were right. The risk of being the first person to suspect someone of misdeeds was that if you were wrong it was very bad . Still, she trusted her gut. Something was off about Ivy Embra, and she had an inkling it was more than just typical teenage misery. Maybe she wasn’t evil, but something was lurking behind her cookie-cutter outward appearance. There was some darkness in those eyes of hers, visible even in the photos of her posed with friends at parties or in nondescript patches of woodland and grassy fields, her bow always mere inches away no matter the occasion. This was a girl with a secret if she’d ever seen one.

Apparently her silence had stretched on for too long, as Ven rose up from their seat, spine cracking. “I’m gonna go get water. You have fun staring at Ivy Embra till your eyes pop out,” they said, yawning. “Try not to pass out at your desk.”

March snorted, playfully flipping them off as she listened to their retreating footsteps, still scrolling through her page. She still had lots of photos to get through and comment sections to scour. She had a feeling she’d be here all night.

Hopefully she’d find something. She couldn’t afford to be wrong about this.

Chapter Text

Monday mornings got a bad wrap, but if March was being honest, she rather liked them.

She loved weekends, of course. She liked having free time to spend with her parent, she liked getting to go fuck off into the woods to study the stars and hang out with woodland critters. She liked driving out late at night with her friends, liked parties and study sessions and doing homework with music blaring in the privacy of her own room. But something about Monday morning, with a whole week of classes ahead, driving in in the early hours of the morning with all the hope of a new week to fuck around and find out with… there was something special in that too. Sure, it could be a slog sometimes, but when it was good, it was pretty goddamn good.

This Monday was an extra-special one. For starters, it was the first Monday back after the party on Friday, which meant everyone was bound to have lots of juicy stories to share during their classes. And it was the first Monday in… well, ever, that she had Ven in the front seat of her car. They were living together for now, which meant she got to ferry them to school in lieu of the bus. Hell, she’d even dropped off Ryo at the elementary school, which meant getting to see what Hudol elementary was actually like. And sure, the answer was ‘just as boring as you’d think’, but that had been fun.

The whole living together thing was actually quite nice. It would be nicer if it had happened organically, and not because Ven’s shitty father went missing and left an obvious struggle behind, but one had to count their blessings where they could. And maybe if they were lucky, he’d crop up thirty years from now and reveal he’d just fucked off to avoid paying taxes or something.

(Certainly March wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of him coming back. She was a little protective of her friend, sue her. She’d seen them when they first arrived to Aguefort, seen the way they’d been crushed on every level by their father’s controlling behavior. He deserved much worse than a few unkind words.)

By the time they’d pulled into the parking lot, March’s mood had reached a significant peak. She was just so excited for the day already. She could barely keep calm enough to park straight, only kept in check by the fact that at Aguefort, people would 100% use their magic to put your car on a roof somewhere if you pissed them off with your parking job.

“ Are you ready for today, Ven?” March asked, turning to her friend in the passenger’s seat. They were sitting hunched over their phone, eyes still slightly fuzzy with sleep. They’d been so hard to wake up this morning. March assumed they were coming down with something, although she was a little worried. They’d inhaled way more of that weird red dust than anyone else. Maybe it was affecting their mood? She’d suggest they visit the nurse if she didn’t think that’d just freak them out. Maybe she could give them a look-over at some point. Between her and Moryore surely they’d be able to tell if something was off? She wasn’t supposed to practice medicine like that, but it’d be fine. Probably.

“ Yeah, I am. Just tired, is all,” Ven said, stifling a yawn as they stuffed their phone into their jacket. How they had one on when it was still 80 degrees outside was anyone’s fucking guess. “ We should go inside.”

March studied them for a moment, but couldn’t really discern anything too out of the ordinary. Probably they were just tired and traumatized from the weekend’s events. Well, no need to push things. Ven was always the type to talk when they were ready and never a moment before that. Instead she just turned her engine off and slinked out of the car, preparing for yet another day at Aguefort.

They found the rest of their party sitting in the hallway by Moryore’s locker. It was a tight squeeze so as not to block the walkway, with Raven sitting up on top of the lockers themselves and Haldir practically wedged between Moryore and the wall. Ven and March crowded in around them, and the squeeze would have been uncomfortably close if it was anyone else. Like this, though, March was perfectly content. One did not adventure with a group for two years and not develop a certain level of comfort with them.

“Look who finally decided to show their faces,” Raven teased, nudging Ven’s head with her foot. Ven rolled their eyes, batting her boot away. “You two look like you haven’t slept much. Long night?”

“I was doing some research,” March said. “You know how it is. Speaking of ‘how it is’… how are we doing today, folks?”

“I’m fine. I stopped by the temple on my way to school, so I had to be up early myself,” Moryore said, paired with a yawn. “I didn’t spend as much time at Epiphania’s altar as I would have liked over the summer, so I figured I’d make up for it now.”

March nodded, understanding- they’d all kind of fallen out of their usual routines during that long summer of endless night. It had bothered Moryore the most. He took his oath and his faith very seriously, and she remembered how much he’d been stressed out by the disruption to his usual temple routine. March herself hadn’t been nearly as affected, though she’d been stressed in her own way about other things. “I hope that went well.”

“It did. Got to speak to a few people at the temple while I was there, although no one who was there for Epiphania. Seems like the handful of her followers living in Elmville are all out on quests for the moment, so it’s just me for now,” Moryore said. “I envy people with widespread faith traditions, if I’m being honest. It must be nice to be able to connect with others who share in that sort of thing.”

“It’s really not,” Ven said. This earned a few awkward chuckles; while it was clear to them that Ven was only joking, the reminders of their church were always a little uncomfortable. God, why did Sol have to breed such a specific kind of asshole as his followers? (Well, March knew some of those answers, knew the historical circumstances that had created the church as they knew it, but they still didn’t appreciate it.)

“I’m sure they’ll all be back in town soon,” Haldir said, patting Moryore on the shoulder. “And in the meantime, maybe this is the year she’ll give you a quest.”

Moryore shook his head. “Not how it works, but thank you, Haldir,” he said. The conversation then began to shift once more, as Haldir went into some discussion about the various quests Moryore’s fellow paladins were on. March half-listened, distracted by Raven, who had leaned over to play with her hair.

There was a small throat clearing noise from behind them, and March turned to see who it was just as they began to speak. “ You guys check your email?” Rosamunda asked, drawing the groups attention to her. She was drinking a comically large iced coffee; it would’ve been massive in March’s hands, which made it nearly unwieldy for the halfling girl herself. March had to wonder if that much caffeine was good for her. Then again, she drank energy drinks like a fish drinking water, so she had no room to judge.

“Not yet, no,” Moryore said. “I usually wait till first period. Why?”

“We have an assembly,” Rosamunda said. March blinked, immediately going to pull out her phone. An assembly? So soon into the semester? That could only mean something horrible had happened. Aguefort wasn’t one of those schools that just had assemblies to announce pep rallies or fundraisers or other mundane high-school shit; usually when they were all gathered together, someone was trying to blow up the theater building or there was a dark cult in some basement somewhere or the principal killed himself and the guidance counselor the evening prior.

(Granted, that last one had only ever happened once , but it was a pretty damn memorable occasion. On the second day too! The Bad Kids really did get the shortest end of the stick imaginable, huh?)

Next to her sister, Sunsugar popped a powdered donut hole into her mouth. “The email didn’t say anything about what it’s about. We were taking bets on it on the ride here. Rosamunda says it’s probably about the shrimp jump,” she said, mouth still full of donut.

“Why on earth would they care about the shrimp jump?” Moryore asked, reaching down to steal a donut hole from Sunsugar. She glared at him, but allowed it, with only a little grumbling. “I mean, I suppose the neighbors probably did suffer some property damage, but surely they’d just ask the Seacasters to pay for it.”

Rosamunda shrugged. “No clue. We should just go and see what it’s about, probably,” she said.

“It better not be a waste of time,” Raven grumbled. March gave a sympathetic nod, though she did think Raven had a little less room to complain. Her classes weren’t even starting for like, three hours.

They made there way to the auditorium in a half-meandering fashion, some of them dragging their feet more than others. Raven was half-draped over March’s back, and after a bit of dragging her, she just rolled her eyes and bent down so she could fully get on her back. One of these days, Raven was going to break her spine. It’d be worth it, but it was definitely going to happen.

When they arrived, t he auditorium was packed with students, milling about and talking amongst one another animatedly. Some parties were clumped together, clearly going over schedules for the week or discussing upcoming assignments; some were weaving in and out of crowds, calling to friends, trading gossip and banter and all the other bits of social currency that had such value in the halls of a school like Aguefort. March could barely keep up with it on the best of days, but she didn’t mind the feeling of being a little lost in the hustle and bustle. She liked the unpredictability of it all. Truly, what was more natural than a little bit of chaos?

Her own party stuck to the back, not really wanting to push towards the seats or try to make their way towards the stage in front. Rosamunda and Sunsugar both climbed up onto some of the banisters in the back so they could see, and Raven reluctantly returned to the ground.

“I feel like we’ve already had a million of these this year,” Haldir said.

“It’s just one of those years, I think,” Raven agreed. March couldn’t help but chuckle at that. What did ‘one of those years’ even mean in this context? Aguefort was always weird. It’d been weird when their parents attended, it’d been weird when their parents’ parents attended, it’d probably remain weird when their own kids attended, barring Arthur Aguefort dropping dead. Which, given his track record, was unlikely to stay permanent. Fucking wizards.

There was a jostling of the crowd as people settled in, and then Interim Vice Principal Jace Stardiamond was walking on stage. He looked exhausted, with major bags under his eyes and slightly messy hair and clothes. Someone had a rough morning, it seemed. It must be the effects of the position, because Gilear looked like that all the time. She didn’t know how any of them stuck with the position for as long as they did.

“Good morning students! I hope everyone had a restful weekend. I’m going to try to keep this short, because we have a busy day of classes ahead of us. First, I’d like to remind students that our parking policies have remained the same this year as they were set last year. Namely, no live animals are permitted to be left unleashed in the parking lots unless they’ve passed the safety exams required. We almost had an incident with a manticore this morning, and I’d prefer to keep casualties to a minimum,” Jace began.

“They let someone bring a manticore to school?” Sunsugar murmured. March stifled her own laughter. She knew precisely which kid had the manticore, and she also knew he wasn’t going to listen to anything that Jace said. Clearly some of the other students new as well, and they were much less subtle about their laughter.

“Secondly, I’d just like to remind everyone that staff rooms are still off limits, even for staff members who are out of office. We will be enforcing detentions for students caught sneaking into the staff lounges or offices. Yes, even for the rogue students. Detention this year will be split between Mr. O'Shaugnessy and Mr. Halo St. Croix, so please keep that in mind,” Jace said.

“Wow. That’s two wildly different vibes for detention. I’d definitely be hoping for Jawbone over Halo any day of the week,” Haldir said with a grimace.

“...I respect Mr. Halo as a teacher, but even I would pick Jawbone,” Moryore said. It seemed most of the school was once again in agreement, as there was an explosion of chatter amongst the students. There were even a few loud protests, which was definitely a waste of time, but was pretty entertaining. For them, anyway.

Jace’s responding expression was so drained of energy that March swore she could see him put his foot in the grave. She kind of felt bad about him, if he was being honest. “Now, welcoming to the stage Interrim Emergency Backup Principal Grix and a very special guest!”

From the wings, Principal Grix rolled out, looking… well, exactly the same as always. Warforged didn’t tend to have super expressive faces by their very nature- but March could have sworn that his face was disappointed somehow. When she made eye contact with Raven, she could see her own suspicions echoed in her expression. She gestured behind Principal Grix as he wheeled off to the side, and that was when March really took in the second guest. A large, imposing aaracrockra with eagle-features, in a spiffy suit.

“ Yo, Moryore, he works for the Council of Chosen right? You think your dad knows him?” Sunsugar whispered, leaning towards her friend. The paladin just shrugged, eyes still fixed on the people on stage. Particularly on Principal Grix, though that was to be expected. He clearly thought something was wrong there, and when Moryore got a hunch, he always followed it.

“ I think I’ve seen him before,” March mumbled, pulling her own phone out to snap a photo. Her father worked with the Council of Chosen enough that she was pretty sure he’d recognize him. Besides her, she could hear Ven ruffling around in their bag. She watched from the corner of her eyes as they pulled a notebook out and began to take notes. Ah, the beauty of adventuring school. When the party caught the scent of a potential oddity around campus, they almost always took notes, maybe did some digging. It never amounted to much, but it was good practice for later in life. They’d be real adventurers someday, after all.

Jace gestured towards the aaracrockra, who puffed up proudly. He looked boring and serious and professional , which was an immediate red flag. Professionals like that didn’t exist in Elmville unless they were evil or otherwise unhinged in some way. It was like, the Law of Kalvaxus or something. March couldn’t remember the exact joke she’d read but it had been pretty funny, and now she was distracted and definitely not paying any attention to the agent on stage. It wasn’t her problem anyway. “ This is Agent Clark. He’s been assigned to stick around Aguefort Adventuring Academy for a bit, as they’re currently investigating a few cases involving missing persons that may be the result of doppelgangers.”

March let herself be distracted by that for a moment as Agent Clark launched into his own introductions. Missing persons cases? Could it maybe have something to do with Ven’s dad? She’d have to ask them about it. If he’d been acting strange, keeping different hours, behaving in ways antithetical to his usual routines… perhaps he’d been replaced. Though that seemed juts a little unlikely. Ven’s father had always kind of sucked. Maybe hoping it was a doppe lgang er was just wishful thinking. More than likely the two things were simply unrelated, and the answer to Ven’s problems were a long ways off.

When she tuned back in, Agent Clark’s t ir ade was all the more impassioned as he explained a history that she frankly felt sorry he ahd experienced. If she’d lost her whole family like that… god, she’d be e n devastated. Although she still didn’t trust him near her. His hatred for doppelgangers could easily be misplaced rage. Also, her mother was a changeling, and though they weren’t the same thing… a lot of people believed them to be. It could be a bit of a toss-up whether someone would lump them together, and she’d rather avoid the risk of an unpleasant conversation if she could.

“ Agent Clark seems really upset about people using disguising magic, huh,” March mumbled.

“ I mean, I do agree that more people should be aware that fraud is still a crime. But also, we’re adventurers. ‘Crime’ is kind of a loose concept for us,” Haldir whispered back. Moryore shook his head next to them, which was to be expected. He was the least willing to break the law of all of them, although that wasn’t saying much. He had a ‘only if it’s for the greater good’ strategy, which was vague enough that usually he was on board for things like espionage and breaking and entering and crimes of that nature. Turns out that following the goddess of curiosity made someone a little laxer about obeying rules for their own sake.

As they were mumbling to one another, there was a small commotion spreading through the group. March’s ears pricked up, and as she was turning to see what was going on, she heard a choked laugh. “Oh my god,” Sunsugar said, in a wheezing whisper. She nudged Moryore with her knee, pointing, and the group all turned to look. The Bad Kids were standing towards the middle of the crowd, easy to spot as always, and… there were two Kristens. just standing there in the crowd. That wasn’t the only odd bit, though.

“Is… Is Kristen Applebees wearing wranglers ?” Ven asked, squinting. March bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The former chosen of Helio, the Shrimp Jump extraordinare, the Student Body President candidate, the reviver of lost god Cassandra and purifier of the Nightmare King, was in wranglers and a cowboy hat. Sometimes March didn’t think this life could be real .

“... So Fig heard Agent Clark talking about fraud, and decided to literally do the thing he was yelling about in the crowd?” Rosamunda mumbled. “...You know what, that’s the Bad Kids for you. I don’t know what I expected.”

“It’s a good bit, to be fair,” Raven said. March nodded in agreement, even as she could hear Agent Clark continuing his spiel. She… kind of didn’t care, to be honest. There was a fifty-fifty shot that he was irrelevant in like a week anyway. She just kept an eye on the Bad Kids, as Kristen (one of them) clearly noticed the other Kristen and seemed to panic. Then, all of a sudden, she started… dancing? She was just wiggling in place a little bit, clearly off rhythm which was remarkable given that she wasn’t even dancing to music.

“Oh! She’s pretending to be Fabian,” Sunsugar said, giggling. “See, she’s doing the like, flowy sheet dance thing he started doing last year.” She too mimicked the motion for a moment, still giggling. March couldn’t stop herself from laughing this time.

“They’re so gonna get detention again,” Haldir said, shaking their head. “...Then again, the counselor is Jawbone, so… maybe not a bad thing.”

March just kept snickering. God, the amount of faculty that were related to the Bad Kids in some way was getting a little out of hand. Jawbone, Coach Gorthalax, Vice Principal Gilear… actually, that was kind of it. Maybe Ms. Jones counted, since they’d rescued her little sister, but even that was more tenuous than not. There were way more teachers than that.

“ She could still get Halo,” Raven commented, though she too was giggling. More students had joined in on the bit, also mimicking Kristen’s terrible impression of Fabian, and half the damn school was laughing. March was tempted to join in, but she had work after school, and she didn’t want to end up being stuck in detention instead.

Distracted as they were by the bit, they barely noticed when Agent Clark walked off stage. They didn’t notice anything, in fact, until there was a slight screech from the microphone. They all turned to the stage to see that Principal Grix had pushed Jace out of the way and was now addressing the crowd.

“ It has come to my attention that there were violations of the student code of conduct this weekend,” Principal Grix said. His voice boomed , echoing through the hall with a sharp and unpleasant ton e. “I was informed that there was [illegal drug use] and [underage drinking]. I will now be performing a [drug analysis scan]. Please remain still.”

Before March could react, Principal Grix’s eyes flashed blue, and he cast a large field of light over the crowd. She froze up. Thank god she’d stayed sober over the weekend. And that, as far as she was aware, none of her party had taken anything that would still be in their bloodstream. It was still confusing, though. No one had ever been punished for this kind of thing before. Was drug use against school policy​ ? That seemed like the sort of thing Aguefort wouldn’t have cared about. She shot a look to her companions, who all looked confused but not particularly worried. (Except for Ven, but they always looked like that.)

“Scan complete. Violaters will now be handled according to the [Aguefort Code of Conduct]. Please comply,” Principal Grix announced. Then, it began shooting nets out into the crowd. A few students were caught immediately, and in a flash panic began to set in.

The explosion of movement that occurred afterward was almost impossible to keep up with. People were running every which way, taking off flying, casting spells, shouting. It was a cacophony of noise and blurred motion, a pure chaos that March truly did not have it in her to deal with. Her party was almost immediately separated, jostled apart by the stampede of fleeing high-schoolers. March, not wanting to be crushed by the mob, groaned. With a whispered few words, she felt her stomach drop, and moments later she was up in the air and flying off, a retreating vulture in the distance.

She’d have to come back for the others later. For now, she was going somewhere she wouldn’t risk getting stepped on.

By the time they regrouped, exhausted, the school had mostly settled down again. People were milling about before classes officially started, loudly talking amongst themselves. Some people were still running around, panicking, but that had mostly died down.

Their party was clumped together underneath the stairs to the third floor. The third floor was mostly abandoned during the day, so there wasn’t a lot of foot traffic. It made for the perfect spot to have a quiet conversation unimpeded. Plus, Haldir could stand in a perfect spot to watch for approaching teachers or nosy students. Rosamunda had been quite proud to show it off the day they’d found it in Freshmen year. It was even out of sight of the old crystal cameras.

“So, that was… well, unpleasant,” March began once they were all settled in. “Anyone get hurt in that stampede? I have healing spells I can use.”

“I think we’re all fine. Sunsugar and I were up off the ground, so we avoided the worst of it,” Rosamunda answered.

“I managed to slip out uninjured,” Haldir said, eyes fixed on the end of the hall. Even focused on surveillance, they still managed to tap Ven’s arm with their tail. “Ven had a bruise though.”

