Written: 8/5/24
Word Count: 1,080

A wide, vivid pool took up the middle of the space, ringed by some spider-webbed fence shining a brilliant gold. I watched Resinee skirt around its edges, where a mass of folk—mostly Dark Elves—mingled. A sudden bout of nausea nearly took me to my knees as it was once more shoved down my throat.

I was outnumbered and surrounded by enemies.

"Are we going?" Emery asked, but before either of us could move, a new face stepped out from the throng.

This High Elf was flanked by two others. Wood Elves, I think, if those earthen skin tones were anything to go by. If I hadn't known the impossibility of it, I would have thought this creature to be my brother, Niall. My eyes narrowed on the ugly swoop of hair and the overly-pleased grin. Finally, recognition flared, and I took one stumbling step backward.

But it was on my bad ankle.

"Fool," Emery hissed, grabbing me just in time before I fell into part of the thicket that separated this oasis from the homes just ten feet away. "Why do you have to make everything difficult?"

That's unfair, I wanted to say, but the trio was upon us before I could state my argument.

"Now, here's a sight for sore eyes." The Niall-wannabe grinned. How could someone grin so toothily without the skin around their eyes moving at all? It was Goddess-damned creepy.

"What brings you to the Western Sector?" I arched a brow. "Denny?"

"Oh, you know," Denny wiggled his fingers like a con-elf, "saving lives. Breaking hearts. The whole deal."

I could feel Emery bite down on the first words that came to its mind, and I rested easy at its show of self-restraint. This new face was not to be messed with.

"Right, well," I soldiered on, nodding toward Resinee on the other side of the three obstacles kicking up dust and ruining all our breathable air. "Thank you for coming to my aunt's Burning. I'm sure it would bring comfort to her to know the son of the 12th Ring's Head is all grown up now." I wasn't sure what I was saying. I was more invested in skirting the line between thicket and water. That vibrant blue leached up my sandals, and my toes instantly covered in cliff powder from the soft ground. Gross.

"I'll be staying for a while," Denny said, turning his neck to follow us, creepy grin tilting like a painted mask of horror. "You know the hotel? Close to your aunt's clinic. Is that where you're staying? Why don't I come help you out for a while, Beck?" That grin twisted something deep within my stomach. Whatever it was, it was foul. Was something trying to come up from my stomach? But what?

"Don't trouble yourself," I said, too quickly, before backtracking. "I mean, my lord, it is a filthy, uninhabitable den with monsters lurking everywhere," and chasing butterflies through a garden before curling up on the couch and sleeping the afternoon away, "so please don't go out of your way on my account. I'm already grateful that a familiar face found their way to my aunt's ceremony."

A beat as Emery grabbed my arm, the two of us skirting past a rather slick spot that had washed most of the rock's surface away. Who knew cliffs could get so slippery?

"Sure," Denny said, but I didn't relax. If we were standing on the other mountain, there still wouldn't be enough space between the two of us. "Who's this, by the way? A new servant?"

Without thinking, I mumbled, "Huh?" before realizing I'd just given a mile to an inchworm. "This is not my servant," I said, appalled, gesturing at Emery's forehead. "Can't you see the markings? This is the messenger of the Goddess."

"Cute," Denny said. "They really spruce up their products these days, huh? Which company did you buy yours from? Maybe I can finally find a mermaid model. The tails always get in the way, but a servant painted to look like one has...many uses."

Just as Emery mumbled something like, "You really don't know any decent folk, do you, lady?" I whirled around, shoving my bandaged wrist in the High Elf's direction like a great and mighty hammer held aloft in my hand.

"Emery is not a servant," I seethed, "you cadsome Elf-Ham!"

Rather than fake surprise, Denford Caulsmith, son of healers and medicine makers, gifted me with a flat smile, ruining his serpent's grin. His eyes puckered up in the corners, further narrowing the glare he wore so effectively. He held his hands up, taking a cursory step back; sadly, he didn't slip on the rocks and fall on his ass. "Alright, alright, I won't say any more. No disparaging your little toy, I promise."

Before I could get the last word in, a gray bodybuilder appeared at the entrance. The eight-packed muscle-elve.

I froze, my hands balling into fists as his uncaring eyes took in the elves and nymph engaged in some delayed version of cat and mouse. Then, the monster's gaze alighted upon me. It was the first time I'd ever looked this elve in the face.

His eyes were a stunning green. Of course. Nothing in life was fair. Of course the monster had to have pretty eyes.

"It's time," he said to me. I felt this horrible urge to move, to turn around and walk over to the milling elves and other visitors. Rocco spoke, and something in me wanted to obey.

How disgusting.

My lip curled as the two Wood Elves stepped around Denny's bulky form. Why were the bulkiest elves in existence all acting as obstacles on my path? It's like Niall, Denny, Rocco, and Resinee's two brothers were campaigning to put muscles back on the trend map.

Who was going to tell them that had never been a trend, and they were sad, pathetic losers who would only ever have their muscles to comfort them?

Emery's hand slipped down to mine, a move not unnoticed by the serpent among them. Denny's eyes narrowed, a delighted smile creating dimples next to his dimples.

This one was even worse than the usual breed of Elf-Ham. He had been to my house. He'd been to my house during one of Mother's spells. He'd even been there to witness more than one dramatic family fight.

Those dimples were tempered in knowledge. In malicious knowledge. Alas. For elves, was there any other kind?