Fairy Tales and Brave Vesperia

by Sylph Writer

Fairies aren't all about glitter and wishes, they're trouble. If you get one mad, he might just send you somewhere you never expected for punishment. Written because I needed to write something, and Tales of Vesperia doesn't have many SI fanfictions.

59. Chapter 59: Side Quests

...This time around I actually got emails from readers who were concerned about my well being and/or the future of this fic. (Acekanigirl, your last message made me laugh and dive right back into my editing. I almost fear for my wind elemental self!) No, no, I assure you all that I'm in perfect (or no worse than normal) health and have all intention to finish what I started. If for any reason I had to stop writing I would tell you all, so as long as no announcements like that come from me then never fear.

I plowed through this chapter very slowly since I had to keep checking various details, or going back and changing stuff that suddenly didn't make as much sense as a new idea, and a few times even changing those back again. Oi... :p

There are several new pictures up in my DeviantArt account, even a couple I just now put up, and a few more fanarts in my favorites. Including a picture KatherosLibra drew of Letha in her new costume, which she did quite well without my own reference picture of her up.

Thanks go to Badger for putting up with me rambling and ranting and helping me bounce ideas around whenever we work the same shift. Yes, I'm calling you Badger. It amuses me to do so. And no, no "eine bier bitte" in this!

Angelic:

Hooray and hoorah then! You have more valid reasons than I do for the time this chapter took... *Checks dates* Good Lord, almost three months since the last one...

Verte and Letha did reach an odd point in their relationship with each other. They don't particularly like each other (mega understatement on Letha's part), but the fairy decided they need to work together and so work together they shall! It's like how all those times in school when the teachers pair you up with someone you just can't stand, and tell you to suck it up and learn to work with them anyway because THAT'S LIFE. And Chase apparently recovered emotionally real quickly and decided the omakes needed to end on a more light hearted note. Al must be a bad influence on him.

(I think the point of the song is more, "I'm so evil even the actual devil respects me!" But hey, I could be a crazy ghost who's considered an honorary member of devilhood~)

Blue Roses02:

Hey there! Love that you love the story and Letha's crazy shenanigans! And that's exactly why I love my lap top so much; back when I had to use the family desk top my mom would regularly stick her head in the room and ask if that was me laughing like mad woman.

And doesn't it fit? I keep finding songs that just seem so appropriate (to me at least) for certain characters, or scenes, or overall themes in the story; a pretty good indication that FTaBV is gradually invading the rest of my brain. Which means that finishing the entire thing will be my only hope for a cure. ;p

ON the subject of songs that fit, Usotsuki Lily (formerly The Fool Arcana) told me about the song Hemisphere from RahXephon...and she is right. It does indeed fit this story really well!

youtube. com/watch?v= 5lYIMq7tqnI

Aaaaand there's this german fancover of "Room of Angel" that I cannot disconnect from Yeager in my mind.

youtube. com/watch?v= vinhrVV3x8E

x x x

Chapter 59: Side Quests

x x x

"Hey!"

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I'll take a mandragosso."

"Give me three polwigle dumplings and seafood pasta."

"You know what, instead of the mandragosso, I'll have the rappig steak instead."

"'Kay, I'll be right back with that."

Before...

"This entire discussion is a waste of time." Verte and I were holding a standoff in the wasteland desert surrounding Ghasfarost. The tower was over a mile off in the distance, I actually had to hike that far away before the fairy would even show up. For the time being I'd give her the benefit of the doubt and believe this was due to the amount of iron that had gone into the tower's construction. "I see no point in humoring your juvenile sentimentality."

"Well, I don't see why you won't let me! Even if you don't want me to meet up with them, it's not like they're just going to forget about me. Won't it derail your precious plot even more if they take time out to look for me?"

"You raise a valid point. However, allowing you to rejoin them in their journey goes beyond preventing that. A brief meeting to establish a parting of ways would be enough."

Now...

"Clam chowder and spicy shrimp for table one, and two earth spirit parfaits for table three."

"The orders'll be ready in a few minutes, and thanks again for helping out here!"

I marked off the notes I'd made on the palm sized notepad I'd borrowed, "No, I should thank you. Having a temporary job for the next few days really helps me out too." A plate of grilled fish was placed on the counter before me with a clack. I moved it onto a tray along with the amango tea it had been ordered with, schooling my facial expression so that I wasn't wrinkling my nose or something at the rising scent of cooked fish. Jeanne from the costume shop had recommended me for work here, to which I was mostly grateful (uggggh, my feeeet), and in part I was working hard so that her helping me wouldn't reflect negatively on her judgement.

"Server?" a call from another table beckoned. The girl at the counter shooed me away to get back to work.

Before...

"You promised Alexei what?" The green fairy's voice was chillingly cold. Frigid, I'd even say. I wondered if my little ploy to soften her up first by handing over the heirloom piece may have failed utterly. I'd already fiddled around with the thing while still in the tower, trying to see if I could make it activate or whatever and give me another magic ability or a power up. The entire attempt was in vain, nothing happened and I had to conclude that Nevys had done something more than just stab me with the last one.

"You've already made up some kind of alliance with him, I'm just going along with it!"

"In no way does it follow that this requires you to actively change the roles-"

"It's not like I'm changing the chain of events or anything, there's no vital need for it to be Raven who's responsible."

"Nor is there a reason he shouldn't."

Now...

"So, uh, I've been wanting to ask...the costumes?" The violet haired krityan and brunette human barmaids shared a look that carried undertones of a well worn joke.

"My father's hobby," the brunette confessed.

The krityan woman smiled, "I rather like his taste."

"Dad could make one for you too," the daughter offered, an excited gleam entering her eye.

I could feel the corner of my mouth twitch up as a wicked idea tickled at the back of my mind. "Maybe I'll talk to him about it later." It wasn't the first time I'd considered it, but I hadn't seriously thought it would work out before.

Before...

Verte turned away as if she couldn't bear to look at me any longer, and after a minute of that I thought the fairy was giving me the silent treatment. Letting the subject drop was not good for my goals, but just when I was about to stubbornly bring it up again- "Very well. You're a greater sentimental fool than I thought, but there's no helping it now."

The words were agreeable enough, but the cool glare of her jade eyes managed to convey her displeasure with me. "Forcing you to back out on your arrangement with the Commandant now would be disadvantageous, I still need some semblance of cooperation from him. I should expect to have to show some in kind."

I couldn't entirely hide the victorious grin that wanted to spread across my face. "To Dahngrest then?"

"Yes, you manipulative vixen, to Dahngrest."

"You say 'manipulative' like it's a bad thing, miss black pot."

Now...

