Kevin the Bored
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9 The Greatest Illusion Is Regret
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 16:07:44 +0000 UTCFlamelle finds her eyes discretely turning to study Mistress Kette. They are both hunched over her notes, focused on the work as they have been for an hour now. However, in this time, Flamelle has found her admiration for the smaller woman rising and rising every minute.
She knew, intellectually, that having the personal tutelage of such a high level Mage, maybe even an Archmage, would be superior to the regular instructors of the Institute. She knew that much.
But somehow, she can't bring herself to believe that any of those Archmages are better teachers than Kette is.
They've been going over every aspect of the Spell, and Kette has explained concepts to her that she has been struggling to understand since she started learning Magic in ways that make it all seem just so blindingly obvious.
It's amazing. There is no thought. No hemming and hawing. Every question or uncertainty that Flamelle voices, Kette has an answer to. She hasn't once needed do consider any of it. She just knows. Immediately. It's like she's talking with a living manifestation of Magic itself. An encyclopaedia of all magical knowledge.
Perhaps that shouldn't surprise her. Not after having seen Kette's Grimoire. She hasn't even heard of ten thousand Spells before.
She can feel herself becoming a better Mage. Improving at a rate that she would have thought impossible just earlier this morning.
She has always admired powerful Mages, so Flamelle had thought highly of Kette ever since she first saw the Elf cast.
But now?
"Flamelle? Are you listening?"
Flamelle snaps out of her thoughts to see Kette staring into her eyes. She blushes slightly at having gotten caught lost in thought.
"Yep! I'm listening!" She answers, making Kette eye her sceptically for a moment.
Luckily for her, Kette simply goes back to teaching instead of saying anything else, and this time Flamelle doesn't let herself get distracted.
Instead, she listens.
She listens as Kette explains complex concepts, as she corrects minor errors in Flamelle's mana control, teaches her little tricks to reduce cast time. She even mixes in some funny anecdotes as she teaches, some of which leave Flamelle's ribs hurting from laughter despite the dull tone with which they are delivered.
Magic has always been interesting. Flamelle has always wanted to study it, and she learned a lot in the Institute. But their lessons were always so strict. All about doing Magic the right way. The safe way. About being serious and not making mistakes.
When Kette first offered to teach her, she figured it would be much the same. Less, even. She assumed she would basically end up working as a maid and getting paid in the occasional brief lesson.
But now?
Flamelle, for the first time since she discovered Magic, Flamelle finds herself having fun being taught about it.
It kind of makes everything feel like a dream. Like if she closes her eyes for too long she will wake up inside of a cell with The Cult or something.
Maybe she still isn't quite over how close she came to winding up with them.
Alas, as with all things, an end soon comes.
"Time is up," Kette says as she rises to her feet, and at Flamelle's look of confusion, she elaborates, "The contest is starting soon. Collect your papers."
Flamelle hurries to obey, shoving all of their notes into her inventory before rising to her feet, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation well up within her as her teacher speaks again.
"Do you believe that you can cast [Minor Illusion] successfully?" She asks, and Flamelle nods with only a slight amount of hesitation.
"Yes, Mistress Kette. But um.. Should I?" At Kette's unimpressed look, she hurries to explain, "I mean, in the Institute, they teach that you shouldn't cast a Spell for the first time until you believe you can do so as perfectly as possible. If you just cast them as soon as you can, then it builds up bad habits..."
She ends up trailing off, because she feels stupid explaining magical theory to Kette. But even if she is nervous, she can't say nothing.
Unexpectedly though, Kette nods her head.
"This Institute of yours is not incorrect to teach this way. If you draw a specific rune incorrectly the first time that you cast a Spell, then that will become your habit and your casting form will remain poor until it is corrected. It is easier to simply ensure that your casting has no faults the first time."
Flamelle nods her head simply because she does not know what else to say. Why does Kette want her to cast this Spell poorly if she thinks it's a bad idea to do so?
Flamelle is at least smart enough to keep silent so that Kette can answer her unasked questions, instead of asking about what is likely about to be explained anyway.
"However," Kette continues, and Flamelle listens attentively. "That is only true up to the level of an Archmage. You are not like the masses that have no need to consider their futures at such heights. If you are going to continue advancing as an Archmage and beyond, then you will inevitably end up casting imperfect Spells and having to correct them later. It is better that you get into the habit of breaking bad habits now, so that you never have to stop growing."
