[edited: 26/08/2017]

"My mother wishes that you wear this," Maksim said, holding out a golden silk dress and a crimson coat. They were the first words he had uttered to Remy since last night, and she noticed that he did not meet her eyes when he said it. "She also wanted you to know that she put some of her old clothes in your wardrobe this morning so that you no longer have to wear those tatty trousers of yours."

Remy took the clothes with a frown as Maksim shuffled uncomfortably just outside the door of her bedroom. He was acting strangely, she thought, as though he didn't want to look at her. He had been exactly the same last night after their conversation, and before that, when they had first met and did not get along at all. She felt a strange ache at the thought of him going back to the way he was, and bit her lip distractedly.

"I can't wear this," she responded quietly, eyeing the strange clothes. She never wore dresses, especially not ones that were covered in unusual markings. This was something that Annika would wear, not her.

"Why not? If they do not fit, I can always do a simple spell-"

She cut him off. "No, it's not the size. These just aren't the clothes I would normally wear, and I doubt they would suit me."

"You agreed that you would blend into Astracia for this silly plan of yours." He sounded angry, though Remy couldn't imagine why that was. She put it down to him not being a morning person, or rather, an any-time-of-the-day person. "You should not have agreed to do it if you did not want this."

"Have I done something to offend you, besides existing in general?" She narrowed her eyes and lent against the door frame.

"No," he replied simply, "I just woke up this morning with a very strong disliking for you."

"I suppose that's nothing new, then," she sighed and placed the clothes down on the edge of the bed. "I just thought that after what you said last night ..."

"I was wrong. You being here is more trouble than it is worth, and I look forward to your departure." He looked swiftly around her bedroom as though trying to remember why he was there in the first place. "Do not take too long getting ready," he said finally. "We are going to a gallery with Tykon, and he will be here soon."

Before she could ask who Tykon was, he was gone, and she rolled her eyes before shutting the door. She looked in her wardrobe warily then, and found at least ten different silk dresses and jackets all in different colours, with an assortment of boots and strappy heels scattered below them. She chose a pair of red boots that matched the jacket Maksim had given her and quickly slipped her clothes on.

When she peered in the mirror rather unwillingly, she almost did not recognise herself. She was still short and curvy in the places she wished she wasn't, of course, but the gold dress suited her complexion much better than her usual baggy black shirts did, and her legs looked longer where the hem cut off just above the knee. The neckline fell above her collarbone so that it contrasted greatly with her pink lips, and the sleeves were loose from her elbow to her wrist.

She pulled her blonde hair forward as she shrugged on the thick red coat, wishing for a moment that she looked more like Annika. She looked better than she had in Maksim's old shirts, of course, but she was still no witch, and she knew that she never would be. She was not elegant enough, and her facial features were too soft where they should have been striking, as though somebody had drawn her using a blunt pencil rather than a sharpened one. Even in her own world, she would consider herself average looking, though she tried not to care too much about her appearance .

Shaking her head to dispel her thoughts, she smoothed her dress down and left the bedroom. She found the living room a few moments later—she was finding that she knew her way around the long dark corridors much better than she had a few days ago—where Maksim sat in an armchair with his legs crossed. When he saw her, his blue eyes widened.

"I told you I wouldn't suit these clothes." She crossed her arms over as much of her torso as she could and blushed in embarrassment. Maksim's judgement had never bothered her much before, but something seemed to have changed between them of late. Perhaps it was his random bursts of kindness that left her wishing for more, or the small jokes they sometimes shared between one another after forgetting they were not supposed to like each other. It didn't matter, though, because now Maksim was quite unwelcoming again and it only led to Remy's disappointment. Under his strange gaze, she suddenly found herself wishing that she could disappear, but she held her head up high anyway and dropped her arms to her sides.

"You look ..." he seemed bewildered for a second, but soon snapped out of it and waved his hand nonchalantly, "sufficient, I suppose."

She scoffed, though she had expected to hear worse. "I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?"

"You may as well. It is the best you are going to get."

A knock at the door caused him to stand up, and upon answering it, a familiar man with blue hair and eyes to match walked in. It took Remy a moment to realise that he had been one of the ones to escort her to the Central Hall, and she glared at him.

"Remy, this is Tykon," Maksim introduced.

Tykon, noticing her scowl, said, "oh dear. I fear we are not off to the best of starts."

"Yes, well, you did pull me from my bed to put me in the cells, where I was then attacked."

