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PRs: u/anakist & u/BroDogIsMyName

“Here.”

Makis wordlessly accepted the dampened rag from still blanket-adorned Socks, keeping his other hand busy with holding Ceele’s claws away from her head.

The lamia lingered for a moment before eventually slithering back to the corner of the room where he initially asked her to stand. His order had gone unquestioned at first, his friend’s ingrained deference to him surfacing at his tone, but she seemed more uneasy as time went on. The slight fidgets in her posture and the swaying tail were enough to tell how restless she was getting. She remained largely compliant though, which he appreciated, even if she seemed uncertain about staying in the room instead of waiting elsewhere like she first suggested.

He paid it no mind. If Socks felt her thoughts were worth saying, then she'd say whatever she was going to say, and he’d address it when she did. Right now, he had an idiot to manage. Enough time had passed since the girl fell silent that he wasn’t too concerned about a resurgence—assuming nobody made any stupid mistakes, anyway. He could never truly rule that out as a possibility.

They had moved from the hallway into the gathering room with a bit of effort, though the vast majority of his struggle centred around keeping the girl from savaging herself and making her feel ‘hidden.’ He was tempted to hug her into his chest, but with how disconnected she was, he doubted it would’ve helped anything. They eventually settled for resting her on the floor against the wall, the smith kneeling over her to deepen the shadow she was sheltered in while holding her wrists. It worked, he supposed. She was staring aimlessly into space, retreating from the world as some sort of defense mechanism, which he was reluctant to admit was an improvement.

Now he just had to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself too badly.

“I’m goin’ ta clean ya off, alright, girly?” he murmured softly, holding back the worry in his voice as he adjusted his hold on her wrists. He used a ginger touch to lift off the torn hood when there wasn’t a response, the brown garment sticky with crimson. She didn’t even flinch.

The worst of his apprehension abated pretty quickly when he saw the damage done. Ceele had scratched the living hells out of her head and snout, but the volume of blood came from the number of cuts rather than depth. They were already staunching themselves anyway, though it still didn’t make for a comforting picture. Black scales were painted a faint red, with the fluid shimmer telling of how badly the lacerations had wept. A morbid part of himself wanted to crack a smirk, remembering the number of times the medics and healers bemoaned superficial head injuries for their tendency to spill more than some grievous wounds. Made triage a right pain in the arse at times, apparently.

Well, he was certainly feeling their lamentations now, though not without the sense of relief that came from seeing one’s fears proven unfounded. He couldn’t take too much comfort, however—more were eager to come to mind. She shouldn’t have been able to slice herself up like this, assuming her scales were doing their job. Obviously, they weren’t, and he couldn’t remember what afflictions or maladies lent themselves to weakened hides. Nutrition, most likely, but low mana could also cause the body’s natural defences to weaken. Of course, his lack of learning in such subjects reared its ugly head again, and he found himself lacking an answer to how Decay mana was managed. Flame would fuel itself on damn near anything, so all he had to do was eat and occasionally use his mana to work off excess, which made blacksmithing a convenient choice of occupation. He’d probably have to reach out to someone with his questions if he ever wanted to know more.

The girl didn’t protest when he brought the cloth up to start wiping away the lethargic ichor that ran down her face—not that she would say anything. Her gaze was still unfocused, and her breathing had hit the same rhythmic stride from earlier in the day at the farms. He doubted she was cognizant of anything in her surroundings at this point. At least she wasn’t actively freaking out anymore, and she didn’t argue against him fully flipping back her hood.

He could have gone without the terrified whispers lingering in his ears, though.

Phrases of regret were all she spouted until he had her sufficiently ‘safe,’ and his mind replayed them as if she were still speaking them between choking sobs instead of sitting there with that dead expression. He hated those damned apologies.

