The morning came with the steady hush of Aelora’s twin suns warming the dew off the windows, spilling golden light through the front of the Morrow’s Hollow Hotel. The lobby smelled of citrus cleaner and freshly baked bread—because Virelya insisted on doing both before seven. Her footsteps padded quietly across the tile as she adjusted the position of a floral arrangement on the counter. Something simple and fresh, wild stems from the market.
“Better.” She spoke to no one in particular, but there was comfort in the ritual of her voice filling the space. The hotel was quiet, guests still tucked away or off doing whatever it was that early birds did on a planet like this.
Behind the front desk, she settled onto the tall stool, large fingers already flipping through the digital ledger. A few check-ins later in the day. Nothing complicated. She tapped through room service notes, her expression calm but alert. Organized. Motherly, in that sweeping way she had—efficient with a side of dry wit if anyone dared interrupt her before coffee.
With no Blue clattering around to make her fuss, and no customers yet rattling the walls, Virelya hummed quietly under her breath. A slow, old tune. Her voice, though low, had that strange melodic echo—something native to the Saerathe. It carried through the lobby like water down stone.
“Mmhm. Sun’s up. No one dead. That’s a win.” She chuckled at herself and reached for her mug. The one with a faded star chart on the side and a crack near the handle that Blue had tried to fix three times before giving up and declaring it “part of its character.”
Then came the bell—front door opening. She didn’t look up right away.
“If you’re here for the kitchen, it’s self-serve ’til nine. If you’re here to complain, you’re not awake enough yet.” A beat. She looked up. Smiled slow. “And if you’re just here to chat… well, I’ve got coffee and a listening ear, as always.” And just like that, Virelya’s morning moved forward. Predictable. Simple. Exactly how she liked it before the day got strange again.
Joslyn took to he morning far slower than she would have liked. A long drawn out magical battle with a demon then jumping through space into another realm…? That apparently was taxing on the body and the mind. Upon awakening, the proof was immediate in the way her muscles ached and she just didn’t want to move. That fuzzy buzzing was still in her head – all too aware of the electrical currents running through walls, under feet, overhead. Eventually she would grow accustomed to the way this realm vibrated, for now it was a constant almost exhausting thing there in the back of her mind.
Another gloriously hot shower was taken advantage of and Joslyn redressed in the peachypink dress from yesterday as it was plenty clean enough and her things had yet to be mended. A new list was already being formed in her head – a wardrobe. A traveling trunk to store that wardrobe. Not only was she starting anew in her education, she was starting new with belongings as well. Funnily enough, not the first time she had done so but here in this realm she was not going to be able to get away with just claiming she was of noble blood and expecting all to cater to her.
As long as it was the right job for her, she would not mind working.
First thing’s first, a woman needed to be well fed else she would not have the energy to focus!
So out the room she went and into the metal moving box that she very much DID NOT like, for Joslyn could not help but imagine all the ways one could get trapped inside and fall to their deaths. Happy to escape it on the bottom floor, where she stepped out into the lobby with the air of someone who was well used to being the most important person in the room. Having not a single issue at all with accessing the place with fresh eyes this morning, and taking an educated guess by scent along that breakfast was a service of this particular inn.
“Good morning, Madam Virelya, Mother of Beyon!” she greeted boldly and without hesitation. There was no shyness in this tiny woman, or even the slightest hint of hesitation, despite bein thrown into an unfamiliar world and having no idea of what she would do beyond the means of breakfast.
Virelya’s stride was smooth, confident, but always unhurried. She was never one to rush unless someone was bleeding—or on fire—and even then, she might stop for a coffee on the way. The laugh she gave as Joslyn entered the lobby, all titles and dramatics and ethereal energy, was bright and full of good humour. That sort of good-natured warmth that only a woman secure in herself could wield without it feeling like a bite.
Her head tilted, the silvery ridges that crowned her brow catching the sunlight from the windows. “Virelya is just fine, Joslyn,” she repeated, lips curving with amusement. “Keep calling me ‘Mother of the Beyon’ like that and folks’ll start expecting me to wear a sash and host galas. I already chase dust bunnies in my slippers, let’s not complicate my morning image.”
She gave a courteous glance to the guest she’d been assisting, gesturing wordlessly toward the breakfast nook with a patient little nod that only a seasoned hostess could pull off with such grace. Then, turning back to Joslyn, she gave a beckoning gesture and started toward the hallway that led behind the desk—inviting her along.
“Come on then, sprightling,” she said affectionately. “Let’s show you how the place wakes up.”
At the question of sleep, her gaze flicked over the young mage’s features, reading more than just the surface. Not for intrusion’s sake—Virelya didn’t pry unless something was truly amiss—but just enough to check for fatigue, restlessness, or the telltale signs of someone who’d spent half the night arguing with the ceiling.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked aloud this time, glancing at Joslyn’s feet to check if she was favouring them or walking like someone who wasn’t used to so many stairs. “The dress looks great on you, by the way. Perfect choice. Comfortable enough? Not too scratchy? Some of those fabrics like to pretend they’re elegant but behave like burlap on the ribs.” Her grin softened some. “I can tailor anything you like if it doesn’t feel right. Or conjure a riot in the laundry room, whichever suits your mood.”
Joslyn could easily imagine Verilya hosting galas and all sorts of magical affairs, seeing as she appeared to be best suited for grand palaces and temples as such an ivory goddess, but that needed no commentary. Content to just follow along and see what the routine of a place like this truly was, so she herself could build her own.
“It is always difficult to adjust to a new place and unfamiliar beds, but it was not uncomfortable.” The statement was followed up by an immediate smile the compliment of chosen garments. She might have even given a demonstrative twirl if that weren’t such a silly and childish thing for a proper lady to be doing. “Thank you. It’s lighter than what I typically wear. Well suited for the climate, though, and it matches the clouds here so it amused me.”
Conjure a riot in the laundry room, though? That drew a peculiar look from her simply by means of what she was imagining for the conjure, soon to draw out another of those whimsically wicked mysterious smiles that she did not have the decency to explain whatsoever.
“All I truly need is my original set of clothing to be washed and mended, although I may hold onto this dress for awhile longer until I can purchase the means of a proper lady’s wardrobe. Beyon suggested that I ask you to introduce me to Celes Anivare – he seems to have a great admiration and affection for her – as she works at the library and a job there would be brilliantly suited for once such as myself, along with being greatly useful to me and my mission. A way to kill two birds with on stone, as it were.”
Leading Joslyn through the wide passage toward the breakfast nook, Virelya’s stride was easy and familiar, her tone light but laced with care. “I’d hold on to those robes of yours, darling,” she murmured with a glance over the young woman’s shoulder, as though checking for hidden eyes just out of sight. “Unless, of course, you’d like to make an even bigger impression and risk alerting anyone—or anything—that might be sniffing along your trail. That soul of impending doom you’re chasing? No guarantee it hasn’t caught wind of you already. Best not to wear a beacon.”
Her bright grin followed the comment, softened further by the hint of amusement when Joslyn gestured toward her dress—ethereal and pale like a pink cloud—and called attention to its whimsical match with the morning sky.
