Chapter 3: Inexperience
After hours of mindless traveling, and trying to interpret her inner navigational system, she finally arrived.
It was an island. Beautiful beyond words. She was too far above the land to see anything in particular, but what she did see amazed her: ice and snow, steam, mountains and glaciers, and greenery as sharp a contrast as its neighboring white. At first sight alone, she could feel a piece of herself fall from her being, descend into the space below, and ascend back up into her once more; to fulfill an empty part of her she did not know was missing. It was magickal.
She felt a tug inside her to go higher. She reluctantly steered the airship up through the clouds into the sky above, out of range of the island, until she saw, to her astonishment, a settlement of sorts around her. Airships, not unlike her own, were gathered together; the sheer number of them astounding. Álfheim. It had to be.
She was beckoned, by her own emotion, to join them and to tie her airship to theirs in the giant grouping. Her fingers roamed the buttons at the helm until pushing one, somehow knowing just which to push, and watching in awe out the window as a landing board of some kind stretched out from her airship and connected with the landing boards of the ships beside her, allowing a common walking ground between them.
She could see a small group of elves standing together, facing her airship, seemingly waiting for her to arrive. It sent a shiver through her spine. They did not look anything like Sportacus. Just like the wide variety of humankind, the elves all had their own style and look.
She eagerly, yet shyly, exited the airship, jumping onto the landing board to greet them. One of the elves stepped forward and made an odd expression that looked as though he was trying to smile. It wasn't very welcoming, but she still appreciated the attempt. She smiled back.
"Welcome," the elf said.
---
It had been a few months since Stephanie left Lazytown. He tried not to let it affect him, but he could no longer feel a portion of his heart. The part that meant everything. The part that used to house his pink-haired love.
He picked up another box. His new job was easy, but tiresome, the same motions again and again without any real reason for it. His boss was friendly, but always kept an eye on him, and wouldn't tell him why he had to move the same boxes from one side of the room to the other, then back again the next week. But Sportacus was not the type to question. He showed up early, did his work, and left with a nod, a smile, and a paycheck.
Perhaps Robbie was right. There was no real place for Stephanie in this new life. There were only boxes and bosses and sorrow.
It was a lonely life. A boring life. His life.
---
Robbie tucked himself into his orange chair. He was bitter. Although Sporty worked hard for his paycheck, his heart was no longer in it. Ever since the pink twit left, he had moved deeper inside himself each day. Her absence was harming him.
Robbie clutched his fists. The only person allowed to puncture Sportakook's psyche was him.
"If only she would return," he said aloud to himself. "I'd put a bullet in her."
He laughed. What an absolutely evil thought indeed.
---
Another day, another box. Sportacus tried not to think about her, but it was hard to think of anything else. Her delicacy, her bright and cheerful disposition, her hair, her smile, her laugh, her presence. Her. She. Stephanie. Love.
He let another box fly from his grip, throwing it on top of the pile. He was only faintly aware of the body behind him before it spoke.
"You've been slacking," said his boss.
"I'm sorry, sir," Sportacus said.
The man scratched his chin, leaving a trail of flour there.
"It isn't a particularly hard job."
"I know."
"Well," he said awkwardly, "then get back to it."
---
She stood quietly, staring at the elves, while the elves stood quietly looking over her. She knew this was where she belonged now, but in this unfamiliar place, she felt the need to see a familiar face.
She tried to think of them as cousins, as Sportacus' family. It helped. A little. Their harsh demeanors began to show a little spark.