With a sigh I sat down heavily on a stool at the bar. It was the second night I was working in the Sagittarius and I had tired out a lot faster than the previous night. But I wasn't going to quit, still stubbornly trying to make up for the money I refused to spend from the allowance Alexei had sent me off with. I knew that in a pinch I'd spend his money just as freely, but I hadn't been backed far enough into a corner that I had to throw all my pride away yet.

It also helped that Jeanne was giving me free room and board. The woman had insisted I stay with her and her son for at least a few nights to make up for not having the job she'd promised me last time open. Not that I'd really expected it, but she'd been my first shot at part time employment upon arrival in the city.

I subconsciously registered the sounds of the door opening and being shut, but wanted off my feet too badly to pay it any mind. Listlessly I dragged my finger through a ring of condensation on the bar counter top, drawing looping patterns, while the brunette, Sally, warmly but respectfully greeted, "It's good to see you again, sir!"

And the krityan, Diana, followed in the next beat with, "You'd like your usual?"

"Nah, I'm jes' here for a drink and ta unwind," a familiar, rumbling growl of a voice told them. That voice had my head rolling around on my neck as I tried to locate the speaker. Finally I spotted him as Don Whitehorse dragged a chair away from a table with a scraaape of legs across the floor and dropped his solid build into it.

Don Whitehorse had always given me an impression of bulk and gruffness, like a bear, but also a sense of understated experience and wisdom not flaunted but all the more valuable. In short, in my mind I'd compare him to an owl and a bear. And, for whatever reason, his snowy white hair and beard reinforced those impressions...

"Hey," a hand waved in front of my eyes and brought me out of my astonished gaping. "Pull your head of the clouds and join us back down here again."

"Wha?" I shook my head and gave the brunette a sheepishly apologetic look. "Er, sorry Sally."

She smiled teasingly. "I know it's not every day you'll see someone so important, but you've still got to work." So saying, she clunked down a pitcher of beer and an empty mug on a tray onto the counter before me. Sally winked, "Go ahead and cut him off when he starts repeating the same old war stories."

"Duly noted," I answered before carrying the tray over to Whitehorse's table. "Let me know if you need anything else, sir," I rattled off the by now familiar words as I moved the pitcher and mug from my tray to the table.

"Wait a minute," the man rumbled suspiciously before I could leave. "Don' I know ye from somewhere?"

I coughed to cover a nervous laugh while trying to unobtrusively turn my head to an angle where my oh so distinctive braid would be less noticeable. "I'm sure I don't know sir. Maybe you've just passed me on the street a few times?" Without waiting another second I scurried off to clear the dirty dishes from another table across the room.

By the time I dropped those off in the kitchen I had calmed down and was starting to think maybe I wouldn't be recognized. "Waitress!" someone called as I came out the kitchen door. One of the men from a table next to the Don's had raised his hand as he tried to get my attention.

"Coming!" I pulled the small notepad and a pencil from one of the discretely hidden pockets of my gi on the way over to the table. I love discretely hidden pockets. Especially the ones inside the sleeves. "What can I get for you?"

The table was occupied by three men, all giving me these really focused looks. "Wh-what?" I took a step back with unease. What's up with these creepers?

"Ya know, I really think I've seen your face before," one with a scar over his left eye said.

One of his buddies, a bony man with an angular face, snapped his fingers as he declared, "I've got it! Ain't she the one Gregory and them's loaned their flare capes too?"

"Ha! She is!" the last, a visually unremarkable man, exclaimed. "She an' her friends were the ones what pranked them guests at the inn!"

I sighed, "I've been found out, huh?" And how I'd been hoping people would have forgotten or at least not linked the prank back to me by that point... "The name is...Letha." I didn't want to keep using that name but, as it had just been proven once again, there were already people in Dahngrest who knew me. Might as well stick with the name I used last time.

Whitehorse, who's seat was close enough to hear just about every word, guffawed heartily. "That's how I know yer face! Ye've sure taken a step up in the world from dragging around dead monsters and sitting in jail cells."

Seeing the disconcerted looks passing across the faces of people in the immediate area I winced. "I'd appreciate it, sir, if you wouldn't bring that up in such a misleading way. I was never actually in the cell, just keeping it's occupant company."

"Telling ghost stories if I remember right," the great man chuckled.

"Close enough," I shrugged and returned my attention back to the trio that had hailed me. "Your orders?"

The bony man grinned, flashing a glimpse of a twisted tooth. "How 'bout a ghost story then?"

Cocking both and eyebrow and a hip to the side, I placed both hands on my hips. "Bedtime stories aren't on the menu." All three men broke out in a chorus of disappointed groans and cajoling, with the occasional good natured insult directed at each other. "Look," I tried to speak over them, "I'm working as a waitress today, not a skald."

They looked a bit crestfallen at the defeat until Whitehorse intervened. "Hey, Sal, you don' care if the girl spins a yarn or two, do ye?" He only looked amused when I shot him a nasty look (before I remembered who it was I was glaring at and wiped the look off my face). "I'm a bit curious now myself."

"I can cover the floor for a while," Diana, allowed as her fellow barmaid hesitated.

Sally shook her head but was already smiling. "Fine then. It's been awhile since I've heard a good tale myself, other than the tall ones the oldsters keep stretching further with every telling."

"Hey now," I grumbled, "I never said I would. What if I can't even think of a story?" But the unremarkable man had already pulled up a chair for me where I could see and be heard by everyone. He presented it to me with an over embellished bow that almost made him lose his balance. Resigned, I took off the apron I wore over my gi and handed it over to Diana before I made myself comfortable.

A ghost story, huh? I'm not big on the horror genre so I'm not sure I remember anything clearly enough. I filled one of the glasses Diana left on the table and sipped at it slowly. First that comes to mind is Silent Hill, but I definitely don't know any of those well enough to tell properly. Zombie movies are no good, there's hardly any story to them anyway. The point is always to show the audience something gruesome. And I hate zombies. More or less the same for other movies, like The Grudge or The Amityville Horror... Can I think of anything else?

The problem with the few things that came to mind was that they took full advantage of modern Earth technology. Visual impact, tension creating soundtracks, and judicious use of eerie background sounds, or a complete lack of any sound at key moments, is what gives them their impact. And the more traditional type ghost stories told at slumber parties also had modern hallmarks, like driving a car at night or getting disconcerting phone calls.

"You gonna start or what?" the one with a scar over his eye prompted impatiently.

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop rhythmically while mentally discarding the thought of using Twilight Zone episodes. Bit too much of a culture clash; the Talky Tina doll, for example, would go over their heads. "Just gimme a few more seconds..."

A few more times I tapped my finger on the wood before making my decision: wing it.

"When I was a little girl," I started casually, "really young, about four or five, I remember we had this doll. It was my mother's doll, and her mother's before her. So the doll was already really old, easily more than fifty years. It was cracked across the face and legs, and half of one of its feet was missing along with the thumb and fingers on one hand. And it stared at you with these really wide, blue eyes."