It still kind of blows her away. Mistress Kette's faith in her talent, that is.
She speaks about Flamelle reaching beyond the level of an Archmage as if such a thing is guaranteed.
It's flattering, in a way. A little bit intimidating too.
"Now," Kette continues. "Show me."
Flamelle nods, her throat failing with a sudden surge of apprehension.
This would be the first time she is casting a Spell in front of Kette. A Spell that Kette has personally tutored her on for the past few hours.
She knows that she cannot get it right. Not as well as she could have with even just a few more days to study. She knows that that is the point. That Kette actively wants her to make mistakes so that she can gain experience correcting them.
But...
Despite all of that. Despite what her logical mind is telling her...
There is a large part of Flamelle that just wants to cast the Spell perfectly. A part of her that want to impress her teacher. To show off, to..
Well it's a little embarrassing, but she just wants to hear Kette praising her again.
///
Kierra Kalashnikova/Kette
///
Kierra watches the Magic circle for [Minor Illusion] form in he air before her student with keen eyes.
She almost sighs as she notices what she expected she would.
Flamelle is simply too talented.
So Kierra discretely sends a tiny amount of her own mana into Flamelle's Spell circle and subtly alters a couple of the runes. Twisting them just so to make them ever so slightly off.
It takes longer to level up the higher your level is. Because of this, in the early levels, whenever a Spell stops being useful to you, you can just learn a new Spell from a higher Tier.
But past level 1,200 that stops being the case. Advancement slows down, and instead of learning new, stronger Spells, one needs to start farming for Mastery levels.
After all, every level of Mastery basically just raises a Spell's performance by a Tier. Obviously, this does mean that it is far easier to raise Mastery in lower levelled Spells, but it is still important.
It is also part of why it is better to specialise in the early levels and then branch out in the later. Because every single Spell you know could be added to your main kit with enough Mastery.
Kierra is actually a prime example of this, as her most used Spell is a Tier 4 Spell that she has 19 levels of Mastery on. Her friends used to make fun of her for it, but she thinks they only did so because they got mad at her for making fun of them for losing to a Tier 4 Spell.
So, translating from a game into reality, what Kierra is doing here is basically just trying to get Flamelle into the habit of farming Mastery levels now, instead of later.
The Spell finishes forming soon enough. The cast time having only been so long since it is a first time.
"[Minor Illusion]!" Flamelle incants.
The circle flashes, and then Flamelle changes.
A ripple in the air passes over her form, transforming the orange-haired Human girl into a Demon child.
Her hair shifts into a slightly off-white. Two enormous horns—grey, turning blue on the edges—jut from the back of her head and wrap around her skull like an enlarged halo. Her blue-green eyes turn red as black markings swirl around them.
Her clothes also change, going from that classic newbie adventurer look to a much more simple off-white toga. The kind of clothing that hasn't been worn for thousands of years.
She looks like a knock off version of Kierra Kalashnikova.
The colours are all slightly off, and the horns are noticeably not real upon any real inspection. They're even phasing through the hair at the back of her head instead of parting it.
But for a first cast of [Minor Illusion]? With Kierra actively hindering her, if only very slightly? Well, it's not bad. About what she would have expected.
But Kierra isn't stupid. She knows that children are fragile. That they are not mature enough to understand that living within expectations is not necessarily a bad thing. So she isn't going to just nod her head at the expected result and move on.
Instead, Kierra reaches a hand up and pats Flamelle on the head.
"Good job."
The words, simple as they may be, cause Flamelle to light up with obvious pride. The sight of it makes Kierra smile a bit herself.
Children should be praised when they succeed, even if their accomplishment is nothing beyond what was expected of them.
Kierra doesn't want her student to make it to the peak while stuffed full of angst and psychological issues. Better she be mentally healthy, and thus, Kierra must continue to praise her.
She doesn't want Flamelle to end up like her, after all.
Flamelle deserves to be better than that.
"U-um, Mistress Kette?" Kierra blinks in Flamelle direction at the hesitant words. She sees the girl looking at her with her head tilted down, nervous. "W-we don't have to actually join the competition.."
Kierra takes in the sight of her student, wearing Kierra's apparel and sneaking furtive glances down where people dressed as 'Heroes' are gathering together with obvious want.