As they entered the breakfast space, Virelya offered a wave to one of the regulars, already settled in and nibbling at a plate beside the long, low windows. The nook itself was charming and modest, lined with pale glass panels that shimmered faintly with soft light, illuminating the elegant spread of morning fare.
She chuckled knowingly at the mention of Blue and Celes—especially at the idea of introducing the inquisitive mage to the relentless scholar. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect her son of scheming. “Oh, I know Celes well. It’s only natural Blue would bring her up. They’ve been inseparable since she decided he was hers—claimed him like a stray she found on the edge of some grand idea. Thick as thieves, those two.” She tilted her head toward the counter lined with warm dishes. “I’ve had to hose them both off more times than I can count. Always elbow-deep in bogs or crawling through burrows, convinced they’d find a mud spirit or some other nonsense.”
With a flick of her hand, she motioned to the plates stacked neatly nearby. “Go ahead, pick one. No shame in second helpings either.”
The breakfast offerings were unmistakably Hollow fare—regional, comforting, and just a bit odd in the most delightful ways. Thick-sliced multigrain speltbread toasted to golden edges, layered with selenfruit compote—sharp and floral—and a creamy smear of moonmilk butter, tangy and smooth with a citrus kiss.
Near it sat a large bowl of creamy porridge—nutty and fragrant—served two ways: one sweetened with golden honeyfold syrup and candied seeds, the other peppered with morning root and crushed emberbark for those who preferred spice with their sunrise.
And of course, the ever-popular fire-root rolls, still warm from the oven, their spirals dark with charseed paste, rich and smoky. They steamed when peeled apart and paired beautifully with the cool cucumber foam on tap beside the dispenser of herbal broth.
Virelya grabbed a roll for herself, plate in hand, and turned back to Joslyn. “She’s due back from her scavenger trip in a few days—last I heard from her father, anyway. The library will reopen when she does, and I imagine she’d be delighted to have someone like you poking around the archives.” Her smile widened knowingly. “I see exactly why Blue thought you two should meet. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was matchmaking minds.”
Her robes as a beacon…? That gave Joslyn a moment of pause and something new to consider. Visually she doubted the creature would know the difference between her robes and the clothing presented in this realm. Then again… how much was really known about the beast beyond it being so massively huge and eating up whatever beings it could pick up and stuff into it’s mouth? The physicality, maybe even the scent could be a problem. Washing them would help for certain, but there was no telling if her items vibrated with the frequency of her world or if there were some other sort of marker that would set them apart.
Of course, she also had her talisman and herself that’d surely make her stand out. Yet Joslyn could not argue that it might be better safe than sorry.
So then she would need to borrow a second set of clothing for alternating with until she could purchase her own.
At Virelya’s beckoning, Joslyn didn’t hesitate to claim a plate and gladly grab a little bit of this and a little bit of that, hoping to taste as many things as she could while in this specific world to absorb their local culture. Unafraid to test her palette with most things so long as they didn’t look to still be alive or overly slimy.
And as always, she listened with due attention about this Celes and her relationship with Beyon Blue. Confirming all the more that they were lovers meant to be! What young girl just claims a boy as her own if she didn’t also have such a strong affection for him? Developed at such a young age too – young love was a lovely ad precious thing. Naturally, Joslyn had never such opportunities herself with the way things had been in her life. But such stories of youthful strong friendships developing into a romantic love later in life were so common.
“A few days is going to feel like a dreadfully long time when there is so much I need to acquire and so much I need to learn. I may need to find a temporary job, then. Something simple I can do without much trouble. In jest I thought of making a spectacle of myself running wild a naked for a good show, but truly I’d rather not draw so much attention if I can help it. I’d like to blend in, not become the next sensation.”
If Virelya had any sense that Joslyn was plotting a romantic tale for her son and the endlessly curious Celes—one of those grand, sweeping narratives where childhood companions inevitably fall in love—she might’ve laughed so hard she’d drop her breakfast roll. And then, once she’d wiped her hands, she’d politely inform the young mage that many had tried before her. Tried to nudge, to scheme, to narrate their own version of what they thought they saw between Blue and Celes.
And every single one had failed.
Because there was a reason those two hadn’t crossed that line. A good one. And it likely had something to do with the fact that Blue, when genuinely pushed to a place he disliked, didn’t get flustered—he got sharp. With eyes like glacier glass and a quiet, forceful patience that made it abundantly clear that being soft-spoken didn’t mean he couldn’t sever a sentiment with precision.
But that was for Joslyn to discover—or not—on her own.
“There’s always something to be done around here,” Virelya went on, breaking her fire-root roll in half and using it to gesture lazily. “Laundry. Cleaning. Greeting the early birds who want second breakfast before noon.” A glint of humour in her gaze. “And if you’re one who likes to eavesdrop on life, this place is a gem. People love to talk when they think no one important listening.”
She took a bite, chewed, and waved vaguely toward the windows with the half of her roll. “Or, take the day and wander. See the town proper. You’ll learn as much from the cobblestones as you will from a datapad. Scenery, people, rhythm. Let it soak in.”
Her smile softened again, earnest and encouraging. “You’ve got time. Don’t rush your next chapter, dear. That’s how you miss the good parts.”
Joslyn settled herself easily into the nice little seat near the window, with a plate that was likely piled with far too many little bites of things and rolls. Without an ounce of regret, as she’d surely eat all of it without complaint. Wrinkling her nose at the sounds of doing laundry. Cleaning. A tilt of her head quietly considering the means of greeting guests as a friendly face.
Circling back to cleaning again when Virelya suggested Joslyn could wander at a casual pace, soaking in the culture and ambience. Joslyn had her fill of that last night in a simple walk.
“I have… difficulties with being idle for too long,” she confessed, already taking a bite of one of the porridges with a pleased sound and following it up with a peel of a bread roll. “If I do not keep myself engaged directly with something, I’m liable to start chittering about getting my hands in places I shouldn’t. I had a small walk about last night and it was quite lovely, but I had already started to think of how I could wiggle myself into a library window without anyone noticing and for once I would like to avoid having a reputation.”
That ‘for once’ was just as weighted as the ‘reputation’. Not that she was cleaning on doing something like cleaning, as that was going to come with it’s own in and outs of getting her in trouble, but surely less so than out in public!
“I would like to rush my way through everything too, so truly, I think it would do me good to stay here and be of use within your establishment. Learning to do simple daily tasks and listening to the vocabulary that goes along with it should be a nice practical start to learning. Give me a room to clean and it shall be done to perfection by day’s end.”
That may have just been an ominous statement from one who liked to do things precisely and accurately with great detail.
Virelya’s eyebrows had done most of the work when Joslyn so casually declared her aversion to idleness—an expression somewhere between bemusement and resignation. As if she’d just solved a puzzle she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to finish.
“Ah. So you’re a Type A.” She waved a hand, letting her fingers unfurl like she was opening a scroll of personality traits. “Impatient. Ambitious. Organized. Controlling. Just a touch of aggression for flavour. Yes, yes, I see it now.” Her voice wasn’t pitiless, but it certainly carried a dry twist of humour. “The sort that chews on their own tongue if the world doesn’t keep up. I’ll bet you’ve been surrounded by people who either fall in line… or fall away.”
She popped another piece of roll into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and offered a breezy greeting to a passing guest without missing a beat.