While speaking, I laid my notepad on the table and made a quick sketch of a small round face, intentionally skewing the proportions to make it look both childlike and a bit inhuman. I took particular care to emphasize the eyes.

"It's no exaggeration to say that absolutely everyone who saw this doll was creeped out by it. My mother was quite literally the only person who cared for it. She brought it home from my grandparents' house and decided to keep it in the hall, sitting in a chair at one end.

"I didn't like that. It felt like the doll was always staring at my bedroom door. But when I told that to my mother she only laughed and actually turned the chair so that the doll was facing my door directly."

"So that's where ye get it from," the unremarkable man said smugly.

I blinked, wondering. I'm making it up as I go, at this point I don't really remember much about my parents. But I guess I get a large part of my personality and some of my interests from how they raised me, so that would mean... I shook my head and tried to smile normally. "Well, like mother like daughter they say." Feeling a sly sense of wickedness, I started adding to my little sketch. Now the doll had a face and a lacy collar that was starting to turn into a dress.

"Being afraid of a doll is pretty silly, but I was just a little kid. I tried to ignore it, but the doll just made me uneasy. So I moved it to face away from my door again.

"Late in the night, I got out of bed to go to the bathroom. When I opened the door to my room, I chanced to look at the other end of the hall." The doll in the drawing had a lap, and I started to rough in a pair of stiff fingered hands lying in it. "The doll was facing my door again. In the near dark, it seemed like those staring eyes were following me as I walked down the hall. It was spooky but I just thought my mother had been playing a trick on me."

The drawing had one complete leg with a lacy sock on the foot, and I had just finished the jagged edge of the broken foot.

"In the morning, I complained to my mother for trying to scare me. She said she hadn't done anything and that I must have imagined it or dreamed about it. I wasn't sure anymore..."

All that was needed to finish the doll picture was to give it hair, but I purposefully skipped that and started filling in the basic shape of the chair it was sitting on. "The next night, I woke up because I thought I heard something."

"Let me guess," the bony man interrupted, "It was the doll."

"Probably," I shrugged and pretended not to notice the smug and slightly bored look on his face as he leaned back in his chair. "I went out to the hallway, but didn't see anything at first. Then I realized: the doll's chair had moved down the hallway, closer to my door."

Bony man snorted, "Heh, predictable." Then he grunted as the scar eyed man elbowed him in the rib.

"Ye asked for it, so shut yer gob til she's done!" Scar Eye's scolding made Bony grumble, but they both settled down again.

The pencil stilled in my hand as I leaned forward, looking Bony in the eye. "Do you want to guess what comes next?"

He glanced at his Scar Eye'd friend and raised his eyebrows, as if asking for permission. The other man huffed a bit and looked away. The third man, Mr. Unremarkable, just sighed at them both. Seeing no objections, Bony shrugged a shoulder while answering. "The doll moves further down the hall the next night, and the next, and eventually she ends up right outside your room. And then next you hear a noise that wakes you up, and she's in your room."

"Bingo!" I made a circular motion in the air with a finger. "It was terrifying! My mother wouldn't believe me when I told her about it since the doll would be back in place every morning, and I was too timid a child to do anything about it." Somebody snorted, an unsuccessfully covered laugh. "Well, I was! I was very well behaved and quiet back then!

"So all I could do was sit in bed and tremble in fear, unable to look away as the doll stood up and began tottering over towards my bed. It kept falling over so it was crawling as much as walking towards me.

"I squeaked in fear when it reached the edge of my bed, and then-although I only took my eyes off it for a second when I blinked!-it was sitting on the foot of my bed." My voice got real quiet and tight as if with remembered fear. Everyone had leaned in closer without realizing to hear better, even Bony looking curious.

My pencil scratched across the paper of the notepad again, finally filling in the lines of the hair. First came the sweeping curve of the long bangs, arcing from one side of the face to be tucked behind the right ear. "And then I heard a voice. It sounded like a little girl's voice, but echoey. As if she were crying from inside an empty room." Waving locks of hair reaching just past the doll's shoulders appeared.

"'My body,' the doll wept, 'Give me back my body!'" Many short and quickly done strokes lead to a braid springing from just in front of the right ear of the doll. I extended it down to the doll's waist. "'I want to be with mommy and daddy again!'" Done, I leaned back so that my chair balanced on the two back legs. The picture left on the table for all to see clearly resembled me thanks to the distinctive hair style, the roundness of the face giving the impression that it was a little child.

"Of course, I couldn't give back such a nice body after all the trouble it took to get," I said in an off handedly cold tone. "Little brat got all weepy though, so I had to break her badly enough that the mother finally just threw the old thing away. Good riddance."

Thirsty from all the talking, I grabbed my glass from the table and took a long gulp. While doing so I glanced over the rim and around the room. The men all had expressions as if a cold draft off air had just blown down their necks, and Unremarkable man had even pushed his chair back away from me. Bony's eyes were darting from the drawing to my face and back at the drawing. The Scar Eye'd man just kept staring at me.

Then, quiet at first but quickly building in volume, we all realized Whitehorse had started chuckling. "Ha ha HA!" he finally laughed outright. "I like that, that's good!" He leaned against his table, wood creaking a bit under his arm, and grinned at me. "You're one messed up kid, aren't ye?"

Quirking one eyebrow up, "Thank you ever so kindly," I accepted his words with over politeness, making him laugh again.

"That was refreshing," Diana said calmly while the trio at the table gave us all pained looks. "Do you have any more childhood stories to share?" Hey now, what's with that reaction? Are you some long lost relation of Judith's?

x x x

Feeling heavy with exhaustion, I slumped back against the wall by the door of the Sagittarius. My fingers combed my hair out of my eyes as I sighed. What do I do?

While telling more stories I made up on the spot, stories about a little girl trapped in a painting that made other children disappear (actually might have seen something similar to that on a show once) and a spin on the classic "meeting at the crossroads" type of story, the weight had crashed down heavily on my shoulders.

Don Whitehorse will die soon.

"Shit," I murmured to myself, hand dragging down from my hair to press against my eyes. "Shit shit shit... What do I do?"

If I try to interfere, Verte will be furious.

"I will allow this on one condition. You will ensure that the needed events are fulfilled as necessary."

"Dammit..." My hand pressed harder against my eyes, as if doing so could keep frustrated tears from leaking out. Even so, I can't just stand by and wait for it to happen. But even if I can manage to stop it...

The Don's death would...in the game, it prevented what would have meant the deaths of who knew how many people. A pointless war born of misinformation and manipulation averted. It was arguably the lesser of two evils, the logical sacrifice for the greater good. Only idealists could believe it's possible to find another option. Maybe there is one; one that let's everyone live. But believing that the third way out is always there somewhere... "It's just naive."