It's pretty clear that the girl is just trying to appease. But Kierra isn't so cruel as to not allow Flamelle to have a single fun memory, even if it's just something silly and pointless like this.
Sometimes, silly and pointless is just what a person needs.
And really, the whole point of being a Mage is the freedom to do what you want, follow your own whims.
So Kierra does not respond with words. Instead, she simply dispels her [Change Form] Spell and pulls her hat off of her head.
Though her body fails to emote it, Kierra feels a deep sense of amusement as Flamelle's eyes all but light up with stars as she stares at Kierra's very real horns. Not that she knows that part.
Kierra doesn't really feel any anxiety about showing her true face like this. Not in these circumstance anyway. She's heard of plenty of instances of celebrity actors losing their own look-a-like contests before. No one is going to look at her and make the obvious connection.
Still, just to be extra sure, she casts [False Illusion] over herself anyway. It is a Spell that does nothing but pretend to be an illusion. Which basically means that if any skilled Mages look at her, they will get the sense that they are looking at an illusion, even if they aren't.
"C'mon, let's go."
Kierra comes to a stop at the building's edge and turns to see Flamelle still staring at her, unmoving.
The girl notices her attention and startles, but Kierra just holds a hand out in her direction.
"Don't hesitate now."
Flamelle blinks oddly before beaming another one of her smiles that shine like the sun and promptly hopping over, taking Kierra's hand with poorly disguised glee.
Kierra just shakes her head at the enthusiasm and turns back to the streets below.
Her mind turns to the [Magic Cart] Spell she has recently learned as a method of getting them down without just teleporting again. But that Spell works by locking its position to something relative to the caster.
Makes it good for carrying things, but not so much for a controlled descent.
Kierra could naturally just cast [Mass Fly] or some similar Spell, but well, [Magic Cart] is already on her mind.
So she just uses that as a base, makes a few modifications to it and simply invents a new Spell on the spot.
The ping of her system interface telling her to name the new Spell is noticed and ignored, as Kierra already has the perfect name in mind.
"[Magic Carpet]."
With her words, a near one to one replica of the carpet from the original Aladdin movie appears in the air right in front of them, the purple colours swirling with waves of mana.
Kierra steps forward, pulling Flamelle with her onto the carpet before willing it to descend into the streets below.
There are a fair number of people out and about, a large amount of whom are dressed up. But the square is still rather large, so there is plenty of space for the crowd. Still, a few people do change course on their approach, leaving a small clear space for them to land in.
The display of Magic and their appearance barely gets a second glance from most of the crowd. Though, with the festive atmosphere, they receive a lot more smiling nods than dismissive glances.
Kierra ignores all of that as she walks up to the stall she'd seen people signing up at, half dragging Flamelle from where she is all but 'ooh'-ing and 'aah'-ing at the other cosplayers walking about.
"Ah! Well hello there little ones! Are you here to join he coopetition?" The guy behind the stall greets them with enthusiasm.
Little ones? Kierra can't help but parrot in her mind.
Why did she make her character look like a child again?
Right, dramatic aesthetic. It kind of falls apart when she is entering a dumb competition instead of sitting on a throne or something.
Whatever.
"Yeah. Is there a fee?" Kierra asks, getting a friendly laugh in return.
"No, no fee. There isn't a reward either, this is just for fun," the man informs them, face full of friendly smiles. "Just give me a name to jot down and go wait over with them and wait to be called on."
Kierra follows his finger with her eyes to see a large group of cosplayers and then simply shrugs.
"Kette," she says, pointing at her own face before then pointing to her side. "Flamelle."
The man jots their names down quickly before returning his attention to them. "Your timing is pretty good, the competition will start in about twenty. Just go join the rest and wait for your name to be called."
"Hm." Kierra acknowledges him with a nod and turns to see Flamelle barely restraining herself from hurrying over to the other cosplayers.
It's cute how eager she is.
However, Kierra is quick to find out that she had rather poorly estimated how this whole thing would go.
In her mind it would have at most been just a bit amusing. All these people are dressing up as herself and her friends as if they were celebrities after all, that's pretty funny. But she's only doing it so Flamelle could form a nice memory from it.
It just wasn't a big deal in her mind. Just a couple of hours she could easily zone out.
A harmless waste of time for the kid to enjoy.