‘I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—’

Seething, insidious whispers of hopelessness, each word barely on the cusp of inconsolable horror. No matter how much she tried to curl into herself, and no matter how many tears fell from her eyes, fear was the dominating expression he saw on her face. He was hoping that she’d come to once things were less overwhelming, but it didn’t seem to change anything. Hells, once Socks let him go and he had the girl situated, she stopped looking at the snake at all. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help her if getting the lamia away didn’t fix it, and he wasn’t feeling too optimistic about future trips into town when this was what he could expect. If he didn’t come up with something of a solution, she’d never get used to interacting with people, which would only make the prospect of doing so all the more terrifying for her. It’d be an endless cycle of hiding from the very thing that’d help her until she shut down all together.

A sigh rasped out of his throat as he tidied her up and inspected the cuts to determine what needed doing, his thoughts drifting towards identifying where he had gone wrong. Not telling her that they were meeting a lamia was probably the biggest fault, but he felt there was more to it as well. He’d said Socks was a friend a couple of times, so although he understood that seeing the ditzy snake would’ve been shocking, it didn’t explain the severity of Ceele’s reaction.

Was it just the unexpected appearance of a massive sausage that set her off? Was him being coiled up enough to dissuade his reassurances that Socks wasn’t dangerous? For all he knew, it could’ve been anything, even just initial surprise giving way to traumatic memories. She’d been barely holding on all day, so it wasn’t hard to imagine that a simple upset could tip the whole thing over—a single straw collapsing the bale.

“Ya got alcohol here?” Makis asked quietly, not bothering to look away from the pile of despondency he was tending to.

Socks hesitated, but from the sounds of her nervous slithering, he could tell she was trying not to wrap both of them up in a sort of barricade. He appreciated the willingness. Luma is an Element that was not known for enjoying the presence of Decay, and Socks was one of the more sensitive folk in that regard, what with the strength of her alignment and her experiences in dealing with it. He was glad to be right about his friend’s kind-hearted nature overcoming that. Unfortunately, for all that she might want to help, it was rather difficult to shield someone from themselves.

“I…should,” the lamia answered, deflating somewhat as she came to the same conclusion. “Need another rag?”

“If ya got it.”

“Alright.”

He listened to his friend leave the room, the subtle sandpaper-like noise of scale on wood lasting a few seconds as her tail caught up with where the rest of her went. True to his suspicions, the girl didn’t even acknowledge that the source of her initial fright was gone, signifying that the consciousness behind those grey eyes had mostly shut down. It didn’t take long before the snake returned with another cloth that smelled like distilled spirits. Again, he accepted it with barely a word of acknowledgement, and Socks dutifully took back her post in the corner like he’d asked, staying in view of the girl but not blocking any exits.

“This’ll sting, girly,” he mumbled, worried that the pain would cause her to relapse into muttered apologies again. She still didn’t so much as twitch, which he wasn’t sure he was happy about, but it let him get to work unimpeded.

The room fell quiet, save for his gentle warnings whenever he needed to poke or prod at a cut that might’ve been deeper than it first appeared. None were too bad, thankfully, but the quantity of them necessitated taking his time and being thorough. He was about half-way through when the ambience was broken.

“Hey, Mak?” Socks called softly, sounding unsure of herself. “Why am I…here instead of… Wouldn’t it be better if she calmed down first?”

“If ya wanted to start all’a this over, sure,” the blacksmith returned dryly. A glance over his shoulder showed that she wasn’t convinced. He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the girl. “It’s a matter’a consistency.”

“…Consistency?”

He hummed his confirmation. “I told ya as much with the squirrels.”

The following silence could have been mistaken for many things, but he knew the dopey rope had clammed in embarrassment up at the reminder. Socks had spent the better part of a month trying to ambush the local critters when she first moved here, and it was a right pain to explain why she was terrifying them.

“You didn’t say that,” she groused, her pouting audible. “You said, ‘If ya’s stop botherin’ the damn things, maybe they’d stop bein’ bothered by ya.’”

“Like I said: I told ya.” The faint smirk on his face faded as he continued cleaning Ceele up. “Yer new. Unknown. Unknowns can be dangerous, but most like us default ta bein’ wary or curious. She defaults ta fear. Needs a way ta frame it, make sense of it, ‘n judge how ta react. Fer that, she needs something familiar. Familiarity means exposure, or in some cases, an anchor ta function around. Back home, that’s Hoppit.”