"Might I ask what is, meine fraulein?" a familiar approximation of a German accent asked me.

"Cheating death," was my reply, ironic though it may sound concerning the other party. It might have even been cruel, but what did I care? I didn't owe him anything.

He didn't seem all that bothered by it anyway. "It is truly the way of such things, those who seek to escape him are always found by him the soonest."

"And those who seek death cannot find him," I finished with a touch of bitterness. It was then I finally lowered my hand from across my eyes and looked at Yeager. "Are you looking for death?" I asked him seriously, "Or are you trying to run from him?"

The weapons dealer flicked the lock of dark blue hair from his eyes as he archly reminded me, "Hast the fraulein forgotten? With him, I work every day."

Looking away from the man who dealt in assassins and weapons, I tilted my head back to see the glimmering stars beyond the constant glow of the barrier. "'Because I could not stop for Death,'" I recited, "'He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves, and Immortality.'" Then, shaking my head at myself for the trivial things my memory still managed to retain, I pushed off from the brick wall at my back and started walking down the street.

I had expected to leave Yeager behind but the man fell into step slightly behind me and to the side, shoes clicking audibly on the cobbled street. "The fraulein has most heavy thoughts this evening," he commented playfully. "What purpose does pondering the riddles of death serve?"

Stopping in the street, I looked back over my shoulder at him. His own steps fell silent as he stopped and waited expectantly, little more than a dark silhouette in the street lights. There were a few other pedestrians on the street despite the late hour, but none particularly close by. "Why are you here?" I asked.

"I do have a guild, ja. It is natural for the guild's leader to be in the city of guilds."

"Here talking to me," I clarified. "Verte doesn't need you to capture me for her anymore."

"Oh, is that so?" he purred. "So the fair lady finally your acquaintance made."

"Hmph, don't pretend you don't know." I folded my arms across my chest. "So, does that mean you're here on Alexei's orders?"

"My my, and what business would the Empire's Commandant possibly have with me?" he feigned innocence. "Is it so impossible to believe that I merely stopped to greet an acquaintance I met by chance?"

"Yes," I said bluntly. "Given the circumstances of our last 'meeting,' I should say so."

He spread his hands, the shift in posture briefly illuminating his face as he flashed a wounded smile. "Alas, I am doomed to misunderstandings. But I assure you, I had no other motives than such."

"Hmm," I eyed him consideringly. "Fine then. You just wanted to say 'hi.' Since you've done that already, why are you following me?"

Arms dropping back to his sides. "If death came as a brave lady with white wings," he said wistfully, "Then perhaps I would be seeking her out."

"You just wanted to say that?" I didn't bother to mask the incredulity in my voice.

His dark outline shrugged, "It seemed agreeable with the previous line of conversation."

I studied him a bit longer, but found that I wanted to believe him. Even if it seemed weird that he just had a hankering for casual conversation with a former enemy, the man himself was an oddity. "A brave lady with white wings" is it? That sounds like he means Casey, if I remember right... "So what, you're hoping a valkyrie will come for you?" is what I said aloud, not voicing my actual thought. "They come for the slain heroes on the battlefield. I suppose a man who makes death his partner could meet one someday, though I have trouble imagining you'd be a chosen hero."

Playfulness and wistfulness both evaporated from his demeanor, and somehow I got the impression that he was seeing me all too clearly despite the shadows. "We are not so different, you and I."

Frowning, "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"You don't have respect for me as a human being, because you believe I lack the respect for others myself," he said shrewdly. "I've seen it many times before when others learn of my work."

"I don't-" the protest die half formed, leaving a foul taste in my mouth. "I don't think like that?" I can't honestly say that. Even if I know a little more about Yeager's background and present circumstances, it's not like I'm an expert on the guy. In the end, I never understood the "why" behind all his actions. Once he'd been only a character to me; an antagonist to the heroes, but one of the cool ones you cheer for and maybe feel a bit sorry for when his inevitable end comes.

The man standing in the darklit street with me, however, was a living and breathing person. One who headed the notorious Leviathan's Claw, a disreputable guild that thrived on bloodlust and warmongering of others, and never showed a glimmer of remorse for any of the deaths he was responsible for.

"How? How can you decide, 'this person will die' just like that?" I asked, but I didn't really want to know or understand. "Just because someone else has a problem with them, or believes they're in the way... How can you agree to-to do such a thing?"

"For a price," Yeager revealed quite matter of factly. "Every man and woman can be bought for the right prices, ja? Even you, fraulein."

Quick to retort, "That's absurd," I nevertheless felt a sickening jolt in my gut. Gald was gald, it spent no matter how I or anyone else felt about it. The purse full of it Alexei had given me felt heavier only in my mind, and it hadn't even been any integral part of the dealings made with the Commandant. The real price... "Leave Raven alone!"

My wavering didn't go unnoticed. "You don't seem so sure of yourself. Every person has their price, and it is never as simple as the coins passing hands, no no no." A finger wagged as Yeager's head shook side to side. "The money is only the means to one's true goals, you know? To put food and drink on the table, clothes on the backs, and roof over the head."

"That's true," I slowly agreed, but already had a guess where this would go.

"It buys silence and loosens tongues too, ja?" he continued slyly. "A poor man would sell out a stranger if it could buy him the certainty that his ailing mother would be cared for. If all it took was a reported rumor, then a small price paid for great reward."

The words "ailing mother" raised a chilling possibility, "Wait, back in Zaphias-you're not talking about-"

"And you, my dear," he continued over me smoothly, "You keep taking and taking, do you not? When my very own men encounter you, do you think of 'how you can do this, make this decision?' Nein, you've your own right price; if it means the safety of you and your friends then you will kill my men again and again."

Even if I could find any words to say, I was incapable of speaking them. My mouth felt dry and vile, like I was going to be sick. In my mind's eye I envisioned Jasper's ice blue eyes, wide in death, and in them reflected all the eyes I'd never seen under the masks of the other Red-eyes I'd fought. Red-eyes, Blood Alliance, Cumore...even a few brigands we hadn't been able to evade.

Yeager had gotten close, was leaning forward to look at me eye to eye. "We all choose something that we place before others, I am simply more honest about what I am willing to do to get it." He was all quiet seriousness. It wasn't more than a few seconds before I broke eye contact first and looked away.

"I-I-" my voice was weak and shaky like I was about to burst into tears, "No, I'm not-not the same. Not the same as you at all!" Not daring to speak another word, I clamped my mouth shut and wrapped my arms around myself tightly. I don't want to be like a puppet, pulled around at someone's orders until I'm broken and thrown away!