But twenty minutes later, she is realising the mistake she made as she finds herself struggling to even breathe, her throat and chest clenching too tight for air to pass through. If not for how inexpressive her new body is, she would probably be hyperventilating too.
She thought it would be just a little bit funny.
Instead, she is now standing here, surrounded by the faces of her friends—her most important people, but just off.
It's like the uncanny valley. Everywhere she turns, she sees a mimicry of her friends, and every time—every time, there is that split-second of recognition. Every time, from the corner of her eye she will think she sees her friend, only to turn and see that their face is wrong.
She really did think this would just be a joke, but it is only now that it is really hitting how she will never see her friends again.
They might not be dead, she knows that they are just back in her original world—she refuses to differentiate them as a 'real' and 'game' world. She is living here, thus they are both real.
But even if they are still alive, that does not change how they are not here, with her. How she won't ever see them again, her most dear companions with whom she has spent more time with than her actual family.
It's just...
It has only been a few days. It's nothing new to go a few days without talking to at least one of them. They would all have weeks where they'd just be so busy grinding that they'd be too grouchy to want to talk.
But they have been her near constant companions for near on a decade. About a third of her actual life.
She has never gone longer than a few days without at least a good morning or night message from her friends.
Yet now, all because of some stupid costume competition, she is being forced to recognise that for all that her friends still live, they may as well be dead. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Kierra is the one who died.
Great, now she is thinking about how they will react to her death, assuming that her original body died when she woke up here.
She wonders if any of them will cry.
She wonders if she even wants them to.
The worst of it is those dressed up as Fly, the Rogue of her party. They're all smiling confidently and acting suave, like the archetypical Rogue would.
She hates it.
Fly was a coward. That's why he wanted to be a Rogue in the first place. He maxed his stealth as high as it could go, all so that no one could see him. Whenever they hung out with people outside of the party, he would always just silently slink away and straight up leave without telling anyone. It was incredibly annoying.
She hates it.
She hates them.
She misses her friends.
"Cute kid." Kierra startles out of her morose thoughts by a sudden voice to her side, and she hates the way she still manages to see Yeveline's face in this stranger, even as the voice registers wrong. "Yours?"
Kierra follows the stranger—dressed in soft, regal robes decorated with greens in the style of Elven royalty so similar to Yeveline's main equipment set—as they nod their head down to where Flamelle is rather excitedly talking among a group of four girls all dressed up as Kierra.
It takes her another moment to properly comprehend what this stranger is asking her, because she is already getting used to the fact that she looks like a 14 year old.
The false-Elven woman—because those ears are not real, must have read something in even Kierra's aloof expression as she lets out an amused huff and continues without waiting for Kierra to answer.
"I've spent a lot of time in Elf country," she explains, amusement plain. "I'm used to you long-lived folk by now. You might look like a kid, but you're looking at that girl over there like a mother looks at her daughter, so I assumed. Am I off?"
...Did she just get insulted? Kierra honestly can't tell, but it feels like there might have been an insult in there somewhere..?
Kierra pulls her eyes properly away from Flamelle to actually get a proper look at the smiling woman talking to her.
On the outside, she looks nearly the same as Yeveline. Golden hair, forest green eyes, pale skin and that kind of refined, aristocratic facial structure so common among Elves.
But Kierra is The Mage, she can naturally see through the illusion and into the woman beneath.
The clothes are genuine at least, unlike Flamelle who is faking the outfit. But her features, or lack thereof, are distinctly Human. Short brown hair, a number of freckles. Real girl-next-door kind of vibes. Cute in a homely kind of way.
"She's my student." Kierra answers before the silence can really get awkward. "It's new."
"Yeah? First time taking on a student?"
Kierra considers the overly friendly woman's question for a moment. She decides to go with her Lore being true, rather than the knee-jerk denial.
"No. I have taught before. Flamelle and I only met recently."
"For real?" The woman seems genuinely surprised by that before letting out a brief laugh. "Well, you seem quite fond of her already then. She must be something special. Or are you just a bleeding heart~?"
Kierra eyes the smirking woman briefly, but her words only feel playful, so even if she doesn't really like talking to someone pretending to be her friend, she answers regardless.
"Flamelle is incredibly talented."
