Orindaco was pretty in the early morning. The rising sun cast its light unevenly across the stone and sea, creating long shadows in some places and glittering sparkles in others.

It’d been a long while since Anaya was last in the city like this. The streets looked better. Far less garbage strewn around.

The water was always clean in Orindaco because it was blessed by the Goddess Mesic, so the stories went. The evidence was there though; even at the city’s filthiest, its canals always ran clear and blue.

A part of Anaya felt she should be back at the palace, flattering royals and pretending she cared enough about their familial drama to be invested while never showing which side she was actually on. Royals were the same as nobles, after all, just on a larger scale.

But when she thought of doing that, of going into the den of serpents and lions and whatever other predators people saw as majestic, it felt like eating a rotted peach. And so, she left the palace instead, politely explaining to Margrave’s assistant, Torna, where she planned to be, and pretended she didn’t notice the archduchess’s guards shadowing her as she made her way across bridge after bridge to the last dock at the end of the row.

Dock 6 looked very residential. More tenements than businesses, with the early morning noises of people getting up for the day echoing out as Anaya passed by. Kids were just starting to get up, though the druid did have to dodge around a pair of laughing children chasing a cat. A slight smile came to her face at the sight, before she picked up her pace, heading down the docks towards the Cathedral at the end.

The Cathedral of Brine was the counterpart to the Cathedral of Streams back in Orin and its general architecture definitely matched the more inland shrine, albeit with an older, more worn look to it. A geyser-shaped steeple still pointed to the sky, but the statues of merfolk and sea angels along its walls lacked the definition they once had, worn by sea air and sea water. Still, the cathedral was a key part to the city, something that defined its skyline as one of the larger buildings across its docks, though it didn’t come close to rivaling the palace.

It wasn’t Anaya’s place to judge, but she did think it said a lot about the priorities of the city’s past rulers. Maybe Margrave would be better, but then Anaya wasn’t here to judge, as previously stated and emphasized.

She wasn’t even here for the cathedral, actually. No, instead, she turned from the main road and headed more shoreward until she reached a much older shrine at the end of the dock, near one of the bridges to the Rosian shore. Where the cathedral was a grand, stone building, the shrine was small and wooden; from what Anaya remembered, it’d been built from the remains of sunken ships, a common attribute for older water shrines.

The knocker on the front door was an iron anchor, faintly worn and rusted with age. It wasn’t the same one that was there the last time Anaya was there, and that drew the elf’s eyes to other differences along the old shrine. Places where crusted salt had been scraped away only for more to solidify; patches where barnacles once attached, their absence made all the more notable from the new generations affixing themselves further down. A strange mix of familiarity and novelty that all elves were more than familiar with.

The doorbell was new though. Anaya felt her lips quirk upwards at the sight before she pulled the rope to set the bell ringing.

Her ears picked up the sound of tired grousing long before the door was yanked open by a familiar nereid with tired, baggy eyes and long, tangled black hair. She looked rougher than the last time she and Anaya met up, her face a bit puffier, her figure a bit chubbier, but she was still as cute as the druid remembered.

"Josie!" Anaya greeted with a wide smile, one which wasn't matched as Josephine let out a tired sigh, nearly slumping as she recognized the wood elf.

"Hey Anaya…" Her piece said, the bedraggled Pontiff turned around and walked back into the shrine, leaving the door open for Anaya to walk in, which got a mock pout from the druid.

"Really? I know I haven't visited in a while, but that's all I get?" she jokingly complained as she followed Josie inside, closing the door behind her.

"I've been busy, okay?" Josie said, grabbing a discarded bottle from one of the shrine’s pews. Amber liquid swirled inside as the nereid brought it to her blue lips and drained it of its contents. While it was probably a bit too early in the day to be drinking, Anaya had to admit, after everything that happened yesterday, she wasn't opposed to the idea. "Fucking assholes, making me officiate a wedding when they aren't even followers of Mesic…please tell me you aren't here for the wedding."

"...Well I am, but for a different reason. There’s kinda something else important going on."

“There always is…” Josie sighed, her shoulders slumping further like she had the weight of the world on them. Considering what Anaya knew of her old flame–or, well, old water? Old…aqua? No, that sounded stupid–she probably still felt like it was. “...Right, okay, we’re sitting somewhere more comfortable than this, and I’m getting another drink. You drink?”

“Josie, it’s like eight in the morning.”

“Then I’ll get out the good stuff. C’mon, I have some nicer chairs in the back.”

She did, in fact, have far nicer chairs in the back, along with a very nice couch that looked particularly comfy were it not for the somewhat concerning sight of a blanket and pillow resting on it.

“Josie, do you sleep on that couch?”