Then came the moment. Joslyn’s throwaway comment about “getting into” the library—a phrase meant lightly, no doubt, but oh so ill-chosen. Virelya’s eyes sharpened instantly, and her smile faded into something far more serious. Not hostile. But very clear. “I would strongly recommend against breaking into anything in this town,” she said with a velvet tone laced with iron. “Especially the library. If Celes finds out, and she would, you’d find yourself on the sharp end of a very cold shoulder—and that’s the nicest thing that would happen.”
There was given a lengthy pause to ensure it was understood.
“More than a few townsfolk would turn against you. Quickly. And word would spread. You do not want that reputation following you, Joslyn—not here, not anywhere in Charter space. You’ll be labelled, tracked, and blacklisted faster than you can charm your way into another hotel.”
Once that warning was left to sit where it needed, Virelya exhaled and took a longer sip from her tea. The soft clink of ceramic against table broke the tension as she resumed her usual dry amusement. “Let’s be clear—you’re obviously brilliant. But brilliance doesn’t replace wisdom. And rushing through everything you think you can control won’t make the universe bend any faster.”
Her eyes flicked back to Joslyn’s face, this time with a shade of genuine concern. “You’re what? Early twenties? Mid? If you keep up that tempo, you’ll hit forty with a heart dry as bone and a list of things you never actually enjoyed.”
A beat. “Now then,” she said, lifting her brows, “I can keep you busy. But first—try not to clench your jaw at this—I recommend relaxing. Just a little. Loosen the spine. People open up more to kindness than they do to pressure. And in this business, you’ll learn more from casual honesty than a thousand forced interviews.”
Type A? Joslyn did not know there were categories for persons! Curious enough to listen to this list given off of traits in quick succession and– well. There was little she could argue with there, could she? A quick and studious assessment, even if it was not the whole of her. She was in fact all of those things, down to being an aggressive little minx if she had to be. Others did in fact fall in line or get out of the way.
…most just lept out of the way. Ran even.
A quick shift of expression and tone, however, had Joslyn straightening in her seat. Being on the receiving end of quite the sharp statements of warning. There in that moment one could easily see the truth of her noble blood, the way those seaglass eyes were looking the woman up and down with this calculating perusal as if deciding whether or not she’d had her sensibilities offended or needed to squash someone down underfoot. How she might just be all kinds of trouble to someone she did not care for or respect.
Yet just as quick the calculation turned thoughtful and that posture shifted back to something softer. Proving in an instant that might be a little fussy minx, but she wasn’t quick to snap or brush off a warning given. Prideful and certainly full of attitude, but not one to brush off advice simply to be spiteful.
“I shall behave. I surely do not mean to do anything nefarious or actually disrespectful. Never that.” she promised with all genuine earnest. Even if it immediately was followed with that wrinkle of her nose to be called out on her age and the fact she took to doing things at the speed of a stampede. That she needed to relax.
“…I’m not certain I have ever relaxed in my entire life. There was not space for it. Nor time. And I truly do mean it when I say I worry what I will do when I have nothing to do!” Even the mere thought of sitting still somewhere had her pausing before a bite giving this forlorn thousand yard stare into nowhere. What was she to do? Sit with her own thoughts? It sounded like agony!
Virelya lifted one brow as she picked up a cup to start making some tea, expression unreadable but clearly unimpressed by the firebrand’s relentless need to go. When Joslyn reaffirmed her intention not to get into trouble, the Saerathe simply nodded once, measured and calm. “Good,” she echoed. Then, after a beat, she added dryly, “But accidents happen. Even with the best intentions. Don’t get too comfortable thinking you’re the sharpest blade in the drawer.” She lifted her hand then, fingers flicking in the air as if wiping the statement clean. “That’s all I’ll say on it. Take the warning as wisdom or leave it, dear. Your nose, your bruises.”
With that, she leaned against the edge of the counter, watching Joslyn with a mix of curiosity and faint amusement as the girl bristled visibly at the mere suggestion of relaxation. She gave a light laugh, full-bodied but not mocking. “Oh, child. I didn’t say lie in the middle of the lobby and stare at the ceiling until enlightenment finds you.” Her smile curved wryly. “Relaxing isn’t the same as rotting. I mean take time for the self in ways that don’t earn a medal. Read a book with no expectation. Cook something not because it’s needed, but because it smells nice. Grow a plant. Learn an instrument and be bad at it.”
She tapped her temple lightly, “It’s good for the mind to be good to the body. And if you’re always sprinting, you’ll never see the forest you’re tearing through. There’s balance, Joslyn. Even for storm-born souls like you.”
Virelya smiled, the edge of her grin touched with the kind of patience that came from seeing too many young fires burn themselves out too quickly. She swirled her hand once through the air, before tipping her chin toward Joslyn. “Stone by stone, they built Atressa from swamp and storm—took them two centuries and seven floods to get the roads right,” she said, voice dry with humour. “And that was just for a place to park the fruit carts.”
Her brow lifted gently, knowingly. “A new life’s no quicker. Don’t expect it to grow in a night like fairfire moss. You’ve got to tend it, Joslyn.” A pause, then a warmer smile. “And that starts with breakfast. When you’re ready to do some work, I’ll be at the front desk.”
Virelya may have well as told the wind to stop blustering with the expression that unfolded on the young woman’s face. She’d basically told Joslyn that she needed hobbies, and that was a one way ticket to obsession-city. For first Joslyn would want to know all about the hobby, then she’d start the means of practicing, then it would be hours upon hours of trial and error to get it right. Because she was not content to just dabble in a thing, she wanted to do it well. Do it right. Perfect it. Then she felt satisfied enough to move on to the next thing.
She did nod at least to affirm that she’d see the ivory should-be goddess at the front desk when she was done with her breakfast.
A breakfast she stared at with a frown once she was alone, left to ponder those words. Cooking for fun and being bad at it? Sounded like a fast way to poison yourself! She popped a small piece of fruit in her mouth with a huff. Grow plants? That at least had some long term value. Only, once she was done with studying here she intended to be traveling the stars.
Maybe an instrument. If it were a small one, she could bring it with her to practice with. Except she really wasn’t sure she was interested enough in music to actually play it. Listening was nice, but playing it? That sounded dreadfully boring. And painful to the ears.
…did Joslyn even HAVE interests that weren’t about studying? Had she ever just read a book that was nothing more than a simple fictional story? Just a throw away novel of make believe with no educational intent? She couldn’t even think of a single one!
That was it then. She couldn’t perfect reading, nor win at it. Joslyn knew she enjoyed reading, therefore, her relaxing new hobby was going to be… reading non-educational material.
Satisfied that she’d solved this problem, she tackled her breakfast with a fresh enthusiasm. Sampling each and every item that she’d piled on her plate, or rather, devoured it all gladly with having nothing of note to complain about. She’d likely not bother with the porridge again as it wasn’t texturally pleasing even if it tasted lovely. The bread and sweets? Every bit divine and worth going back for seconds. Making sure to wash it all down with a nice hot drink so she was pleasantly satiated to go along with that accomplishment of knowing what to do with her day.
Once she’d washed up her hands she appeared at the front desk, a gliding cloud of pink and barely contained preening.