"Heeeeh~? I bet. That's a pretty impressive illusion for someone her age. Flamelle you said? I'll have to remember the name. I'm sure she'll go far with such an impressive teacher." The woman's words have Kierra eyeing her again, to which she only chuckles once more. "Not to brag, but I'm actually a pretty strong Adventurer. I've also spent a lot of time in Elf country, and I've made a lot of friends. So not only can I not see through your illusion, but you've also got eyes like my Titled friends. Hah! You don't see me as a threat at all, do you?"
"Should I?"
"Pfffhahahaha! Ahh~ I guess not, eh? Hehehe!"
Kierra simply stares as this strange woman laughs herself silly, finding it rather odd. Most people would tend to be upset at having their own weakness pointed out, not delighted. But Kierra is getting the feeling that this woman is simply the kind of person that struggles to make enemies.
Perhaps in normal circumstance, Kierra wouldn't have had any problem with that, but dressed up as Yeveline? She kind of hates it.
Yeveline was awful at making friends. It's just wrong.
It's all wrong.
"My name's Chisato by the way," the woman speaks again, drawing Kierra back out of her morose thoughts. "Orichalcum ranked Spellsword, nice to meet'cha."
Now that introduction actually does get Kierra's full attention.
Not that it could be odd to see someone so European looking wearing the name Chisato, which would hint to a person born in what was basically this world's Asia, countries like the Akitsushima Dominion. Because that can easily be explained away by having one parent from another nation and then having her first Racial Advancement exemplify those traits over the Aki ones.
No, what grabs Kierra's attention is the Class Chisato claims to have. [Spellsword] was a very rare class that Kierra herself almost spec'd into before [Archmage], since it fits with her ethos for Mages by combining Magic casting with Martial Arts.
After all, a Mage should fight in close quarters!!
Kierra ended up speccing into a more Magic focused class, because why put stats into STR and AGI when you can just boost your INT and pump Body Reinforcement instead?
Still, it's a very strong and well balanced Class, which makes Chisato rather interesting.
"Kette," Kierra replies after a moment, eyeing and ignoring Chisato's offered hand.
Chisato notices but simply retracts her hand without mentioning anything or dimming her smile.
"Kette then," Chisato nods with her words before casting her gaze out at the throngs of people bustling about, cheering and laughing and filling the air with noise. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?"
Chisato must have seen the lack of comprehension on Kierra's face as she gestures widely to everything around them. "Y'know, the whole thing? I just think it's an incredible story, and love the Legend they've become. Hehe, I guess I'm a bit of a fan of the Heroes. My mother used to tell me stories about them every night before bed. I love how even a hundred years later, the Heroes are still bringing people together, y'know?"
Kierra doesn't know.
"I've been absent," she says. "I have not heard these stories."
Chisato lets loose a low whistle before grinning down at her. "You Elves sure are something else, I couldn't imagine sleeping through so much history." Maybe coming from someone else, those words might have sounded insulting, but with Chisato they just feel playful. "You really don't know the story?"
"I understand the general facts. There were Cataclysms, then the Heroes killed them and saved the day."
Chisato snorts a laugh at her bland explanation. "That might be the most blasé way I've ever heard it described. The story is usually told more grandiosely. Of how the Seven Cataclysms had forced all the nations of the world to come together in a grand alliance, and how even then, it wasn't enough to win. Not until the Great Mage, Kierra Kalashnikova came out of the woodwork and gathered the five greatest talents the world has ever seen into a Legendary Party that slew the Cataclysms one after the other until their tragic final battle against the Burning Apostle. It's a lot more dramatic explained like that, no?"
A "Hm," is all Kierra gives back. Because in truth, she kind of hates that too.
It's the dramatisation of Legends that has their original character die as positive traits are enhanced and negative ones reduced.
No one wants their historic Heroes to be cowardly men or caustic women, and so all these strangers dress up as her friends without having a single clue as to their personalities.
"So, which of the Heroes did you know?" Chisato abruptly asks, her tone forcefully casual even as Kierra's mind screeches to a halt.
Chisato doesn't meet her eyes. Just continues looking out at the celebrating people with a smile that feels more sombre than before. Warm, in an understanding, admiring kind of way.
"It wasn't too hard to guess," she says without looking back. "This is a festival you know? I only came to talk to you because you seemed to be the only one not enjoying yourself. Thought I might be able to help you relax. I think that worked for the most part since you don't look like you're dying anymore, but you still seem sad looking at everyone playing dress-up. Personally sad."