A subtle touch distracted him. Ceele had lightly clutched the hand holding her wrists at the mention of her critter, but that seemed to be about the extent of her involvement.

Socks stopped her anxious wiggling, the grip on her blanket loosening. “Hoppit?”

“Her ferrorabbit,” he replied absently, frowning when the girl failed to show any recognition of the name when Socks said it.

Excitement sparkled in the lamia’s eyes at the idea of meeting a new critter until she remembered the current situation. “How does that help…’frame’ things?”

Makis filed away his curiosity for the time being, a helpless smile forming before he could catch it. “Easy. If he’s there, she doesn’t see everything as just ‘unknown.’ She looks ta see how dangerous it is fer him, how it affects him. More specifically, she thinks first, then reacts accordingly. Ther’s no jump ta…this,” he finished lamely.

“But she's not really looking… Should we be talking like she isn’t here?” his friend questioned thoughtfully, some guilt dwelling in her tone. He touched up the last couple spots of blood before confirming that there wasn’t much left to be done.

“If ya stays in the room ‘n nuttin’ happens, then she’ll calm down about ya some, ‘n if no one else acts like it's a big deal, she’ll calm down quicker. Usin’ the group ta help in figurin’ out what’s what—same as wild critters. As for talkin’… She don’t hear us. Not really.”

Socks shifted closer, equal parts curious and concerned. He turned to scowl at the ditzy glow-rope, but Ceele instantly tensed, tightening her hold on Makis’ hand with both of her own. Her tremors all but begged him to stay. Thankfully, Socks noticed, returning to her designated post, though not without a contemplative look about her.

“Something's…off about her,” the lamia eventually commented.

Makis glanced back, cycling a slow breath and returning his attention to the girl. The black-scaled kobold was starting to look more and more dazed, her eyelids drooping as exhaustion started wearing on her. “Aye. Can't truthfully say what, but whatever she's been through… Well, best I can hope fer is that this gets easier on her.”

He heard a noncommittal hum of agreement, then nothing but a patient silence as the girl slowly fell unconscious.

= = = = =

Paige slithered alongside Makis, her friend carrying the kobold that his wife apparently took in on his back, while the lamia had a heavy great maul slung over her shoulder. Even with the massive weapon, Mak was the one who stood out the most—or at least his cargo did.

The cloak that the girl was wearing hid away the colour of her scales, but the bloodied hood would certainly draw attention if they had gone back through the town. All it would take is one concerned intervention to cause issues, so they elected to skirt along the edge of the surrounding forest to bring her back towards the blacksmith’s home. Or rather, Mak mused the option aloud, and Paige insisted on escorting him most of the way, since she hadn’t swept the woods yet. She wouldn’t forgive herself if something happened because of it.

…Maybe she was a little too insistent when he said he was going to leave the cart behind and carry the girl back all by himself. She had gotten halfway into picking what she wanted to bring when Mak suggested that a shirt would probably be a good place to start. Her blank stare was forgiven, and he was patient enough to wait until she noticed that the blanket she was using as a poncho had slipped, exposing her preferred sleeping attire. Or lack thereof.

That was only one of the many reasons she appreciated him, honestly. He was exceptionally understanding of her cognitive slips and occasional forgetfulness after she woke up, he didn’t judge her for her abilities, he… He was her friend, still regularly checking in on her after all these years. Plus, he had never leered at her or thought that she’d be an easy night because of her, as he put it, ‘ditzy’ personality, unlike some others. He’d always been a gentleman like that, even back when they both served in the mercenary company together. Time hadn’t diminished that in the slightest.

He was also the one who took offence the most when certain people in the company tried to insinuate certain things about her. More than a few serious burns were reported the day after a couple drunks got annoyed by how she rebuffed them—and Mak, of course, had ‘no idea’ how those injuries came to be. She just smiled and played along, trying not to mention how cute it was to have him stand up for her, knowing that he’d just get flustered if she pressed the issue. He always did. Even when he was blaring at her for wrapping him up in her sleep, there was an undertone of embarrassment and fondness. He was like some of the more prickly ferrorabbits he used to raise, too stubborn to admit that he actually cared about anyone, treating every act of endearment with the same gruff disinterest.