"I work for the Council. I had to do what I was instructed to, regardless of whether I thought it right. If it is any consolation, I am sorry." Remy had not been expecting an apology. From what she had gathered, it was not just Maksim but all warlocks and witches that despised mortals such as herself, yet when Tykon spoke, Remy wanted to believe him. 

It was because of this that she decided not to argue any further. Despite what he had done, he had kind eyes and looked as though he meant her no harm. That was enough for her to relax slightly. "So, where are we going again?"

"The Gallery," Maksim said impatiently, "as I said before."

"What is it, some sort of museum?"

"Precisely," Tykon answered with a smile. It was nice, Remy thought, to not get a sarcastic or rude answer all the time. Perhaps she would get on with Tykon much more than she was doing with Maksim this morning. "The Dark Ones are not likely to attack yet, but if they see that you are out and about, they will begin tracking you to gain an advantage. Besides, The Gallery is fun."

"If you enjoy walking around for five hours surrounded by pretentious students, having to pay an interest in the most boring of things," Maksim commented.

"You're one to call people pretentious," Remy answered as Tykon held the door open for her. She stepped out and was immediately glad that she had only a thin dress on. It was even more humid than usual, and her hands instantly felt clammy. She did not think her red coat would have to stay on for very long.

"Are the two of you always like this, at one another's throats?" Tykon looked curiously at Remy and Maksim, his cerulean eyes glimmering as he began to lead them to wherever it was they were going. His black coat flew out behind him as he did.

"Yes," they answered simultaneously.

"I see it will be a fun day, then."

* * *

The Gallery was a large glass building only a few streets down from the Central Hall. Warlocks and witches lingered outside of it the way that students often did outside of Remy's old college in Calderdale, all dressed slightly differently to how she had seen others before, with witches wearing high-waisted loose pants and elaborate blouses and warlocks in tight fitting vest tops and long pencil skirts. It seemed that even supernatural beings had indie crowds, though these were nothing like Remy had seen before. She enjoyed the change. She enjoyed that one seemed to be able to wear anything in this world without much care, and she enjoyed that clothing was not gendered here the way that it was in her own world.

There was a river, too, that flowed just in front of the steps up to The Gallery, filled with floating petals whose colours bled into the water and white specks of snowdust that fell from the air around them. She stopped to look at it for a moment and heard Maksim sigh impatiently.

"We do not have all day, you know. Some of us would like to get this over with as quickly as possible."

Remy rolled her eyes and glared at him the way she often did. "If I'm so much of an inconvenience, nobody's forcing you to stay. I'm sure that Tykon would be quite happy to show me around without you and your foul mood."

"I'm sure that Tykon would also be quite happy to protect you from the Dark Ones when they come back for your key," Maksim muttered through clenched teeth, "though I do not think he would have much chance at protecting you by himself."

Tykon cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled so that he reminded Remy of a cartoon character. It wasn't just his mannerisms either; his features were harsh, his face even more angular than Maskim's, and his blue eyes stood out unnaturally against his dark skin tone and thick eyelashes. "Why don't we, er, go in?"

Remy passed the two of them without so much as a glance and began her short journey up the steps, ignoring the stares of others as she went despite feeling incredibly vulnerable, as though they were peeling away her skin to see what lay underneath. She stopped when somebody called from behind her.

"Mortal girl," a white haired woman was shouting, slowly swaying towards Remy. "I have heard so much about you. You have caused a great deal of trouble, it is said."

Maksim opened his mouth to respond, but Remy was one step ahead of him. "My name isn't mortal girl, and I haven't caused any trouble that didn't already exist. I have seen your world, and it's no more perfect than mine."

Her irises, she noticed now, were red and seemed to twinkle with cruelty and hatred. "You are not welcome here,  mortal girl." She emphasised the words to irritate her. "You are not welcome anywhere in Refilyn. Your kind is weak and shallow. Ours is strong and worthy. How dare you show your face here?"

"That is enough, Witch," Maksim snarled, stepping in front of Remy with his fists clenched where the sleeves of his green coat ended. Remy could not see the girl's reaction, for she was too small and Maksim too tall. "She is causing no trouble. I think it is you that is shallow, for you judge her for what she is rather than who."

Remy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why on earth was he defending her now, after being so hostile all morning? Furthermore, why was he defending her when he knew well enough that she could defend herself?

"All mortals are the same," she heard the witch sneer, "and you are no better than them if you love them as much as you seem to. Your mother is a Council member. I worry now about whose hands our realm has been put into."

"You needn't worry. You may as well continue being ignorant as you are now. Why change the person you are for the sake of politics?"

The witch did not reply to that, instead scoffing and walking away in heeled boots that she could barely walk in. Maksim turned to Remy, and she scowled at him angrily.

