Plan and Execution

Level One

She had never been stupid, and she was rarely impulsive. It was more her nature to develop a strategy. Her strengths were in her mind, not her body, so she could not fight as many of her friends fought. When others tried to break down walls, she rewrote them, recreated them, made them into doors. That was her power. That was her strength.

She did bash her head into obstacle.

Not that he was an obstacle. He was, in fact, the prize. The reward. Her prey; though, he was currently unaware of the fact, and about the most unpreylike person ever born. She let slip a small smile. But he was what she wanted, and she would have him.

It was … a surprise to her, at first, when fear had been replaced by forgiveness. By something nearer to pity or a sad understanding. He had done wrong. He had done a terrible thing. To her – yes – but more importantly, to those she cared dearly about, but he was repentant. And he was working hard for their guild now.

What he was doing for their Master was no secret to her. She was small and quiet. She heard and knew far more things that went on under the guild roof than anyone gave her credit for. And liked it that way. There were reasons she was presented for s-class exams, and there were reasons she was the leader of her team. Better reasons than the fact that she had breasts and her teammates were men; though, that sure didn't hurt. She smiled again.

So. She had forgiven him. He had changed. And then something new happened; the forgiveness deepened into affection. Which mutated into a crush. She couldn't stand it when he touched her, and he did touch her. He'd pat her head, emphasizing her short stature. He'd tug at her hair when he made fun of her reading all the time. Occasionally he'd lean over her shoulder and look at what she read when he called her bookworm. His breath would brush past her cheek.

The crush … the crush wasn't so much a crush anymore as it was an obsession. She wanted him, and she would have him. So a plan had been made. He could be playful. He acknowledged her presence. But most of the time he was away on missions. Or away for the Master. Being at the guild, being with his nakama, was not a priority for him. The plan would subtly change that. She had time.

It started with buttons. She laughed, and a few of her nakama who were eating lunch turned to see what was so funny. They returned to their meals when they saw her nose in the book. Ah the buttons. Before, every fastener on every piece of clothing she had was plastic. She changed that in one night.

Iron. All of them.

But it didn't stop with iron. A few judicious remarks to the gossipy barkeep and cook found that iron was what he needed to survive. Other metals were treats to him. More expensive, less filling maybe, but sweet or bitter. The flavors changed. So did her plan.

Then, over a few weeks, she began to incorporate a few small items into her wardrobe. A few shirts with iron and now steel rivets. New boots, leather, handmade with over two dozen small nails in each sole. Nothing flashy. Nothing overly gothic. Nothing that clashed with what she wore before, and most it she added herself, but she wanted metal to be present on her at all times.

Her glasses broke. That was a hard moment. A hard thing to do on purpose. She'd really liked those glasses, but they were a magic-made material with no metal in them at all, and they would not do. Those were replaced with nickle and copper. Beautiful work. The tiny screws at the joints made her think of the studs that lined his nose. Her fingers reached up to touch the frame now. She loved her new glasses. Loved how they absorbed the hot and the cold, how smooth they were to the touch, and how they reminded her of him. Hard, but beautiful.

That was part two or as she sometimes called it "level two". By level two he was sitting nearer to her when he was in the guild hall, and he spoke to her more often. His eyes would flick in her direction when he did not speak, and his nostrils flared when he wasn't looking. Almost. Almost, but not quite.

Then came level three. It was also pretty bad. It involved getting stabbed. She took a solitary mission. Getting away from her boys involved a complicated strategy of its own! It was easy for the others to understand why she went for the mission because the location involved a fairly famous library, and on paper the mission shouldn't have been too much for her.

In reality the mission wasn't too much for her either, but she needed the wound. She let herself slip twice, taking an avoidable stab wound in the shoulder and a slice across her collar bone. She finished the mission, her magic kept her blood in and the cuts clean, she took a particularly interesting spell book as a reward, and a healer had her set to rights in no time. But she came home a little shaky. A little 'scared'.