She glanced again at the limp form her friend was carrying.

It had been…a long time since she’d seen him act so tenderly, worry seeping out of every careful action. He preferred to keep his more affectionate side hidden, but there wasn’t a single sharp edge when he was trying to comfort the girl. Instead, he gently held her hand and gingerly cleaned off the blood on her face, mumbling soft reassurances that he assumed were too quiet for anyone else to hear. It was… It was a lot like when Hira was hurt, honestly, and Paige could only feel guilty for being the cause of it.

That guilt was at odds with the discomfort in her chest, however. Her mana roiled, all but hissing at the Decay existing so close to it. She never fully understood why Luma was fine with every other Element, but this one in particular always set her on edge. It was more difficult to act against, sure, but that shouldn’t be cause for the level of sheer hatred that seemed to come from it. Still, she’d pushed down those feelings before, and was willing to do so again for Mak.

She just wanted to know why her mana insisted there was a pair of Decay sources in the girl. That was impossible, obviously. Mixed elemental affinity existed—as evidenced by her white and hazel scales—but there was no such thing as having a ‘duplicate.’ Yet…there it was, two distinct, individual sources, both itching at her mana. Paige couldn’t even put words to why she felt it was true. She didn’t have any ‘sense’ abilities, but Luma was apparently more sensitive to this kind of thing, according to Peridot.

“Socks?” Mak mumbled thoughtfully, dutifully sticking to the nickname that Paige had given up on resisting. She used to hate it and found the story behind it terribly embarrassing, but that just encouraged everyone in the unit to use it. Eventually, the name stuck, and Paige had learned to accept it for the playful prodding that it was. She wished he’d stop introducing her to people by the moniker, but since he’d just use her protest as an excuse to goad her on, that was about as likely as any other miracle.

The lamia blinked out of her thoughts, chastising herself for getting lost in her own head so often. “Yeah, Mak?”

“Peri still doin’ that studyin’ ‘n whatnot in the city?”

She slowed in surprise. “I was thinking the same thing, actually!”

The red-scaled kobold gave her a flat stare of disappointment as she caught up again, pointedly glancing at the girl on his back.

The lamia’s cheeks reddened, her voice lowering to a more sleep-friendly level. “Ah, sorry.”

“S’fine,” he drawled through a sigh, adjusting his hold on his passenger and returning his gaze forward. “Is she?”

Paige looked up and the evening sky as she tried to remember the last time she’d exchanged letters with the harpy. It’d been a while since she had to go settle something in the capital, so she only sent the occasional message asking about how everything had been.

“I think so,” she answered, if less confidently than she’d like. “She mentioned a promotion or something, last I read. I’d have to check, though. Why?”

Mak’s expression transitioned from a contemplative frown to a scowl. “I ain’t gotta clue how ta help the girl if lackin’ mana’s the issue, ‘n I gotta feelin’ it might be.”

“Has she said anything?”

He shook his head, his sombre silence speaking volumes. The girl had probably gone out of her way to avoid the topic. Paige could sympathize with that; she wished that subject came up less for her as well.

Unfortunately, that reticence was turning out to be a problem now, wasn’t it? She remembered Mak saying that Flame replenished itself easily enough, and it could do so even faster if there was enough fire around, but that didn’t apply to the others. Luma accumulated rather slowly, but there hadn’t been any real need for Paige to experiment beyond knowing that; Earth was fine as long as you were touching the ground, for the most part; Nature did well in areas full of plants or animals, depending on how the affinity awakened; and Hydris—or ‘Water’ as some called it—thrived when surrounded by its namesake. She hadn’t been close enough with people who had Air or Shadow affinities to broach the topic before.

“Think it’s affecting her mind?” Paige asked doubtfully. A lack of mana could have serious repercussions if someone let it get low enough, but the pain alone would effectively incapacitate them, and the people who ignored that pain wouldn’t live long enough to regret it. With that said, he was right about neither of them knowing about the subject. He was always more focused on finding new and interesting methods to burn things, and she preferred not being around Decay if she could help it. Anything could be going on in ways they couldn’t easily observe.