"I can defend myself," she said. "There was no need for you to butt in like that."

"You are very welcome," Maksim retorted and pushed past her to enter The Gallery without another word. When Remy went to follow, she almost let out a gasp.

The walls were not made of glass as she thought they had been before, but water that flowed silently upwards in the same way the waterfall at the lake had. She pressed her hand to it instinctively and felt the stream, cool and light, seep through her fingers, watching as the disturbance caused the flow to falter ever so slightly. Through it, she could see the inside of the gallery, a blur of colours and figures that were mostly indistinguishable, though she was sure that she could make out Maksim's auburn hair just behind the wall. 

"How is this possible?" She muttered to herself, and was surprised when she got a response from Tykon, who she had forgotten was still there.

"I take it you do not have such things in the Mortal World." He was smiling when she turned to him, though it was not a smug one like Maksim's, but a kind one.

She felt the need to smile back, and did. "No. Our walls are made of regular brick."

"You say it as if it is a bad thing." He lightly traced his own finger to the water. Remy noticed that his fingernails were painted blue, and wondered how much blue one could have on their person before it became too much. Still, she liked Tykon. He reminded her of Adam sometimes, when he talked to her in such a friendly tone. She thought perhaps he was one of the first people who hadn't treated her differently because she was a mortal.

"Brick is boring," she replied as though it was obvious.

"I do not think so. Only the oldest of our buildings are made of brick here. I find that it makes them incredibly interesting."

"I think you have a very strange definition of interesting." She frowned, shoving her hands into the abnormally large pockets of her coat and wondering what it was that witches carried around that needed so much space. "Maksim will be waiting for us, and he's in a bad mood as it is. We should go in."

Tykon nodded and lead her to a gap in the water that Remy supposed served as a door. When she entered, she knew immediately that she had been right about Maksim; he was standing beside a white statue of an angel with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stony. "Take your time."

"I certainly will," replied Remy, though she was beginning to grow tired of his awful mood. He had never been so rude before—minus him defending her earlier—and she wondered perhaps if it was because of what happened last night. Maybe, she thought, he regretted being kind to her and wanted to make up for it by being extraordinarily unkind now.

Instead of worrying about it, she distracted herself by observing The Gallery. It was larger than she had expected and filled with paintings that hung inside golden frames on the walls, clearly unaffected by the fact they were made of water. Witches and warlocks hovered around sculptures, some stealing glances at Remy without trying very hard to conceal it. She didn't care too much; she was distracted by the rays of light that fell and shifted through the flowing water like millions of elegant dancers floating through the room. It reminded Remy of the time she had fallen into the ocean on a sunny day, and instead of panicking, she had relaxed into its cold depths and opened her eyes so that she could see how things looked underwater. She remembered that her skin had reflected the surface as it did now, with millions of scales covering her arms and legs, and then her mother had pulled her out and made a fuss about how she thought she had been drowning and how she should never go too far into the water again. it was the first time she had realised that her mother loved her, and also the reason that she had become so engrossed by the sea. She could still remember the way it had felt to get lost in it. She could still remember her mother making her a hot chocolate afterwards, her grey eyes so much like Remy's and her wiry ash-brown hair dishevelled the way it often was. She realised with a jolt that she missed her, more than she had ever thought she would. She missed everything she had left behind. 

She was broken out of her thoughts by Tykon. "Are you a fan of art?" he asked as though trying to clear the awkward silence.

Remy shrugged and made her way to the closest exhibit without stopping to see if Maksim would follow. It was a painting that, on the surface, looked like a careless splatter of colours, but to Remy, seemed to depict anger and hurt. She wished she could read the title below the painting, but the marks were the same as the patterns on her dress and the same ones she often saw on Maksim's wristwatch and shirts. The same marks that were on the key. "I wouldn't call myself a fan, but I enjoy it every now and again, yes."

"I did not take you for the artistic type," Maksim said, his blue eyes sparkling with mockery. The walls made of water cast shadows on him, wavering shards of darkness making him seem more striking than he had been already. She had not been expecting to hear his voice so close to her now. "I thought you mortals were too unimaginative for such things."

"Maksim," Tykon intervened in a warning voice. "You are not being kind."

"I am never kind."

"Perhaps not, but you are never cruel, either."

Remy scoffed. "You obviously don't know him well enough."

"And I suppose you are a pleasure to be around, mortal girl? You are no better than me."