That makes some sense. She was wondering why this strange woman started a conversation with her in the first place.
Chisato turns to face her then. "I'm not going to pressure you into saying anything or anything like that, but talking to a stranger can be surprisingly therapeutic. So the offer is open, if you want it."
Chisato doesn't speak up again, allowing them to lapse into a surprisingly comfortable silence. Kierra's eyes find Flamelle again as she mulls over Chisato's words. The girl has recast her illusion to stop the horns from phasing through the hair, likely on the advice of the other girls around her.
Flamelle genuinely seems to be glowing with joy, practically buzzing as she bounces between conversations with those equally excitable around her.
"I miss them." Kierra finds herself speaking without even really meaning to. The words just sort of spilling out, and she finds herself pushing back the feeling of tears just from actually saying it out loud.
She considers—too late—for a moment if she should even take up the offer. If she wants to. But Chisato isn't someone she's likely to even see again, so ultimately, why not?
Or maybe that's all a rationalisation, and she just wants her feelings to exist outside of her mind.
Chisato doesn't speak, and Kierra appreciates the silence.
"It's all wrong," she admits after a while. "Yeveline was nothing like you. It just feels like I'm watching my friends die and get replaced by caricatures of their best features."
Kierra clicks her tongue.
"Heroes." She says the word like it insulted her. "None of them had such a personality. They were a band of dysfunctional idiots waiting to die. There was nothing Heroic about them. But they were my friends, and I just.. I just really want to see them again."
It's not an easy thing to admit, not out loud anyway. It does help that Chisato is a stranger, one who seems more amused than anything by her description of the so-called 'Heroes'.
It's easier, knowing that this conversation will be a one and done kind of thing. That she can say what she wants and it just won't matter.
Chisato doesn't respond right away, and they spend some time simply people watching.
Kierra can admit that she feels a little bit lighter after saying her feelings aloud. Not that she doubted she would. She did take some psych courses over the years.
Eventually though, the call goes out for the Yeveline cosplayers to gather and Chisato lets out a sigh.
"I can't imagine what it must be like to live long enough for your memories to become history," she says as she takes a step away, only to pause and continues talking over her shoulder. "There isn't really anything I can say, or advice I can give. Life just sucks sometimes, and sometimes there aren't answers. So instead, all I can do is ask you one thing."
Chisato meets her eyes one last time, wearing a sad smile that tells Kierra that she at least understands the feeling of loss, if nothing else.
"Would you rather forget?"
Kierra watches Chisato fade into the crowd, falling into an easy conversation almost immediately. She doesn't move for a moment, just thinking on the words.
Would you rather forget.
Would she?
It's hardly even a question. She knows the answer as soon as she asks it.
Those years are the most precious in her memory, of her closest people. She would never let them go, no matter what happened. Even if every memory with them just makes their absence hurt even more.
Kierra lets out a long sigh.
Today has not gone at all how she was expecting it to.
But whatever, she is self aware enough to know that today has been good for her. Addressing and confronting things that upset you might suck, but it's always good for you in the end, and she isn't dense enough to not notice how she feels a slight bit lighter.
So she isn't going to complain, even if this really isn't how she was expecting her day to go.
Kierra's eyes find Flamelle once more and, noticing her gaze, the girl briefly turns and sends a happy wave her way before returning to whatever inane conversation she is having.
Another sigh leaves her.
She's going to have to find whoever is doing the ranking here and convince them to put Flamelle above her. Even though Kierra obviously looks more like Kierra than Flamelle does.
Flamelle is just too happy. She promised the girl a gift if she scores higher than her, and now she just can't bear to mar this memory with the minor negativity of missing out on a prize.
She also has to decide what the prize is even going to be.
A final sigh leaves her.
Who knew that taking on a student would be such a pain?
Despite having that thought, it is with a slight smile that Kierra sets off to find an organiser.
///
Mittel Lynsil
///
"Retired life not working out for ya?"
Mittel scowls under her hooded cloak as she steps fully into the lonely booth, unsurprised to see this place near empty even with the festivities ongoing. It is supposed to be hidden after all.
Which is why she does not remove her hood as she seats opposite a dark haired woman who, while dressed casually, still manages to give off a dangerous air. It's like she's projecting her Rogue Class. Mittel would scoff at them if she didn't already know their character.