"Is that so?" the playful tone was back in Yeager's voice. I couldn't help but look back up without thinking. My eyes just caught a glimpse of his expression before his back was turned and the man had started to walk back the way we'd come from. It was like a mask had been pulled over his face, a superficial construction of confidence and vague amusement. He sounded perfectly composed when his voice drifted back, "Then I won't be keeping you any further, fraulein, as I've already given my greetings. Guten Abend~"

In a moment of impulsiveness I called out, "Wait!" Yeager half turned to look back at me, brows rising up as he humored me. My fingers were digging into my arms as I wondered if I was making a mistake. Willing one hand to loosen, I reached down and dug through my small replacement bag of supplies and found what I wanted. "What if I wanted to hire you?" I asked and tossed Alexei's money to Yeager's feet. The gald clinked from inside the thin fabric bag as it hit the stones.

The man was facing me properly now, surprise briefly flickering across his features before turning into a rather pleased smile. "Then your wish," he dipped down into a bow that ended on one knee, "would be my command, fraulein." Sensing that I was being made fun of I grit my teeth in silence, but then he looked up with that smug smile. "But only for as long as you can afford my services."

Unable to help myself I returned a wry smile of my own. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

x x x

The opening of the door woke me up, as usually happens, but my groggy consciousness barely even had a second to figure what was going on before a far too cheerful morning person descended upon me.

"Up and at 'em, sleepy head!" The blankets I'd burrowed under the night before were suddenly yanked away, leaving me curled up and reeling from the sudden robbery of my comfort zone. My cuddly warm blankets! I lacked cuddly warmth without them!

"Jeeeanne, I still wan' those!" I whined sleepily.

The kindly (maybe) older woman I'd first met in the costume shop clucked her tongue at me. "Don't be ridiculous! It's a whole new day and we shouldn't be letting it pass us by!"

"Urgh..." Sitting up, I scrubbed the back of a hand across my face and eyes. "I haven' been good at gettin' up early e'er since all the good Saturday mornin' cartoons went off the air..."

"Begging your pardon?" Jeanne inquired politely.

I shook my head, "Nothin', still half asleep." Fishing my spider silk gi from the tangle of sheets and blankets I slipped my arms through the sleeves. It was an almost indulgent sensation, the near black silk of the interior lining felt so smooth against my bare left arm. Verte might have an odd sense of fashion but she chose good clothes nonetheless. I'd practically had to pry it away from Jeanne's cooing attention when I met up with her a few days ago.

She'd been all for stripping me (to borrow the gi for inspection) and throwing the newly made maid outfit on me (the horror!) for the fun of it, but had reigned in her enthusiasm for her hobby once I told her I was looking for work. Since her son, a man named Clifton somewhere in his late twenties, had recovered from the injuries that kept him out of the store previously, they didn't really need any outside help. Jeanne had offered me lodging instead to make up for it and had given the Sagittarius owner a good word about me.

"Slow to wake up this morning, aren't ya dearie?" Jeanne chided, shaking me form the staring contest I hadn't realized I'd fallen into with the knot in the wall across the room. "Up, girl, up! And get yourself over to the kitchen and breaking eggs, breakfast's running late this morning on your account."

Roughly an hour later (much of which was spent with Jeanne instructing me in the art of omelettes, and I sadly wasted good eggs early on with my poorer attempts) the two of us were sharing small talk at the tiny kitchen table. It felt less awkward than the first morning I'd been there (all other meals I ate out so as not to feel like a total moocher), particularly since Clifton was absent. The auburn haired man hadn't done anything to make me feel unwelcome, but he didn't go out of his way to be friendly. His mother had apologized on his behalf, saying it was because her husband was out of town so frequently, leaving the two of them to take care of the store.

Which led me to wonder why he wasn't around when they'd be opening shop soon. Something to do with why Jeanne kept glancing hopefully at the door or window every few minutes? "So where's Cliff?" I finally asked while grabbing a croissant (fresh from the bakery located the next street over) and started nibbling at one end.

Jeanne sighed and gently placed her tea cup back in its saucer. "Oh, you know how boys are," she responded, speaking as if to another mother and as if the man in question was half his years. "He went out-out beyond the barrier, mind you-with a friend yesterday. Took off from work early and told his poor old ma that he'd be late coming in today. But look at me, silly old thing that I am, expecting he'll come home early and put his ma's mind at ease!" This was punctuated by another glance at the door accompanied by an even heavier sigh.

"You know," I felt obliged to speak up on behalf of the person in question, "he's a full grown adult and is perfectly capable of taking care of himself." The guy was smaller than average, just a few inches height advantage over his mother and me, but I'd seen him carry a full sack of potatoes over each shoulder for a neighboring grocer like it was nothing. I should hope he could handle himself!

"Oh I know, I know sure enough," she hastened to clarify, "Though that'll never stop me from seeing him as my little boy-" the corner of my mouth twitched upwards at "little" considering my own thoughts about his stature, "-and a mother tends to worry. Not to forget he has to look after both himself and his friend. Good lad young Vinny is, always sweet to an old lady, but not the most graceful creature on his own two feet if you catch my meaning." That little piece of gossip imparted, Jeanne picked up cup and saucer again to resume sipping at her tea.

I just fiddled a bit with the chipped handle of my own cup while trying to ignore the craving for hot chocolate. "Bit of a klutz?"

"Well, I wouldn't go as far as to say that much," the woman backtracked verbally, "but one could certainly say so. He's a good boy, after all, and looked up to my Clifton ever since he was old enough to toddle after him wherever my boy went." Another meaningful glance was directed at the door. "But a mother just can't help but worry when her darlings aren't where she can keep a proper eye on them, even if boys will be boys."

With the feeling that I was just finally guessing the right line in a script I'd never seen after hearing the same cue over and over, I suggested, "I could go out and meet up with them if you'd like. See if they're on their way back at least." The tavern wouldn't need me until midafternoon anyway. Although I'd been expecting Brave Vesperia (sans Judith and me) and co. to be arriving in town anytime now. But I judged it unlikely that they'd come and leave town again for good before I got back so it should work out. More productive than sitting around getting nowhere with my Save The World Or At Least Some Extra Bits Of It schemes.

As I thought might be the case, Jeanne was quick to take me up on my offer. She had been the one circumspectly trying to push me towards it anyway. Made all the more obvious by the already prepared satchel she scooped off a stool and dropped in my arms, also somehow managing to shove a folded square of paper into one of my hands.

"What's this? Gels or something? Even if all that 'a mother worries' is understandable, I don't think it's really necessary to-" I got the buckle holding it shut undone and peaked inside. "...Is this a picnic lunch?" There's...there's even plates and forks and a thermos all packed in here... Do I smell bacon?