“I have decided I am going to read books as my entertainment!” she announced to Virelya and the entire front lobby. “Books of absolutely no educational value. Fiction. Perhaps about pirates. I will accept recommendations. Oh, and I am ready to work now. I will work first and do my hobbies in the evening.”
Virelya didn’t so much as blink at the proclamation that echoed through the front lobby—gods forbid anyone enter with a headache at that exact moment. She finished handing over a room key to a half-asleep businessman with a polite nod, the crisp thwack of the ledger closing punctuating the silence that followed Joslyn’s declaration like the final note in a sermon.
Her glowing cyan eyes slid toward the mage, the corners of her lips twitching with visible restraint. She took in the scene: Joslyn, standing there with the poise of a queen about to sign a treaty, proudly announcing her intent to indulge in books as if they were forbidden fruit.
“Well now,” Virelya said, voice a smooth blend of amusement and counsel, “If that wasn’t the most delightfully robotic thing I’ve ever heard. ‘I will read books. I will accept recommendations. I will work now. Beep.’” She made the faintest boop sound at the end, tapping one finger to her temple with a grin. “Stars above, you sound like a helper unit fresh out of calibration.” She didn’t say it unkindly—her tone was rich with mirth, not mockery—but it was impossible not to point out the clockwork rhythm Joslyn had rattled off like an overclocked scheduler.
Still smiling, Virelya pushed away from the counter with the kind of grace that came with height, history, and the practiced power of being in charge. Her long fingers waved vaguely toward the bookshelves lining the far wall of the lobby, tucked beside the cozy seating nook.
“If it’s pirates you’re after, The Saltborne Vow should scratch the itch. Absolute drivel. Full of sweaty duels, smouldering eye contact, and enough betrayal to sink three marriages. I keep a copy stashed behind the tea cabinet for slow evenings and emotional damage.”
She gestured for Joslyn to follow, heading down a side corridor with the confident stride of someone who had walked these halls long enough to do so with her eyes closed. “But, since you’re eager to be put to use—bless your little task-oriented heart—we’ll start simple. Linen closets in the guest wing are due for a tidy. Clean stock needs sorting, old stock folded. No monsters hiding in the laundry bins, but if you’re lucky, you might face off with a territorial dust bunny or two.”
One glowing eye winked over her shoulder as she reached for the supply room’s keypad. “And if you survive that battle, I’ll teach you how to properly fold a triple-crease comforter. A sacred rite among hotel folk.”
“I have no idea what a robotic is and I have a feeling I should be insulted,” she responded slowly, almost demurely, though without any true hint of actually being insulted. Perhaps a little amused herself at this pantomime the woman was making, for Joslyn supposed it was indeed a strange thing to come announcing that she was going to schedule a task for relaxing.
Her seaglass green eyes followed the wiggle of fingers towards the wall lined with bookshelves. Ah. Free books of fiction for the taking provided for guests at their leisure! A mini library was indeed a wonderful thing to have as a service. The Saltborne Vow was put into her mind to pluck up later, although a little concerned at it being called drivel. And the description.
It was silly to be afraid of a book. It’d be fine.
She followed on Virelya’s heels, checking off the tasks given to her. Linen closets to be tidied, sort the clean stock, fold the old stock – she had no idea which was which so she supposed she was soon to find out – deal with dust bunnies. Likely not meant as literal ones, as that would surely make for a much more complicated task of capturing rabbits. Or frying them. …she wasn’t sure she had the callous heart to fry a rabbit, even a dust one.
“I can do these things,” she affirmed… mostly sure of herself. It was manual labor, but didn’t seemed to be anything too strenuous besides. Boring and dirty at worst, she could handle that.
“Do you think Beyon will come here for dinner again?” she asked, just out of curiosity. He’d not come for breakfast, but she supposed he was a grown man who no longer lived with his parent. In fact, for all she knew, he might have already left this world to return his job.
Virelya’s eyes shimmered faintly, that glowing cyan brightening just enough to reflect her amusement—and her unfiltered honesty. “It’s not a compliment, dear,” she said flatly, tone warm but matter-of-fact. “Being a robot implies you’re running off someone else’s code. That your choices aren’t your own unless they’re pre-approved by a system of external rules. And no matter how clean your protocols are, that’s hardly the mark of someone thinking for themselves.”
She lifted a brow as they turned the corner, heels soft on the tile, voice still casual. “You’ll see one soon enough. Real robots. Made of wire and plating. Some shaped like people, most not. Some can speak, some only flash lights and hum. But every one of them obeys their programming. They don’t ask why, they don’t stray. They do what they’re told.”
With a motion of hand, she keyed open a supply door with a faint hiss, letting the clean scent of sterilized linen and ambient lavender seep into the hall.
“You’re not like them, are you?” she asked, casting a glance over her shoulder. “You’re chaos wrapped in lightning. Try not to sell yourself short just because the structure feels safe.”
Inside the room, she began organizing a stack of neatly folded towels—clearly rotated recently, but perfection was her standard. At Joslyn’s assertion that she could handle it all, Virelya gave a hum that could’ve been agreement or bait. “I’ve no doubt you can, darling. You’re brilliant, aren’t you?” The smile that followed wasn’t patronizing, but it was definitely cheeky.
But then Joslyn threw in a question that clearly pivoted the tone.
Blue.
Virelya turned halfway, a towel still draped in her long hands, and took a moment before answering. Not evasive—just considering her words.
“It depends,” she said finally. “Blue didn’t say he was shipping out again. Last I heard, his routes are short-haul this cycle. But even so, he sticks to his rhythm. Makes his own meals at his apartment, walks the same loops, visits the same spots.”
A knowing smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “Creature of habit, that one. Always has been.” She paused again, folding the towel with a practiced flick. “Still… he’s not hard to reach. And I’m sure, if you wanted him invited to dinner, he’d show.”
Joslyn stopped dead in her tracks, resting hands on her hips with the most serious of scowls.
“I am not a woman that just does as she is told.” A robot! Something made of metal without a single thought of it’s own? That certainly wasn’t her at all. Which, in that sudden alarm, had her going back over the conversations just to be extra sure Joslyn hadn’t bonked her head somewhere and now was just mimicking and mirroring all that was said to her.
No… she was aright. She’d not been agreeing to everything Virelya told her automatically, she was actually taking in her advice and considering best how it applied to her. Perhaps awkwardly, as she’d always been a particularly offbeat person. Single-minded. Intense. Focused.
It was that not relaxing part, wasn’t it. She was going to tackle even moments of rest with full gusto and that was not what normal everyday people did.
Well. She’d get there. Virelya said she needed to be bad at something and fail sometimes, and boy was she bad at relaxing.
Joslyn was back on her heels again, watching the way towels were meant to be folded before snatching one up to fight with. Learning quickly through mere watching and quietly admiring how softly the woman always spoke of her son.
“It’d be nice to talk to him again. I quite like him even though I always feel like the world has tilted ever so slightly off-kilter when he’s nearby,” she mused, pausing midway of trying to perfectly match corners of terrycloth ever so perfectly. “He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before.”
Virelya didn’t halt her folding, but her brow did lift with an expression that was somewhere between amused patience and a woman holding back a well-earned chuckle. Her cyan gaze slid Joslyn’s way with the sort of quiet knowing only mothers and seasoned hotel keepers ever truly mastered.