Her friends suggested armor for future missions, but she wasn't sure. 'Armor is so heavy!' she had said in a small, pained voice in the middle of the guild. It caught the attention of everyone present. Even him. Especially him.

Several of the girls changed their collective mind. 'Not armor, then. How about chain mail?'

She had to fight back a grin. Success. She had her own chain mail shirt in minutes. She put it on, and she knew she had him by the panic she could see in his eyes from clear across the room.

Of course, she hadn't done enough to allow for the loner in him. She hadn't honestly thought he'd fall down on his knees before her after she put on the chain mail, but she thought it would captivate him enough to stay. And at that moment he had seemed captivated.

She bit her lip and her smile disappeared. Instead she scowled at her book, the same book she'd gotten from that last job. It was as annoying as he was. It refused to be cracked. An obscure spell language that she still could not decipher. She'd been trying the whole time he was away. He had been gone for over two weeks. Two weeks. That was unacceptable. She had three more levels of her plan already worked out to be executed! How could she move forward if he wasn't here? And why was this book besting her?

Her left hand slipped under her shirt, and she ran her fingers over the tiny links of the mail. She had grown to love it over the short time she'd worn it. The chiming sound it made, the indentations it left against her skin. And the fact that it had actually held off a sound-hammer blow during her last mission with her team. Like with the glasses, it was for him, and she loved it for him, but now it was also for her.

Refocusing on the book, she wove yet another spell of understanding over it. No effect. It seemed to concern a higher state, and she thought it might provide her with a way to increase her skills, but she would never get stronger if she could not crack the language.

With a sigh she closed her book and stretched. She'd been siting there for over five hours. If he was coming back today then … well, too bad. She was tired. She wanted a bath and sleep. In that order, of course.

She blushed when she opened her apartment door. The others at the girls' dorm thought she'd moved out into her own place because she wanted her own bathroom. Her own bigger, private bathroom. Which wasn't really a lie. The big bathroom was very nice, but she really moved for the privacy. As soon as she decided on her plan. Sometimes she called her apartment "level zero" in her thoughts, which is why she always blushed when entering.

The apartment was for him. For them.

Actually, she was wrong; sometimes she was stupid.

At least it was bigger. More room for her books.

Shaking her head at her own idiocy, she carefully placed the frustrating book on the shelf next to the door. For a brief moment her body stalled as the illuminated cover seemed to coil, but then the world righted itself. She made her way to the bath, stripping off her clothes as she went. As the tub – the copper tub, it was where she got the idea for her glasses – filled with hot water and steam floated around her, she pulled up her hair and turned on the music system.

Relaxation. That's what this called for; it was dammed hard work to woo a man.

Slipping into the water, she flinched. It was hotter than she intended, but already full. Scowling again, she crossed her arms over her breasts and walked nude to her kitchen. A tray of ice cubes later, and the water was bearable.

Relaxation.

Relax.

Re...

Well that was stupid.

She woke up, wet, in bed, and completely unaware of how she got there. She knew she hadn't been drinking, so she wasn't sure how she had just passed out like that. The wet and naked … she was in the bath … but how did she get from the bath to the bed? She honestly had no clue.

Cautiously, she stood up and walked back to the bathroom. The tub was still full. She blinked. Pulled the stopper. Got a towel. Dried off. Went back to bed.

What was going on?

The next morning she had a horrible, terrible hair day. Never sleep on your hair wet; everyone knows that little fact, but she had been too tired to manage a blow dryer, and she had to get to the guild. That flash the evening before from the book. She'd dreamed about it, the ribbons of color dancing, and she thought it might have something to do with why she fell asleep in the bath.

She needed the guild library. And she needed one of the big tables in the guildhall.

She dressed quickly, but not even her excitement over her book could make her forget levels one through four. She didn't know if he'd be back today, but she had a hard night. She wanted level four. Silk underwear embroidered with gold and silver wire is a lovely sort of luxury. The bra made her feel special, made her smile despite the lingering concern.

She picked up the book by the door. The cover remained static. Her lips pursed, she picked it up and walked to her guild, thinking hard.