"Brunch, dearie," the meddling mother corrected me. "Boys will be boys, and they'll always be hungry enough for more food. Don't let them eat it all up without sharing." She had me shooed out the door before I'd adequately recovered from the surprise that I was apparently drafted into take out picnic delivery.

x x x

Carrying a satchel of food, particularly food that smells like fresh cooked bacon, through monster infested forests is not what anyone would consider a bright idea. Especially not when there were monsters of the boar variety living in said monster infested forest. Tossing a Wind Blade at the back of another such boar after I dove to the side to dodge its charge, I had to wonder if that smell could be pissing it off at me worse than usual.

The boar squealed as the wind spell connected with its back, pivoting on its stubby legs to blow furious snarls at me. "Nyeh!" I taunted, thumbing my nose up in mockery of its snout. Enraged, it charged me again with the intent to trample squishy human pest under its hooves. I spun on heel and ran the other way, crashing through shrubs and bracken without care. It slowed me down a few hard to spare seconds before I broke through, but I was more interested in what I'd noticed sitting on the other side just before piggy had crashed the party.

Both my hands smacked down palm first on what appeared to be an oddly smoothed and colored dome shaped rock as I literally leap frogged over it, putting it between me and the charging monster. I felt it shudder slightly at the impact before I completely cleared it but didn't stop to look back once my feet touched the forest floor and I was off again. Not even when I heard the smack of boar monster smashing face first into the sudden obstacle.

There was a sharp clacking sound followed by a pained squeal and the commotion of an ensuing scuffle. I smirked; seemed like the monster crab did not appreciate the rude wake up call of a boar in its face. Better not to push my luck though. I kept up the jog until I felt I'd put a reasonably safe distance between the grudge holding pig and me.

"Bzzzzzzzzz-"

I sighed and this time drew Phoenix, the red spined dagger. Holding it ready in one hand I eyed the oversized beetle monster buzzing around well out of range above my head. Gathering water aer to the dagger I waited for any telltale signs that the monster was about to either fly off and ignore me of swoop in for an air strike.

"BZZT!" The buzz of its wings cut off as it zeroed in on me and dropped down, stinger-sharp nose first.

"Bend," I finished weaving together the aer threads and secured them around the blade of the flower-made dagger, "Water Whip!" With a flick of the wrist the spell formed lash unfurled and snapped its tip against the bug, swiping it out of the air and shredding its wing. With satisfaction born from hitting it the first time, I dismissed the water whip technique before it could drain my focus (and aer tolerance) any further and finished it with a simple swipe from the dagger.

Resheathing Phoenix on my hip, I leaned against the nearest tree to take a breather. Fishing inside the interior pockets of one of my sleeves, I pulled out the folded paper and smoothed it open. A map of the area south of Dahngrest's walls had been sketched on it, complete with distinctive landmarks. If I did it right, I had cut through a small section of forest until I hit one of the branches of the river, and if I followed that I should eventually reach the one spot on the map that had been circled. Or, if I'd gotten myself completely turned around somehow, right back outside the forest again.

In the tradition of video games, this would probably rank as "optional side quest" for unlocking rewards or bonus features. Probably taking place in a level or dungeon previously unaccessible and unknown, or maybe just empty until the prerequisites had been fulfilled. The hand drawn map would reveal the before unnoticed path needed, and, of course, I'd be able to see a little red arrowhead or something indicating my position in relation to where the crap I'm trying to go.

Oh, little red arrowheads (and your yellow arrowhead siblings, and white pointer finger cousins), how I failed to appreciate you before!

I thought I was going the right way. I couldn't see the river through the trees since it had gotten too difficult to walk along the bank, but I could still hear running water nearby. As long as that stayed to my left then I should be on the right track.

Another fortyish minutes along and something that had been growing in the back of my mind was really getting to bother me. There weren't enough monsters. Other than some more of the occasional bug monster, there was a marked lack of any of the bigger more worrisome boars or lizards, or even the rare crab thing that had wandered away from the water. Not that I'd been expecting a whole troop of monsters waiting to challenge me; I'd be happy to take them on one at a time and far in between (or let them fight each other, like Porky and Crabby earlier).

There was also a new smell in the air. Fragrant and sweet, almost sickeningly so. The way it seemed to be getting stronger indicated that I was heading towards the source.

"Bzzzzzzzzz-"

I had both daggers in hand in a second, ready to fight. I needn't have bothered, it flew past in as near to a straight line as I'd seen any of them take. The hum of its wings faded as it disappeared back into the foliage ahead.

"-zzzzzzzz..."

That was a little weird... That it had been flying towards the smell seemed a bad sign...but it was the direction the map indicated and I wasn't about to detour around and risk getting lost without the nearby river as a point of reference.

Keeping Phoenix and Simurgh in hand, just to be on the safe side, I started forward again a bit more slowly and certainly more cautiously.

Trying to keep my noise down to a minimum, I picked my way along the game trail cutting through a thicker belt of trees and crumpled ferns. My bad feeling seemed validated by the cadence of urgent voices I was starting to catch. Coming out on the other side of the treeline, I stopped before stepping out into the clearing proper and felt my eyebrows fly up in surprise.

There was a giant flower. No, not just giant, massive. Gargantuan. Some exotic remnant of the dinosaur age. Its velvety looking petals were each the size of a door, or at least as wide as one if not as long. They were a deep wine red darkening to near purple near the broader base and speckled all across with orange spots. It had no stem, the blossom sitting directly on the ground itself in a bed of fuzzy looking leaves. Roots spread out from under the leaves and snaked across the entire clearing, not digging underground but clinging to the surface. There were also piles of pale sticks and moss dotting the area, lying on top of the systems of roots.

The mystery of the perfume in the air was solved. It was so strong I could almost taste it on my tongue with every breath. Like a sugary aftertaste.

It was impressive enough to hold my attention for a few heartbeats before I ripped my eyes away to look beyond the flower. That was where the desperation tinged curses I'd been hearing was coming from.

I crept a few sidelong steps until I could see past the monstrous flower and finally spotted them. Two men; one sitting, the other bent over, and both appeared to be...pulling up weeds? Or something? The bending one looked like Clifton, reddish head bobbing around as he worked. As I watched he yanked out a hatchet and began hacking away at whatever on the ground had earned their wrath.

No longer concerned that I might be walking up to a group of strangers who, in the worst case scenario, could be more bandits, I stepped out to walk across the clearing and join them. I couldn't help but step on the sprawling network of roots to do so; there were hardly any gaps large enough for one of my feet to fit inside. "Cliff!" I hailed them.

Hatchet pausing in its swing just long enough for his head to shoot up and bark, "No! Don't come any closer!" I stopped, startled. "Get away from the flower, now!"