“Only when I’m not feeling up to going to bed,” she answered while crouching down and retrieving a bottle of jade liquid and some glasses from her cabinets, “Which is probably more often than is good for my back, but every bit of me aches these days so whatever. Did you know alcohol’s apparently the best way for an elf to actually show their age?”

“Considering you’re three hundred and thirty, the last I checked, you would be looking far more wrinkly,” Anaya replied as she grabbed a glass from Josie, holding it out for her.

Josie huffed in some amusement before pouring in the whiskey, a small smile on her face. “Believe me, I feel that age…hard to believe the last time we talked I’d just turned three hundred. Wound up missing your three hundredth though.”

Anaya shrugged, unbothered. “We were both busy in those days. You were caring for orphans, I was trying to get my life back on track…Speaking of, should I ask?”

“You could, but the answer isn't anything big. It’s just…” She shrugged, moving to sit on the couch. “There’s always a lotta orphans after invasions. It just keeps on happening, and most archdukes don’t care to put in the work to keep them fed, sheltered, clothed, happy…Margrave does. She turned a good chunk of that palace into a home for wayward children barely a month after she took power and she’s always pushed for things like apprenticeships, fostering…Of course, now the royals are taking up most of the palace, so I imagine she’s done her best to move them out of the way, if just so no Lucene causes an incident.”

“Mm.” Anaya sat across from Josie, letting the drink rest in her lap. “And how are you feeling about that?”

“...Shitty. For a lot of reasons. Not the least because she’s, what, forty-seven? Not even a quarter of my age and this city, blessed by the goddess, has never looked so clean…It’s that kind of thing that just makes me think it’s no wonder humans and elves didn't get along. The lifespan difference is one problem, but no one really thinks about the envy you get, seeing these people who walk so much closer to death doing so much more with so much less…”

“You still became pontiff,” Anaya pointed out.

“Right. Pontiff of a faith that doesn’t want one. At least not as long as I stick with Orindaco.” She sighed, sinking back in her seat. “...How did–I shouldn’t bring that up.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I get it.” Anaya swished her drink in its glass, then brought it up to her lips to sip–And almost immediately started coughing from just how sharp the taste was.

Josie had no sympathy, outright laughing at her plight. “That’s right! I forgot you couldn’t hold your liquor at all. Not even when you were an angry rebel.”

“T-T-To b-be fair t-to past me, I-I never actually rebelled, in the legal sense, against anyone.” The druid pounded a fist to her chest, coughing again. “Kaah–gah, ugh. A-And I can totally hold my liquor! I’ve won drinking contests! You just like to drink what’s basically acid!”

“Which you can’t hold.”

“I don’t think anybody but you can hold it! Besides, you know I always liked the fruitier stuff!”

“A wood elf liking fruits. My gods.”

Anaya pouted, blinking some tears from her eyes, before giggling. “Ah, whatever…Back on topic, I'm not going to say my brush with authority ended well. You can see that for yourself.”

“I can?”

She lifted up the hem of her skirts, showing off her leg. Her left leg, specifically.

“Oh. That’s new.”

“Mm hm. It, ah…well, let’s just say Kigalori was a monster and petrification is a worse fate than amputation.”

Josie nodded soberly, before sitting back with a tired sigh. “....neither of us are even that old by the standards of our people. Elves should be able to live for a thousand years naturally, but when’s the last time anyone ever made it that long?”

“Probably back in an era where a thousand years could pass without the world changing. Or at least not changing enough to throw off the dreams of elvish wizards and immortal practitioners. A time of myth, in other words.”

“A time when elves were elves, dragons ruled the skies, and gods walked the lands.” Josie gave a wry smile. “It probably sucked for everyone else though. Mortals and immortals never really mix well.”

Anaya considered an angel she knew, one who was a lot of things. Easy to deal with was not one of them, that much was true. Still. “I don’t know about that. People are people, at the end of the day.”

“True, but some things that look like people aren’t people. Isn’t that also true?”

“...I don’t think so. Sure, just because something that looks like a duck, acts like a duck, walks, talks, and quacks like a duck can be a demon duck instead doesn’t mean people aren’t always people. If they think, if they feel, if they act according to those feelings, can’t they still count as a person?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“It depends on the definition…We’re getting very philosophical today.”

“Hmph. Blame the absinthe. Did you mix this yourself? Because it tastes like pain.”

“And melancholy, don’t forget the melancholy. Probably some bitter envy in there too, explaining the acid taste…blegh. So what’ve you been up to anyway? You’re in the city for a reason–You said you were but also weren’t here about the wedding?”

Ah, back to the actual topic at hand, right. “Okay, this is going to be kind of a long story.”

And it was, though Josie listened along attentively enough as Anaya explained the tour, her meeting Michael/Misha, the discovery of the leviathans, their journey through Sollamava and Gorokiva, as well as the meetings of Polina and Noriko. She did take a small break in telling the story though, as even though she was skipping over details, it was still taking time.