“That was from the door,” Ven said. “I hit it on my way out. Too many kids flying above me to watch where I was going.” March winced a little at that. She had been one of the flying kids herself, albeit in vulture form. She didn’t feel too bad, though. Ven would heal up quick, and she was just avoiding getting trampled herself.

“I’m glad we’re all okay. That aside, I feel the need to stress again: something is off with Principal Grix,” Moryore said, keeping his voice low. “What on Earth was that? Drug use has never been something this school has tested for or cared about, least of all for the kind of stuff being used at that party. It was all basically no stronger than alcohol.”

“I don’t know, there probably were some kids on harder stuff. But even then, I don’t think Aguefort would have wanted them to get in trouble for it,” Sunsugar said. “We all saw him. He wasn’t really the kind of guy to be all ‘oh drugs are bad and evil and you’re a horrible human being for doing them’. He was… relaxed? He’d have, if he’d have done anything, just made them talk to Jawbone.”

“Exactly!” Moryore said. “Something is off, and we need to figure out how and why. I think we need to start looking into it.”

“Huh… why?” Sunsugar asked, lips pursed. “I mean, I get feeling suspicious but like… why us?”

“Because we’ve noticed it. And anyways, Sunsugar, we’re adventurers. This sort of thing should be our bread and butter. Sticking our nose into anything that seems off, running off on a hunch, beating the pavement to find clues… that’s the sort of thing we’re meant to be getting up to,” Moryore said. He looked briefly around the group for their reactions. Of course, all of them seemed to echoe his sentiment. What was the point of going to adventuring school if not to get up to some potentially dangerous hijinks?

“I mean… I do get where you’re coming from. But historically investigating teachers here has never gone well,” Sunsugar said. “We could get off easy, but we could also end up like Biz Glitterdew.”

Raven was quick to interject with, “None of us are like Biz Glitterdew.” Her face screwed up like she’d just bit into a lemon, which was only fair. Biz Glitterdew sucked. No one wanted to be compared to him if they could help it.

“ We’re going to be careful. Don’t worry- none of us are getting blackmailed into helping him or something like that,” Moryore said. “We’ll stay out of trouble… as much as we possibly can.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel much better… but also, I get it. Just let me know how I can help, okay? I’m totally willing to be an alibi or a distraction or something,” Sunsugar said. “Plus, we can totally have March turn into a worm or something and follow him around as a spy.”

At that, March felt compelled to jump in. “ I’m still on the Ratgrinders thing. Sorry,” March said, shaking her head. “I’m gonna be chasing this one for a bit. I’ll try to pitch in, but I’m not gonna be super devoted to it.”

“No worries. Between me and Haldir we should have it covered. We might borrow Raven or… maybe Ven if we need a spellcaster,” Moryore replied. “...Probably not Ven. No offense bur you’re a little too easily spooked by authority figures.”

With a soft, sad chuckle, Ven said, “No, no, you’re right. I’m too easily intimidated. And, anyways, I’m busy with other stuff. I’ll probably just pitch in on the Ratgrinders investigation, I think.”

March grinned, reaching her hand out for a high-five. Ven still seemed a little distracted, but they did high-five back. Progress. With the two of them on the case, they’d definitely figure out what was up with the Ratgrinders in no time.

And who knows? Maybe they could even get some class credit out of it.

Sorcery class went about as well as Ven could have expected it to. Which was… not very well.

Their magic was still acting weird from the weekend. Cantrips were fine as always, but when they cast a leveled spell during demonstrations, they’d accidentally lit themselves on fire and had to be doused out with a quick Create Water. Mr. Stardiamond had just shook his head and told them to take a minute to recover. At least no one had laughed this time, but Ven couldn’t stop replaying it in their head. And they knew anxiety made their casting worse, and they knew they should be trying to relax. But it just felt impossible, and it didn’t help that their head hurt from the lights on the last spell. Gods, why did their magic have to be so stupidly bright? By the end of class, they were just eager to leave, packing their bag as quickly as possible.

“Hey Ven! Nice to see you back to school in one piece,” a voice said. Ven looked up from their bag to see Marquisha standing in front of their desk. She was wearing significantly more normal clothes than the last time they saw her, although her makeup was still glittery and brightly colored. She looked like she was color-matching to one of those fancy highlighters with the bright blue eye-shadow and lipstick. It was nice on her, actually. “I was a little worried you’d be too hungover to come back.”

“Huh? Oh! Hello,” they replied, waving slightly. Shit, was that weird? Maybe that was weird. No, Ven, you’re just overthinking things, they reminded themself. Deep breaths. They could get through a single conversation without shitting the bed. “Yeah, I was pretty drunk huh? I’m fine, though, I had a chance to recover over the weekend.” Well, in between all the other horrible shit that happened that weekend, but she didn’t need to hear about that right off the bat. That would probably be too heavy for a light, casual chat.

“A little drunk is an understatement, but honestly, I was way worse so I can’t judge,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m like, 90% sure it was all the Bad Baby Milk. Seriously, whoever came up with that is straight up insane.”

“Well, it was a party the Bad Kids were throwing. That was to be expected,” Ven said. They were pretty notorious for being up to wild shenanigans. The stories Ven had heard could fill a book. “I’m shocked none of them got bagged by Principal Grix for drug-use, honestly.”

“Hah! Me too,” Marquisha said. “They got Zervius on that, actually. He texted me and said he’d been suspended for three days.” Her lip twitched a little, clearly a bit amused. Ven couldn’t help but mirror the look. Maybe some time away from school would do him some good.

“I didn’t know Zervius did that kinda thing,” Ven said. “...I hope he didn’t get too roughed up. Principal Grix seemed pretty upset and he wasn’t pulling any punches.”

Marquisha shook her head. “He’s fine, just embarassed. I’ll let him know you were worried though,” she said, in a tone that was definitely teasing. Which… okay, that was probably meant to be friendly, right? That was nice. Ven could handle a little friendly banter.

“Go ahead. But also tell him to take his time coming back,” they joked. “It’s nice to get through a class without him grumbling in the background.”

Marquisha laughed, and Ven was temporarily distracted by the little crinkles that formed by her eyes when she did so. God, she was cute. Ven was never saying that out loud, but they could certainly think it. When Marquisha was done laughing, she lightly slugged Ven in the arm. “Yeah, yeah, you knucklehead, I’ll tell him that too. When he jumps you, though, don’t come crying to me,” she said. There was a brief pause, surprisingly warm even though Ven usually anticipated silence mid-conversation to be awkward. Maybe it was just because Marquisha was so smiley. Ven kind of envied that. “So, how’d the rest of your weekend go?”

“Oh, um… It was… my Dad’s missing?” Ven said, wincing. Gods, this was weird. Because like, on one hand they didn’t want to make things weird or get too gloomy or serious. But on the other, it was impossible to talk about their weekend and not touch upon the major thing that happened. It was a no-win situation.

Before Marquisha could respond, someone else was busting into the conversation, joining the small circle at the front of the class. “Dude! I saw that on the news!” Ven felt a large hand on their shoulder, and glanced to see that Duke Crushrock had joined them. “I’m sorry, man, that must be scary as hell. There were like, cops in your house and everything.”

“It’s… fine. I’m staying with March and her father so it’s not like Ryo and I are on our own,” they said. It was a little awkward to have multiple eyes on them all of a sudden, but they’d live. “I’m sure they’ll find him eventually. My father isn’t an adventurer- there’s not a lot of places he could have run off to.”

“I’m sorry, Ven,” Marquisha said, putting her hand on their other shoulder. “You let me know if you need anything, alright? I probably can’t, like, find him myself, but if you need someone to distract you or to blow off steam, I’ll be more than willing to help.”

“I’ll let you know,” Ven said, knowing they had no intention of taking her up on that. She was just saying it to be polite, presumably. Besides, they were all students. She was probably incredibly busy. “I, um, I’ll probably be fine, though. My party is being very supportive.”

“Makes sense. You’ve got a good team,” Duke said, removing his hand to smack them on the back. “Seriously, I’m envious.”

Marquisha nodded at Duke’s words. “The Blue Moon Buddies seem like they’re all great friends. It’s nice when it’s like that, yeah? You don’t have to worry abot infighting,” she said. “I’m glad my party gets along the same way.”

Ven tried for a moment to picture the others in Marquisha’s party. They didn’t have a good grasp on any of their names, but they knew what they looked like: the tall air genasi everyone was always fawning over, the goliath girl always carrying ice-skates for some reason, and the tiny halfing who’d thrown a molotov cocktail at a teacher the second week of freshman year. They’d all seemed like nice people, though Ven had never gotten the chance to talk to them. “...Yeah, they seem nice,” they said.

“You should hang out with us sometime! That goes for you too, Duke. The girls love new blood for our training sessions,” Marquisha said, with a little laugh that implied some inside joke Ven wasn’t privy to.

“Maybe,” Ven said, though again they weren’t sure if she was just offering to be nice or if it was a real invitation. “I’ll have to find a day I’m free though. I… have a lot of classwork.”

“Right, right,” Marquisha said. “Oh shit, speaking of which, I have to get to second period or I’ll be late again, and this time Ms. Casterwall will actually give me detention, and I’m not risking being stuck with Halo.”

Duke gave her a sympathetic look. “I wouldn’t want that either. I’ve just got a martial class after this, and Ms. Moondaughter doesn’t care as long as you’re quiet coming in,” he said. “Ven, you got a class after this?”

Ven shook their head. “No. Free period. I’m going to go finish working on this week’s reading,” they said as they slung their backpack over their shoulder. “Have a good day?” The pair echoed the sentiment as they gathered their own things. Ven left the classroom with a slightly better mood than when they’d entered. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The party gathered again at lunch, and when March got a good look at their faces, she could just tell what kind of day it had been. Their faces were all some form of exhausted or irritated. Moryore’s hair was a mess and his hands were stained with black, probably from some kind of polish. Next to him, Haldir seemed closer to their usual appearance, but the slow twitch of their tail reminded her of an agitated cat. Rosamunda was practically dozing off where she stood, and next to her Sunsugar was staring into the sky like she was praying for an asteroid to hit them. The only people who seemed fine were Raven and Ven, which… made some sense. Raven didn’t have classes till nighttime, and Ven still looked like they did this morning, which wasn’t great, but was understandable.

“Rough day, huh?” Raven asked, the first to break from their half-minded chatter to a real conversation.

Sunsugar groaned in response. “Class was busy. Ms. Lucinda spent like, half of it crying, but it was still busy. And Yolanda had us all do private prayers and studies today because she has meetings to wrap up, so we didn’t even get any instruction. I’m pissed,” she grumbled. “Mondays are the worst.”

March nodded, though she didn’t really get it. Her day had been pretty alright, all things considered. She had spent half the morning working on her charts and trying to identify the new plants her teacher had brought in, but that was just business as usual. She’d even gotten a few new cuttings for their garden out of it. “That’s tough. Hey, at least it’s lunch now, right?”

“Yeah, let’s just try to relax,” Moryore chimed in. “Maybe we can even do some light snooping, see what people are saying about this morning? The more information we can collect, the better, especially if we do it as soon as possible. Time will erode memories after all.”

“I’m not sure I have that in me,” Sunsugar said, leaning against her sister. “...Maybe once I get food in me. I think I could demolish a hot-dog right now.” March grimaced at that. School hotdogs were just barely edible. She wasn’t the type to turn up her nose at most food, having a fairly broad palate, but even she had things she disliked. She was picky about meat specifically. A lot of people assumed because she was part Goblin she’d eat whatever was put in front of her, but she didn’t have the same strong stomach as many of her peers. She could mostly only eat chicken or other bird-meats. Sunsugar, however, had no such limitations.

“ Are they serving hot-dogs today?” Haldir asked. “I thought it was another ‘cheese surprise’ day.” They gagged a little as they said that. Cheese surprise was never very good. The surprise was usually mysterious meat chunks or old veggies.At least the cheese was always okay, although it was clearly just the plastic-wrapped cheese melted down en masse. Frankly, sometimes March just asked for a cup of cheese and called it a day.

“Sometimes I miss when Gilear was the Lunch Lad,” Ven said out loud. “At least he knew what kinds of liquid-based foods were edible . Even if it meant we were eating tuna three times a week.”

“Tuna’s not bad. It’s a good source of protein,” Moryore agreed. “...I really should just start packing my own lunch.”

“Come on you guys, it’s not that bad,” Sunsugar said. “I mean, do you smell that? It’s gotta be decent for once.” With that prompting, March immediately took a deep breath, pulling it in. There was a wonderful mix of scents: frying oil, spices, some sort of spun sugar, the faintest hint of nacho cheese… actually, it smelled almost too good to be true. Or more accurately, too good to be Aguefort.

And clearly others agreed with her, because after a quick beat, Ven replied, “That’s… there’s no way that’s from the cafeteria.” They began to walk off, following their nose, and the party followed close behind. Haldir pulled some notebook from their bag, pen at the ready, which was maybe overkill… but maybe not. Who knows? It could totally be related to their current questions about Principal Grix.

They were half-way to the cafeteria when something caught their eye. Tugging on the end of Moryore’s t-shirt, Rosamunda announced, “Do you all see that huge crowd outside?”

Moryore turned towards it, eyes narrowing. “Huh. Let’s see what that’s about,” he said. The group pressed on towards the exit into the courtyard, and despite the large crowd it was surprisingly easy to move through to see what was happening. It wasn’t just a standing crowd, there wasa movement, which meant they were probably not all just sitting there staring at something. Which wasa little disappointing. March had been kind of hoping it was another fight; Aguefort fights always went incredibly hard.

When they managed to get to the front of the crowd, to their surprise, there was a line of food-trucks as well as a couple major posters with ‘Vote for Kipperlilly’ and similar slogans plastered on them. They wer e oddly professional looking. Clearly Kipperlilly, or someone who she was close with, had professional editing skills.

“Kipperlilly got food trucks ? Damn,” Raven said, smoothing her hair down. “She must be really set on winning.”

March couldn’t help but whistle in response, eyes wide as she took it all in. This was honestly a little insane. Less insane than the shrimp jump, but still pretty insane. How did Kipperlily even afford this? Oisin was related to some ancient dragon, if his bragging at Fabian’s party was to be believed, so he had to have some access to money, but as far as she knew, selling that many diamonds would tank their value and it was difficult to get gold or other forms of wealth across Spyre without massive legal fees or incredible risk. Even the Seacasters had spent several years working out their tax situation to get their wealth into the country legally, and that had come with them agreeing to not commit anymore crimes when they became Solesian citizens. March wasn’t certain, but Oisin’s grandmother probably didn’t go through that process. Not to mention, Oisin’s parents probably weren’t going to be thrilled about their son dropping… probably around ten-thousand gold or so on food trucks instead of saving for college. She’d seen photos of them and they seemed like the responsible types.

“Are people paying for their own food?” Ven asked, standing on their tip-toes next to her as they peered into the distance. “That would make this so much more reasonable. Still would be expensive with the permits but… way easier.”

As if answering Ven’s question, a voice rang out over the crowd, clearly from some sort of megaphone. “Everything is free today for Aguefort students! Feel free to stop by and grab a bite to eat, and come on over if you’d like to hear more about my campaign! Go Aguefort Owlbears!”

Haldir’s ear twitched and with a huff, they grumbled, “Fucking Kipperlilly, Gods, I hate her so much.” Next to them, Moryore clapped a hand on their shoulder and squeezed sympathetically. March couldn’t help but echo the scowl. She didn’t have personal beef with Kipperlily, but she also understood why Haldir disliked her. Plus, she herself disliked Ivy for probably even less of a reason. Sometimes you just had to be a hater.

“I mean, this is kind of cool, though,” Sunsugar said. “Like, I think she’s doing a good thing for her classmates, even if she’s not… I don’t know. I don’t actually get why you dislike her, Haldir.”

“She’s… god, she just doesn’t get adventuring,” Haldir said. “You know why they call her party the Ratgrinders? Because they just sit in the woods outside Aguefort killing rats all day every day. It’s antithetical to what real adventuring is supposed to be about. They’re not pushing themselves, they’re not trying to do good things or help their communities. They’re just trying to inflate their numbers artificially.”

March… had been vaguely aware of that sort of reputation. But she hadn’t realized just how much it bothered Haldir. That distaste had clearly fomented into real hatred. She supposed that at least they had a slightly better justification than she did for hating Ivy, although she happened to think there was something noble in just being a hater. Even if Ivy didn’t turn out to be evil, which they couldn’t rule out just yet, she’d still hate her. Just… on a personal level.

(Or maybe she’d turn out to be actually nice. March was willing to admit that might be the case. And if so… she’d probably stop being a hater. But it was really looking like she was a jerk, at bare minimum.)

“So, uh… are we getting food?” Rosamunda asked, looking up from her phone. “I know we’re supposed to dislike her, but like… that smells good as hell.”

Moryore seemed to consider it for a moment. Then w ith a sigh, he said, “We might as well. No point in not taking advantage of free food. But keep your ears peeled, yeah? Maybe there’s important gossip going around.”

There was a small moment of consensus before their group split again. Haldir stalked off into the distance, grumbling something about asking people for more information. So they were probably off to do their rogueish thing. Moryore spotted someone from his paladin class in line for tacos, and with a quick goodbye, he too was gone.

“ I smell something fried and tasty, so I will be seeking that out,” Rosamunda said. “I need the calories after this morning’s training. I feel like I’ve been through the fucking ringer.” She stretched with an audible pop and a groan.

“Same here! I was on my feet all morning practicing. I feel like my legs are gonna turn to jello. I think I see noodles? I will be investigating that,” Sunsugar said. She gave her sister a quick fist-bump, and then the two of them disappeared into the crowd. That just left her, Raven, and Ven standing around in a circle.

“I’m not sure I know what I want,” Raven said, eyes narrowed as she scanned the food-trucks. “I might just have an energy drink, if I’m being honest.” That earned her a gentle nudge from Ven, paired with a disapproving frown.

“You can’t just have an energy drink. You’re gonna crash hard in like three hours,” they said. “At least put food in your stomach. Your blood sugar levels are gonna be all over the place.”

Raven groaned in response. “Alright, dad , I’ll eat something. Maybe just a sandwich… could use the protein, I suppose .”

Ven rolled their eyes, turning away for but a moment. Then with a slight gasp, their hand shot out and they tugged at March’s shirt. “Look! Kipperlilly’s talking to the Bad Kids!”’

March turned immediately towards them. Her eyebrows practically shot into her hair as she watched the entirety of the Bad Kids speaking to Kipperlilly. Well, actually it appeared it was mostly Kristen doing the talking. Fabian and Riz were just glaring, and right behind them Gorgug was just standing there uncomfortably. She really did get that feeling- sometimes being awkwardly in the middle of a hostile situation you had no interest in participating in was the worst. Somehow, though, Kipperlilly’s too-polite smile and the uncomfortable energy surrounding the group wasn’t even the weirdest part.

“Is… Kristen Applebees wearing a cowboy hat filled with salsa?” March said, leaning forward. Indeed, her cowboy hat was brimming with salsa. Wasn’t that uncomfortable? She had to imagine it was heavy and wet and that the scent of peppers would be irritating for one’s eyes and nose. Then again, Applebees was always an engima.

“It’s probably an inside joke we aren’t privy to,” Raven said. There was a small pause, and then she let out a wistul sigh. “And now I want nachos.” March nodded, her own stomach rumbling. Nachos did sound pretty good… she was about to suggest they go get lunch, and leave the weirdly tense situation they were witnessing behind, when Ven made a small, frustrated grunt.