“Oh, I don’t doubt for a second that you’re not one to be ordered about,” she said, voice light but not unkind. Seemingly knowing that there was a bit of correction to be had. An adjustment so Joslyn could wrap her head around this swiftly. “That much was clear when you announced your plan to storm a demon’s path through a rift like it was just another Thursday.”
She adjusted a towel with a deft press of her palm. “But just because you don’t obey blindly doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes… function like you’re supposed to. Like you’ve mapped out what should happen, and you’re forcing the world to follow. That’s all I meant by robot. Not gears and wires. Just that… you don’t seem to leave yourself room to be. To fail a little. To fumble.”
Turning slightly, she gave Joslyn a gentler look. “You’re not mimicking, dear. You’re trying. That’s different. And awkward as it may be, trying is a very human thing. You wanted to learn about this world, I’m giving you a very forward statement about how you are coming across. Something to concern.”
She nodded to the towel Joslyn was battling. “Besides, robots don’t fight with linen.” Lips had pulled into a bemused grin. She could truly see that the girl was trying, but one could also see that Joslyn was going to tackle tasks like they were grand lectures. Battles that required specific endings and results that detailed ultimate success rather than taking things in with comprehension. Not everything needed to be perfect.
That A type personality. It was useful and destructive. Granted not so direly put either.
At the comment about Blue, however, her eyes softened entirely. There was a shift in the tall woman’s presence—not a change in volume or tone, but something quieter. More personal.
“He has that effect,” Virelya murmured. “You think you’re on stable ground until he walks in and the air just shifts. Like gravity’s learned a new song and hasn’t told anyone the steps, your just trying to keep up.”
She smoothed down a folded edge, her smile faint but present. “Most people don’t quite know what to make of him. They orbit. They admire. But few ever say they like him.” She paused a moment, “Or that they dislike him. I’ve certainly heard people make comments to me after about a grand discomfort he provides.” She didn’t blame those people. Knowing well that since Blue was someone limited by voice, reliant on telepathy, it did make people uncomfortable. Having a voice not your own inside your mind suddenly! Eidhran’s weren’t exactly known for comfort, and her child was half of one. None of this she agreed with either.
Looking at Joslyn then, she added, “You did. That’s rare.” She reached over again, gently guiding the towel Joslyn had been trying to subdue. Just a small correction, nothing patronizing.
“He’s not like anyone else. Never has been. And I think that unsettles people more than it comforts them. But he’s steady in a way most never learn how to be.” Virelya chuckled softly. “So if he’s tilted your world a little, maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe it means he’s reminding you the world doesn’t always spin in a straight line.”
Joslyn was failing to see the issue with tackling things head on, with solid plans and getting it done. She’d fail plenty in doing so, wouldn’t she? Seeing as one did need to fail to learn along the way? There was something to it then that Joslyn was missing, a piece of subtle information Virelya was trying to impress upon her with a level of patience that honestly… very few had bothered to give her. Sometimes Joslyn gave off the impression that she already knew everything and didn’t care to hear another’s perspective – she knew that. That was a fault of hers. So she was takin due care not to come off as dismissive or to argue with the woman’s words.
Just because she didn’t understand right now didn’t mean it wouldn’t click into place later.
Besides, if she were really, truly honest with herself, Joslyn quite liked this means of motherly attention. A hint, a taste, of what it might’ve been like to have a parent that actually cared. Borrowing Blue’s mother like a little wicked weasel and getting to pretend just for a few moments that she was an everyday person.
“I don’t mind the telepathy or his impressively strong aura, it was startling at first but that is what he is, that isn’t strange or to be afraid of,” she explained, working it out within her head and out loud for even Joslyn was still trying to figure out why Beyon Vayne made her feel upside down. “He is just so… nice.”
A wrinkle of her nose as that couldn’t possibly be it, was it? Joslyn finished her fold, fussing making sure the corners were aligned just right.
“He was too calm, too nice, very soft of countenance – you know even princes don’t behave that way. Certainly not when some dangerous stranger shows up and says she’s going to kill you! He really should’ve fussed at me just a little for the trouble. Not that I think he should stop being as he is, for what a lovely and rare thing for a man like that to even exist! Except now I worry what he’s going to do if actual bandits show up to raid his starship, or if he gets into trouble. And really, don’t I have enough of my own problems to even be standing here wondering what he is doing.”
Virelya’s fingers moved in a practiced rhythm, folding linen with the ease of someone who had folded a thousand before. But her eyes—those ever-watching, ever-warm cyan eyes—remained on Joslyn as she spoke.
The admission surprised her. Not because it was cruel or harsh, but because it was so clearly… honest. Vulnerable, in a way the girl likely didn’t intend. So few were willing to admit that they didn’t know what to do with kindness. That it startled them. Alarmed them, even. “That’s what unsettles you?” she finally asked, tone wrapped in gentle amusement. “That my son might be too kind for his own good?”
She didn’t mock. There was no bite to it. But there was something soft and sad in the chuckle she let out next. The kind that said she’d heard this before, and she knew what it meant. Folding another towel, she placed it neatly atop the stack before continuing.
“He’s not clueless, you know. Or fragile. He sees more than he says, hears more than he lets on. Just because he doesn’t bristle like a porcupine at every offense doesn’t mean he’s blind to them.” Her hands paused. “But it says something, doesn’t it? That you see sincerity and think it’s a liability?” Virelya tilted her head slightly, studying the younger woman without judgment. “Is it rare in your world? That kind of openness?”
Then, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, fond and fierce all at once. “He’s not soft because he’s weak, Joslyn. He’s soft because he chooses to be. Because he understands the weight of harshness, and decided he’d rather carry it than dish it out.” She resumed folding, the cloth snapping softly between her hands. Another glance, knowing now. “Maybe that’s why you noticed.”
Joslyn had probably gotten through a total of three towels compared to Virelya’s swift and practiced movements, though now that her mind was preoccupied with the mystery that was Beyon Vayne she was a little less worried about perfectly straight corners and more pondering how one silly man could keep creeping into her thoughts.
“I suppose it’s not rare,” she mused out loud, tilting her head to think about it. “I mean, not in general? For a world can’t turn without kindness in it. A vital part of hope is kindness towards others, isn’t it? And of course I have seen it and observed it it! Only, I guess it is awkward for me as it’s not my own experience?”
There was a small pause there, casting a quick examining look towards the woman was tall and kind in her own right. A mother who care about her child – an adopted child at that. Joslyn could reveal her own tumultuous history with her own parents – it happened, it was no secret – except, it felt like such a painful memory to drag back up for her. With Beyon it had been a moment of connection through a shared experience, it seemed like such a cruel thing to remind Virelya of.
“I have always had to advocate for myself,” she said instead, leaving those details out to focus instead on the times afterward. “To take care of myself. I was too young to join the Sidus Order so I had to prove I could perform at entry level. Mages in general are very competitive, what you can do I can do better sort of behaviors, so they are not in the habit of being kind and helpful to one another. Kindnesses were taken advantage of… if you volunteered yourself as a learning partner, you soon discovered yourself squeezed for every bit of knowledge you had and then stabbed in the back the second you yourself needed assistance.”
