The Magicians' Realm Chapter 20: Nighttime Discussions, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 20, everybody! Which actually didn't exist until last week—when reading chapter 19 and the original chapter 20, I realized I hadn't really answered Yami Skellington's half of the current story arc, and the result was a tad abrupt. So have some Skellington stuff!

By the by, Teana's request here is based upon my own Mom's counseling—a year is enough to show what kind of person someone can be.

Angiembabe, thanks for the review! Too true—one lie leads to another, and after a while it can be hard to keep them all straight. Maybe….And yeah—the hair is too obvious. XD

Fromtheashtrees, thanks for the review! Yes! Go Yami go! :D If only…but that would require interdimensional postage, and I don't think the mailman is quite up to that. Well, it's either that or be bored…and ouch, quadratics sounds like it hurts *looks it up* Hmm…it looks like physics and algebra had a kid….Ooh, lucky you—except for neglecting your art. Doodle in the margins! But seriously, kudos to you for being on that fence—one of the benefits of a Ph.D. is that I don't have to take math every year anymore (but I had to take psychology—give me math any day over that). Ooh, painful—but at least you should be done by now! Success! :D

References:

Original characters + setting © Kineil D. Wicks (myself, not the girl in the story)

Yami came home, collecting his mail on the way in. Not that there was much, but he needed a distraction after—

He blinked at a folded piece of paper that simply bore his name. She had answered! Cory must have left it in the mailbox, he reflected as he unfolded the paper to see what it said.

"Oh," he said, sagging slightly upon reading the brief missive.

A while later saw him in his study, staring out the window and trying to come up with a good response to her reply. He twiddled the pen idly in his fingers, trying to come up with more than just Dear Ms. Gardenier.

It probably should have occurred to him that she would say no.

He heard footsteps, looked up in time to see Kineil walk by and do a double-take. "What happened?" she asked. "Your dog die?"

"Do you think I'm too forward?" he asked—he figured it was better than asking what dog?

She blinked. "I think you answered your own question. Why, what happened?"

"Ms. Gardenier is disinclined to acquiesce to my request. Means 'no,' I'm told."

"You're too forward," Kineil declared, pointing at him before walking off.

"Hmm," he noised, tapping the pen against the desk.

Well…maybe he could use that to his advantage.

He wrote his response and flew off to deliver it.

*/*\*

Jenna lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling.

Sometimes, she regretted ever meeting Greg. Not that she would have it any other way, but she regretted the complications that came with it. If only they could have gone with her idea and run off together—she still had Gypsian friends she could call on, she was certain.

"Are you okay?"

She rolled a bit so she looked at Greg, watching her in the dark. "I can't sleep."

Greg's expression turned grim. "I can guess why."

"You should have told them his magic came from your side of the family."

"Yes, I should have."

"And we should have kept his hair cut short."

"We did—remember that? Remember how we had to do it every other week?"

"You should have told the Administrators to shove off."

"I should have," he agreed. "It's not like he's…I don't know. I don't know what goes on in their heads."

"He's not evil."

"I know."

"You shouldn't have married a Commoner."

"You're not common."

She took a deep breath and sighed. If only….

He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close. "If I thought I could get away with it, I'd fix everything. And you could use your actual family name."

"That'd be nice," she said, feeling a bit more secure nestled against him.

"Maybe someday."

"Maybe."

Although, she reflected as she finally drifted off, it would take a ridiculous upheaval to get the Administrators to admit they were wrong.

And then there was a thousand years of history and injustice to make up for.

*\*/*

Teana looked up at the tapping on her window and groaned. Great, he had written a response.

And had sent it back using the most ridiculous bird she had ever seen, if it could be called a bird. Whatever it was, it was bigger than the owl from before, with sleek black feathers, tall ear tufts, and big yellow eyes. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a crow or an owl, and settled on it being predatory at least. Definitely hawkish.

It tapped on the window again.