“Kipperlily’s got a non-detection spell on her,” Ven whispered, voice dropping to a whisper. March turned to them immediately, slightly shocked. Ven cast a spell? In a crowd? Willingly? Normally they were too anxious to even do cantrips with people too close to them, outside of a combat scenario. They were still getting over their anxiety around their wild magic. Of every sorcerer she’d met, they were the least willing to use their magic for the mundane, everyday things. Like instead of an innate gift it was some dangerous monster they kept on a leash.

(Gods above, what was Jace even doing if three years wasn’t enough time to at least get them comfortable with their spellwork? Hell, how hadn’t he at least mentioned referring Ven to a specialist when it was this bad? Sure, she knew more about Ven’s life than he did, but you’d have to be blind not to realize something was wrong.)

“Why do you think that?” Raven asked, now also whispering. Ven blinked, and then with a soft nod, pointed at Raven. March waited patiently for her turn, guessing that they must be casting Message between themselves.

Eventually, Ven messaged her with, “ I tried to cast ‘Detect Thoughts’ and she’s a brick wall. She’s either got Non-Detection or some innate psychic ability. I’m guessing the former, but… that bares asking. What prompted it? Even the most paranoid of adventurers generally only use such a thing when they think they might be watched.”

March considered that for a moment. It was true, most adventurers didn’t bother with non-detection as a daily thing. After all, in most social settings it was relatively easy to tell when someone was casting magic, and most people with training could resist a spell like that naturally with no problems. You generally only used such magic if you knew you were being surveiled. So who was watching Kipperlily?

Raven and Ven were clearly still talking to one another, which left March to silently ponder the question. Her theory-crafting was interupted, however, by an extremely loud voice echoing through the courtyard.

“Your Goddess passed? But how can you cast spells?”

March felt her whole body flinch, even though it wasn’t aimed at her. Kristen’s goddess was dead? Cassandra was dead? That was… how? She was only just brought back! Did that mean they were the Nightmare King again? Or was it just that they had shuffled off into the astral plane, perhaps even never to return? None of those options sounded appealing. Gods, and this was, what, the second diety death Applebees had ever had? That had to suck.

Next to her, Ven looked like they were going to melt into the ground, and Raven’s eyes were as wide as saucers. The Bad Kids had all frozen up with a variety of pained or uncomfortable looks on their faces. March was honestly shocked no one had started throwing punches. If anyone aired her friends’ business out in the open like that, she’d be getting suspended at bare minimum. The crowd of students outside were all watching with anticipation for how Kristen would respond, and she did not disappoint.

“Cassandra… passed the test to give me more spells!” Applebees shouted, looking… oddly nervous. Her expression was so painfully awkward that March could only feel sorry for her. That was, until the sudden crack of pyrotechnics had March jumping out of her skin. A spray of webs shot out, covering Kipperlilly in their white strands, and a massive spider followed as Kristen herself rocketed from the ground up, up, up into the sky.

The Bad Kids left behind began to make whooping noises, shouting a garbled mess of phrases as they jumped around. She was pretty sure she heard the words ‘salsa jump’ bandied about, but she was somewhat distracted by the rest of the chaos. The giant spider sent a bunch of people screaming through the school, kids jumping up on tables to avoid it and the sound of the panicked crowd even covering up the explosions from the fireworks. She grabbed Raven on instinct and began to back away from the stampede.

They ended up near the entrance to the gym, and Quickly, Rosamunda and Sunsugar emmerged from the chaos, the later stuffing noodles in her mouth as she ran. She was going to choke to death one of these days. “What the fuck was that?!”

“I think there’s something going on there,” March mused.

“Understatement of the century,” Rosamunda said, nearly drowned out by another crack of fireworks. Seriously, what was that spell? March was going to have to ask someone later. “Where’s Ven? Weren’t they with you?”

“ Ven ran off. Loud noises and all that,” Raven said, jabbing her thumb behind her. “ Think we should grab the others and regroup?”

March sighed, and with a nod, headed off to go collect the rest of her party. It seemed that today was only going to get weirder.

Ven was the least brave adventurer at Aguefort.

Scratch that, the least brave adventurer to ever exist. They had fought undead and wild beasts and other adventurers and barely broke a sweat. And yet here, standing in the hallway staring at a door, they were faltering. Massively.

It should be easy. It wasn’t like they were multi-classing or something! They just… wanted to check out a bard class. They liked music. They didn’t have the nerve to try and go to a club meeting, which would certainly be student run and maybe filled with people who didn’t like them and could feasibly reject them. Classes were safer. The teacher probably couldn’t just throw them out, right? Or at the very least, they’d take them aside and be gentle about it. So it should be easy. Ven should just be able to do it already. They wanted to do it, they’d thought about doing it, they had a plan, they’d done their research, they should just get it over with already. And yet they couldn’t manage to bring themselves to walk in. They were just staring at the stupid wooden door.

It probably didn’t help that they were still shaking from earlier. Loud noises distrupted them almost as much as a bad social situation did. They hated fireworks especially. Whoever had invented them and made them socially mandated at events like summer festivals or graduations was their number one enemy. Just once they’d like to go to a large event without worrying about fireworks being sprung on them. They’d totally killed their mood, which sucked because they’d even been able to cast a spell in a crowd without panicking for once. They should have been on a high. Instead they spent lunch chewing a whole pack of gum to get back to their baseline level of nerves.

They kept staring at the door, their mind supplying them with all sorts of horrors. Maybe they’d go in and everyone would notice them immediately and know they didn’t belong there and then they’d have to explain. And then what? They didn’t play an instrument, they didn’t sing, they didn’t have a musical bone in their body. A bard who didn’t play an instrument would be stupid. And if they said they just wanted to watch, they didn’t really want to multiclass? They might get treated like some sort of weirdo, or chastised for wasting the teacher’s time. And god forbid they tried to participate . Surely they’d get something wrong and look silly for doing so.

Eventually, Ven threw in the towel. They weren’t going to be able to do it, and they were just wasting time standing around. They’d try again some other day. One of these days it had to work, right? Today just wasn’t that day. They’d go do something else, get their mind off it. They could try again on a day where they felt more confident.

Only, they didn’t have another class right now. (Not one they wanted to go to, anyway.) Maybe they’d find an empty classroom or something and do some homework till the next period. That’d be a good idea. They did have a lot of homework. Mr. Stardiamond had given them a ton of extra readings to try to help them with their control, which was… nice of him. He was trying. Ven was just not a very good student.

(Sometimes it felt like Stardiamond was more annoyed by their presence than anything else. Which… was fair. Every other sorcerer in their year had a handle on things by now. Stardiamond was probably just pissed he had to put in so much effort on a Junior when he already had his hands full with the freshmen. Still, sometimes Ven had to wonder if they’d done something else to piss him off, something more personal. All the stories they’d heard when they came to Aguefort had painted him as this earnest, patient teacher. Someone cool. Maybe they were just that awful.)

They walked through a few hallways, dodging classes with open doors or students in the hallways ditching classes. They kept their ears peeled for a quiet hallway, until finally they found a door in a hopefully abandoned hallway. Relieved, they rearranged their backpack as they pushed the door open.

They realized a second too late that the classroom was not, in fact, empty. A few hissed words hit their ears, something about gold and spell components, and then abruptly stopped. Ven was left facing the sight before them- Mr. Stardiamond and Mr. Cliffbreaker, alone in a classroom, standing a little too close to one another. Not in an overt ‘we were just making out’ way, but in a ‘you might be about to witness a fight’ way. They winced immediately. Definitely the worst pair of teachers to accidentally stumble on right now.

“And I’m telling you to get a handle on-” Cliffbreaker said, so quietly that most people probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it; Ven’s hearing had always been pretty sensitive, which was probably a Half-Elf thing. (Or maybe not, but it wasn’t like they could ask anyone about that.)

Before he could continue however, Stardiamond cut him off, head whipping around to see Ven standing in the doorway. They winced, feeling immediately like they were in deep, deep trouble.

“Oh! Um, hello Mr. Cliffbreaker, Mr. Stardiamond. I didn’t know this classroom was being used today!” they said, resisting the urge to squirm. Now both teachers were looking at them, and they briefly lamented that they didn’t have an invisibility spell. Or Misty Step.

Mr. Stardiamond sighed, with that tone he always had, that ‘I’m being so nice about this’ tone that everyone else seemed to find endearing but that Ven could feel the condescension hanging off of. Or maybe you’re just imagining it because you know you’d deserve it, that little voice in their head whispered. They decided to try not to think or address it, because that was supposedly just making it worse. Or something like that, Ven had kind of only skimmed that part of the pamphlet Mr. Jawbone had handed out last year.

“You’re alright, Ven. It’s our fault for having this conversation here. We should really be discussing this in my office ,” Mr. Stardiamond said, glaring daggers at Mr. Cliffbreaker. Yikes. Ven definitely felt like an intruder now.

“Hey, you were the one who decided to pick this fight now,” Mr. Cliffbreaker said, holding up a hand in defense. “I was perfectly content to drop the subject entirely.”

Ven did not know what they were referring to, but they did kind of feel like that wasn’t true. Mostly because they could not imagine someone like Cliffbreaker willingly dropping an argument. The barbarian kids were always talking about how hot-tempered their teacher was. Still, maybe that was sterotyping. He could certainly be chill outside of the barbarian stuff he did. “It’s um, it’s fine. I’ll just go find another room,” they said, already beginning to backpedal.

“ Don’t you have a class right now, Venatherian?” Stardiamond asked, preventing them from fleeing. Shit, full-named and everything. He was so about to give them detention if they didn’t make this lie convincing enough. They fought the urge to vomit, instead trying to keep their expression as relaxed as possible.

“Um, no. Not right now. This is my, uh, free period?” They said. Which was a lie. Actually they technically had a math class right now, but it was so boring and not required to graduate anyway. They had already finished all the major coursework they needed, and though Calculus seemed like it’d be interesting, the teacher they’d gotten sucked . Hence why they were currently working up the nerve to replace it with a bard class. Maybe. They didn’t say any of this out loud, of course. Instead they just awkwardly stood there, like some kind of terrible potted plant.

Stardiamond’s eyes narrowed. Ven had a feeling he had definitely not bought that excuse, but they also hoped he wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t like they were skipping a sorcery class, right? So why should he care? Or maybe he was just in a bad mood and looking for an excuse to take it out on somebody. Adults did that all the time.

“Ah, free periods. Back in my day they would have made you pick up a gym class or something to fill empty slots, you know,” Mr. Cliffbreaker said, interupting what might have turned into a lecture. “I still stand by that. More of you spellcaster types should be getting dedicated martial training. A bit of muscle goes a long way on an adventure.”

Relieved to have anything else to talk about, Ven said, “Oh, um, I did have a bit of martial training. Freshmen year. Not a lot, but I was originally on the Paladin track, so… yeah.” Just thinking about it made them a little uneasy. They’d like the sword and shield look, but they’d never been passionate about Sol, and they’d very nearly been trapped in that role for… who knows how long. Maybe their whole life, if they’d been unlucky. They really did owe the universe one for setting them down the path it did. Even if it meant having Mr. Stardiamond as a teacher.

“ You ever thought about continuing? Maybe not as a paladin, judging by the face you just made, but maybe a Fi ghter or a Barbarian?” Cliffbreaker said, with the casual energy of someone suggesting a lunch break or a television recommendation. It was not at all given the weight of something as patently ridiculous as the notion that Ven would be a barbarian .

“Me? A B arbarian?” Ven asked, eyes widening a little. The only thing they could think of when trying to picture that is them being crushed by their own axe or something. They weren’t completely useless but they were nowhere close to the level of the Barbarian kids. And, anyway, they were a sorcerer. There was no getting around that. “There’s no way that would work out.”

“Why not? Everyone’s got a source of rage in them somewhere. You just have to find it and harvest it. I honestly think more of you ‘innate magic’ types could benefit from the training, even if you only use the emotional side of it,” Cliffbreaker said, with such a firm convinction that honestly, Ven was starting to get what he meant. They did feel like sometimes their emotions got in the way of their magic. Maybe it would be helpful to learn how to use them instead of working around them.

Before they could really say anything back, however, Stardiamond was turning back to Cliffbreaker with an odd expression. “ Mr. Cliffbreaker . I would ask you not to try to poach students from my program right in front of me ,” he hissed.

Cliffbreaker shook his head again. “Ah, come on. You can’t say my methods wouldn’t be helpful for some of your students. You’re far too hands-off as it is,” he said. Stardiamond puffed up like a cat, glaring, and Ven took that as a signal to leave.

They were down the hallway in seconds, half-running until they felt safe to stop and take a breath. It was exhausting being around people fighting like that, and they didn’t even get the chance to see them really arguing. What was up with the two of them anyway? What had they been talking about so secretively in a classroom neither of them owned? And what was Cliffbreaker referring to when he said Stardiamond needed to get a handle on something?

They were acting strangely, that was for sure. And suddenly, all Ven could think about was that maybe, just maybe, Stardiamond was more involved in whatever weirdness was going on at this school than they’d first suspected. Why had they been named intterim vice principal, after all? What did they know about Principal Grix, given that he seemed to be working closely with him?

Maybe it was time to do some real research.

Chapter Text

Admittedly, March probably had better things to be doing.

Was she prioritizing her possibly misguided grudge on Ivy over classwork?...Yes. Did she feel bad about that? No . Sometimes one had to really commit to things like this to be rewarded. What was adventuring if not dedicating yourself to random gut instincts and flights of fancy and chasing them down until they proved useful or blew up in your face?

And it wasn’t like she wasn’t doing anything for her classes. She was still showing up on time everyday, doing her homework to the best of her ability, studying the stars at night as she usually did. It was late August by now, and the nights were excellent for the sorts of studying she was doing. So if she spent most of her day trying to find out what she could about Ivy? She could make up for it at night. She just had to work on her time management. That was an important skill for adventuring, wasn’t it? Being able to manage one’s time was extremely vital when you were racing against a clock or trying to get to a location or object before another party did. She could count this as adventuring practice for sure.

So today, she was working on intelligence gathering. She’d exhausted her social media resources, so she was going to have to hit the pavement for once. Stalking the halls of Aguefort wasn’t March’s preferred method for gathering intelligence; they were loud, crowded, and often filled with obstacles like ‘teachers telling you to get to class’ and ‘theater kids looking for their next scene partners’. But since she wasn’t about to crash a Ranger class and risk catching attention, she was going to have to try to catch her in the hallway and tail her. That was easier said then done.

She was trying her best to look casual, which meant wandering, eyes glued to her phone. Perhaps that was out of character, though. Did people expect her to be buried in a star-map or carrying plants around? She was a druid after all. Though she didn’t dress as flowy and flowery as her classmates did. Where her other druid friends might wear white cotton dresses, fashion shirts of leaves and vines, or have animal pelts as coats, she was a little more modern. She didn’t disparage more natural clothing, of course, but March liked denim. Her jeans were worn in from years of thrifting and trading, and her jacket had been patched over and over, with their backs and elbows mended with cloth and pieces of older blankets and long-lost shirts. All her clothes were still loose, given that she had to wear leather armor pieces on her knees and arms because of how often she hit walls or dropped to the ground when her transformations were disrupted, but she definitely didn’t look like a typical druid.

Considering this, March tried to walk closely to the edges of the halls, pretending to be just your typical teenager absorbed in their crystal. She wasn’t really paying attention to anything, just scrolling through her text history with her father. Gods, thinking about her father reminded her of all the late nights at work he’d been pulling recently. What was going on with that? She still had yet to decide whether to ask him about it. Was something wrong?

She felt deeply uncomfortable just thinking about it. Surely her father wouldn’t keep secrets from her. Not important ones, anyway. He’d always stressed that honesty was important, that they should both be comfortable talking about their problems. He was always careful with what he told her, obviously, and they’d gotten more open with one another over the years. She was basically an adult now. If there were issues, she was mature enough that he could trust her? Right?

She looked up briefly from her phone, and realized with a grumble that the hallways were completely empty. Damn it. She had definitely missed Ivy then. Unless she was the type of person to skip classes, but that could mean she could be anywhere. Probably off campus, if March had to guess. Who would want to stay on campus if they were skipping class? At the very least, March always went to the Farhaven Woods when she needed a break from classes.

She pushed her phone back into her jacket, and then with a sigh, continued to walk down the halls. She didn't have a class this period, so she'd just have to keep wandering. Perhaps she'd run into someone she could trade gossip with. Ivy seemed like she'd be pretty popular; perhaps she'd be the subject of some drama here or there she could pry into and learn more. Or maybe just see why she was so... pissy. Was it a cultural difference? Was she just socially awkward? Did she have a rough home-life or something? No one was rude the way she had been without something motivating it.

A few minutes later, she was rounding the corner of one of the many hallways where she heard something in the distance. She stopped, ears perking up as she strained to listen . The v o ices coming from around the corner were instantly familiar to her: it was Porter and Zara, clearly having a spirited chat in the middle of the hall. Gods, wasn’t it weird how friendly Porter was with the casting teachers despite never being seen with other martials? Actually, probably not. March was reading into that too much for sure. All of Rosamunda’s friends were half-casters or casters, after all, and she was pretty normal.

March leaned against the lockers to listen, pretending to be buried in her phone in case someone walked by. Why was she suddenly so nosy? She honestly couldn't say. A good easvespeeping session was always fun. (And also, if she tried to keep walking they'd see her and then she'd be so busted. Although why Zara was here during the day and why Porter wasn't in his classroom was also something to consider. What the hell was going on today?)

"She's still sitting in on your classes, then?" Zara asked. Her voice was relaxed, conversational, but March swore there was an edge to it somehow. Then again, she was talking to Porter. March would be irritated too.

"Yeah. Girl has a chip on her shoulder, clearly. Not that I'm admonishing her for it. A good grudge can be excellent motivation for an adventurer," Porter replied. "Really, she'd do better if she just switched over to Barbarian classes officially. Fig's got a good head on her shoulders. Tapping into that rebellious energy and really raging would be good for her."

Ah. Of course it was Fig Faeth. Everyone in the school was talking about one Bad Kid or another basically all the time. There were so many wild hijinks that showed up around Aguefort that somehow always led back to them. It was like they were the main characters of the universe or something. And everyone knew that Fig thought Porter was evil. She didn't do a great job at hiding it. Hell, sometimes she outwardly said it during classes she was sitting in on. Personally, March would probably not directly confront a teacher she thought might be sinister without backup, but Fig was clearly built different. Arch devil of Rebellion indeed.

"Oh no you don't," Zara said, with a voice that had to be playful in intention but did sound shockingly stern. "I've already signed her multi-class form, and I'm not trying to have to fight you for the spot. Especially with Lucilla already in a tiff about the whole thing."

Porter chuckled at that, though the sound made March uncomfortable for some reason. "Eh, Lucilla will live. She's gotta learn to stop taking things so personally. And to stop crying in front of the students. She's definitely making some of them feel guilty."

March nodded almost sympathetically. She'd heard from Sunsugar how... toxicly invested the teacher was in her students sometime. Perfectly lovely, but real sensitive. March was just glad to not be in that particular class. That wasn't even the main point, though; apparently Porter and Zara were both trying to get Fig to multi-class? It wasn't exactly related to anything she was supposed to be looking into, but... well, there was something there. Maybe.

She pushed off from her hiding spot and with a few quick steps, was down the adjacent hall and into a classroom she knew was normally unused in the afternoon. She was running off the high of new information; sure, it wasn't all that big, but anything could be useful. Hell, the Bad Kids were of interest to the Ratgrinders. Maybe she could find some way to make this information work to her advantage. The Ratgrinders did have a barbarian student... perhaps there was something there.

She was just making a quick note on her phone to ask Raven about Fig taking Warlock classes when she felt a presence enter the room. She immediately turned on her heel, alert. Before she could react impulsively and perhaps too aggressively (as was the Aguefort tradition), she heard a familiar soft clearing of a throat. Standing there was Mr. Fallowglade, looking oddly out of place in a normal classroom. The druid kids mostly met outside, or sometimes in one of the covered garden areas at the back of the school. She’d never even seen Mr. Fallowglade with a tie on, and yet he was fully dressed up like a regular teacher.