She gulped, feeling her heart strain against her chest as though fighting for a way out. She had thought that after last night, perhaps she had found a friend in Maksim, and she could not deny that she was beginning to feel foreign things that let her enjoy being around him. Now, she knew that was silly of her. The warlock would never see her as anything more than a mortal girl, and he certainly wouldn't make her feel welcome in Astracia.

"I am no lesser either. And I know when to stop," she whispered finally. "I know when to draw the line. And perhaps you do, too, and that's why you keep going until nobody can bear to be around you."

Maksim had nothing to say to that; he pretended to be interested in the next exhibition, and Remy sighed and bowed her head, feeling the sting of tears when she blinked.

No, she said to herself. Don't let him see that he can hurt you. You never cry, and you're not about to now.

She looked up finally, finding the eyes of Tykon. He rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He is like this with everyone. It is nothing personal."

"Yes, it is," she smiled, a sad smile that barely reached the corners of her mouth, "but that's okay. Thank you for trying to be nice." She shrugged his hand away and stared at the painting again, at the swirls of red and orange and blue, at the spatters around the edges that showed carelessness and perhaps mistakes that had been made in bursts of rage. 

It reminded her of her own emotions now. 

* * *

The moment that they got back from The Gallery, Remy rushed off to her room, leaving Maksim to watch, feeling both guilt and irritation. He hadn't expected her to get as upset as she had; surely, he thought, she was used to him being rude by now. It did not appear so, though, and she had spent the afternoon in silence.

That hadn't stopped Tykon from flirting with her though, he had noticed, with his hand on her shoulder and a wide smile plastered on his face the whole day. He knew that his friend flirted with everybody—it was one of Tykon's many hobbies—but he had not expected him to flirt with a mortal girl.

The blue-haired warlock was stood behind Maksim now, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Maybe I should check that she is okay. You were rather harsh to her before."

"She is strong," Maksim responded, the irritation clear in his voice. "I am sure that she can handle it."

"She should not have to. What is your problem with her?" Tykon sat down on the sofa and crossed one leg over the other, looking at Maksim with narrowed eyes. "She is a nice girl, though perhaps not any less sarcastic than you. I thought you would enjoy having somebody around who shared your bad temper."

"You only think she is nice because she is pretty."

"I did not think that you were one to notice such things." He pursed his lips and sighed. "Is it a problem if I do think she is?"

"No, because she will not be stupid enough to fall for your painfully undignified flirting." Maksim's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms, and he did not recognise the feeling in the pit of his stomach at first. He had not felt it in so long, not since he was a child and had grown up with a selfish brother who had gotten everything he wanted while Maksim sat and watched. 

Jealousy.

But why would he be jealous? He knew nothing could ever happen between Tykon and Remy; he would grow tired of her attitude the way he often did with Maksim's, and Remy would have to return home eventually. Still, the idea of him treating her as another one of his love interests—or rather, the idea of her responding to it—clenched at his heart and made everything inside of him ache.

"Well, perhaps that is her decision to make." He paused, considering something with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. Beside him, the cat hopped up onto the sofa and brushed its fur against Tykon's shirt. "Which means you won't mind if I take her out for a drink tomorrow night, will you?"

Maksim feigned indifference. "Why would I mind? If you wish to pursue a mortal girl, that is your business. Though, I should warn you, she is not very good company; too short and cynical, I fear. That, and she talks far too much."

"Well, it might be nice for her to have a good time. Besides, your mother wishes for her to be out in Astracia as much as possible in case the Dark Ones return. I am only doing as she asks."

Maksim knew that his friend meant no ill intention. He was a flirt, but he treated everybody with kindness and respect and would never mislead Remy purposely. Maksim might even have been happy to get rid of Remy for a night, only that irritating wave of jealous kept washing over him, over and over, until he felt he was being worn down like a rock slowly corroding from the salt of the sea.

"Of course, all roads lead back to my mother. I am sure she will be delighted to hear that you are wooing a mortal girl, of all people."

"So it is not a problem, then?"  he asked again, almost as if he could sense Maksim's tense state and wanted to torture him with it as much as possible.

"Not at all," he smiled falsely. "Do what you wish with her—except magic her into a fish. Do not do that. I fear my mother would not be too happy if you did, and I am sure there is some kind of law against it."

"I will return her to you gill-free, I promise. Let her know that I will pick her up at twilight tomorrow."

Maksim nodded and lead Tykon out, glad when he could wipe the false smile off his face. He sat down and sighed, scowling as his mother's cat crawled into his lap but stroking him anyway.

"Who would have thought that a mortal girl could cause so much trouble?" he muttered under his breath.

The cat simply looked back at him, and Maksim took its silence to mean that it did not know, either.