"Fine, I'm coming," she groused, putting her book aside and flinging her covers off. She didn't bother with her robe, figuring a nightgown would be enough for a bird.

She opened the window and took the letter from the bird-thing. "Let me guess, you talk too?" she asked it.

"I don't know—to hear you talk, that's when I—"

Teana shrieked and slapped the bird off the windowsill, sending it falling off with a squawk. It wasn't bad enough that it was another talking bird—she had recognized that voice!

"Yami!?" she squawked in surprise, before realizing what she had done. She looked out the window then ducked back in and ran for her robe when she realized that she was still only in her nightgown. Gaak!

By the time she had thrown it on and tied the ribbon, the bird that was Yami Skellington had flown back up and flopped on the sill, thoroughly wiped out.

"Get into trouble," he finished lamely.

"What—how—you couldn't just call?" she decided on finally, after discarding most of her questions.

"I tried that after the Masquerade Ball," Yami said, finally sitting up. "Apparently, our networks aren't linked."

"That should tell you something."

"That they should be?"

"What do you want?"

He stood up, looking a little ridiculous as he shuffled a foot—it wasn't something one normally associated with a bird. "I uh, wanted to apologize for being so forward." He paused, as though realizing something. "Actually, I'm being forward now."

"I'm glad you realize that. This couldn't wait until morning?"

He shrugged. "I…really wanted to ask you what would make this work."

She sat on the edge of her bed, considering the odd bird on her windowsill. "Before I address that—what kind of bird is that supposed to be?"

He puffed up a bit and turned around, so she could get a good look at him. "This is a Hagsfiend—they're powerful magician's familiars. They can do spells themselves and have a powerful gaze—like Kineil's, only less…Kineil-y."

"And you can turn into one."

"Of course."

"And yet you struggle with a simple concept like a relationship between us not working."

"Why wouldn't it work? And please, stop evading the question."

"Only this once."

"And at your 'noon job,' and at the club…."

"All right, fine," she said, waving him off. "It can't work because I'm a Commoner and you're a Magician."

"The only difference between me and you is that you don't know any magic yet, and that's easily remedied: I'll teach you."

"Yami," she said, standing up and walking over. She scooped him up, hands under his wings, surprised at the weight—and held him at eye level. "A bird can love a fish, but at the end of the day it wouldn't work because they come from two different worlds. A fish can't live in the air."

"Actually, there is such a thing as an air-breathing fish," he told her, seeming to enjoy being held. "And there are flying fish, too. And swimming birds."

"Goodbye, Yami."

And with that, she flung him out the window.

He recovered quickly, coming back to the sill. "Maybe I went too fast—I admit that. What about a relationship at your pace? We get to know each other better, and I stop being so…forward."

This offer she considered.

"Don't stop being forward," she said finally. "And fine, we can do that. You give me a year."

"A year?" Yami asked, sounding stunned.

"One year," she said, sitting next to the windowsill. "That's twelve months. In one year, I'll know what kind of person you are, and then I'll make my decision."

"I'll be the same sort of person I am now."

"You're a bird right now."

"You do think I'm birdbrained."

"I do."

"But why a year?"

"Because you aren't my first beau," she told him. "And they're always nice at first. But you can't keep up an act for a year—sooner or later, I'll see how you really are."

"I am what I am."

"You're a bird right now."

"Now's a bad example."

"Good night, birdbrain."

"Can we do breakfast tomorrow?" he asked hopefully as she went to shut the window.

"Will I be eating it with a bird?"

"I'll wear my tie."

"We'll see."

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Good night, Yami."

"Good night."

He flew off, singing.

She held the window open, listening. If only, if only, the woodpecker sighed was all she caught before he flew too far for her to hear.

She closed the window, went back to bed, picked up the forgotten letter and read it.

She blinked as she read the missive.

He had been expecting her wanting to wait and had agreed, before they even talked about it.

She folded the letter carefully, put it on her nightstand, and turned off the light before flopping back into bed.

"This is going to be a long year," she decided finally.