She stared at him for a moment, and then shoved her phone in her pocket. "Mr. Fallowglade! Hi! I promise I'm not skipping class!" she said, though she knew that she'd probably get caught in that particular lie. It wasn't like he didn't know her schedule, after all.

Mr. Fallowglade shook his head. "Please, my dear friend, relax. I am not here to police your education. I have always thought that learning is best done in practice," he said, with the wry chuckle of an old man dispelling wisdom. A surprising thing, coming from someone who was clearly still in his early years of adulthood, but that was almost more relaxing. It was a wisdom she could see as being easily attainable, should she chose to pursue it.

March felt her shoulders drop, and she smiled at her teacher. "Alright, alright. Thank you. Uh, what's with the tie? You lose a bet?" she joked, leaning back against one the desks.

“I’ve got a PTA meeting,” Mr. Fallowglade replied, with a small crack in his usual relaxed, even tone. So even he, the most level-headed, go-with-the-flow type of person March could imagine existing, dreaded Aguefort’s PTA. Honestly, she couldn't blame them. Her father had never been, citing a blood feud with one of the other parents that he couldn't risk reigniting. Who it was he wouldn't say, though she had some ideas. (None of which she could prove. Her father was damn good at covering up grudges.) But Moryore's parents had gone, and the horror stories she'd heard... well, she understood avoiding them.

"I hope that goes well," March said. "Do you think you all will be talking about the elections? Campaigns have started and it's looking pretty interesting."

Mr. Fallowglade gave her a pointed look, one that she immediately recogonized from her classes as meaning 'you know I can't answer that'. She replied with her own wide, pleading grin. Surely a little nosiness would pay off. How else does one honor the Aguefort spirit than rewarding slightly ethically dubious moves for the greater good?

Mr. Fallowglade sighed, eyes closing as he smiled in something close to resigned pride. "You youngsters and your adventuring spirit. I swear, my students get bolder every year," he said. "I can't answer that. But nice try, March. You really have been learning since you arrived here."

"Thank you, sir," March said, pleased with herself even if she wasn't getting any information out of him. "I've been working hard to learn as much as I can, and I feel like I'm becoming a pretty solid druid."

"I would agree. Your work in my classes has always been of great quality, and you clearly have a passion for your druidry. Although you could be doing a little better on some of your less directly nature-related skills," he replied, chuckling. "I have seen the reports from some of your general education teachers."

March laughed it off, because, well, he was right. She certainly didn't put that much effort into any of her classes not related to her craft. Druid classes taught you all the skills you needed to know. "I'll do my best, but you know how I am," she answered.

Mr. Fallowglade gave her a look that suggested he very much did know what she was like, and had simply resigned himself to dealing with it. It was a look she was very used to seeing from her teachers. "I have no doubt in my mind that you will be fine. You've always been on top of things academically. Honestly, you very well could skip ahead to senior classes with your current skill level. I could even see you being prepared to graduate by the end of the year."

“I mean, that's a nice sentiment. But I don’t intend to graduate without the rest of my party,” March replied. She didn't see the point in going off to adventuring college without the rest of her party. Sure, maybe they'd split up at some point. But she wasn't going to just leave them all behind in high school. It wasn't like graduating a year earlier was going to do that much for her in the long-run. It would just be something to brag about, and March wasn't the bragging type.

Mr. Fallowglade hummed in acknowledgment, eyes softening. "Of course. I wouldn't wish to rush you out the door when you are not yet ready," he said. "I am not one to try and force a butterfly form its cocoon prematurely. Still, that is something you should keep in mind, should the time come when you wish to explore your options further."

March nodded, knowing in her heart she wouldn't be considering the idea again. "Thank you. I really should head off now," she said, already backpedaling for the door. The druid teacher simply dipped his head as she left, returning to his own work. Buoyed by that pleasant conversation and all the new questions buzzing in her head, March headed off to find someplace quiet to hunker down.

She could hardly wait to catch up with her party. They certainly had some interesting threads to follow.

Ven was not having a good time.

Classes were not going well. Classes were going very, very poorly, actually. So poorly that they could barely think of them without going red in the face. They had been working overtime to keep up with all the homework, which was fine, they liked most of their gen ed classes and they did enjoy the research. But the sorcery classes? They were mortifying. Ven's magic was normally unpredictable, but it had only gotten worse recently, and they had no idea what to do about it.

Stress made magic fluctuate in strange ways, and the stress of their missing father wasn't helping. But also, every spell they case made them feel a little funny. The bright lights, the whirlwind of energy, all the explosions and the pop and glitter that marked their wild magic in broad strokes was overwhelming. And worse, it was making them weirdly angry. They'd tried to cast Lightning Bolt, did so successfully, but turned themselves bright pink in the process. The resulting fury made them so upset they'd thrown up in front of everyone. It had been awful. No one had said anything to their face but Ven just knew they were judging.

And Stardiamond seemed to think so too. For as much as he'd bristled at Porter trying to 'poach' them from his class, Stardiamond seemed to be pretty fed up with the whole thing. Ven had gotten a C+ on their first major assignment, despite how hard they'd worked. The resulting conversation had left them feeling irritated and sour.

("You're not improving, Ven," Stardiamond had said, in that half-whisper tone he used when discussing work or grades with a student. The kind that was just loud enough that eavesdroppers could hear if they focused, and the kind that always made Ven feel like a scolded child. "If anything, your wild magic is getting worse. It's becoming a concern.")

(Ven had barely been able to speak from the shame of it all, just mumbling something akin to an apology. When Stardiamond had sighed in response, their whole body felt like someone had run a steel wire through them and was tugging them up by their hair. "You need remedial lessons," Stardiamond had continued. "I know your schedule is full, though. How do you feel about after-school sessions? I could spend an hour or so on tutoring you. You might still be able to catch up with some dedicated mentoring.")

(Ven had felt dread pool in their stomach at the idea. No one else needed the teacher to drag them to remedials after school. No other sorcerer their age was still struggling this much. Just them. They'd made up some excuse about needing to watch their brother, and then they had bolted for the door, barely remembering to snatch up their bag, their whole face burning.)

Humiliated from the whole experience, Ven almost wanted to spend the rest of the day hiding in a bathroom stall somewhere. They didn’t, though. It was second period . They couldn’t be giving up already. But they also didn’t want to just sit around, stewing in it. They needed to distract themselves, they needed something else to worry about. Which naturally led them to thinking about the only other (safe) thing of note. Namely- the Ratgrinders.

Ven didn’t have the grudge that March seemed to. They didn’t like Ivy much, sure; she’d been pretty fucking rude to their friend, after all. But they mostly just thought she was a run-of-the-mill jerk, the kind that most people would think it best to just ignore, Ven included. But they were interested in the Ratgrinders. Not just because of their infamous beef with the Bad Kids, but… well, something about them just seemed strange. Or perhaps just something about Ruben.

Ven kept replaying the memory of seeing Ruben at that concert in their head, comparing this version of him to the one they’d seen in that old photo. The transformation seemed ludicrous, honestly. Not that Ven was one to talk. They'd gone from the polite, buttoned-up church-girl type to... well, still polite, but there were a few more buttons left undone than before, and they hadn't been to church in ages. Ruben having such a transformation would be completely average. And yet... there was something in his eyes that told Ven there was more to the story. Something that they needed to dig into for their own curiosity's sake.

They were walking down the halls, unsure where to go next as they pondered this interesting question. They were considering just heading to the library and studying by themselves for a bit when they suddenly heard someone behind them shout, “Ven! Wait up!”

Ven turned, surprised to find Marquisha and Zervius right behind them. "Oh. Hi!" they said, looking about the hallway for a moment to see if anyone else was listening in. It never hurt to be cautious, at Aguefort. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Marquisha said. "I just... figured we'd come talk to you. Do you want to go somewhere quiet for a moment?" Her expression was as warm as ever, but there was something in the tone she was using that suggested she was telling them they would want to have this conversation in private. And judging by Zervius's face, Ven was pretty sure they knew the reason why.

Feeling awkward and still embarrassed, they half wanted to run away. But they really did like Marquisha (and to a degree, Zervius) and wouldn't want to make them feel uncomfortable or like Ven didn't like them. "Alright. We can, um, the library maybe? Or, wait, we could also just step into the Classroom 15? No one ever uses that one. Not since the flying tortoises ate the wiring in the room."

Marquisha nodded, clearly knowing what Ven was referring to. That incident was pretty legendary... at least, amongst the people who had seen it happen. Ven could still perfectly picture one of the big old tortoises slurping copper wires up like they were noodles and giggled whenever it popped into their head. "Classroom 15 is it," she said. She began to walk off, and Ven followed, slipping through the busy hallways and the bustling crowds with trepidation. They were unable to stop the flood of concerns racing through their head. Had they upset her? Done something wrong? Were they going to ask about the conversation they'd just had with Mr. Stardiamond? Gods, that was probably it. They really, really hoped it wasn't, but it probably was.

Soon, the three of them were standing in the abandoned classroom, the door closed from any prying eyes. Not safe from listening ears, of course, but that just meant they needed to be cognizant of what they were saying. Sensitive topics were best kept retained to small circles.

Ven took a seat on one of the desks, crossing their legs. They waited patiently to see who would make the first move. Unsurprisingly, it was Zervius, who kicked up from his position leaning against the door, arms crossed. "So, Jace is on your ass again, huh?" he asked.

Marquisha's response was immediate and sharp. "Zerv!"

"What?" Zervius said, turning to Marquisha with what Ven could only describe as a pout. "I didn't say it was their fault or anything. Actually, I was gonna say he's being stupidly unfair to them. Like, sure, Ven's struggling with their magic. But at this point it's definitely his fault. You'd think he'd, like, actually start teaching if a student is having this much trouble."

Ven blinked, caught off-guard by Zervius's sudden kindness. This was... unexpected. Zervius was usually pretty prickly and mean. To hear him, even bluntly, take Ven's side on something was definitely new. Maybe Marquisha was a good influence on him. Or maybe he'd had some sort of growth over the summer and come back with a kindness to him that he'd either never had or stuffed deep, deep down.

Marquisha, for her part, seemed much less surprised. Instead she reached over to put a hand on Ven's shoulder. "I wouldn't have said it like that, but... I agree. He's being too hard on you for someone who has such a hands-off teaching style. How can you ever hope to actually learn control if you're struggling this much?" she asked. "And he's just... weird. He's been even weirder recently with all the vice principal stuff. And then he offered to give you after-school sessions? I've never seen him do that. I have no idea what he'd even be doing instead of more of the same shit that doesn't work for you."

"I... I guess I had thought some similar things," Ven said, looking down at the floor. "But he's right. I am progressing at a snail's pace, and I just... it's hard. I don't know why my magic is so volatile. I don't even know where I inherited it from. My father refuses to talk about it and as far as I'm aware my mother's side is full of just normal wood-elves." Hell, as far as they were aware, they hadn't even had a wizard in the last century or so.

Marquisha squeezed their shoulder again with a gentle hum. "It's hard, I know. I would be lost if I didn't have such a supportive family. We all would be," she said.

"Heaven only knows I'd be fucked," Zervius added. "I was unfair to you, I'll admit. I was lucky to have magic that presented young and that my parents knew how to deal with. Wasn't your first spell literally on day one of high school? I'd suck at managing my magic too."

Ven nodded, knowing that they were maybe just being polite, but the words were still comforting. "Yeah, it was a hard adjustment. I didn't even know how I was doing it at first. I knew the magic was there but couldn't channel it on purpose. That took a lot of work before I could get there."

"Exactly! This is just the next step in that journey. And so, Zerv and I came up with an idea. What if you practice with us sometimes? During like, lunch or something a few times a week? We might not be real teachers, but maybe a different instructor and some more unorthodox methods are what you need!" Marquisha said, with an excitement that frankly unseated Ven. They had never been approached to hang out this enthusiastically by anyone but his party members or the older ladies at church.

"Oh. I, uh... are you sure about that?" Ven asked. "I know you two are probably really busy with classes and extracurricular and adventuring. It is Junior year after all."

"Nonsense," Marquisha said, waving their concerns off. "It'll be fun! And besides, if we can get your skill built up a little, we'll also be practicing a ton with our own magic. So it's basically just studying."

"Exactly," Zervius added. "It's basically a study group. It's just that you're studying things we're a bit more familiar with. It's like doing weight-training with your party's paladin or fighter. You're just taking pointers from people who've done it before."

Ven considered this for a moment. It seemed like they were offering out of genuine good-will and a desire to help them out. And they did enjoy Marquisha's company. Zervius was a bit more of an unknown variable, but he'd been strangely nice so far this year. Maybe they could even be real friends someday. Maybe. Ven wasn't going to get their hopes up to much. That only ever led to them getting burnt in the end.

Still, there didn't seem to be any harm in trying it out. If it was miserable, Ven could always find some excuse to quit. Right? Right. "I... thanks. I think I'd like to try something like that," they replied.

Marquisha beamed so brightly at that response that Ven had to glance away. You'd think she was some sort of solar angel with how blinding her joy could be. "Awesome! I promise, this'll be super fun. I was thinking bare minimum we do some meditation. I know the wizards have classes with the monks sometimes for the same reason. Mindfulness is a useful tool and I think it could help you get connected to your magic more," she said. She was talking extremely quickly, and Ven could almost see the wheels in her head turning.

"That all sounds alright with me," Ven said. "Um, you two should probably head off to class, yeah?"

Zervius stood up straight, eyes glancing to the clock. "Shit, yeah, you're right. We're gonna be late. What about you?" he asked.

"I have a free period," Ven said. Then, taking a quick deep breath to steel themselves. "I, um, I'll see you at lunch?"

"Of course! See you then!" Marquisha said, already dragging Zervius off. The latter gave Ven a weird half-nod before they disappeared. Honestly, that was the friendliest gesture Ven had ever seen from him. What in the nine hells was happening? Had they tripped and found themselves in a whole new universe?

Ven mulled this over as they walked through the crowded halls. They couldn't have anticipated this outcome if you had asked them that morning. Marquisha had always been pleasant and kind, but she was just the type to be like that. She was the platonic ideal of a hero, the bright-eyed and steel-spined warrior of all that was good and true. (Okay, so maybe Ven had a crush on her and was idealizing her a little. They could admit that and still stand by their conviction she was fantastic.)

And yet they would have thought she'd be too busy to bother with them. Ven wasn't exactly easy to get along with, not someone who could stay cheerful and fun like Sunsugar could, nor someone who could be dark and sharp at the edges in an endearing way like Raven. They were just kind of a drag, a liability on the battle-field and a social minefield. And yet she was just... accepting. Sweet. Ven didn't know what to do with that. They barely understood kindness from their adventuring party sometimes, and they'd been friends for ages.

Gods, were the two of them friends? Ven would love to be her friend, but they hadn't really thought that would ever happen. Marquisha had friends already, lots of them. People adored her everywhere she went. Why bother picking the one student in school who couldn't pass a freshmen sorcery class to save their life? Gods, why was Zervius agreeing to it? Zervius wasn't as nice as Marquisha, but he was cool. Like, cool with a capital C. So cool Ven kind of couldn't look at him sometimes. Sure he was going through some sort of redemption arc, but he didn't have to hang out with them like this. An apology would be nice, and he'd given them one, and that was really all Ven had hoped for.

Maybe they were just looking to solve their magic problem so classes went smoother. That would be understandable; the adventurer was a creature of problems, both in causing them and in fixing them. If they saw loose ends and wished to tie them up, Ven wouldn't blame them. They loved tying loose ends themselves. Or maybe, just maybe, they actually did like Ven, even if only a little. All evidence was pointing in that direction. But... they'd ask Raven and Haldir first. The two of them always gave good advice, and they'd trust their people skills any day of the week.

They passed right by Lullaby's classroom as they had this thought, and stopped to peer in through the stained glass on the door. Surprisingly, The bard classroom was empty. If Ven had to guess, it was probably because the students were busy dicking around in the hallways. Still, it was a little odd. It was like seeing a perfectly empty window seat in the middle of a classroom, where normally some kid who was desperate to be the main character of life was sitting. Or someone who wanted to try and sneakily vape during lecture, but either way those seats never went unfilled.

Curiosity getting the best of them, they slowly opened the classroom door to take a better look. Ms. Lullaby was nowhere inside, and not even her desk light was on. The classroom with its rows of old desks and high-backed chairs had a weirdly haunted look without bards milling about, instruments and sheet music in hand. It was dreary in the same sense as a funeral procession, a distinct feeling of loss that lingered unwelcome on the tongue. As Ven walked around the classroom, looking for any signs of foul play, it became quite obvious this was a space meant to be filled.

A small part of them wondered what it would be like to actually attend these classes. To sit and talk about music with people who really appreciated the craft. Of course, Ven couldn't play music themselves: they had a terrible voice, they could never get the hang of the piano however much they'd tried, and they were downright terrible on wind instruments. But the love of the music was still in them, and maybe that would be enough. They were certainly no bard, but they could optimistically shoot for some sort of producer someday.

They walked past one desk, and something about it made them want to take a closer look. Their nose was almost pressed against the wood by the time they were able to make out the scratchy letters that were in the process of being carved into the desk. "Ruben Hopclap". Ruben Hopclap! Ven felt strangely charmed by them, wonky as they were. Even untouchable emo rock-stars could still give in to such childish impulses, it seemed. Ven used to think kids who did that were the coolest growing up, being the sort of kid who couldn't break a rule to save their own life for the longest time.

(Even now it made them feel a little nauseous to flagrantly violate rules. They could assuage their guilt by breaking rules and laws that were stupid and harmful and thus morally right be break, but little things like jaywalking or talking out of turn still terrified them. It was an odd contradiction, but that was par for the course these days.)

They kept staring at Ruben's desk out of the corners of their eyes while they wandered through the classroom. Their brief encounter at that concert had stuck with them for some reason. Perhaps it was just that one didn't run into celebrities all that often and it was a surprising coincidence. Perhaps it was just that expression they'd seen from a distance. Looking back on it, hadn't there been a bit of melancholy in that irritated affect of his? Hadn't he seemed so strangely lost? That could just be projection, Ven did a lot of that, but something did seem to be there. And that stuff with Kipperlilly earlier couldn't possibly be just a coincidence. Who wasted the resources to have anti-scrying magic on all the time? Who went through that much trouble? Most people only used that sort of thing when they had a dangerous secret to protect.

So what was the Ratgrinder's dangerous secret?

This line of thinking could be dangerous. It could make them focus on the wrong things, shirking their duties and getting wrapped up in nonsense that might go nowhere. And yet, there was something there they couldn't shake. Perhaps it was just March rubbing off on them, but there was a mystery there, and they wanted to take a crack at it. It was better than dwelling on anything else in their life. Thinking about classes just made them worry about their magic, and thinking about their home right now was its own nightmare. This was so far removed from their personal life that it was... safe. Easy to digest in a way nothing else was going to match for right now.

They circled the room once more, the wheels in their mind turning. Their eyes soon fell on a cupboard tucked into the corner of the room across from the large window. A sudden impulse took a hold of them, and they made their way to it. With little hesitation, they peered inside. There were a few old, moth-eaten robes hanging from hooks inside, like something that might be worn by a choir of ancient wise men, and boxes of old school supplies on the single, rickety shelf. It was shockingly spacious, however, and when they crawled inside, they could sit comfortably with their knees tucked to their chest. The space was dark and dusty, but as they settled in, they could see into the classroom through the seam of the cupboard.