Still bewildered by the harsh rebuff, I could still only react with confusion when something squeezed my feet lightly. I looked down and immediately jerked backward. The flower roots had been creeping up the sides of my shoes and wrapping themselves around my feet and ankles. Thin as threads, they snapped at he sharp pull from me trying to jump back, but the number of them made it too hard to just break them all off at once. Some of the thicker ones still clung and were quickly winding further up to my calves.

Having failed to make a clean break resulted in me falling backward. The moment I landed more roots started climbing up whatever came into contact with them. I shuddered in revulsion at the crawling sensation across the backs of my hands.

"Hey! Let go! Let go!" The flower roots ignored my outraged demands. Growling, I tried to pull my hands away-I needed at least one hand! In my frustrated anger I almost missed that the tingling in my left hand wasn't being caused by the roots. When I realized it was independent from the crawling insect feeling I tried to focus what I could spare of my attention on it. These roots are trouble. I need to get away from them, now.

The warmth had barely begun to spread across the tattoo before I was scrambling away from the clutching mass of roots, leaving them to slump over in a tangled mess. I ripped my daggers up from two smaller bundles of roots before the shortlived warmth and permeability slipped away again. But it was enough.

With no further plan than "Don't Stand Still Long Enough To Get Caught" I ran across the root trapped clearing. My feet didn't make contact with the ground long enough for the roots to start climbing them, but I didn't dare run in anything but a straight line. Even slowing down the fraction a sharp turn would take might be enough to trip me up. I didn't stop until I reached the safety of the treeline, one hand smacking against a trunk hard as I tried to stop myself before I face planted into the rough bark.

Only sparing myself a second to catch my breath, I ran along the perimeter of the clearing until I was as close to the trapped men as possible without venturing back onto the roots.

Cliff was forced to stand in one place, roots twining up his legs to his belt, and had either abandoned or lost his hatchet. With his bare hands he was trying to pull fistfuls of roots from his friend. The poor fellow looked more like a squat, lumpy cocoon with little more than his curly dark hair peeking through.

The image brought to mind The Hobbit chapter in which Bilbo had to rescue the dwarves from the spiders' lair and could only identify the web wrapped dwarves by the hoods, beards, and long nose tips poking out. Ah! I realized. The flower is just like a spider! It sits in the middle of its web-the roots-and waits for prey to come close! The sweet smell probably helps it attract prey within an even greater range.

Spiders know when their web has caught something by the vibrations that travel through the threads, or something like that. Likewise, coming in contact with the roots alerted the flower. Ergo, if there were no roots...

I miss Rita and her great balls of fire, I couldn't help but think as I gathered up wind aer. Using less than usual for the formula I shot a Wind Blade along the ground towards Cliff and his friend. It reached three quarters of the way, slicing a thick line through the roots in its path. Encouraged and more confident in my calculations, I charged up the second Wind Blade with more aer and got it within two feet of them. Three more and I had cleared a narrow path between us.

By that point I'd gotten Cliff's attention and he had caught on to my thinking. "They'll start growing back right away if you don't burn them!" he warned.

"Clock's ticking," I grunted as I sprinted out towards them. Really wish Rita was here, or that I had some worthwhile fire techniques! Too bad the only one I'd gotten to work reliably required a dao.

Skidding in the dirt to stop before ramming into the guys or careening back into the roots, I joined Cliff in his efforts to yank pieces of roots off of his friend. "He's not moving!" I was worried to discover.

"He passed out not long after you got here," Cliff informed me tersely. "The roots start draining you after you can't get away."

"What about you?" His own cocoon was crawling up his chest by this point. He also looked discouragingly pale now that I was checking for adverse signs.

"I'm tougher than Vince, I can hold on longer." As if to prove the point he began putting more energy into the work.

But even with our combined efforts we weren't making any headway that the roots didn't undo within moments. "Dammit!" I hissed. Even if I could use fire for more than lighting candles, I wouldn't be able to use it for fear of burning someone along with the roots. My daggers would help more but probably injure them, and I simply don't have a lot of time to work with before the roots overgrow that path. Come on, there must be something else! What kills a plant?

A moment of inspiration had me laughing out loud. I grabbed a double handful of roots this time but didn't pull them away, ignoring how they started to grow over my hands as I concentrated on both the threads of wind and water aer around us. The weave I threw together was amateurish and incomplete; another one of my attempts at replicating Rita's Freeze Lancer, an earlier one than the Ice Needles. "Chill them to the bone," I intoned, "Frost!"

Numbing coldness gathered in my hands, and then they seemed to marginally warm as the cold spread out from my hands into the roots I was still holding. Gritting my teeth through the cold I held on and concentrated on channeling more water and wind into ice and pushing it further into the roots. At first nothing happened, then miniscule crystals began to form on the roots, and then they weren't so small. The roots almost seemed to crackle in my hands as the water in them froze.

And most important of all, they had ceased spreading.

Once I'd frozen the roots all the way down to where I thought the guy's-Vince's-knees were, I started snapping the roots off again. They came off more easily, especially since they weren't replaced within moments, and Cliff's increasingly fumbling efforts were still a great help. Together we uncovered the unconscious young man. He had dark toned skin, but at the time it was displaying an ashen pallor that was not a good sign at all.

Cliff shoved his friend onto my shoulders and I staggered at the added dead weight. Shifting Vince so that he was better situated I glanced over at Cliff. He was covered to the shoulders and neck. I reached out to try and use Frost again but he knocked my hand away clumsily. "Go," he wave a hand at the disappearing path I'd come in on. "I'll be fine for now, get Vince out of here."

"But-" I bit off my own protest and nodded jerkily. It was mostly bravado on Cliff's part, but it had a regrettable logic to it. I wasn't capable of carrying both men back and he was too weak to walk out under his own power. And time was ticking away.

Stumbling, I hadn't gotten nearly as far as I would have liked before I could feel the roots catching at my feet again. Desperate I once again grabbed at wind aer, but this time I didn't even take the time or effort to shape the threads to a formula. I just bundled them all up behind my back and tugged them so that they flew forward. A sudden burst of wind sprang up at my back, speeding my steps and for a moment almost carrying me with it. Just like walking to classes on a day with amazing lake effect wind.

I nearly reached the edge of the danger zone before a good sized root managed to wrap around an ankle and trip me. Unable to stop myself from falling, I landed with the full weight of the unconscious Vince on top of me and blew most of the air out of my lungs. Mentally cursing, I doubled over until I could slash at the roots around my feet with Phoenix and then finally pulled Vince clear.

Frantic, I looked back for Cliff. Good Lord, only his hands are left! It was downright creepy to see a humanoid shape of roots massed together with clearly human hands. At least he didn't seem to have passed out like his friend: the root swarmed figure was still shuddering, as if he were trying to shake it off.