Certainly a lesson well learned for Joslyn in those early years. Though in hindsight, she could see in part how her youth had played a troubling role and those who took advantage of her inexperience. In the end, karma came back around when she’d surpassed them all, though, didn’t it!
Finally she just shrugged.
“Last night when we spoke I did admit to him that he had me unsettled and I feared maybe I hurt his feelings. I did try to tell him not to change his behaviors for the likes of someone like me. He is fine as he is, I am the one that needs to adjust. But I’m glad to know he will not let himself be trampled, I was so very worried about that.”
Ah. So the youngling beside her had known the bite of others’ opportunism. That sort of raw potential—bright and untamed—could have sparked ideas, broadened minds, shifted paradigms. But instead, it had been stripped, twisted, and wrung dry by hands that saw her not as a kindling force but a resource to burn. Until eventually, Joslyn had learned. She’d drawn the line. She’d grown wise from wounds. It was an ugly truth—common, too.
People didn’t always embrace brilliance. They took from it. Used what they could, then discarded it once it dulled beneath their weight. “That’s the cruel bit,” Virelya murmured, folding another towel with a slow, measured press. “Some folk just don’t grasp that true success—lasting success—happens together. Not through one rising while the rest are crushed beneath their boots.” Her tone was heavy with understanding. “A world doesn’t evolve because of one single person. It evolves through unity. But not everyone wants to believe that. Especially not those clawing to the top like there’s only room for one.”
Her eyes slid toward Joslyn, but the look held no judgment. Only quiet knowing. “Well,” she continued, “lucky for you, dear. You leapt that rift with all the weight of that past pressing into your back—and now you’ve landed somewhere that just might give you the chance to outpace those old ghosts. Learn in ways those others back home never could.”
She paused long enough to pat another neatly stacked fold into place, letting the silence breathe before her voice softened again. A little smile ghosted her lips when Joslyn mentioned being honest with Blue. That she’d told him his presence set her on edge. Virelya knew her son, after all. Knew him well.
He wouldn’t change himself for anyone. Not overtly. But he’d step back. Quietly. Kindly. Without resentment or drama. He would simply adjust his orbit so as not to impose. A gesture so deeply ingrained in him, it was more instinct than intent. He never forced himself on anyone—not even emotionally.
And so this, Virelya knew, might’ve been the last time Blue made himself available if he sensed she was uncomfortable. Doubly so sine he was told that he made someone uncomfortable. “He wouldn’t stop being kind,” she said gently, “But he might stop being there. That’s just who he is.”
She folded one more linen, hands graceful, precise. Then her eyes flicked toward the mage once more, curious and calm. “So tell me, Joslyn,” she asked with the weight of someone who’d seen many things unfold in many lives. “What would you do if someone did take advantage of him? If he was being trampled underfoot?” A beat passed. “Why worry over someone you’ve just met? What makes him different? It surely can’t be because he is just nice to an astronomical proportion!”
See, that is a thing Joslyn wanted to believe in. Unity. That was something the Sidus Order seemed to lack, or rather had forgotten in the centuries of their existence. The entire point of the Order had been to gather the brightest minds of all Brynoth to work together in finding a solution against the demon that plagued the lands. Yet, at some point in time they’d all stopped working together and it became this race of who was most powerful. Who got to have the title of Master and honor of displaying their strength in fighting the beast. Joslyn had seen an opportunity where they could have collectively done something, actively done something together.
And here she was, the singular one.
She didn’t want to be bitter about it, but those feelings were harder and harder to ignore.
Still, Virelya’s words were encouraging for they mirrored Joslyn’s own hopes. That here in this realm she’d be able to stretch herself and learn in ways she wasn’t given space to in the conclave. Enough to bring out a small smile and a small ounce of comfort.
As for the one whose nickname did not seem to describe the man, now she had a new concern. If Blue was liable to pull back and avoid her if he thought she was that uncomfortable, then she’d made a mistake indeed. Less of him was not what she wanted and she certainly didn’t want him thinking she didn’t like his presence.
“They’d get a lecture at best, a good jolt at worst,” was her immediate reply, without even taking a beat to think about it. Then Virelya asked why she was even so worried about it and stuck thinking about the man at all, and she could almost feel that creep of a flush trying to inch it’s way into her cheeks.
Why indeed! It really was an irritation to keep having her thoughts veer in that direction when there were so many more important things that she needed to think about.
“It is because he is so nice. Truly. Someone like that ought to be protected and looked after. Obviously not by me, I am going to be quite busy and I hardly have the time to devote to it. Simply, I do intend to return his kindnesses with whatever help that I can. I may talk him up sweetly to the lady at the library, since he is so gently quiet. Or I might find him a picture puzzle, since he was so fussed with the word cross one. I think he might like those.”
How many towels had she folded already? She’d lost track! Though now she had her hands on some big piece of linen with stretchy awkward corners – a bed sheet maybe, and what a confounding piece of evil this was! How in the greater hells was someone supposed to fold this neatly?!
Virelya had to bite her tongue to keep from bursting into outright laughter when Joslyn so matter-of-factly declared she’d zap anyone who mistreated Blue. The very idea sent a ripple of amusement through her shoulders—the mage turned mother hen, feathers fluffed, glaring at the world with stormy eyes and a twitching wing just ready to strike. Joslyn, fierce protector of the wayward hatchling. Never mind that Blue wasn’t exactly the sort who needed tucking under feathers to begin with.
Still, the image stuck. It was charming in its own off-kilter way, and Vire made a quiet note to tell Blue about it later—if only to see the poor boy’s reaction.
She shifted the basket of freshly folded towels aside, plucking up a topsheet next. With a glance toward Joslyn, she waited—half expecting the girl to follow the motion. As she did, Vire listened, humming now and again as Joslyn made it clear that she didn’t have time to go around defending people… but would absolutely do so anyway, if necessary.
It was the next part, though—the casual declaration of “I’ll talk him up to the librarian”—that made Virelya halt mid-fold. A blink. A subtle tilt of her head.
Then a full-body double take, her glowing cyan eyes narrowing ever so slightly in disbelief before she turned to face Joslyn properly. “I’m sorry,” she said with deliberate care, “Did you say… talk him up to Celes?”
Vire moved to the other end of the sheet, offering the corner so they could finish the fold together after seeing how the fitted sheet was about to be a new nemisis. Her smile was patient, but her tone was edged with a warning sort of humour. The kind that said, you are wandering into unwise territory, dear. “Let me offer a bit of advice from someone who’s spent the last two decades watching them grow up together: don’t.”
She folded the sheet smoothly, her voice casual. “They’ve been thick as thieves since they were small enough to fall headfirst into mud puddles. They’ve built their bond from years of mischief, curiosity, and shared grief. And over those years, more people than I care to count have tried to push them into something else. Romance. Matchmaking. Fated love.”
Virelya clicked her tongue as she stacked the folded sheet. “They’ve both heard it all. And I promise you, trying to wedge yourself into that dynamic as the catalyst for something more? That’s the quickest way to get Blue to actually tell you off. And as for Celes…” she chuckled softly, “She’d laugh. Kindly. But it would absolutely be at your expense.”