This was perhaps ill-advised, and they knew it. They knew they should get up and find some sort of empty classroom to do homework in before their next class. But as the tardy bell rang, and the doors to the classroom slammed open, they didn't even attempt to leave. They sat, still and silent, and waited as students began to take their seats, loudly chatting amongst one another.

This was the weirdest thing to do. This was certainly something they'd probably get detention for. And yet, once Ruben entered the room, they were locked in. They couldn't move for fear of someone finding them out, so instead of taking notes, they cleared their mind and tried to enter the same space they went to when they were holding onto a spell. That was a space where memories often became much sharper. When they thought of battles, those moments of intense concentration always stood out for them. They were rock islands floating on the sea of blood and chaos, and Ven just needed to be able to jump from between them as quickly as they could.

Ruben took his seat, looking as moody and aloof as one would expect from the lead singer of an emo band. His outfit today was not particularly inspired, though his eyeliner was pretty damn good. He must have practiced quite a bit to make it look like that, because though it was thick and a little messy, it was in that deceptive way that looked shitty and effortless but actually took like thirty minutes to do. Ven would know. They used to sit in the first floor bathroom trying to copy it with Haldir's old makeup, and it never did look quite right.

Ven watched as Ms. Lullaby finally entered, floating along with a cheery demeanor that probably wouldn't last. And right behind her- Sunsugar. Of course. Wait, why the hell wouldn't Ven just ask her to spy on Ruben for them? Damn it. They should have done that. Now they were stuck crouched down in a cupboard for the next hour with nothing else to do but watch. At least it would be somewhat entertaining, with Sunsugar taking a seat just two seats to the left of Ruben. They could watch both of them now, maybe come up with something funny to text her later when they revealed their little misadventure.

Class began in earnest moments later, as Ms. Lullaby began addressing some homework assignment she'd given and students interjected with excited explanations of their projects and whatever music they'd been working on. Sunsugar seemed hard at work with something on her desk, her fingers flying across her notebook, pen in hand. In stark contrast, Ruben was staring off into space with a bored expression. It was peculiar to see someone so uninvested in their classwork and yet still attending. Most bard kids who didn't like their classes just skipped them, after all. It was this shared cultural thing that resulted in a lot of impromptu jam sessions around campus and Coach Gorthalax having to chase students off the field and out from under the bleachers. Ven used to daydream about joining them sometimes, if only to listen in, but it was rare they felt the urge to skip a class, and even when they did, their nerves usually got the best of them. This little stunt they were pulling now was already stretching them to their limit of bad behavior, and they could just tell they'd probably have a delayed anxiety attack when the adrenaline finally wore off.

It was as they considered this, watching Ruben's eyes trail around the room without a shred of interest in them, that the door opened once more. Ven strained to see who it was, and was a tad taken aback. The girl standing in the doorway, leaning on a skateboard, was like something out of an Avreal Lavine album cover. She had long, straight hair in an unnatural black, with a shininess to it that made it look almost plastic. Ven could almost taste the hairspray from here. She was wearing one of those long-sleeved shirts with the fingerless gloves attached to them, and a belt with too many chains dangling off of it. Ven couldn't place where they'd seen her before, but she had a face that screamed familiarity somehow.

Ms. Lullaby made a series of increasingly awed small noises, before finally throwing out a gentle, "Hi- oh, uh, sorry I thought I recogonized you. What's your name?" Ven couldn't help but wince just hearing that. That couldn't possibly pass as professional. Although now seeing how she reacted, Ven was able to place that familiar feeling. This teeny-tiny halfling girl looked just a little bit like Fig Faeth. It was the nose, with its slight hook and small nostrils. (Ven knowing that was a little creepy, but they'd seen Fig's promotional materials so much they could probably draw her blindfolded and high off cobra venom.)

"Hi, my name's um... Wanda. Wanda Chillda," she replied, tucking her hair behind one of her ears in the most unabashed display of 'fake cutesy' Ven had ever seen. They knew her type almost immediately. Some girls really played up the 'petite and cute' look, either for fun or because they wanted guys to like them. It was honestly a little sad sometimes. No one should have to feel obligated to make themselves or their personalities 'more appealing'.

And, honestly, the name Wanda Chillda was so bare-faced and fake that they almost laughed. It took everything in their meager strength to keep silent and still so as not to be discovered. The last thing they needed right now was a detention, after all. Even if it would be kind of worth it.

They watched as she meandered over to her desk, circling Ruben like a very tiny shark, and then leaned against the seat next to him so casually that Ven would have assumed it must be her usual seat. It was a bit odd, though, because when they glanced at Sunsugar she seemed taken aback by the new arrival, like she'd never seen the girl before in her life. Surely Sunsugar would know all the people in her bard classes by now, right? And Ms. Lullaby had never seen her before. Just who was this girl?

She sat down next to Ruben, and they began to have some sort of conversation, albeit too quietly for Ven to catch. From Ruben's face, though, it was clear he was rapidly becoming more and more smitten with her. And from Sunsugar's expression, whatever they were saying was most foul indeed. Ven wished they could just take a picture for posterity. Alas, that was not in the cards. They'd just have to commit it to memory and tease her for it later. Although maybe not that much, because they did want her to give them a recap of what was said.

Then, with a sudden clearing of the throat, Ms. Lullaby said, "Wanda, I'm looking at my roster here and I don't see you on it."

"Oh, yeah, I'm, um, I'm not a student here," Wanda Chillda replied. Which made Sunsugar jolt, covering her mouth. Ven thought it was from shock, though closer observation made it clear she'd just bitten the hells out of her tongue. Ven frowned in sympathy, almost feeling the pain themselves. It was not a fun injury to nurse. Though they couldn't dwell on that for long, because Wanda Chillda was still in the hot seat, and they had to see where this was going.

"You aren't?" Ms. Lullaby asked, with a tone of voice that was clearly genuinely bewildered, though still soft and kind. She was clearly assuming good intentions, which was more than most people could say.

"Yeah, I just, I kind of, I wand- I wand--" Wanda's voice seemed to crack as she spoke, and Ven clocked the pun she was trying to make almost immediately. They had to bite into the sleeves of their jacket to prevent the laughter inside them from exploding.

"You just wandered in?" Ms. Lullaby asked, with an odd little bit of vocal fry that made Ven desperation to laugh turn painful. Their lungs were definitely going to ache later. It was a little like a workout, honestly. Those words made them briefly flash back to the interaction between them and Mr. Cliffbreaker just the other day. Something in that was still bothering them, though they forced themselves to not consider that too hard. Getting lost in thought would mean missing out on this fascinating scenario.

"Uh-huh," Wanda responded, now actively giggling. Was it nerves or playful mischief? It was impossible to tell. All that make-up and her extremely tiny frame made reading her expressions difficult. Seriously, halflings weren't usually that tiny. Either genetics had really swung a hard left with her, or she was using some sort of magic in order to make herself smaller. Which might be a little weird, but Ven didn't know enough to judge her for it.

"Okay, well, that is trespassing," Ms. Lullaby said. "So you're going to have to leave?"

"That's so fair," Wanda said, standing back up straight. "I thought you could just kinda, like, join a class, but if that's not the case, I'll get going." She stood up and began to take another few loops around the classroom, meandering. Sunsugar looked fit to burst, as around her the rest of the bard students were either gawking or typing on their phones with incredible speed. Ms. Lullaby, meanwhile, had stepped over to the window and was now speaking with someone over the phone.

Ven watched her loop around a few times, and then she came to a rolling stop at the door. "Not all those who Wanda are lost," she said, with a wink over her shoulder's to Ruben. The gnome looked smitten. Ven wasn't always the sort to pick up on facial expressions or subtle social cues, but that was 'instant crush' painted all over his face for sure. They wished they could elbow Sunsugar right now so that they could share knowing looks. Alas, she was so far away, and they were sitting in a cupboard.

A moment later, Wanda Chillda was gone. The bard class was still alight with chatter and gossip, and Ven wished they could hear the whispering better. They'd have to get the update from Sunsugar later, because that whole situation was extremely strange. It was just... fascinating to witness. They were definitely going to be repeating 'not all those who Wanda are lost' for a few days.

Ms. Lullaby took up her position floating at the front of the classroom. She announced something about 'taking out our instruments for warm-ups', and Ven just knew they were in for a treat. Musically, anyways. Before any of the students started playing, though, Ms. Lullaby continued to speak.

"And once again, I'd like to thank everyone for showing up today. It's not an easy thing to do, sharing your music with the world. Music is by its very nature a demonstration of one's vulnerabilities. It can be terrifying to expose oneself to the scrutiny of one's peers, but that is the beauty of our art form. We can be at once ourselves and also deeply connected to the world around us. In a world of so many rules and rigid boundaries, music is a source of fluidness and openness that I cannot understate the need for."

Ms. Lullaby was speaking with such conviction for a woman who typically sounded just, seconds from tears at any given moment. Ven could tell the rest of the class listening had heard this spiel before, judging by their complete disinterest in it. Ven was hearing it for the first time, though, and honestly they kind of liked it. Music was a weird and wonderful thing, wasn't it? They'd always had it as an outlet, a way to escape the world for a bit. It was meaningful to hear someone else vocalize those feelings, even if they weren't actively a part of the conversation.

Satisfied, they were just about to settle back in for the rest of class when a loud 'honk' bellowed from their pocket. A honking sound attached to their group chat, since they'd argued for ages about what their notification sound should be. Which meant someone was texting at the worst time possible. They tried in vain to silence it, but the sound of footsteps soon landed just in front of their hiding place, and then the cabinet doors were swinging over. They looked up to see Ms. Lullaby looking straight down at them, the wisps of her cloudy hair all but blotting out the light.

She looked at them for a moment, a single dreadfully long moment that made Ven want to sink into the ground and disappear. When she eventually spoke, her words were slow and soft, like she was scared they'd startle and run off. Like a stray cat. "Ah. You are... Lorenthal, correct?" she asked, which made Ven blink a little. She recognized them? Damn it. That was somehow even more embarrassing.

"That would be me," Ven said, suddenly cognizant of just about everything wrong with their appearance as a bard class full of people stared at them. They looked pleadingly over to Sunsugar, who just gave them a pained, sympathetic smile. Not helpful, Sunsugar. A real friend would pretend to be attacked by invisible squids or having a curse-induced vomiting session to allow them to escape.

Ms. Lullaby gave them a very small smile, almost kneeling to get down to their eye level. This was probably supposed to be a kind gesture, but it did make them want to vomit instead. "You know, I do allow students to sit in on these classes at desks, right? You don't have to hide in the cupboards," Ms. Lullaby said. "I would prefer you didn't, actually, it is a safety concern."

Shit. Ven was definitely going to be in trouble one way or another. They could admit they'd wanted to take a bard class and then get embarrassed in front of all these people when she shot them down for not playing an instrument or being able to sing. Or they could admit they were just here to watch another student and get in even more trouble. Detention loomed over them like an eager maw, and the gears in their head screeched to a halt as they wildly grasped for an alternative explanation.

"I'm um, I'm training for something!" Ven spluttered, scrambling to their feet. That was maybe the worst, flimsiest excuse they could come up with, but it was better than nothing. "Rogue stuff, you know? Sorry for bothering you all, I'm gonna- I'm gonna go now!"

Ms. Lullaby clearly responded with something, though Ven didn't hear because all of their blood was busy pounding in their heads. They felt their knees beginning to turn to jello, and all they could focus on was running. They were almost half-way down the hallway before they could calm down enough to think straight.

Fuck. They were going to have to take a rogue class now, huh? Haldir was so going to make fun of them for this. They weren't looking forward to that conversation.

At least it wasn't detention.

Moryore was having a very difficult time getting access to Principal Grix.

It didn’t help he had such a busy schedule. Between his classes, his religious studies, and his training, his days were packed. And after school, he was running the Gardening club for a few hours before returning home for more training and studying. These daily meetings ran for various lengths of time depending on what chores needed doing. The freshmen needed someone to monitor them, and Moryore was the only person able to be there consistently. He didn’t mind that so much, though. Gardening was relaxing; he liked watering the plants and plucking weeds, he liked discussing soil composition and growth schedules with people. He enjoyed all the excited underclassmen bringing him photos of their home gardens and samples of their houseplants. It was nice.

Sure, maybe he could be prioritizing it a little less, but he’d go insane if he didn’t have something that wasn’t school on his plate. That did mean he had even less time to investigate, though, and that was leading to some roadblocks. Principal Grix was hard to get alone, and even harder to speak to. It seemed his programming was designed to keep him constantly busy, always running off to check on some rule or update some system. Frankly, Moryore was going to die of exhaustion trying to keep up with him. It was becoming an exhausting slog, and not one that was keeping his mind sharp.

He was still mulling this over as his last class of the day came to a close. His schedule during classes was a little odd. He started his day with his non-Paladin classes. He had a math course first thing, because he did like math even if the teacher was... a little irritating. He was one of those teachers who gave their lectures in an even, boring, unflinchingly constant tone. He was getting through it because he was actually enjoying Calculus, but it was difficult. Then it was a weight-lifting course, because this was one of the only ways he could motivate himself to actually lift weights, and then he had a literary history class. He needed to keep his mind sharp, after all. Then there was lunch, usually spent with one or more members of his party, and then he was in paladin courses all afternoon. Halo kept them busy, with oath studies first, then practical training, then magic training. The younger paladins were also taking survival and battlefield strategy courses, but Moryore had passed those in his freshmen year. He didn't do all that studying for nothing, after all, and the more time he had to practice and hone his other skills, the better.

He had managed excellent grades for the first month, with a very hard-won A+ on an essay about the uses of paladin healing for illness and diseases of the arcane or extraplanear variety. There were some diseases which could be easily healed, and others that required magic of different varieties. Not to mention all the problems that can arise during the healing process. He'd been rather proud of that paper himself.

He was riding that high as he cleaned up his bag. He had many very detailed and well-organized notebooks, and keeping his bag in perfect order was extremely important to him. He couldn't very well function or get his work done if he didn't know where everything he needed was, after all. And the act of organizing soothed a deep and ever-present itch in his body for structured tasks. (Maybe, just maybe, March had a little bit of a point about a few things. Look, he didn't need to get diagnosed with anything. He functioned perfectly fine. Mostly.)

"Mr. Nordove! May I have a moment of your time?"

Moryore stood up a little straighter, recognizing the voice immediately. It could only be Sir Halo St. Croix, Aguefort's own paladin teacher. The man was a paladin of fairly decent acclaim, perhaps not as notable in his field as someone like Ms. Runestaff, but well-respected. And he had a charming personality that did make up for his sometimes... overbearing do-gooder attitude. Seriously, the man was Sunday Morning Cartoon levels of cliche.

"Sir Halo," Moryore said, dipping his head for a moment as he turned towards him. "What can I do for you?"

The paladin before him, his armor still somehow golden and gleaming despite how much he'd been hit with swords today. "I would just like to congratulate you on your excellent performance so far this year," Sir Halo said, clapping Moryore on the shoulder. "You've really outdone all my very lofty expectations. I suspect you'll be top of your class this year."

Moryore shook his head, feeling a little warmth in his face already. "No, please. I'm still learning and growing every day. I'm really nowhere close to the top of the class, especially if we're going to think about experience and good deeds. I've got so much more I need to do first."

"Ah, so modest for your age. Most of your peers would engage in at least a little bragging," Sir Halo said, with a small approving nod. "Truly, though, you are doing quite well. All of my students are, but I would even venture to say you might be able to guarantee an A for the semester before November with the rate you're going."

"Thank you, Sir," Moryore replied. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good on you, kid. And i f you are ever interested in multi-classing, please inform me at once! I am certain any of the other martial teachers would be happy to have you in their classes. And a little versatility can certainly be of great benefit. I myself spent many years training with a wide variety of people," Sir Halo said, beginning to stroke his chin as he spoke. Ah, Moryore was certainly trapped now. Whenever he got that look in his eyes, whatever poor people were encircled in a conversation with him were locked in place for at least thirty minutes. And that was if they were lucky.

"Multi-classing? I hadn't given the idea much thought," Moryore said. He had always been dedicated to his goddess, after all, and it wasn't like his paladin training hadn't made him fairly well-rounded already. He learned magic, faith, swordplay, defensive maneuvers... paladins had to be fairly adept at all sorts of things. He supposed he could use some stealth training, but he also wasn't too big on going to rogue classes. Besides, he knew from Haldir that the rogue teacher wasn't really teaching anyhow. So he'd be better off just training with Haldir. (Like he needed an excuse for that.)

"I do think you'd thrive with some more variety in your training," Sir Halo said, giving him another clap on his shoulder. "You'll be a real credit to your church when you're done with your schooling."

"Thank you, sir," he responded. He pulled his bag over his shoulder, though he didn't dare hope to escape the conversation just yet. Halo had a few minutes more in him from the look of it. "If I did multi-class, would you be my multi-class advisor ?"

"No. I am actually not the teacher who advises the multi-class paladins. That honor would go to Mr. Cliffbreaker." Sir Halo's expression faltered for only a moment, a singular twitch of a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. (Did the man spend hours every week plucking them? Were they drawn on? Nobody had eyebrows that neat naturally.)

"Huh. That's not what I expected but... I'll think about it and let you know. But I have to get going right now, I have to get to my club-room," Moryore said. He took a step to the side, door in sight. To his deep relief, Sir Halo simply waved him off with that soft chuckle of his. Immediately, Moryore took off.

He walked all the way to their club-room, dodging around a group of freshmen trying to make their familiars wrestle, and an impromptu drum circle forming in the entrance hall. He lifted the slightly-warped door to the small room they used as a storage closet. No plants grew here, but it was so filled with bags of seeds and potting soil that it smelled earthy. He liked it. Sometimes he'd sit in the back and listen to music when he was a little overwhelmed.

He wasn't alone right now, however. Haldir was sitting there, laptop in their lap, tail twitching in the air. It seemed like someone was trying to get some homework done. Moryore liked the idea, because the freshmen would take some time to make it to the gardening room, and they could get work done in the meantime.

Moryore tossed his bag gently onto the sole table, leaning against it as he rooted around for his laptop. “We’re going to do some digging on Jace today, I think," he announced, the tiny wheels of his mind turning.

He heard the sudden thwap of Haldir's tail hitting the wall and coming to an abrupt stop. “Really? Jace? I mean, aside from how he treats Ven, I don’t think the guy has sinister vibes. He seems… fine. Chill, even," they replied.

Moryore acknowledged the question with a hum, taking his laptop and sliding down to the floor beside Haldir. The rogue moved slightly to give him space, though not by much. They'd always been the type of friends to sit close, sometimes practically on top of one another. Moryore always enjoyed it. Haldir always ran super warm, so it was a bit like having a personal space heater that also kicked his ass at video games.

Opening his laptop, Moryore explained, “There must be some reason he’s vice-principal. And he works alongside Grix. Knowing more about him could prove useful."

“In that case, we should look into Porter as well,” Haldir suggested. They reached behind them, procuring a small bag of what appeared to be white carrots. Moryore hadn't actually seen white carrots before, but they did smell good. He'd have to ask them later where to buy them so he could try some himself. Maybe in a nice salad... he did not need to get distracted by carrots right now. There was work to be done!"

"Hm. You know, that might not be the worst idea. I found out today that he's apparently the multi-class advisor for paladin students," Moryore said.

"He's a paladin?" Haldir asked, shooting straight up from their hunched over position. "No way. He doesn't strike me as the type. Do you know what kind?"

"No clue," Moryore answered. "He's not the most open teacher here. The fact that people don't really talk about Porter the Paladin tells me he's probably not flaunting that off. Perhaps it's a private life thing?"

"Perhaps. We'd have to do some looking into it. There's every possibility he took an oath of protection or something and it's part of his school duties," Haldir mused. "Where do you think the easiest place to find them?"