"You know, I'm not surprised you somehow ended up getting a bunch of gals to tag along with ya. I am surprised you haven't made a move on one of them yet," Josie commented, which Anaya didn’t think was entirely fair.

"Time changes a girl, and well, I don't really think anything will happen." Polina was nice but not really her type, same for Noriko, and that wasn’t factoring in the fact that they both felt too young for her. Vivian was kind of cute though, for a high elf. Then there was…And she wasn’t about to broach that topic. Even if Michael did kiss her–on the cheek, admittedly–bringing that up with Josie would really throw things off.

"If you say so. I hafta say, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes. You don't sound especially fond of that angel."

That…wasn’t totally accurate, but, well. "...That's another story on its own, one that I'd rather not get into."

“Really? So you came over here because you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Anaya tried a smile. “What? Can’t I visit a near and dear friend of mine who I haven’t seen in years?”

“You can. You can also not insult your ex-girlfriend’s intelligence by trying to bullshit her.”

The smile attempt failed. “It’s not that I want to talk about it, it’s…”

“You wanted to come to me to distract yourself, not talk about your problems,” Josie finished, annoyingly accurate.

“Can’t I just enjoy some time with an old friend?” she tried again, “Drinking terrible drinks, philosophizing over the past, catching up again…”

“Sure. Just don’t use me to avoid your problems.”

Anaya winced. “That…You’re being pretty blunt right now.”

Josie shrugged. “I got it from you. You remember how that went, right? You, the battering ram, me, the mediator. Happened a few times. We argued about it, about me being too passive, you being too stubborn, and would you look at how that turned out?”

That earned a glare. “I’m not passive.”

The smile returned, wider this time. “There it is. Spine of oak, heart of briars. Prickly, but hiding roses.”

“...Roses don’t hide in briars, they’re on the outside,” Anaya corrected, making Josie snort then choke.

“Ow, fuck, that went up my nose…ow ow ow, fuck me that stings…”

“You’re a cleric, heal it,” she sniped, before deciding to down her drink to prove the point–And then both of them were coughing because Josie still had a terrible taste in alcohol and damn it that burned.

"What was that about healing?" Josie asked when her coughing subsided.

"Feh…"

"Come on now, at least tell me a bit more about this angel."

"Well…they've always been kinda rough you know, but I figured I should just try to brush it off. Since we were gonna travel together for so long, it'd be bad if we were at each other's throats, right?"

“So you gave them a chance.”

Anaya nodded. “I did. And it didn’t work out. They were…they kept something important from me, something that I’m sure they knew would change my opinion of them, and I know that…I can’t even tell if they feel bad about it because they’re so stubborn and…”

Josie waited for her to continue, then spoke up when she didn’t. “It would help if I knew what the angel did to piss you off.”

So Anaya explained. She explained the context of the heroes who saved her and her people, she explained the exile the gods enacted, she explained Michael’s role in it, and she elaborated on how, even afterwards, the angel enforced that exile and tried to kill Julius, the boy, now a man, who slayed the monster who’d terrorized her people.

“And it’s not like I want to be angry about this,” Anaya continued, hands clenching the glass in her grip, “I don’t…I spent so long trying to stop being angry all the time, to keep it from ruling my life, but now it’s back again and it’s all just jumbling up in my head! All my anger against the Dark Lands, against the monsters, and even against those bastard high elves like Vocula who never once tried to help even though I begged them over and over and over again and again! I just–How do I still–...”

She slumped back in her seat. She knew exactly how she would have finished that sentence, but she didn’t know how to voice it. She didn’t want to voice it.

“Hm. Your leg’s sprouting leaves,” Josie noted.

“...” It was. That was inconvenient. “...I prayed at–There’s a shrine to Chlora in Zemava. I prayed there because…I’m glad I didn’t meet the pontiff of light. Heroes, royals, I can meet those. I want to meet those, because it’s fun, in a way. But I’m glad Vocula is dead. I hope he does better in his next life.”

“I didn’t know he was dead.”

“I don’t either, but…” If the world was fair, he would be.

Josie nodded to her unfinished sentence. “Be careful who you voice that sentiment to.”

“Misha wouldn’t care.”

“Not them. Did you forget a good chunk of the mercenary population here is made up of Zemans?”

Right, they were. More people to avoid. More problems. She needed something else to think about or she really would break the glass in her hands. “Have you ever heard of Morsorova?”

“...Do you mean my home country?”

She blinked, confusion cutting through the ugly rage shifting in her heart and head. “What? No, you were born underwater, righ–...”

“Right. In Morsorova. The sunken country. Did you…I know we never figured out how to get you to visit but did you seriously forget??”