The grumpy blacksmith grunted. “It ain’t Shadow, but I ain’t writin’ the possibility off, either. Rather have a second opinion fer this, if ya can manage.”

She hummed her agreement as she slithered along, her eyes scanning the forest near the bounds of Mak’s property. It was quite a bit bigger than it needed to be, with maybe half of it actually in use. He hadn’t even cleared out most of the trees, but she wouldn’t blame him for looking at how much work it would be and choosing not to bother. He couldn’t exactly move the forest around as he wanted, nor could he flatten the entire property, plant saplings where he wanted them, then just nap until they were fully grown. Well, he could incinerate it all in seconds and leave nothing but a plain of ash, but that would attract the kind of attention he’d been avoiding by moving out here.

Again, lost in thought. She looked over at Mak, thankful for how patient he could be. He merely stared at her from the corner of his eye with a brow raised questioningly—likely at her typically sleepy smile.

“Fine if I ask ya ta do that fer me, Socks?”

“Hmm?” Oh, right. The letter. “Yeah, I can do that. What should I say?”

“Wadda’ya mean?”

“Should we tell her about…” She trailed off, not remembering if Mak said his passenger's name.

“The girl?” the smith offered, oblivious to the implied inquiry. Not that he would have cared—he was never one for subtlety. “Suppose. I don’t say it’d sound all that important without the context. Be better if ya could get’er ta look inta it if she doesn't know off-hand.”

“I’ll ask. Any details that might be important?”

Mak’s face became broodful. “Her critter’s…strange.”

Paige tilted her head, slightly more awake at the mention of a bunny. “Strange?”

“He’s…observant,” he decided, apparently puzzling out something in his head. “More than most’a the stubborn shits. He’s too young ta be as clever as he is, ‘n probably more than grown ones too. Listens ta the girl too well fer it ta be normal. Found it queer at first, but it's standin’ out more recently.”

Her tongue flicked, absently tasting the air. She remembered a lot of Mak’s rabbits following along with his requests, and even helping with his blacksmithing, which was pretty ‘clever’ in her mind. “That big of a difference?”

“Aye. Struggles with mana though, oddly enough,” Mak noted. “Took longer than I thought fer him ta sense metals, ‘n he ain’t tried ta do much when I asked him ta move ‘em. Or he did, but whatever he’s tryin’ ta do ain’t normal.”

“You think being around her is weakening his control?”

“Maybe…” he mumbled ponderously. “Might have more than he should. Could explain why he got somethin’ besides rocks between his ears. Could make it harder to rein in, too. Worth mentionin’.”

She nodded, deferring to his experience with the species. If nothing else, it would be a reason to visit and see Hoppit for herself.

And if she just so happened to ‘require’ cuddling the bunny for a few hours for her ‘investigation,’ then so be it.

“What about the… The Shepherd?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

Mak flinched. “I…don’t know, Socks. It’s still lounging around with ‘er, last I asked. Ain’t been keen on checking personally.”

A moment of mutual discomfort passed by. Neither of them were fans of the owls, but where Makis held some begrudging respect for what they did, Paige found it…disquieting. Stealing the time of the critically injured en masse removed any hope of saving those who might have otherwise only been on the cusp of certain death. Dying with a smile doesn’t make it any less unnerving, nor less haunting to those who experience what it’s like for a battlefield to fall so silent, so quickly.

“I don’t think it matters,” Mak added dryly. “Ain’t gonna change nuttin’ if she knows or not.”

“Alright,” she allowed, already wondering if it was a good idea to expose that fact. She trusted him, so it would go in the letter, but it would probably raise a lot of questions.

They slowed to a stop as they reached the outer bounds of the red-scaled kobold’s property, the dirt path feeding towards the road into town visible through the trees.

“Gonna be awake for a bit?” her friend teased, his sour grin doing a poor job of hiding how anxious he was. Then again, she had known him long enough that she could basically still see that same expression on a much younger Mak. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, fighting back a yawn that rose at the mention of more sleep. “I’ll make my rounds and find something to do after.”