"Well, I was going to try Tomebook first," Moryore said, already navigating to the website. He didn't really like Tomebook himself, but he was running the local church's page. It used to be Mistress Sylvara Radiantblade, but she'd since relinquished it to him. Something about 'running a social media page being too stressful', and that she'd rather focus her energy solely on her works in the name of Epiphania. He found it much easier to balance himself.

"Good thinking," Haldir said. "I'm sure you could follow them from the temple's page if they're private. I doubt these boomers are particularly good at internet privacy."

"Well, of course. Gods forbid someone tries to convince them not to dox themselves every five seconds," Moryore said, chuckling to himself. There was nothing like trying to explain to an adult the basic safety tools they'd tried to teach him growing up. It was truly something they should be studying in labs somewhere, but that was beyond Moryore right now.

The first thing he tried was straight up searching 'Porter Cliffbreaker' on Tomebook. To his surprise, there were no results. That was alright; sometimes people used nicknames, or just their first or last names. He tried just 'Cliffbreaker next'. No results. That was fine, if frustrating. He kept at it, typing away like a maniac while Haldir did something on their own laptop. 'Porter'? About a hundred hits on the first page, but when narrowed to Elmville? Nothing. He tried to open it up further to include Bastion City, but nonetheless, none of the accounts were his. He tried Jace next, but no amount of combinations or strange nicknames produced a viable account.

After about ten minutes, Moryore gave up. He leaned back into the wall with a frustrated groan.“I can’t believe neither of them have a Tomebook account. I thought everyone over thirty was perpetually posting on that site."

Haldir responded with a puzzled hum, leaning to examine Moryore's screen. “It is odd, I'll give it to you. Porter seems like the kind of guy to think social media is a stupid waste of time. Jace is a little stranger. Probably he just uses a fake name online,” they offered. "Which won't be helpful right away, but we could probably weasel it out of someone else. Or we could try a different website or app. Jace seems fairly 'hip', or at least more modern than Porter."

Moryore nodded. He thought for a moment. What kinds of apps did teachers even use? Probably not DancePrance or ScrollChat, given their ages and the general demographics that frequented those spaces. Maybe he was a Fantasy Instagram person? "I guess I'll have to do some digging. Maybe I'll ask March for tips. She's better at the cybersleuthing thing than I am."

Haldir nodded. Then, with a voice that betrayed held back laughter, they said, "...Do you think he has a Gri-"

Moryore very quickly cut them off with a glare. "I refuse to think about that." Haldir cackled, returning to whatever they were working on. Moryore grumbled to himself, returning to his attempt to find something online about these two teachers. Were the two of them just ghosts online for some reason? He supposed there was nothing suspicious about that; plenty of folks stayed off the internet, especially amongst the older generations. But this felt different. It was an itch he couldn't explain, a tiny thread he wanted to follow to the hem it unraveled from.

He decided to try googling their names to little success. There were a few old articles that mentioned Jace from his adventuring days, where the elf was clearly still a teenager. He was a weedy looking thing in those days, but Moryore could track how he'd morphed into the Jace they knew these days. He certainly had to have developed that sense of fashion from somewhere.

He was just preparing to dive into the bowels of Fantasy Instagram to try to find his account when Haldir cleared their throat. He turned to ask, and barely had to raise an eyebrow before Haldir was answering. “I found Porter’s home online."

“Haldir. Have I ever told you your cyber-sleuth stuff is insane?” Moryore put his own laptop to the side and leaned to see their screen. Sure enough, Haldir had a CrystalGlobe map up and was zooming in on a small apartment complex somewhere in downtown Elmville.

"All the time. I appreciate it," they replied, squeezing his shoulder. "I mean, hey, what else do you keep me around for?"

Moryore turned to them for a moment, frowning. He then decisively clasped his hands around their face. Turning Haldir to look at him, he replied, "My dearest friend, I do not enjoy your company solely for your many skills. You're also pretty fucking cool."

Haldir huffed, though Moryore heard his tail flop against the wall, clearly pleased. "Top tier praise from everyone's favorite golden boy," Haldir teased.

Moryore snorted to himself, letting go of his friend's face as he said, "Oh, I'm 'everyone's favorite golden boy' now? Weird. I didn't see that superlative in the last yearbook."

Haldir rolled their eyes so hard that they honestly might have been all-black for a moment. "Ah, don't pretend like you don't see how people worship the ground you walk on. People love you, Moryore. You're goddamn fantastic to be around."

Moryore... didn't know how to respond to that. So instead he just sighed, flopping back against the wall. "So, do we know whose apartment is whose?" he asked.

"Changing the subject," Haldir half-sang, grinning. Still, they zoomed in on one of the windows and pointed at a blurry shape in the glass. "See? Porter. Looks like he's lifting weights."

Moryore squinted his eyes, just barely making out the outline of rocky hair and a sharp jaw. That did seem like Porter... though his mind was confronted with other things to focus on. "Epiphania, this apartment building is shitty. That's a health code violation right there- oh, and another there," he said, pointing his finger at unusable fire escapes and clear fungal growths.

"Moryore. Don't get distracted." Haldir gently thumped him with their tail. Grumbling, Moryore focused up. There wasn't much to go off of, but knowing where Porter lived was a start. It'd make trying to find out things like his schedule and his friends a tad easier. They'd have to make a trip out there, do a stakeout. He could even make snacks. With Haldir by his side, it might even be fun.

"And there's one other thing," Haldir said, paging to a different tab. Before him was a GlassPortal page proudly displaying 'Aguefort Adventuring Academy'. He hummed, interested, and Haldir scrolled down to highlight something interesting.

"Jace was hired five years ago? I didn't think he was so new," Moryore said, squinting. "And he's vice principal now? How? Why? Why did Aguefort pick him? No offense, but the guy seems..."

"Worse than useless? I would agree. Look, someone commented on the page around when he got hired, and it looks like they're upset he was picked over the other candidates," Haldir said. "No idea who this is 'cause they're anonymous, but they seem pretty ticked. I wonder if we can get their information somehow..."

Haldir began to murmur, roguish mind clearly spinning behind their eyes. Moryore settled in to watch them work, knowing whatever came out of it would be more than worth it. He had a feeling that he was close to a real mystery , and that very soon, it would be time to get his hands dirty.

Chapter Text

Rosamunda had a plan for today, and she was going to get it done by any means necessary.

Most people assumed fighters weren't the ones making the plans, just bodies on the field to destroy their enemies. But she was a tactician. Her job was to take the chaos of a battle and make it plain and easy for others to understand, to turn the abstract math and science and politics of combat into actions. She was there to choreograph the wild dance of blood and blade and turn the tides in their favour. Which meant that when she wanted something, she was going to good and god damn get it done. Whether that be in academics or in adventuring.

Academically, so far this semester was going well. She got her first assignment back for most of her classes, and she was pretty pleased with herself. Her grades were looking impeccable, and she'd even earned herself some high praise from her favorite teacher.

[“Rosamunda, you’ve gotten much better since you first started here,” Ms. Jones had said. “I’d almost mistake you for a hardened warrior with how much effort you’re putting into training.”]

She was skipping just thinking about it. Ms. Jones was the coolest person she'd ever been taught by. She had a way of commanding a classroom she couldn't help but admire. And she was related to Antiope, who was the single greatest fighter in their generation for certain. Anyone who disagreed could argue with the wall. She'd sell her own kidneys to get a chance to spar with her. Hell, she'd sell her soul to be half as good. Theoretically, of course. One had to qualify those statements or risk some devil actually popping up with an offer.

["Thank you, Ms. Jones. I've been putting in as much work as I can spare," she had replied. She had felt so bashful in that moment she almost ducked out the door, but she really wanted to make a good impression. Rosamunda wasn't the most standout student, she probably didn't even have the best grades, but she wanted Ms. Jones to like her and remember her. "I've been meaning to ask you if you think there's anything I could stand to work on more. I've been trying to focus on improving my weaknesses."]

As she walked down the halls, reminiscing, she dodged another running warlock kid. Why were they all here midday today anyways? She'd have to ask Raven. One of them was carrying a bleeding mass of odd and horrible flesh, which gave her some hints. But not really too many of them. She''d probably have to call Raven on the way back from dropping her cousins off at their practices. She was on drop-off duty again this week, because Sunsugar had after-school rehearsals.

["Well, what weaknesses do you think you have?" Ms. Jones had asked in turn. She remembered standing up straighter as she considered it. Weaknesses. It wasn't a part of herself she liked to stare into very often, she doubted anyone did, but it was important. You couldn't improve without the gross and messy work of figuring out where the gaps in your knowledge lay and what your flaws really were.]

Rosamunda wanted to grumble a little as she rounded another corner. She really wished it didn't have to be her, but she was the only cousin in town who had a car. Most of them couldn't even drive yet, except for Mia, but she was away at college and wouldn't be back till fall break. It was just going to have to be her job for a bit. And what a job it was! She had to take Elm to soccer practice, she had to drop Nightshade, Miriam, Garroth and Rosna off at their after-school camp, Clem had to be picked up from their study group alongside Dylan and Jesiah from their third detention of the year, and all of that was happening in the span of like three hours. She was going to be so exhausted. At least Richie had a carpool ride to band practices now so she only had to drive him to some of the concerts. Still, it was so much work. At least she could use audio books to study during all the driving.

["I definitely feel like I could stand to have faster reactions. And I feel like I could be doing more to protect my party," she'd said after a moment of quiet introspection. “We had a bit of a battle recently, and it made me realize just how vulnerable some of my companions are. They’re not all wearing bulky armor all the time in combat. I want to be able to take more of the heat off of them since I'm usually wearing armor."]

She swung by her locker to put up the books and bits and bobs that she wouldn't need to study that night. No point lugging around more than she would need to, especially when she still had classes to get around to. She needed to preserve her muscles as much as possible. Too much strain and stress with no rest would only cut into her gains.

["Both understandable concerns to have. Finding a balance between personal defense and defending one's allies. Your bulk is certainly your strength, but it isn’t your only one. You have a strong analytical mind. You understand the techniques of combat very well. Or, your essays make me believe that to be the case. Perhaps you’re different on the battlefield, though I doubt that. What you need is to work with your party and figure out ways to best use those talents," Ms. Jones had replied. "I believe I have some training materials that would benefit you. Wait here for a moment, please."]

As she continued her walk, she angled herself towards the Barbarian classroom, deciding that the best course of action was to catch Mary-Anne between classes. She had no idea, after all, what Mary-Anne did during the school day. Where did the Rat Grinders eat lunch? Where exactly in the Farhaven Woods did they train? She wished she could just ask, but they didn't know one another all that well. Rosamunda had learned her lesson about coming on too strong with potential friends. If you were too eager, you'd be branded 'desperate' or 'thirsty', and then you'd probably end up friendless with egg salad in your hair.

(Maybe Moryore had a point about the whole 'seeing a therapist' thing. But she was fine. Way more well-adjusted than some of her friends, anyway.)

The point was moot. Now, with her new readings tucked into her bag for later and a slightly elevated mood, she was prepared to shoot her shot. She was going to make this girl her friend or die trying. Probably the latter, if she was being overly pessimistic. In this line of study, the risk of dying never even approached zero. It was like... a quadratic equation? No, no that was wrong. Man was she glad math wasn't a required subject for her, because she'd definitely flunk out of it. She didn't get that kind of autism. (Sometimes she wished she had, but combat autism was arguably just as useful. She'd sooner die than wear even slightly-itchy fabric but gods-damn did she like figuring out how to turn a battlefield into a puzzle she could solve.)

When she at last made it to the Barbarian's classroom, she was surprised to find the doors still closed and the soft sound of a bustling lesson coming from under the door. The bell had already rung, so why were they still in there? Was the lesson today that gripping? She'd never even considered staying after the bell rung unless the teacher requested it, or when she had a question about her studies. (And even then, it was a battle between her desire to indulge in her curiosity or to avoid a prolonged conversation, potentially with other students involved.)

She decided waiting was her best option either way, so she leaned against the wall and pulled out her quoky pet. She needed to feed her little guy now or he'd be complaining by the time she got home. And she had to hit max affection in order to get the tie-in weapon on the online game. How was she supposed to clear the new coliseum levels under-powered? (Also, his bleary eyes as she fed him a massive strawberry was adorable. So worth the fifteen silver she spent to purchase him.)

As she sat there, feeding her Quoky Pet, she kept her ears peeled for anything she might need to pay attention to. She didn't pick out much in the way of conversation as other students passed her in the hall, just the same cacophony of excited adventurers off to lunch or other classes. Aguefort technically had three lunches, though most students had the first lunch. The second lunch-period was occupied by bard students who'd spent the morning in deep practice and religious types who had prayers or ceremonies that had to occur precisely at noon. The third was the slow trickle of evening-only students finally returning to campus, and Vice Principal Gilear who ate school lunches because apparently that guy was never allowed to catch a break.

(She was happy to hear he was on a honeymoon, honestly. The guy was a little lame but he seemed nice, and no one deserved the bad luck he seemed to have.)

She was just about to give up and assume the entirety of this barbarian class was going to skip lunch when the universe decided to give her a real sign. A sudden, thunderous clap, accompanied by a roar that made Rosamunda feel like a deer in headlights. As the shouting continued, the classroom doors flung open and a storm of students came out, scattering on the wind. The sound rocketed through the halls, making Rosamunda duck into a corner to hide on instinct. That wasn't the sort of sound she'd expect in Aguefort. It wasn't students engaged in mock combat, or adventuring experiments gone wrong. It was anger, not Rage in the sense she was used to, but violent, over-the-top wrath. Rage directed at a student, no less. She could see straight into the classroom, and she didn't like what she was seeing. Porter's yelling was loud and fast enough that she couldn't make out the words, but judging by the way he had a full-grown, clearly two-time super senior student cowering made her concerned it was going too far. As much as he had the responsibility of teaching rage to his students, surely there were some limits. He couldn't possibly be allowed to hold a student by the lapel and scream into his face like that. That had to be an abuse of power.

She didn't see Mary-Ann in the classroom or the crowd, so she decided to follow and try to grab someone's attention. As guilty as she felt leaving that poor student to get screamed at by Porter, she wasn't up for the task of taking a teacher on alone. She wasn't weak by any means, but she knew she was strongest with her party. She'd have to tell them about this incident. This was weird. Porter had always been a grouchy guy, but he'd never seemed... unstable like he did in this moment. Was this because Arthur Aguefort was no longer around to keep an eye on him? Had something happened in his personal life? There was a mystery there for sure.

She didn't have time to think things through right away, however. Instead she tugged at the arm of one of the nicer looking barbarian girls (wishing as ever that she was just a little taller). When the girl turned, Rosamunda nearly flinched at the piercing gaze she had. Good lord, blue eyes sure could be unnerving when they were big and focused. "Hi! Um, can I ask you, have you seen Mary-Ann today?" she asked, trying to seem as calm as possible.

"Mary-Anne?" the other student asked, stopping in the hall. The rest of the crowd kept moving, so they were left on their own little island in the busy hall.

Great. Her instincts were definitely not for sleuthing, that was for sure. "She's the tiny pink kobold? Usually wearing a hoodie?" Rosamunda said. "She's got an ax?"

The other girl's eyes lit up in recognition and she replied, "Oh! I know her. Kind of. She's not here today. I don't know why, probably she's just skipping. People skip all the time."

Great. Net zero information. "Do you know what her usual schedule is?" she asked, before briefly considering that sounded super stalker-ish and not friendly at all. Great job, Rosamunda. Don't get yourself added to a list. "I just, you know, wanna talk to her about something uh, game related? It's a whole thing, just, do you know where she hangs out at lunch on a normal day?"

"No, not really," the other adventurer answered, probably inadvisably. If Rosamunda was some sort of creep this would be extremely dangerous. "I don't know her all that well. She's like, super quiet. Porter seems to like her though."

Huh. That was a bit weird, not because it was weird for a student to get along with a teacher but because it was extremely weird for it to be noticeable enough that people who didn't really know you clocked it. "He does? Is she a really good barbarian then?"

The stranger just shrugged in response. "I guess? I dunno, she doesn't seem all that special. She's insanely strong for her size, but that's kind of about it. She doesn't really talk much. It's just super obvious Porter considers her one of his favorite students," she said.

"Does he play favorites openly? Or is it just the vibe?" Rosamunda asked. Suddenly all she wanted was to pry open the man and understand him. Teachers were a weird group, but somehow Porter was becoming more strange and impossible to understand by the second.

"Oh, Porter's super obvious about it. It sucks ass because some of them aren't even barbarians. Why the hell does Fig have to come to every class?" the other girl lamented. "I hate it. It's impossible to make a good impression when he's too busy pointing out how good she is at Raging and how much better at it she is than the rest of us. It blows serious chunks."

Hm. Something about knowing he was playing favorites with more than just Fig was interesting. It struck an odd chord to her. Fig being a teacher's favorite made sense. She was deranged and interesting and also a literal famous rock star. It was hard to begrudge her for drawing attention, though arguably Porter should be doing a better job disguising his favoritism.

"That does sound like it sucks. I'm sorry he does that. Like, if Ms. Jones acted like that I'd never go to class," Rosamunda said. "He seems like a rough teacher all around. I mean, does he always scream at students like that?"

At that, the other girl rapidly shook her head. "No. No, that's like, super out of character for him. He's like, mean sure, but he does it in the 'I want what's best for you' kinda way. Like a real shitface father, but one who you kind of miss when he kicks the bucket, yeah?"

Rosamunda shrugged. "I wouldn't know, I don't have a father and I think if a man in my life spoke to me like that I would kick him in the balls till he cried. Or, whatever equivalent he has going on." The closest she could compare were her uncles, who were all pretty nice people. She supposed she could compare it to Ven's shitty father, but he was in his own league of evil.

"Well, you're not missing out on much, my old man's like, lame," the other girl said. "Porter's cooler than him, at least. An asshole, but a cool asshole. I mean, my father runs a soil store. Like, what the hell even is that?"

"That sounds extremely practical," Rosamunda said, unable to stop herself from defending this stranger she didn't know. Being picked on for having 'weird' interests was shitty. "I mean, succulents are all the rage these days, right?"

"I guess," she said, frowning. "I dunno. He's been all over the place lately so it's not like we talk much about his work. I guess you're into succulents or something? You should join the Gardening Club."

"I'm in the Gardening Club," Rosamunda said. "Third year of it, actually."

"...You're not a freshman?" the other girl said, squinting. Then her face became incredibly pale, and she stepped back. "Oh. Uh. Anyway, gotta blast, bye!"

Before Rosamunda could say anything, the girl was down the hall and out of sight. She had no idea what that was about, or what she could possibly have heard about them to cause her to book it away. Maybe she should ask the others if she, like, missed a rumor that was going around? Later. They'd have a lot to discuss, seeing as everything she just learned about Porter could be useful. If he was acting weird, that could mean something. Maybe he was evil after all, and Fig's public mistrust of him was just the wildest called shot in history. Either way, it wasn't going to help her right now. If Mary-Ann wasn't in class today, she was probably skipping. Which meant this time was basically useless, and she needed to do literally anything else.

With a big sigh, Rosamunda headed off to the front of the school. Lunch on the front lawn would give her a chance to relax, at least.

Sitting at her computer desk that evening, Rosamunda let herself breathe at last. Her cousins were all ferried to their clubs and events and activities, her sister was holed up in her room, her homework was done... she had free time at last. Was it ten o'clock at night? Yes. Would she regret staying up this late tomorrow morning? For sure. But she still had her mission to attend to, and she had another trick up her sleeves.