“I…um…did I ever ask?”

“...Alright, that’s it, you’re not getting anymore of my liquor.”

Anaya’s lips twitched, a slight smile coming up. “Oh noooo, what am I going to do without more acid? And here I was, starting to enjoy the burn!”

“In that case, lemme pour you another–”

“I’m good!” And that got a smile, well more of a smirk, from Josie.

"Well, your faulty memory aside, it's good that you started being a bit more honest with me."

"Sure, and now I have to whittle off what grew on my leg. Honestly you have no idea how annoying it is making sure this stays the same size and shape."

"I'm sure…not to be rude or anything, but you know you can get a fake leg not made out of wood, right?"

"I know, I just prefer the feeling of wood, and making this was surprisingly calming. Well, not at first. You have no idea how many bad legs I made that turned out too short or too long. Not to mention having to make sure I coated it properly so the leg wouldn't snap from rot."

"Pft, okay yeah, sorry, but that's a funny image," Josie said, trying to stifle her laughter. "Why didn't you find a carpenter or healer to help with that?"

"Well, after what happened…I wasn't in the mood to talk with anyone really. So I thought I could do it on my own. Which, well, I was able to. It took almost a year but I did it," Anaya said, bringing up her leg to look at it, "Took a lot of trial and error, not to mention patience, but I did it."

"Hm. I still think you should have talked with someone rather than doing it on your own."

"Hey, I was right in the end, wasn't I?"

"If you consider trudging through a year to make your leg right, then sure. Just saying if you talked with someone could have been faster."

Anaya huffed. “I was still right though.”

“Hmm. Say, wasn’t that something you were complaining about earlier? With your angel friend?”

“I–That’s different–”

Josie waved a hand. “I know it is, I’m just bringing up the parallel. It’s hard to change who you are as a person, especially if you’re around people who bring up that past. Not just the negative parts either. Remembering the positives tends to dye your eyes in rose, to butcher a metaphor.”

“...Have I ever mentioned that I don’t really like roses? They’re fussy, prickly, overly praised just for looking pretty…”

“See, you say things like that and I think you’re using a metaphor again. Language gets tricky when it gets too allegorical.”

“Yeah yeah, okay, I’ll try to stop…Do you have a knife or something? Because these leaves really are going to be a pain.”

“Probably, somewhere around here. I’m not exactly taking care of things all that well, in case you didn’t notice.”

“At least you didn’t dump the job on the first young lady trying to turn over a new leaf…”

Josie rolled her eyes as she stood, taking Anaya’s glass from her. “That pun was terrible, and we both know that’s not how you work.”

“Isn’t it? I’m less a ‘mighty oak’ and more a leaf on the breeze, flitting around–Ow!” She jerked back as Josie flicked her on the forehead. “...Ow??”

“No more metaphors. It’s getting too allegorier in here.”

“...That’s not a word.”

“Yes it is. Allegory, allegorier, allegoriest, they follow logically, now c’mon, I’m startin’ to get depressed here so we’re going for a walk.”

“Huh? Wait, wh–Ah, hey, leg’s still leafy, don’t yank me up!” she protested as Josie hoisted her to her feet.

“C’mon, c’mon, I’ve got a burst of energy here and I’m riding it out. We’re moving even if I have to carry you.”

Anaya gave her ex a deeply skeptical look there.

“I could if I wanted to.”

The skepticism increased.

“Okay fine, then I guess we’re visiting the royals instead of the fifth.”

She blinked, skepticism still present but skewed by confusion. “...Josie, was your plan to walk to the fifth dock? The one that’s infamous–”

“For courtesans, yes. What’s the matter? There’s more people wearing a cleric’s habit over there than over here anyway.”

“...If I remember right, I punched the person who said that particular phrase to you.”

“No, you beaned him in the head with a tankard. And the exact phrase was ‘there’s more people wearing habits on the fifth dock than the sixth’.” She tilted her head in mock concern. “That flick didn’t jumble your brains too much, did it? I know you don’t have many up there–”

“Alriiiiiight, knock it off,” Anaya said, flicking her back and earning a mock gasp from Josie.

“Anaya! So violent! So this is how the druids of Chlora treat their stalwart friends, huh?”

“Friend, yes. Stalwart, debatable. But fine, if you insist on taking me to a strip club with my leafy leg, you could at least let me lean on you.”

“You say that as if I wasn’t going to already. I remember carrying you home enough to be familiar with the practice."

"Feh, so you're gonna take me to your favorite place?"

"I'm a pontiff, I don't have a favorite place." Anaya didn't believe her, but she refrained from pushing it.

She would be lying if she said she imagined this was how meeting with Josie would go, but well, she wouldn't complain. Though...

“Are any places even open this early?”

“Oh you would be surprised.”