My impulse was to run right back out, but I had to do something about Vince first. "Hey!" I tried shaking him but couldn't rouse him. "Hey! I don't have time for this!" Just a few threads of water aer and then I was throwing a handful of water in his face. He spluttered and dark eyes flew open as he sat straight up and then wobbled with vertigo.

"Ugh!" he grunted as one hand flew to his mouth. "What happened... Cliff?"

"Needs help," I answered curtly, shoving one hand into a pocket and pulling out gels. I pushed the apple ones at him as I ordered, "Can you do anything? Artes? Fire? Ice?"

He was staring over my shoulder in shock, no doubt at Cliff, but at least was with it enough to take the medication and answer, "No...no, I'm no good at fighting. Cliff always looked out for me." There was horror in his dark eyes when they stopped looking past me and at me in instead. "Please! You have to do something!"

"Working on it," I grunted as I stood up. "If you can find a way to make yourself useful, great."

"I-I'll-" he rolled onto his feet and almost careened forward, "I'll go look for help!" Before I could say anything (like, "there's nobody else out here in the middle of nowhere") he stumbled off deeper into the trees. Not wanting to waste any more time I left him to it and readied myself for Operation Root Rescue Take Two.

"Wind Blade!" I yelled out, and groaned aloud when the cutting wind attack only made it halfway. "Wind Blade!" I was already running back onto the half formed path, bringing a handful of orange gels to my mouth and practically gulping them down whole. "Wind Blade! Wind Blade!" Once I reached Cliff's side again I outright slammed my hands into his chest. "Frost!"

The ice came more slowly this time, every inch I forced it further into the roots felt like a battle on its own. As soon as I could I started removing the roots from his head, shoulder, and right arm. "Long time no see," I quipped distractedly once he could see and hear again. Cliff didn't bother to respond to that, already trying to claw off whatever his freed arm could reach.

My head was starting to swim from all the aer I'd used. I couldn't even see clearly what my hands were doing, and the flower's perfume seemed to be filling up the inside of my skull. Breathing was hard.

So hard that taking another breath was all I could think about.

It really was a sweet smell, it made me think of maple candy. Syrupy flavored sugar that melted on the tongue.

Crystallized syrup...

Crystallized? Ice crystals.

Shaking my head, I muttered the incantation for frost again and concentrated on getting us out of the mess we were in. "C'mon, Cliffie boy," I urged the man, noticing his efforts at freedom had nearly died off while a glazed look had entered his eyes. "Snap to it 'fore I decide it's easier t' wake you up by freezin' yer nose off."

Apparently hearing my words and reacting to them, he shook his head and then groaned. "When I get s' hammered?"

"Prolly jus' 'fore I did, Cliffhanger," I slurred back and frowned at how incoherent we sounded.

"I think I needa si' down..."

"Nod an option righ' now." The roots still had his legs locked in place after all. I stopped casting just long enough to jam two more gels into my mouth.

"Uh hey," Cliff(ord the big red doggy...) sounded worried.

"What, sumthin' loomin' up behin' me?"

"There's somewhat 'n yer legs."

Blinking in confusion for a second, My pants? I eventually looked down at myself to figure out what he meant. Roots had crawled up just past my knees. "Snappity snap." I was positive the situation warranted some more colofrul language but "snap" was all my brain was up to providing. "Wha' now?" Leggo!I tried to recreate the earlier trick of passing through the roots, but my tattoo wasn't playing ball this time.

A shout of "Cliff!" had me confused all over again. That wasn't me talking... "Can't you guys do something?" Who do what now? I'm already doing my best, m'kay?

"-annihilate the vulgar before me! Spiral Flare!"

A veritable wall of fire roared into the clearing, thankfully nowhere near Cliff and me although I could feel the wave of heat wash over my skin. The roots it blew over were all crisped in its wake, and then the flower itself was engulfed. A magnificent bonfire for the grand finale.

"Oooooh..." I watched the dancing flames in awe.

A familiar voice spoke up, "What are you guys waiting for, an invitation? Get moving!"

"Can't, my good sir," I answered sardonically, recalling myself and resuming my work Frosting the roots still stubbornly holding us in place. My head felt clearer now that the flowery perfume wasn't muddling my thoughts. "My feet seem to be quite enamoured with this patch of ground." Yes, that was all me snarking at inappropriate times and no more flower induced tipsiness, sad to say. I scraped up what wind and water aer was left, most had already been used up or dispersed by the rush of fire, and tried to bend over so I could reach Cliff's knees.

There was a heartbeat of silence broken by an incredulous, "Letha?"

Turning my head barely enough to flash back a twisted half smile, I avoided actually looking Yuri in the eyes. "Didja miss me, farmer boy?" From my peripheral I could see a collection of colorful shapes that was presumably the rest of the gang hanging back where it was safe.

An irritated sounding growl showed he was not amused. "Whatever's wrong with your head will have to wait until later." The singing of a blade cutting through air followed-what is he doing?-and the words, "Destruction Field!" preceded a shock wave of energy, bits of fire licking through the aer, which tore through where the roots binding us were attached to the ground. It seemed they'd been doing more to keep me standing than I had thought. I was sitting on the ground and wondering when I'd gotten down there.

"Upsy daisy," another voice came from nearby, and I was just in time to enjoy the sight of Chase wrapping an arm around Cliff and slinging him up over one shoulder. Seeing that the man I'd been trying to help was in good hands, I could finally focus on myself. One last blast of Frost on my own legs, and then I ripped the roots away from my knees. There were still some clinging to me like leeches, but fortunately they weren't tying my legs together. I could run. If I could stand.

A hand was proffered to me. When I took it, a strong pull had me up on my feet and steadied. It also made me look Yuri directly in the face for the first time. His expression was serious, mouth forming a grim line, but when he spoke what he said was, "You didn't think you'd get rid of us before telling us what happened to the Serenity, did you?"

Relief made me feel weak in the knees and a choked laugh escaped me. "Took a short cut. Thought I'd kill time until you guys finally showed up. I've got a lot of stories to share now." His eyes warmed slightly. All was not forgiven, but I hadn't lost the chance to sit down and talk it out with everyone.

x x x

Ugh, Yeager, why do you always make me feel worse about my understanding of the characters and their speech patterns? And my increasingly rusty German?

The verse Letha recites when talking with Yeager was the first from Emily Dickinson's poem, "Because I could not stop for death."

Guten Abend = Good evening.

...Letha has had an odd sort of luck in which she consistently isn't present for boss battles. Oh, she hasn't missed all of them, certainly not. There's been plenty of fights tougher than the run of the mill encounter. But I thought, "What the hey, I'll invent an original boss fight of sorts. It'll be more interesting than having her sit in the entrance to Dahngrest and waiting for them to arrive every day."

Cookies to anyone who caught the song reference I snuck in there, and cake to anyone who got the nostalgic reference to my childhood. ;p