The Quoky Pet Forums were the last bastion of the internet of her childhood. These days everything was on curated, algorithmic social media sites and relegated to the domain of their corporate overlords. These forums, however, were lovingly maintained by two dudes in a basement somewhere. They were technically unofficial, in the same way that officially Aguefort Adventuring Academy was a high school and not a factory for producing unhinged teenage anarchists. They were nonetheless the place for their little fandom, and she was a regular poster. She was always one of the first people reacting to new updates or drops, and she'd spent many hours discussing the meta and comparing the outfits for her pets with others. She wasn't a 'big name' or anything, but she did have a small group of friends she sometimes messaged and joked around with. One she'd even met up with for a convention, and they'd traded cards for hours. It'd been fantastic.

She knew enough about these forums, then, to track someone down. They didn't have a functioning user search feature (the guy who did the back-end insisted his database couldn't handle it) but they did have post searches, and using keywords meant it was easy to eventually track a post where she'd been tagged. Her user profile was adorable, with a big old strawberry in the picture and her username, 'mangosodaluvr', was in a rainbow font that hurt her eyes in the best way possible.

Excellent. She'd finally found Mary-Ann. Now it was time to make her move. She hated dming people on the forums, it always felt a little weird, but it was a necessary sacrifice. She stressed pretty hard about what to say. How could she not come off as creepy but still make herself known? Maybe she was overthinking things. She just needed to write and try not to let her brain ruin things for her.

cottoncandygrl: Hi Mary-Ann. It is me, Rosamunda, from school. We talked about your Pelliephant? I found you and thought i'd say hello :waves:

There. Now that she’d actually gone through and sent the message, there was no way to chicken out. She was going to have this conversation or die trying. She was going to see if Mary-Ann thought she was memorable enough to message back. And if she was, whether they could hit it off well enough to become, at the very least, forum pals.

Five minutes later, while Rosamunda was busy pouring another glass of lemon-water (because the grind for good gut health never ceased), her computer gave a helpful little bleep to inform her of a response. She’d never leaped to action so fast in her life, and she’d literally fought hordes of undead before. She read the message with an anticipatory fever, her legs already twitching under the table.

mangosdaluvr: oh its you. Hi. I didn’t think you’d reach out.

Shit. Was that good or bad? Rereading it did nothing to soothe her nerves. The more she looked at it, the more ambiguous it seemed to get. Was she excited Rosamunda had reached out? Annoyed to have to deal with her? Simply indifferent? It was impossible to tell! She was half-fit to lug her computer downstairs to her sister’s room to get her opinion when another message popped up.

mangosodaluvr: what’s your rank in QPG

Oh thank whatever god was watching over her right now and possibly several gods who weren’t. This was normal Quoky Pets talk. Something Rosamunda could for sure handle without shooting herself in the foot. Sure, she wasn’t the highest rank on Gauntlet, but she was no slouch. She could definitely impress Mary-Ann like this.

cottoncandygrl: Silver II. I haven’t been grinding as much though, my team’s kinda still coming together, My Munchapet needs respeccing and I’ve still got a hole in my 7-pet lineup. Thinking I might pick up a Digiwaler at the store and grind up its affection before I transfer it to QPG.

Was it lame to admit she power-leveled her team through the handhelds first? Plenty of pros insisted on doing things the traditional way: catching them in Gauntlets or hatching eggs on QPO until a decent statted Quoky Pet arrived. Rosamunda hated both methods. RNG was so unpredictable, not to mention the online game could be buggy sometimes. She hated waiting to clear dungeons, and the stupid raid mechanics barely worked half the time.

(Why did she play a game that drove her crazy? Stockholm syndrome, maybe. And yes, Stockholm syndrome wasn’t real but damn did it hit the spot when she was talking about it.)

mangosdaluvr: Silver II is pretty good. I don’t know if Digiwaler is worth paying real money for though. It gets mid once you hit Diamond.

Rosamunda raised an eyebrow reading that message. It felt oddly friendly despite the lack of emojis or anything to express intent. Then again, Mary-Ann hadn’t been super expressive in real life.

cottoncandygrl: interesting. What would you recommend then?

mangosodaluvr: I would go with Crystower or Mantaflame. Crystower is solid bulk without the drawback of a low attack, and Mantaflame’s got insane speed. Kind of sucks at defense though but with the right opponent it can sweep like crazy.

Rosamunda grinned. She felt like Mary-Ann was engaged and that was a win. She cracked her knuckles, eager to dig into a long conversation about Quoky Pets. Maybe they’d even end up friends if she played her cards right.

Wouldn’t that be something?

For all her many faults, Raven liked to think she was pretty sharp.

She was no wizard or cleric: studying bored her to tears and she’d sooner die than attend a religious ceremony or study scripture. Magic was, in her mind, best experienced in a raw, untampered with state. It was a practice to be felt more than understood, as raw and deeply mortal as dancing or laughter or eating a perfectly ripe peach. It was a personal experience that quantifying with numbers and formulas would ruin for her. She didn’t, therefore, kick it with wizards very often. The technical side of things took the wind from her sails.

But she was not unintelligent. She could solve puzzles or crack riddles with the best of them, and she could definitely find things out when curiosity beset her. She wasn’t incapable. Hence why she was now making her way to Runestone’s classroom, armed with nothing but her keen wit and sharp tongue. She was a woman on a mission, damn it, and she would not be stopped. She was going to learn more about Oisin today, and the Ratgrinders by extension.

She would never claim to fully understand her girlfriend’s mind. As much as she loved her, was endlessly devoted to her gorgeous, brilliant, talented, amazing partner, she was no mind reader. March had an air of mystery about her, an odd incomprehensibility befitting a woman who held divinity in her blood and fey-magic at her fingertips. But she would, no matter what, always back up her hunches. If she said something was fishy about the Ratgrinders, she was going to take that seriously.

Which was why, as she entered third period Junior Wizardry, she was prepared for anything. She didn’t know what Oisin might be up to, nor how embedded he was in the class politics of the wizard students. She was going to have to be subtle in her nosing around.

The class was mostly empty, seeing as the teacher was absent and there were still 7 minutes left in this passing period. There was a handful of students, however, including one she thankfully recognized. The vibrantly-dressed self-proclaimed ‘chaos witch’, Hanako Opalwing, was one of her old friends from elementary school. They’d grown apart over the years, but Raven always enjoyed speaking to her when they bumped into each other. And she was a major gossip, which was ideal for this situation.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Hanako called once she’d spotted Raven. “What’re you doing haunting the school during the daytime? I thought Warlocks had night classes now that Ms. Sool is the instructor.”

Ah, that sense of humor of hers never did get old. “Firstly, fuck you too. Secondly, I do have one afternoon class. But right now I’m just making the rounds. I’ve been thinking of multi-classing or something. Maybe wizardry is right for me after all.”

Hanako guffawed, turning to hide her shit-eating grin by chugging the rest of her energy drink. “Raven, darling, wizard classes would kick your ass. You’re not one for memorizing rituals or studying. Besides, it isn’t like you couldn’t get more spells if you wanted them.”

The words ‘because you’re a nepo baby’ went unspoken, but Raven heard them loud and clear. She rolled her eyes, knowing that was just Hanako’s personality. She was an abrasive little shit, but she was a funny abrasive little shit, so it evened out. “Maybe I want to branch out and diversify my talents a little. Or maybe I’m just bored. It’s tough being so naturally talented at everything, you know?”

“Oh puh-lease,” Hanako said, sitting up in her chair. “We both know you love every excuse to show off. You’d hate being in a class you couldn’t immediately dominate. What’s your real reason for being here? And don’t say it’s just to bother me, because I know you and you’d be so much more annoying right now if that was all it is.”

Damn. She was being read like her fucking textbook. She’d forgotten how sharp Hanako could be. “Fine, fine. You got me. I’m here on business of sorts. I was like, wondering something. Any of you know Oisin? Blue Dragonborn, total beefcake?” she said, gesturing to about her shoulder to give them an idea of his height.

“Careful. Your girlfriend probably wouldn’t appreciate you calling another man a beefcake,” Hanako replied, grinning.

“Hey, she knows I’m a one woman kind of gal. And I’m not interested in him like that. I just… saw some stuff at Seacaster’s house party and it got me curious,” Raven said, holding her hands up defensively. She couldn’t imagine leaving her actual literal goddess of a girlfriend for anyone, much less some guy she hardly knew. She was her mother’s daughter, after all; they were loyal beyond belief. Seriously, Raven’s mother was an immortal vampire queen whose looks literally drove people mad, and she had never even thought about straying from the bumbling if kindhearted man that was her dear father.

“Oh? Do tell,” Hanako said, leaning forward. Raven had to hide her smug grin by making a dramatic show of sweeping hair from her face. Hanako was too easy. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Well, I’m sure you noticed him and that Ivy girl sitting at the pool table playing beer pong, right? Unless you skipped Seacaster’s party,” Raven said, taking a seat on one of the desks. “Did you notice who else approached them?”

“Uh, besides you?” Hanako said. “Like, Skrank was there. He was being Skrank. And then there was also… oh yeah, Adaine Abernant went up to them right. And then also Fabian Seacaster, but that was pretty normal ‘cause it was his party.”

“Yeah, that’s spot on. But you know, Oisin was talking to Adaine while they were there,” Raven said. “They were flirting. It was adorable. And I just… I don’t know. I’m invested now. You know how I get.”

“Well, of course Oisin was flirting with her!” someone else interjected, some thin wizard kid with a clearly brand new beard. “He’s been super into her since freshmen year. He brought her up basically constantly our first two years here. The fact that he’s only now shooting his shot is a testament to how much that growth spurt much have bolstered his confidence.”

“Oh wow,” Raven said, her interest suddenly rocketing to a much higher peak. Then his behavior with Adaine made much more sense. A crush, harbored in semi-secret, since Freshmen year… she could understand that sort of thing very well. She’d been in love with her girlfriend since they’d met, and she couldn’t imagine the emotional torment she’d be under if she hadn’t said a word for two years. Then again, she was much more confident than it seemed Oisin had been. “You said he had a growth spurt? Was it really that dramatic?”

“Oh, it totally was!” Hanako said, hands flailing about in the air. “He went from like, this super scrawny kid, total pointdexter type, to… well, a grade A wagyu beefcake! If he wasn’t like, almost always with that Ivy girl I’d have totes shot my shot by now, you know?”

“Hanako,” the beard-wizard-kid said with a long groan. “Cool your jets. We all know the real reason you haven’t done anything about it is because he’s way out of your league.”

“He is not! Come on, I’m a catch!” Hanako argued, standing up from her seat. “I’m a total hottie and I’m always one of the top scores when exams come around! But… that’s besides the point. I’m not a fan of his friends, so a relationship like that would never work out.”

Huh. Hanako really had matured, hadn’t she? Raven never would have dreamed of her saying something like that in middle-school. She’d always been drama-loving, and the whole reason they’d drifted apart was that she just could not stop getting into fights. Still, that wasn’t the most interesting thing about her statement. “You don’t like the Ratgrinders?”

Hanako made a face like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “Well, it’s complicated. I’m sure they’re fine people and all but some of them… are pretty hard to be around. Like, that Ivy girl Oisin is always with is totally terrible. She’s been even worse since the end of last year.”

“Ivy is… difficult,” the girl next to her agreed, sighing. “Like, really difficult. She seems cool at first, but even back in Freshmen year she was kinda prickly, you know? She was always talking about how cool things back in Lifeline were, and I’m sure the place is nice but it was like… all she’d ever talk about, you know? She never wanted to talk about her hobbies or her interests. It was like she thought it wasn’t worth getting close to anyone but her adventuring party.”

Huh. Well, Raven couldn’t exactly judge her for being a little standoffish. This school was full of all sorts of weird, intense personalities. Picking your circle carefully was definitely one way to navigate that. But… to be reliant only on your adventuring party for your social needs was a bad idea as well. It made things messy and over-complicated if tensions arose, allowing for no chance to get away or breath. “Interesting. I guess that squares with the few interactions I’ve had with her. Kind of odd that a guy like Oisin is her bestie, though. He seems so affable,” she said.

“I mean, it makes more sense when you really look at how he acts. He’s got a jealous streak to him like all the Ratgrinders do. For as much as he seemed super into Adaine, he was also like, weirdly intense about her accomplishments. I kinda get it. I mean, she’s pretty and rich and smart and she’s the Elven Oracle who’s saved the whole world like three times before she even turned eighteen. I’d be jealous as hell too,” Hanako answered. “I don’t blame the Ratgrinders for disliking the Bad Kids, but you know, they could be less obvious about it.”

“I think we’re all a little jealous,” the girl next to her said, flipping fried bleach-blonde hair out of her eyes. “I mean, even they hadn’t saved the world a few times, they’re all cool as hell.”

“I’m not jealous. I know where my strengths lie, and it’s not in being some sort of famous superstar wizard,” Hanako said. “It’s being drop-dead gorgeous and fantastic at enchantment magic. You have to think about what you’re good at and focus on that instead of looking towards others and being envious of what they can do.”

“Easy for you to say,” the girl next to her huffed. “You know how hard being a Divination Wizard in the same class as Adaine Abernant is?”

“I mean, she’s right Delicata. It’s unwise to compare yourself to the Elven Oracle. That’d be like Raven trying to compare her magic to like… Ms. Sool. You’re just on different levels,” the other wizard interjected. Between them, Hanako just shook her head. Raven felt that deep in her chest. Ah, to be the voice of reason amongst ones friends.

Raven cleared her throat, stepping back. “Exactly. Focusing on the Bad Kids and trying to ‘catch up’ to them is always going to slow you down in the end. Which is why I would much rather focus on my own work. Speaking of which, I should probably head out for now and let you all get to your classwork. See you around, Hanako. And uh, goodbye Delicata and…?”

“Basim,” the other student said with a small wave. “Have a wonderful day.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Hanako called. Raven rolled her eyes, flipping her off as she made her way to the door. The sound of Hanako’s cackling followed her into the hall, and though Raven would deny it if anyone asked, she did allow herself a small smile.

It was always nice to catch up with old friends.

Later that night, Raven returned to campus, having taken a brief break to drive Ven home with March’s car. (They’d apologized for the trouble a thousand times, not that Raven really minded taking them to Byrd’s place. It gave her the chance to steal one of her jackets back, and to say hi to Ryo. What an adorable kid.)

She parked March’s car in one of the darker corners of the parking lot, a favorite spot of hers. She’d used to sit out here and nap during the daytime, waiting for March to get out of class. Nowadays she had other things to do, but she still parked in the same place every time. Old habits die hard, after all.

Pulling two energy drinks out of March’s glove-box, she left the car and trekked on foot into the nearby woods. Well, not really into the woods. There was a patch of thin grass and wildflowers that bordered the gym’s back parking lot that they often hung out in at night. It had a good view of the sky, after all, since the gym still lacked outdoor lights after that one time the vice principal turned into a dragon and destroyed the whole thing. It also made it a great make out spot, though she tried not to let that word get spread around too much. It would kind of ruin the appeal of it.

She looped around the corner of the building and spotted March almost immediately. Her green hair was vibrant in the darker colors of the woods behind them, and though she was sitting down in the grass, her figure cut an imposing shadow in the moonlight. Raven grinned to herself and in several steps she was across the parking lot and in the grass.

“There’s my March Rabbit,” she said, plopping down behind her and throwing her arms over her shoulders. “You are terrible at blending in, you know?” The two energy drinks rolled from beneath her arm into the grass beside them, silver cans throwing the dim light everywhere.

“I’m not trying to blend in,” she said, leaning back into Raven ever so slightly. Her hair tickled the bottom of Raven’s chin and nose, though she valiantly stopped herself from sneezing. “I’m trying to get a good look at these constellations. Does that star at 42 degrees northwest look off to you?”

“Baby, you know I cannot tell one star from another to save my life,” she said, moving to bury her chin into March’s shoulder. “That’s all your domain, I’m afraid.”

“I guess you’ll have to trust my judgment, then,” March teased, putting her small telescope to the side.

“I’m grateful to be in your very capable hands,” Raven said, turning her head to the side so she could plant a quick kiss on her lips. March smiled into it, nose scrunching so adorably that Raven was pretty sure she was going to keel over from sheer joy. Gods did she love her girlfriend. It was impossible not to be entranced by her, and the fact that she wasn’t constantly fighting off her potential suitors was a sign that no one else in this damn school had any taste.

“Okay, okay. Don’t get too excited, we both know you have class,” March said, gently leaning back. “As much as I might be tempted to sit around cuddling all night, I also have work.”

“I won’t distract you too much,” Raven promised, staying at March’s side as she returned to using her telescope. March’s star-maps were spread in front of her, all her detailed notes in her looping, adorable handwriting. “Although I did want to tell you that I learned a little more about Oisin today. And Ivy.”

“Nice,” March replied, eyes still fixed on the sky above her. “We can regroup tomorrow maybe and talk about what everyone’s found so far, maybe start some kind of document. A dedicated thread in the group-chat, maybe?”

“A dedicated thread would work. We’d have to password protect it though. Just in case. Information security is an adventurer’s greatest tool. Aside from a big sword, that is,” Raven said.

“There’s always a use for a big sword,” March agreed. She paused, leaning forward into her telescope. She made a frankly adorable little sound under her breath and reached for her star map. “Sorry, noticed something strange. Gotta jot it down now or I’ll forget about it.”

“Don’t worry, babe, I know you’re working on important shit,” Raven said. She watched as March began to work, pen flying across her maps. Raven settled in, chin on her hand as she watched. She wasn’t quite paying attention to the contents of her work, since she wouldn’t understand it anyways. She was just… looking at her beautiful girlfriend. What better thing did she have to do? Nothing, that was what. There was nothing better she could do with her time.

Minutes passed before March was done with her writing. She sat up, leaned closer, and bit Raven on the nose. With a half-stifled shriek, Raven leapt back, falling on her back in the grass. Judging by March’s giggling, that was the exact outcome she was aiming for.

“Unfair!” she huffed, sitting back up.

“Sorry, sorry. But you were just so distracted and I couldn’t help myself,” March said, grinning. Her ears twitched under her hair and Raven swore under her breath. How could she possibly stay mad at her when she was so fucking cute. “But there. Got my work done. My attention’s all yours.”

Grinning, Raven launched herself at her girlfriend, tackling her into grass. The pair rolled around for a bit, elbows and knees catching everywhere. It should have been annoying, but all it did was make Raven smile harder. She loved feeling close to her girlfriend, and nothing made her feel closer to her than physically grappling with her.

(Well, kissing was also pretty nice. But wrestling was a different kind of closeness.)

When they were at last out of breath, they lay in the grass, panting. Raven’s head was in the crook of March’s elbow, her legs tucked up beneath her, and she was suddenly overcome with the urge to fall asleep. Still, she had classes to go to, so she could not allow herself to fall asleep just yet. Instead she laid there, enjoying her girlfriend’s presence while she waited for March to move the conversation along. If she wished to, anyways. Raven was perfectly content to just soak in her presence.

When March did at last speak, it was quiet and thoughtful. A tone of voice that always made Raven feel so safe, even when she broached serious conversations. “Have you started looking at colleges yet?” she asked. It was clear from her voice that she’d been mulling over the subject for a while. It was important, after all.

“A few. Obviously BCU is an option. It’s pretty close to home so I wouldn’t have to travel far on holidays, and it’s fairly decent,” Raven replied fairly quickly. She’d done some scrolling around, fiddling with websites and reading thick recruitment pamphlets. It had seemed like a promising spot, though she wasn’t set on it. It felt way too early to decide on something so important.

“Bastion City is nice in the summers, too,” March mused. “I think BCU is a nice option. Not as flashy as some colleges, but I kinda don’t want to go anywhere too famous. It’d be a lot of pressure.”

“I get that,” Raven agreed. She didn’t want to apply anywhere too prestigious either. Adventuring was adventuring, no matter where she did it. The only thing a fancy school would get her is more people bugging her all the time. “We’re going to college together, yeah?”