Her eyes gleamed, not unkindly, as she added with finality, “She’s asexual, Joslyn. That ship isn’t just not sailing—it was never built.”
Turning back to the laundry pile, Virelya reached for another towel, still smiling. “If you want to do something thoughtful, maybe just let them be what they are. Best friends. The kind that most people go their whole lives without ever finding.” A playful glance followed. “And perhaps hold off on replacing his crossword puzzles with something ‘easier.’ I’m not sure his pride would recover.”
Joslyn did indeed nod to affirm she meant the woman Celes, of whom Blue had spoken with such a soft reverence about that she could hear it in his voice without him saying specifics at all. When you cared that deeply about someone, there was no way to hide it. Just as he spoke about his mother, or this ivory goddess of a woman spoke about him. Because Joslyn was well acquainted with how people spoke of those they didn’t care for, so when it was genuine love it stood out all the more!
So it was an immediate pause of surprise when Virelya simply said don’t.
They were simply lifelong friends – bonded friends at that. Ones that had grown up together like siblings with not even a single interest in each other. …and now Joslyn was seeing the reason for that quick DO NOT. For it must truly must be so frustrating to have people always trying to push the two of them together in a romantic way if neither of them wanted the other!
“Oh…” was the simple reply, completely with those blinking eyes and a twist of her mouth. “You have saved me from a great folly, then. Arranging a romantic rendezvous would’ve been an entertaining endeavor, but not if it would make things offensive for everyone. I’ll put that energy into something else.”
“Not an easier, picture puzzle either,” she depended, with that oh so prim air of offense. “A difficult one with a thousand pieces and an arrangement of colors so he could take his time.”
Still, it did have her wondering what she might do. Virelya suggested her was a creature of habit, so it would not be difficult to find him at that coffee tavern again. If she had money she could buy him a drink herself, alas! She’d need to save that coin for herself! She’ll have to think of something else.
Virelya’s eyes twinkled as she caught the mage in her own subtle admission, her tone warm but edged with knowing amusement. “You wouldn’t know unless asked,” she echoed gently, “Or in this case—confessed it with all the grace of someone plotting a dinner party ambush.”
She could practically see it now. Joslyn with a corkboard and string, orchestrating an elaborate meet-cute where Blue and Celes would be trapped in a local restaurant with only one chair and a conveniently locked door. Probably with music. And candles. And something called “atmosphere.” Vire had to physically bite her tongue not to laugh.
But the woman had to admit, it wasn’t out of malice. Joslyn simply seemed to operate at full throttle, even when it came to showing affection. And the road to awkwardness was paved in good intentions.
Still, as the mage spoke of puzzles and gestures, Vire tilted her head in thought. The intent was sweet. But intent didn’t always land the way it was meant to.
“You’ve got a heart in the right place, dear,” she said, gently placing another folded towel into the growing stack. “But kindness is most meaningful when it’s shaped to the person you’re giving it to. I don’t know if Blue cares much for puzzles. He might enjoy them. He might not. But instead of guessing… just ask him. Save yourself the trouble of finding the perfect thing only for it to end up tucked away in a drawer.”
She said it not to dissuade the girl, but to guide her away from the instinct she could see—to repay kindness like a ledger being balanced.
It wasn’t that simple. As she shifted her weight and straightened the stack, Vire gave her a smaller, more careful smile. “I take it you don’t like feeling like you owe people,” she mused. “Even when you don’t. And you don’t, by the way. Not for a place to sleep, not for breakfast, not for a conversation.” Then she looked more pointedly at the mage, the question light but laced with real curiosity. “Do you have friends back home, Joslyn? People who knew you—not just the title, not the skillset—but you?”
Just ask him? Surely that was a recipe for an awkward conversation. Telling the man he was too nice, therefor she felt compelled to do nice things for him, please tell her all the ways that can be accomplished! Joslyn had the feeling he’d simply say she need not do anything at all, refuse anything she might give or do for him because he was indeed too nice.
But Virelya was making a good point in that Joslyn needed to make sure the thing that she did was actually something he would enjoy and like. If he did not need her to help him make a connection with a sweetheart crush, and puzzles were not quite exactly the right thing then… she would need to get to know him a little better to see what it was that helped light up his day.
A new mission then. A side mission, where she was very likely going to be an annoying pest at his heels.
Yet another towel was in her hands and she sighed ever so deeply, growing weary of these repetitive means of work. Not laborious, but oh was it dull after awhile! This time not folding it in the proper way but creasing it all sorts of curious directions until she’d folded it up like it was not but a piece of paper craft. It took a rounded shape vaguely reminiscent of a bear cub and she set it aside. Starting then on a stack of hand towels for at least they were a different shape to work with.
Virelya then suggested that she didn’t like to owe people, reminding her that she’d not need to repay any of these kindnesses given to her and Joslyn scrunched up her nose, not liking the sound of that. Letting it mull over in her mind before giving a soft shrug of her shoulders. Maybe it was true, if only because there had been many times where it had been the case. Favors done were favors owed, so it was a natural thing that these constant kindnesses did make her a little bit uncomfortable. Accepting them with grace was not an easy thing to do.
Then the million dollar question was asked and all Joslyn could do was laugh out loud. Not meanly, not sadly… just a laugh at what was true and could not be denied.
“No. I do not have friends. Not for the lack of wanting, mind you. My childhood years were isolated and the Order was… difficult to navigate? I was younger than everyone else by a good decade or more for a long while, then it was just difficult. I will not bend for the egos of others, which was their own problem. I tend to be very single minded and only care about my studies too, though. That is my own fault for not making the time. It didn’t really matter. …although I guess I should have tried harder and maybe I would not be the singular one here now!”
Virelya took her time folding the last towel – even if she was looking at the one that Joslyn made into a rounded shape-, smoothing the edges with that same unhurried grace she seemed to carry into every room she entered. She glanced up when Joslyn laughed—bold, unbothered, and oddly genuine—and let the sound settle before she spoke.
“Well, I appreciate the honesty,” she said with a small smile, her tone even but not without warmth. “Not everyone has the spine to admit that friendship isn’t something they’ve managed to keep. Some people collect acquaintances like trophies and still sleep alone in their heads at night.”
She set the towel atop the stack and dusted off her hands. “You’ve had your path. You’re here now. That tells me something already.” Crossing her arms loosely, Vire tilted her head a little. “Maybe it’s not about bending for others, but learning when to lean. You don’t have to compromise your spine to make space for people, Joslyn. And truth told, most of us stumble through the friend-making part more awkward than we’d care to admit. Doesn’t mean we stop trying.”
Her voice gentled just slightly. “You’re in a new place with new people. Nobody here’s got a ledger waiting to tally your debt. We offer what we can, when we can. Sometimes that’s a plate of food. Sometimes it’s a chance.”
She turned back toward the shelves, calling over her shoulder with a faint smirk, “And if nothing else, folding laundry next to me’s a decent start.”
Virelya stacked the last of the towels and set the bundle aside, brushing her hands off with a soft whuff of finality before glancing sidelong at Joslyn again. Her smirk hadn’t faded, though there was a glint of something thoughtful in her glowing cyan eyes. She tapped her fingers once on the edge of the shelf, considering.