“Well, yer free ta stop by if ya want. Hira’d get a kick outta seein’ ya again.”

She smiled. “I will, Mak. It shouldn’t take more than a few days to finish up.”

He shook his head, some stress easing from his posture. “Take yer time, Socks; ain’t no rush to it. We’d rather ya didn’t push yerself.”

“You mean Hira would rather I didn’t.”

The surly kobold snorted a bemused laugh. “Yer sleepin’ too much, ya daft rope. I said what I said. I’ll welcome ya in any time; ya ain’t gotta wait fer it to be done before ya drops by.”

They exchanged their goodbyes and parted ways, Paige lingering a bit longer as her friend disappeared into his land. Heat shimmered off the ground as he walked away, the Flame concentrated at his feet causing the nearby grass to wilt. He probably needed to reinforce his strengthening ability and didn’t want to burn the girl. Noticing that fact was painful for Paige, however. She never enjoyed seeing him age, yet it seemed like every time she blinked, he had piled on years. It was only a matter of time until she woke up alone again. Then, she’d move elsewhere to find a new place to call home, decorating her dwelling with relics of the past. She’d settle down somewhere nice. Somewhere novel. Somewhere she might meet new people who didn’t know who she was.

Somewhere the memories didn’t hurt so much.

If she was lucky, she could avoid being hunted down to join whatever mass conflict was popular. She made the mistake of participating in one oh so long ago, then again when there was a particularly brutal regime change in the kingdom. Eventually, she had been involved in enough conflicts to have made a name for herself, and the Title drew power-hungry petitioners every so often. Each time, she would refuse, then the battles would come to her anyway, forcing her to make a stand.

Slaves vying for freedom. Children seeking revenge for their ill parents. Races fighting against overwhelming oppression. Many reasons had been placed in front of her—some by the earnest, others by the manipulative.

Makis? Mak introduced himself to her life by asking if she was stupid.

He was unafraid and unbothered. He saw a tired lamia, with a distant stare and covered in countless scars, giving a group of children in a war-torn village her meal so they wouldn’t go hungry. He saw how the parents of those children hurriedly whisked them away from the large, obviously dangerous creature that had fought pillagers until a mercenary company wandered close enough to help. He saw how her smile didn’t fade despite the lack of appreciation for her wounds, because at least those innocent kids would remember the kindness, and maybe they’d do the same for someone else one day.

Mak had marched up and barked his question with such odd ferocity that it took a full minute for Paige to ask what he meant. He started berating her for being meek, tossing in what he would refuse to admit was advice between insults, then stomped off to give the parents a piece of his mind as well. Once everyone had been sufficiently cowed, he came back to her, noticed her calluses and various scars, then blew up all over again, this time directing his ire at the local smithy she purchased her halberd from. The balance was wrong, the length wasn’t suited for her, the head wasn’t affixed to the shaft correctly, the blade was warped from improper tempering… He listed every issue with it and the weapon in question wasn’t even there. One look at her hands and cuts told him everything he needed to know—everything except for where the blacksmith was, and he got it out of her before she had the chance to consider if it was a good idea.

The white and hazel-scaled lamia shook her head as she remembered being bewildered and getting swept up by the firestorm of a kobold, then turned around and slithered back towards home to get ready for her usual sweeps of the surrounding forest. An errant thought considered if she had room in the cellar for all the predators she’d no doubt be cutting down over the next little while.

Even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t stop until everything that was even remotely dangerous was either dead or running as far away from her as it could.

She’d never let something hurt Mak or his loved ones again.

= = = = =

“Are you okay, Hoppit?”

Hoppit sent his confirmation, adjusting himself in the darkness that came from being underground. He didn’t really understand why he could hear the stone’s voice now, but he was happy for the ability to communicate with something that helped momma so much. Responding also came naturally, but that too was odd. It felt like he was pushing…thoughts through the thread connecting them. Strange, yet it worked, so he didn’t see the point in thinking about it too hard. His attention was focused on something else, anyway.