"Do you need me to remind you what I said will happen if you insult my husband?" She all but hisses back, keeping her voice low enough to not be overheard, even if it's a pointless precaution here. "I am not coming out of retirement."
Malerie, the main contact in Laptilla, lets out a derisive snort before smirking, looking down her nose at Mittel.
"Brat's are always so sure of themselves," she says. Pointedly. "As if that 'husband' of yours won't just die in a hundred year-"
Malerie pauses her words, leaving the two of them staring into one another's eyes in silence. Mittel's expression glaring with cold anger even as Malerie remains calm, simply smirking back at her, even with a thin blade of ice pressing against her jugular.
Despite the blatant threat to her life, Malerie just rolls her eyes and lets out a small amused breath.
"'Retired,' she says. You could'a fooled me, Ice Devil. 'Specially what with you coming here of all places. So how about instead of throwing a little hissy fit and poking me with knives, you just tell me what it is you want?"
Mittel glares for a moment longer before retracting her threat when it becomes clear how unthreatened Malerie is by it.
"I am retired," she reiterates, "But I am still loyal. My husband met a passing Elf yesterday."
Mittel half expected Malerie to interrupt with something mocking, but perhaps she is being to bias and underestimating her professionalism. It's pretty obvious that she is going to expand on her words after all.
"He described her as a mysterious, but incredibly powerful Mage." She can tell that Malerie is still waiting for this to be anything she has to care about, and so she doesn't wait to give what brought her out here in the first place. "A Mage who introduced herself as Kette."
She can see the exact moment her words register in the way Malerie's eyes widen. The way she almost flinches backwards, mouth parting slightly with unspoken words.
And then the instinctive reaction is over and all hints at playfulness, or of the scoundrel mask she wears for this job disappear. Leaving behind only unflinching attention behind severe eyes that leave Millet straightening in spite of herself.
"You are certain?" She asks, her voice lacking any and all of its previous inflection. Sounding instead as a proper Elf, noble and unwavering.
Never before has it been more clear how adept Malerie is at wearing her masks than now, witnessing as she discards her personality as if it is a change of clothes.
Millet doesn't let her unease show. Instead, she simply nods her head and holds a hand out, palm up.
"I took this from his mind as he slept," she admits, hiding her shame at the invasive act, as she projects an image from her palm. An image that is simply a still of a woman's face that they can both easily find familiar.
"That is all I will do for you," Millet continues as the image fades away. "There is nothing more I or my husband can tell you, and you will not need me for anything that someone else couldn't do."
"Are you sure?" Malerie asks, speaking with what almost sounds like gentle concern, completely at odds with her precious character. "You know what this could mean. You would give that up?"
"Yes." She does not hesitate. "I will pray for you, for everyone, but I do not have to be with you to believe, and I think She would want us to follow our own happiness. My happiness is with my husband."
Malerie holds her eyes for a moment before nodding, seemingly finding whatever it is she was looking for.
"If that it your choice."
She really should have left that at that, but she just couldn't help herself from speaking up.
"Not going to mock my decision?"
Her words are challenging, but instead of the usual response, Malerie simply smiles a sad smile at her.
"We were all young once." She lets the simple sentence hang for a beat, and Millet wonders if this is the first time she is seeing Malerie's true face. "Just do not forget that we will always be here to catch you when you fall."
Malerie's words are spoken with only soft understanding and genuine care, and Millet..? She really just does not know how to respond to that.
Not when it is Malerie saying it.
So she chooses not to, and instead just rises from their booth, pulling down on her hood as she does to ensure no one sees her face.
"Goddess be with you, Malerie." She doesn't wait for a response before turning and leaving, but even then, she doesn't fail to catch her words being parroted back to her.
"Goddess be with you, Millet."
///
A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!
I really wasn't expecting this chapter to go how it went.
It was supposed to just be fluffy fun times, but apparently I forgot that I am dogshit at writing emotional crap cuz I am a broken human with emotions that don't work. So it ended up philosophical instead.
Tho, maybe my entire writing career i just an excuse to rant philosophy at strangers online. Seems to be a theme in my fics to have rando moments of introspection n' shit lol.
Also! I'll start posting this story outside of patreon once I finish next chapter! Exciting! =D
Comments
sinclair
even philosophy can be emotional. I already feel like I miss my friends
Orchamus
Aaahhhh!!! So goooddddd...punch me in the feelz from mutiple directions