“You know,” she began casually, almost too casually for it to be innocent, “Would you like if I invite Blue to dinner tonight.” The offer hung in the air just long enough to feel intentional.
“I have no reason to tell stories or protect my own ego, I am magnificent even despite my flaws,” she chirped proudly, as it was the truth. Joslyn didn’t need the validation of others – anymore. Oh she absolutely chased that path for a long while and not even rising to the rank of Master had earned her what she’d actually wanted. That was a past lesson in her long ledger of lessons. Now her path was different, and not even she quite knew where it was heading yet.
Having friends would be lovely, though. That was not a possibility she considered when pondering what he life here would be like for the next few years. What had she just assumed she’d simply remain a singular one? Why not allow herself a chance to make new kinds of connections!
…suddenly that sounded kind of terrifying. A bad idea, really. Connections meant difficulties and disappointments. Chances to get hurt in all manner of ways.
And yet the very moment Virelya suggested she could invite Blue to dinner, her immediate delight at the idea was not to be ignored. He was not someone she needed to be afraid of or wary about. If anything, she was likely going to get on his nerves as she did to so many. Bring trouble into his life too, if she weren’t careful.
Even so, there was no possible way for her to hide that near giggling grin.
“I’d like that, yes. It might scare him if I hunt him down myself. He could think I was trying to kill him again.”
Virelya didn’t miss the way that grin crept onto Joslyn’s face. It was the kind that betrayed far more than the girl would ever willingly admit aloud—mischief wrapped in charm, stitched with a thread of honest delight. And maybe, just maybe, hope.
“Of course you’re magnificent, dear,” Vire said dryly, folding the last of the linens with a soft snap. “Stars burn, seas rise, and Joslyn is magnificent. Some things simply are.” There was no mockery in her tone, just that easy acceptance paired with her usual ribbing—a gentle nudge to keep the girl’s feet on the floor even while her head stayed comfortably in the clouds. But when the grin bloomed in full force at the mention of Blue, the tall Saerathe couldn’t help a knowing little exhale through her nose. That sort of reaction didn’t lie.
Virelya set the stack of towels aside, wiped her hands on the hips of her wrap skirt, and tilted her head toward the young mage. Keeping the commentary about Joslyn having at least a little preference towards the silent man.
“And don’t worry,” she added, already fishing out the slim communicator from her apron pocket, “I’ll spare him the horror of being hunted down in the streets by a bolt-slinging prodigy with wildly noble intentions. You’ll just be a name on my lips, not a streak of lightning in the sky.”
With a few taps and a soft ping, the message began transmitting across the heavens.
Blue, darling. Dinner tonight. Seven. Joslyn’s request. Try not to combust.
Snapping the device shut with a practiced flick, she turned back with that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. Of course in typical practice one would call over the visaphone, and have a visual connection. Camera to camera, but the limitations of Blue’s ability to speak did in fact need to be in the same room. He couldn’t communicate telepathically when he was out space, and she was here. Making him only a video that could hear her but couldn’t reply in the same way as he would.
“There. That ought to do it. And I think our chores here are well established. Shall we move onto the next?” Smiling at the girl as to keep her busy and of course, to keep them both working throughout the remainder of the day.
There it was again, that soft potentially mischievous giggle complete with a curled grin to match, as if yes, she could write her name in lightening across the sky if she truly did want to be just that bit of extra terrifying. Not that she would, as it was completely ridiculous and over dramatic in the most inelegant of ways.
Besides, Joslyn was trying to express that she did actually want to be around him. Erase any of Blue’s fears and misconceptions that she found him uncomfortable. That discomfort was not his responsibility and surely not for the reasons he likely assumed! He’d been the first face she met in this realm and it’d been a blessing, for had she landed somewhere else – with someone else – it was entirely possible she’d be dragged off to a prison by this intimidating sounding Charter. And for now all she had to give him in return was her friendship.
As awkward as it was.
“Folding and sorting done, on forward to… attacking dust bunny uprisings?” Even when she glanced around and was quick to be on Virelya’s heels, there didn’t seemed to be a lot in the ways of dust. The hotel appeared to be far too well kept for anything more than a feather dusting to be necessary.
Regardless, she was happy to stay busy even if some of the tasks were so humdrum mundane that her brain could atrophy. Luckily she had something new on the mind and to look forward to in the evening. Running over conversation topics in her mind and how she might steer them along to avoid anything potentially traumatizing or hurtful. Light topics were surely best.
Accepting the invitation came as easily as breath. No fuss, no dramatics—just a quiet nod to a simple yes. The timing helped. His mother had asked him to retrieve a shipment from Dern’s Rest, a stop already aligned with his latest delivery. A crate from offworld, meant for the hotel. It made the detour sensible—helpful, even. And it gave him just enough of a window to slip home before dinner.
The apartment wasn’t extravagant. It didn’t need to be. Tucked above a quiet row of shops in one of Morrow’s Hollow’s quieter pockets, it was warm, calm, lived in. His.
The lights responded to his arrival with the usual gentle rise, no jarring brightness—just that soft hue of early dawn. The synthwood floor was cool under his steps, yielding just enough in the places he always paced. Familiar. Grounding.
But it was the tank that held him first.
A ribbon of life in a glass frame, casting rippled bioluminescence across the ceiling like a low sky of stars in motion. Fins shimmered, plants drifted. It was all quiet rhythm and colour. The creatures inside needed nothing from him, and so he gave them everything—balance, clean feed, a perfect ecosystem. He’d loved aquatics since he was young. The world beneath water had always wild and exotic! When he finally had his own place, the tank was the first indulgence he allowed himself.
And tonight, he brought home a new life to add to it.
The shimmerback featherfin pulsed in its polybag, a breath of opalescent green held in a slosh of shop-treated water. Small, sleek, bioluminescent—alive, but wary. Blue had been careful during transit, setting it in a cradle of stabilizing foam and walking slower than usual to avoid jolting it. He carried the bag like a promise.
At the tank, he crouched. Watched the little creature drift, steady in its bubble. No signs of distress. Good. Its dorsal flickered in cautious bursts of light. With a practiced hand, he clipped the bag open, allowing a thin stream of tank water to bleed in. Gradual. Safe. No rushing.
The others noticed, circling lazily. Inquisitive but welcoming. His community was peaceful—he’d seen to that. In time, the waters mingled enough to ease the new arrival into place.
Fifteen minutes passed before he finally tipped the contents into a basin, lifted the featherfin in a soft mesh scoop, and lowered it into the tank. It vanished like a ribbon of light, darting beneath a frond, reappearing along the pebbled floor to explore. Blue sat cross-legged, hands loose in his lap, watching the tank restore itself to perfect harmony. Silent, but present. He didn’t need to speak to feel understood.
After a long pause, he pressed his palm softly to the glass. “Welcome home.” The tank glowed back at him.
He could’ve lingered longer—let himself drift with the rhythm of the water, the quiet—but he remembered the time. Seven. Dinner. The invitation he’d accepted. He still had enough of a window to jump through the shower and change out of his day’s uniform.
As he moved, he shot a message off to his mother: ‘Be along in ten. Got the crate. Bringing it too.’
The shimmerback darted upward behind him, catching the light. He smiled once more, and left the room quietly behind.