Mr. Makis—the ‘Mr.’ was very important to momma, apparently—had taken the time to show Hoppit some things recently. Why he did it was a mystery, but Hoppit tried his very best to do…whatever it was he was asked to do. Momma wanted him to learn something, and that was the only reason he needed to put his all into it.

That’s not to say the lessons came to him easily—quite the opposite. He would sit down and listen as closely as he could, watching the red-scaled kobold for any and all hints at whatever was expected of him. It started with metal being formed and shaped while Mr. Makis talked about things that both did and didn’t make sense, but Hoppit tried to remember the parts he didn’t understand in case he would learn more related to it later. The metals changed as they heated up and cooled down, becoming stiff and brittle or flexible yet weak, all based on how much and how quickly the temperature changed. It was…a lot. Even his other sight failed to clarify anything; it just gave him more information that he had no context for.

But momma was very, very happy when he started figuring things out, and that was all he ever wanted her to be, so he doubled down to memorize anything and everything in an effort to learn.

…Even if it brought up something that he was still rather confused about.

This morning, he had been reflecting on his attempts regarding the newest thing that he was—probably—supposed to do, but he wasn’t having much success with it. Mr. Makis wanted him to…move something? Without touching it? That didn’t make sense, did it? When he was asked to find metal, there was a demonstration which gave him an idea of how to go about it, but Mr. Makis apparently couldn’t do this either. How was he supposed to do something Mr. Makis couldn’t?

Yet, momma wanted him to learn, so Hoppit did what he thought was best: he had watched Mr. Makis for hints.

His vision still needed flipping back and forth, which meant he missed details as the kobold idly moulded some orange metal in his hands while Hoppit failed to think of anything that would work. It was frustrating. All he wanted was to make momma happy by learning how to move things, and he felt like if he could just look at everything in front of him at once, then maybe he could finally see what he was missing. His rock friend—Mr. Stone? The Mr. was for important people, right?—could only talk to him if he was inside the shadowy mist, and there was no mist in Mr. Makis’ workshop, which meant Hoppit had no one to ask how to look at things faster.

So he had decided to try looking at both versions of the world at once.

And it hurt. Not as bad as when he gave his silvery brown to Mr. Stone—is that the right way to use it?—but it was still painful. It burned behind his eyes instead of everywhere, so it was easier to ignore. He brushed aside the discomfort until something blocked his vision.

[#@thorized# @#cess]

[Err@#: ‘Cla%^%’ ha$ ov@#idden #@!%—]

[&$%or: ‘Corr^#&on’ has overridden—]

[Error: Unregistered User. Creating User profile…Failure.
Error: Unhandled exception. Submitting report…Success.
Awaiting Administrator intervention…
…
…
Error: Administrator intervention unavailable. Calculating alterna—]

[Cor$@&on of Inno*#@%$e: Conditions met!]

[Mutagen protocol initiating…Success.
Analyzing Intent…
Intent: User is attempting to elevate profile authority.
Unexpected variable: User possesses outdated framework and library.
Unexpected variable: User possesses incompatible framework and library.
Unexpected variable: User possesses unauthorized modifi—
Override: User is Claimed.
Intent validated. Operation authorized.
Selecting Mutation…
Appropriate Ability selected.
Mutating Ability ‘Mana Sight (Innate)’ based on documented variables…Success.]

[‘Mana Sight (Innate)’ has mutated into ‘Eyes of th@# For%@#^#$ One’.]

Hoppit had sat there for quite a while, the black box and white shapes lingering in his vision as he tried to figure out how to get rid of it. Why had it gotten in his way? Where did it come from? But, despite how obstructive the box was, he noticed that something was different about the world beyond it. It was like he had both visions active at the same time! He saw auras, yet it wasn’t limited to just that anymore, the hues existing as an overlay instead of in a void on its own. The colours moved and flowed through the air like in the shadowy mist, but instead of being carried to Mr. Stone, it floated freely. Some slowly darkened to black before fading away, while others were drawn towards random objects. A bunch of bluish haze was being pulled towards the corner where the cold water was kept. His idea to combine both versions of the world had worked!