“Obviously. Or… I hope so. But if you get into somewhere really good, you should go even if I don’t get in,” March said. “We can always visit one another. I mean, I’m sure my father will help me set up some sort of teleportation circle or something like that.”

“That’s true. I think I’d be sad not getting to see you every day, though,” Raven said. It was just like March to be so thoughtful. She’d always been the more mature person between the two of them. March was, for all her little moments of chaos and her spiteful indulgences, had a good head on her shoulders.

“We’d make it work. I know we would,” March said, knocking her head into Raven’s for a moment. “Although we could both try for Astral State University. It’s basically the adventuring school anyway.”

That was true. Raven had basically had ASU shoved down her throat since she hit middle school. “ASU is a decent school. Good for parties, so I hear,” Raven said. She’d seen clips online from their parties and they clearly got wild. Plus it was full of people from all stretches of the universe and so many walks of life it was staggering. It’d be a fun place to be, if anything.

“ASU is pretty infamous for that. I dunno if I want to go to a ‘party’ school though. I mean, if I’m not ‘good’ at college parties it’ll suck so much,” March said.

Raven failed to point out that there was no such thing as being ‘good’ at parties. Parties were about having fun. So if you were having fun, it was a good party. Well, if everyone was having fun, that is. It would be awkward if only one person was enjoying themselves, barring everyone in the party being judgmental assholes or something. “I think you’d thrive in a college party scene. Me? I’m going to join a weird club and start a cult,” Raven said.

“Like dear old mom, huh?” March teased.

“Of course. I have a legacy to maintain, you know,” Raven said. She couldn’t wait to be the cool, mysterious college bad-girl at the back of every class, smoking cigarettes and giving out cryptic one-liners. Well, maybe not the cigarette one. She had delicate lungs. And she couldn’t be too cool because then she might get roped into being part of another adventurer’s epic quest. She had a party already; she couldn’t get abducted away that easily.

“You and your legacy,” March said, rolling to the side slightly to look Raven in the eye. “But you’re right. I think I could thrive in a college party scene, as long as you were there with me. I’m not quite as awesome without my hot, talented, wicked smart girlfriend backing me up.”

“Oo, keep it up with the flattery. My ego could use the boost,” Raven said, flipping her hair over her shoulders. March rolled her eyes, but she did pepper her face with kisses, so Raven took it as a win.

“Ugh, you’re terrible. You’re lucky you’re so cute,” March said. She pulled Raven in for a hug and Raven went gladly. It was nice to be held for a little while. Things were certain to get busy as their junior year continued, but for now, at least, Raven could enjoy the little moments.

They stayed like that for some time, not speaking much, just soaking in the night air and enjoying each other’s company. Raven almost wanted to fall asleep, but eventually she felt a little buzzing in her pocket. That was definitely her phone giving her a five-minute warning.

With a soft groan, Raven wiggled from her girlfriend’s arms and rolled over to sit up. “I have to get to class. Are you okay with waiting for me to get out?”

“Of course. Did you refill my tank?” March asked, sitting up herself. She had leaves in her hair, but Raven decided not to tease her about it. Otherwise, she’d never get to class.

“I wouldn’t dream of returning your car on anything but full, princess,” Raven said as she stood up. She extended a hand towards March, who looked at her with a fond little smile.

“Ugh, that one’s so cheesy,” March said, using Raven’s hand to stand up. Raven watched her ears twitch under the green blanket of her hair. Gods, how did she get so lucky? She’d seriously never find someone else quite like her.

“You’re smiling,” Raven said, grinning at her. Seeing that tiny smile she was trying to hide with a fake scowl was extremely adorable. She wished she could get a photo of it. It’d be a nice little addition to the scrapbook Moryore was working on.

March looked at Raven with a rather toothless glare, pouting for a brief moment. She always got like that when Raven ‘called her out’. Well, if she didn’t want to be called out all the time, she should either get better at acting or stop being so damn cute. “And?” March huffed, crossing her arms.

“That means you liiike it,” Raven teased, poking her cheek. “You know when we get married you’ll technically be a real princess, right? They call my mother ‘Queen’ and ‘her majesty’. You’ll have to hear it all the time, I’m just getting you acclimated to it now.”

March’s expression went completely neutral, and for a moment Raven was worried she’d taken it too far. She was just gearing up to backpedal and apologize when March’s face split into a shit-eating grin. “When we get married, huh?” she said, teasing her right back. “Awfully confident, aren’t we? Maybe I don’t wanna get married.”

Damn. Caught out for being a romantic loser again. Well, Raven might as well wear that as a badge of honor if she was going to be feeling it anyway. “I’d be okay with that too. Whatever you want, sunshine,” Raven replied, paired with a small wink. She watched as her girlfriend’s cheeks reddened once more, internally squealing at her little smile. She was winning.

“Okay, okay. Go to class you dork,” March said, playfully pushing her away. Raven laughed harder, and with a pep in her step, took off into the distance.

“See you soon!” she called back, before racing towards the school building in the distance.

Raven zipped straight into the classroom just in time for what would be the bell. If the bell system worked at night, that was. Warlock classes were from 8:00 PM to 1:00 AM every night, so one would think Aguefort would have just enabled the PA system during those hours. But no, they couldn’t use the PA system at night because ‘the risks of vandals and vagabonds misusing it’ was too high. Fucking teachers. They really were no fun.

As she looked around, however, she was surprised to find that only Zara was standing in the classroom. She was leaning against the wall behind her desk, drinking from a massive floating tumbler that was probably filled with coffee. What a neat idea, honestly.

(Speaking of which- fuck, she’d definitely left her energy drink with March. Oh well. She supposed she’d just have to grab another one at some point.)

“Good evening… how am I the first one here?” Raven asked, looking around the small room. The desks were shockingly bare, without even a backpack in sight. Although that didn’t differ much from their usual appearance, as plenty of the warlock kids didn’t bring anything to class. Granted, the students who were doing well usually had their pact items on them and contracts, but by Junior year you usually stopped needing to carry around a ton of heavy books. If you didn’t have some way to manifest your contract by now, you were probably taking remedial courses. Or you were one of those students whose pact was weird because you were related to your patron or you should probably actually count as a cleric because you didn’t really have a contract at all but for some reason the school classified you as a warlock instead. You know, the usual complications.

Zara looked over to Raven, without any of the surprise one would usually have at a sudden arrival of another person in a formerly empty room. She must have heard Raven come rushing down the hall. “You are not, technically. Your classmates ran out the door when someone announced there was a ‘rat fight’ on the second floor. I have decided to stop pretending this class will ever start on time,” she said, taking another sip of her drink.

“If we ever got started on time it’d probably spell the end of the world,” Raven said, waving her hand in the air dramatically.

“You jest, but I do think an apocalypse is the only time I could wrangle all you together in one place without some sort of serious magical ritual,” Zara replied. “Just trying to get students to pay attention to my lectures without becoming sidetracked is a feat enough.”

Raven nodded in sympathy, though she knew she was part of the problem. She often let her mind wander during class, drawing all over her notes or becoming engrossed in something in the tome her mother gave her over the contract law being discussed that day. But she wasn’t the worst offender. Eleanor was constantly trying to work on her homunculi (homunculuses?) in the back when she was sure no one else was looking, and she knew at least three people who were actually smoking dragonfern at their desks. Raven wasn’t one to judge what people put in their bodies, to each their own, but in class was just absurd to her. Smoke in the parking lot before coming in, goddammit, no one wants to smell dragonfern in a small room.

“I’m sure they’ll be along soon,” Raven said, leaning against the door. “I guess, uh, in the meantime, I wanted to ask- I’ve been kind of toying with the idea of multi-classing, and I was wondering if you think that’d be a good idea?”

Was she really planning on multi-classing? Probably not, but since she’d sewn those seeds in the wizarding class earlier, she needed to make sure there was evidence of that idea. If she only brought it up when she was also fishing for information about Oisin, that’d look suspicious. With Kipperlilly Copperkettle in the Ratgrinders, she couldn’t really afford to be sloppy. It’d be an insult to their rivalry.

(Rivalry? Was what was going on a rivalry? They did have one-sided beef with them, but there wasn’t really a reciprocation. They barely knew they existed. It’d be kind of ironic if it weren’t for the fact that Raven was, at least, very aware that they were being a little deranged. But what was an adventurer if not a deranged person with incredible power and a martyr complex?)

“Hm. Well, you have been doing quite well in this class, Raven. Your work has always been impeccable. Your behavior in class… could be improved, however,” Zara said, fixing her with a knowing look. “You have not always taken your learning as seriously as you ought to. Great power comes with the responsibility to use it in ways that reflect well on your patron. While I’m sure yours is all too happy to overlook some of your less wise decisions, it is a bad habit to get into.”

Damn. Leave it to Zara to give her a lecture and not make it all that embarrassing to hear. Something about her presence was just extraordinarily soothing. It made her duck her chin for a moment, equal parts ashamed and glad for her honesty. “I get what you mean. I could be trying harder,” she agreed.

“I am glad to see you are open to reflection,” Zara said, with a wry smile that Raven unfortunately thought was very cool of her. Damn authority figures and their ability to come off as cool and down to earth despite their arguable position as ‘the man’. How was anyone supposed to be a rebellious teen in these circumstances?

“Not knowing one’s weaknesses is the greatest weakness of all,” Raven replied, leaning against the wall. That was the sort of thing her father would say if she asked him. He was always the type to learn her was bad at something and then devote weeks, months, sometimes years to mastering it. Raven figured it was just what adventurers had to do.

“That is a lesson I think many of your peers could do with,” Zara agreed, chuckling to herself. “Having said that. Raven, if you decided to multi-class, I will sign off on it, provided that you maintain your grades during the first few weeks of said multi-class course load. And that you avoid picking fights with your classmates in both courses.”

Raven wanted to cheer at that, but she played it cool instead. It wasn’t like she really wanted to multi-class, but knowing she was good enough to do so was pretty nice. “Thank you. I’m not sure if I’m going to go for it, but I appreciate your blessing,” she said.

“I am glad to hear that,” Zara said. “Wherever your desires take you, I am certain you will learn much. That is, after all, the point of being in school. Try new things while you are still relatively you. Though, I suppose time is one resource you will have in spades.”

Raven snorted to herself. Ah, yes. Time was such a weird concept for her. She was elven and a dhamphir, so she knew she could expect a century or two, provided she wasn’t killed in combat or murdered. But with her mother being a lich-adjacent vampire semi-god, she kind of figured she’d get closer to four or five centuries if she took care of herself.

(She tried very hard not to consider whether she’d outlive her friends and loved ones. It was fine. What was death, anyway, but a minor roadblock? She knew she’d be able to see them again in their respective afterlives. So the pang of despair she had every time it came up was nonsensical.)

“Thank you for the advice,” she said. “I’m glad to have such a responsible and wise instructor. I don’t think they could have found a better Warlock teacher in all of Spyre.” Raven half-wondered if she was laying it on a little too thick, but it was an earnest observation. The last warlock teacher had sucked horrifically. She used to skip class all the time, not bothered with trying to listen to him wax poetics instead of teaching anything useful. Hell, they class had spent sophomore year huddled in the back, trading independent study notes instead of asking the teacher questions. Zara was a breath of fresh air in comparison.

“A wonderful sentiment. Now, I am going to go wrangle the rest of your peers away from the ‘rat fight’. Do feel free to take a seat and finish up whatever homework you undoubtedly procrastinated one,” Zara said, floating around her towards the door.

Raven nodded, walking towards the back of the class to take her normal seat. Hopefully this would be an interesting class today. Or at least, one that would create a good bit of buzz amongst her classmates.

After all that espionage, a chance to take a breather was sorely needed.

Haldir did not have a ‘complex’, no matter what anyone said about it.

They were not insecure in their talents. They knew what their skills were, and they were proud of them. They were a sneaky little shit, with a talent for literally yanking the screams of the dead out of the air and using it to deliver justice to others. They were flexible, fast, and deadly. They could get into any place they needed given time to plan, and they were always ready to come up with a plan. They were a fantastic rogue, and they knew it.

But more so, they prided themselves in their deep understanding of the Adventurers’ Code. Not what the Council said the code was, the real code. The one forged by the adventurers of old, from those who had fought to protect the world from devastating forces, who acted on behalf of the little man. They were a deep believer in the power of an adventurer to rewrite fate itself, to make things fair when none other would act.

Kipperlilly was the antithesis of that philosophy. She was as ‘by the books’ as it could get. She’d corrected people on the technicality of the rules in class so many times they’d begun to grit their teeth at the sound of her voice. And maybe if she was just a little grating, Haldir could have looked past it. But it was worse, because she thought she was better than the rest of them because of it. Her ego was impossible to ignore. She could speak in that honey-sweet, ‘good girl’ tone of hers and act all prim and proper, but they could feel the disdain in her voice when she talked about other students. She thought she deserved to be the best because everyone around her wasn’t playing the game properly.

So yes, it bothered them. It bothered them even more that somehow she was the first person in their year to find the rogue teacher. That rumor had hit the presses as soon as school started, and it was all their classmates were discussing. Every mention of it made their blood boil. How?! How on earth had they lost out to someone who didn’t even appreciate the spirit of adventuring? How could they let this happen?

It was becoming a point of genuine distraction. Haldir had prided themself on being a straight A student, but so far this semester their average grade was a B+. That was fine, but it wasn’t enough. It would be a glaring blemish on their record for college, and it’d be one more thing for Kipperlilly to hold against them. The only thing keeping them from crashing out was the knowledge that they’d catch up. They’d spent two years trying to find the rogue teacher, putting the pieces together, getting their skills up. If Kipperlilly Copperkettle could do it, so could they. It was just a matter of effort.

The easiest way to catch up would, of course, be to peek into Kipperlilly’s files. If she had revealed any details as to how she’d caught the rogue teacher, or as to the rogue teacher’s identity, they’d be in her academic files. And more specifically, they were more than likely to be stashed away in Jawbone’s office. He was the guidance counselor after all, and in Principal Aguefort’s absence, was solely responsible for handling all the miscellaneous academic files on hand. The vice principal wasn’t allowed to touch any of that sort of thing. A holdover from Kalvaxus, clearly.

(Though to be fair, Haldir wasn’t sure Mr. Faeth was up for that sort of thing. He was overworked as it was.)

All they’d have to do was get in there, and they’d have all the information they could ever want in their grasp. Practically, however, there was no way they were going to be able to break into Jawbone’s office with how busy things were. People were always in and out of it, seeing Jawbone for a variety of reasons. Plus, Haldir liked Jawbone. Jawbone was always nice to them, he was always nice to everyone. Hell, Haldir was pretty sure he was the only adult on campus who they’d trust to help in a crisis. He was just that nice of a guy.

But if breaking into his office was a no-go, what could Haldir do to get more information on Kipperlilly? That was the question that plagued them, in between helping Moryore with his investigations and running Gardening Club. With how busy the whole party was, Haldir was the only person who could show up to watch the freshmen every single day. That meant they were hearing everything the freshmen were talking about.

Plus, Haldir was in a few other clubs as well. Not many, and certainly not with as much commitment as what they had to the Gardening Club, but they were a member of a few here and there. There was the Minotaur Heritage Club that they were technically the treasurer of, and of which Haldir had fond memories. There had been a couple fun celebrations, a lot of really interesting historical book readings and documentaries, and a lot of like-minded people to talk with. It was nice to feel connected to their ummi’s heritage. Then there was the chess club, which they had joined as a joke. But chess had grown on them over the years. It was a nice challenge with none of the risks of real battles. And then there was the ‘easy listening’ club they’d joined. It was just an excuse for people to come together and play whatever they felt like from their cassette/CD/record collections, but it was nice. Everyone was pretty passionate about the music, and Haldir got to feel a little less pretentious about their preference for physical music.

Clubs, at least, did offer something besides a break from studying. It was the single best way to get their finger on the pulse of what the school was feeling. Rumors, gossip, idle chitchat, all of these things were abundant in the club rooms. It was how Haldir kept up with the school, and how they fed information back to their friends. Sitting in the gardening club now, supervising as a group of underclassmen pruned weeds from the plant beds, Haldir was never more thankful for that exact thing. After all, they had plenty of questions to ask.

“So, have you all been paying attention to the election campaigns?” Haldir asked, turning to pick up a trowel themselves. One of the plant beds was completely unattended, and they figured they might as well do some work themselves. March would never let them live it down if one of their plants died.

“I have,” one of the younger students offered, a waifish girl whose hair was currently full of leaves. She was one of the druid students March had recruited, and though Haldir couldn’t remember her name, they knew she was one of the nicer girls on campus. Her opinions were probably pretty well-trusted by her peers, so if they could gauge her reaction, they could potentially gauge the reactions from others as well.

“Nice to see the freshmen engaging with the school’s culture. Since you’ve been keeping up with it, what do you think of Kipperlilly’s campaign?” they asked, trying to seem innocent. They were just another student invested in the upcoming election, that was all.

“Oh, I think she seems… alright? She does seem to care a lot about fairness, which is a good thing,” the girl said. “Or I think it should be, anyway. If everyone starts on an even playing field, then what will really decide who the best adventurer is is their skills, right?”

Haldir nodded thoughtfully; while they didn’t personally buy Kipperlilly’s fairness shtick, they could understand that most people would agree with the core of it. Nobody should get special treatment or be able to bend the rules when it came to academics. Then again, bending the rules was part of an adventurer’s toolkit, the same as anything else. It was a fine line to walk, and not one Haldir had clear answers for.

Surprisingly, someone else responded before they could. “I dunno. Kipperlilly gives me weird vibes. I mean, did you hear about how her party trains? I was hanging out with some of the wizarding students and they said Oisin is always heading into the Farhaven Woods after school,” one of the students said. “That basically only ever has baby monsters in it. It’s like grinding in a video game. Totally lame, you know?”

“Aw, come on Paez. You’re always so hard on people. You know, sometimes taking it easy is what’s for the best,” the other student said, shaking her head. The young satyr just huffed, pulling at the roots of one of the plants.

“I’m telling you now, there’s nothing good about taking the easy way through life. It breeds complacency. Plus, killing weak mobs all day every day might make you particularly good at focusing through boring tasks, but it won’t teach you anything about real battles,” he replied. “Come on, Alevis, you of all people should know that a real fight is never decided solely by who can hit someone as hard as I could.”

Haldir mulled over the student’s words, because they were a good insight. That was a smart way to look at things, all things considered. Perhaps they could use it to push people away from Kipperlilly’s campaign, though they’d have to spread the idea carefully. If she realized someone was actively targeting her campaign, Haldir would certainly become an enemy. And Haldir knew such a thing could be bad for their party.

“I believe there is some merit to the way they train,” Haldir said. “Do not dismiss the value of perseverance and hard work. But it’s also true that I don’t believe they have had much experience fighting more competent opponents.” Now, Haldir knew their own party did not have that much more experience, but they’d all gone through a fair few adventures and fought all sorts of enemies. That was the benefit of traveling beyond the safety of the known.

“You’re right,” Paez said, puffing up a little. “How can you ever hope to fight off a real threat if you don’t learn to fight against all sorts of opponents! Just fighting what’s in the Farhaven Woods will never be able to get you all the experience you’d need, even if you killed a hundred million of the little rats or twigs in there.”

“I guess you have a point. But you know, Kipperlilly is really smart. I’m sure her party has reasons for training like that. Maybe if she wins the election, that sort of thing will come to be more acceptable,” Alevis responded. “Or maybe we all just have the wrong idea about her…”

Haldir chose that moment to take their leave. They had gotten all they needed out of these two, after all, and judging by the sounds of them carrying their conversation on without them, it wasn’t like they needed to be there.

That Alevis did have a point. Perhaps Kipperlilly had more going on than just her campaign and her inexplicable and sudden discovery of the rogue teacher. They definitely had to do more research. And they knew just the way to do it.