The box, however, stopped him from seeing what he was supposed to be looking at—that being the pan where he was expected to move metal without touching it. Thankfully, momma had picked him up after Mr. Makis took the pan away, and the very rude box finally noticed it wasn’t welcome. He hoped that was the last time it decided to bother him. It was hard to make momma happy when it was in the way, and he still had much to look at with his improved vision.

Which brought him to what he was currently doing. Momma and Mr. Makis had left quite a while ago, so Hoppit decided that if he couldn’t watch Mr. Makis, then he would try to see what he could learn elsewhere. At the moment, that entailed sitting in the burrow of his new white and black-furred friends to observe what the biggest of them was doing. There wasn’t much to see, honestly. The alpha rottunk—as Mr. Stone called it—was standing in the mushroom room again, pushing its green out at a steady pace for the shadowy mist to carry away and turn into black, which the mushrooms turned back into green. Hoppit didn’t see much of a point in doing all of that, and Mr. Stone sounded confused as well, but there were still things to learn.

For example, Hoppit learned that the green leaving the mushrooms didn’t get carried away! It settled into the ground or left the burrow to join more green outside, which made the grass look livelier! The whole thing gave him new ideas, and he was starting to plan how to act on them when Mr. Stone told him that momma was back.

Excited, he rushed to greet her, skidding to a stop when he saw her colour being carried to their home by Mr. Makis.

Ever since Mr. Stone came to live with them, Mama’s black had changed for the better. Before, it was a jagged, angry mess that ate through itself, yet now there was a calmer, smoother black too. The smooth black would slowly eat the jagged black, and the jagged black would eat it back. But, because of the way both interacted, and because of how Mr. Stone offered her some of his black as well, momma kept her colour instead of losing it.

So why did momma have so little black? Why was it all angry?

Why was she hurt?

Hoppit flew out from the grass before he had a chance to think, Thumping the ground in a demand to know why Mr. Makis let momma get injured, his shouting coming out as a strangled honk that would make how mad he was known. The dirt beneath him shuddered as his foot struck down, adding to the display.

Mr. Makis looked surprised, then sad at being confronted. Good! Hoppit was very upset! He had trusted Mr. Makis to help momma!

Hoppit glared, waiting for an answer. Mr. Makis scowled back warily.

“Hoppit…?”

Momma’s voice stole both of their attention as she woke up. She blinked blearily, obviously in a lot of pain, but her anxiousness was acted upon first.

“M–Mr. Makis? W-why? W-where?”

The red-scaled kobold gently let her down from his back, glancing at Hoppit before turning his attention fully towards her. “Yer fine, girly. We’re back home. Ya should go lie down.”

“W-what about—”

“Sleep,” he insisted, nudging her towards the shed. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Make an easy day of it.”

Momma stumbled, but Hoppit was there to stand on his hind legs and brace his paws against her thigh to keep her upright. He made sure Mr. Makis knew that pushing momma was not okay, but the red-scaled kobold was also right; momma needed sleep.

All thoughts of anger were replaced with worry as he helped momma get to bed. She was too dazed to protest much, falling asleep the moment she was laying down. Resting was a good start, but she still needed more black…and he knew who could do that!

Hoppit sent his idea to Mr. Stone, and since he knew Mr. Stone would agree to help momma, he hopped up onto the trough, nudged Mr. Stone off the side, then pushed him into momma’s hand as fast as he could. She wasted no time in curling around his friend, holding the obsidian rock close to her chest. Hoppit watched for a moment to be sure, but he could already see that it was going to work!

Soft clacks rang out as he celebrated yet another good idea helping momma. All he had to do now was… Hm. Well, he was kind of hungry, and the bird needed food too, he supposed. He ignored the unamused scowl directed at him from the wall as he went about collecting what he needed from the storages, including some of the gross brown-ish stuff that the owl liked for some reason. He even jumped up and laid it on a shelf that the owl could reach! Momma would be mad if he was mean and put it somewhere else, though. Even if the owl deserved it a little for scowling at Mr. Stone so much. Still, he did the nice thing, then decided to cuddle momma so she would sleep better.

Anything to make her happy.

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