> In the end, Lell took it up with Elie.

> "I have come of the opinion that Neverr and the committee should perhaps have their own place on our list of concerns."

> Elie was practicing her chokehold on a soldier statue. Her day was nonchalant, mornings bright, and nights as dark as she desired. With the broken sun lighting up the world today, 'tis perfection.

>

> Until such demented silence was broken by Lell, a distant relative and high assistant of hers. Managed all the paperwork, and quite a few diplomatic meetings. The ways this woman could tie herself down and bring dullness to the best of the best days, Elie could only wonder. If Lell could do some self-bondage for her, though, with all the tying down, Elie wouldn't mind. In fact, that'd be great.

> With all the things that disturbed Lell, Elie wondered how she was even related. In fact, she said it aloud.

> "How am I even related to you."

> Not that it was a bad thing, it sure would simplify the attraction, but solemnly. With urgency. It was hard to explain the concerns of differences despite blood. Blood was near everything in this army, after all. Besides, really, was she related? She herself wouldn’t enjoy that much paperwork and keep up with the energy of the army.

Her high assistant scowled. She could think of a few choice words that would do nothing to further the discussion, but do wonders for her soul. As there were kingdoms, so too were there one Queen Elie of Destruction, having ruled for very long now; self-proven: the proof being in the headless Scythes cries, "I swear we're fully functional, even if I hold my head in my hands. No despair rises from this!" Evidenced by their somehow tamed Pixie rides, really bringing out that, y'know, headless horseman trait. Dullahans, was it. It just happened, is all! Nope, nothing to do with this writer over here. Pay no attention to that lump in the corner. Busy explaining how the rulers of the lands balance each other out. Occasionally swapping or saving certain residents, such as Queen Elie, May the lord of this planet look on in woe. Card games are so not his forte.

Queen Elie makes quick work of the statue's vocals. Err, neck, that is. Snap! Crack! Strange how their face is still so stoic. Reminds me of a ... err... *cough* statue *cough* haha... Don't stahp believin'! Her displeasure demonstrated, she stretches into a more casual pose. She has already heard news of Lell and Neverr's talk, of the committee and new exceptions to nice, solid rules. Bending time is tricky business. Yada yada. In conclusion: strong, solidly organized, related to what they cared about whether for good or ill. Once every 20 years to a thousand, they may be willing to change a huge, butterfly-effect rule. Maybe. Definitely not daily! This story’d require too much energy for my poor, drama-less heart.

And this rule was one never changed before. "'Time shall not be tampered with.' Balance means imbalance. Potato potahtoe, tomato tomahtoe. And how much do you think will be changed from this, Lell, dearie?"

In a more calmer mood, Lell answers more jovially, "Just the glorious destruction of about a million stars." "Precisely!" Answers Queen Elie. Around them are smooth balconies leading down to more smooth balconies. Surrounding the pentagonal building is more forest areas, and trees that could look this building in the scalp, rather than the eye.

And that's when Lell realized. Time may have been altered, bringing about a new scent in the air of cayenne. But Lell was still standing. And so were the trees. And so too the building they stood in. A planet or two was restored, even. Big whoop.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Past and present blends with time travel, and time happenstance. What did it have to do with them specifically? Let it go. Let it tick and be one with the present time. And whether or not there is a meet n greet, or that things will just keep happening.

And that's the message, packaged and delivered in soldier's blood to Neverr's front door. On it, smeared, lays the type, "I, for one, am not holding my breath- Lell". She sent some ripped black cloth, looking suspiciously like the half-veil she'd worn to the veranda that day.

-------------

And, yeah, she hasn't still.

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I finish adding the sun-stripped natural-grass-and-bark photograph to a bound binder of bark and twine.

Me being in a tree recording this momentous event with my (mystifying) hand has nothing to do with anything, I protest and declare. Even if Lell is one hell of a daughter.

Being an amoeba to myself? Worth it~~~! Self-marrying wasn't a problem, the priest being a committee member and all. Seemed relieved, as though through the ceremony, all his guilt just washed away. But I've never met the guy before! Can I call myself 'we'? Just sounds nice and creepier. Perhaps it'd be best not to. Next time, then.

Going back to extract all the Pixies and Scythes from that quaint, deadly, woodsy place, turns out they'd all found their way: some towards the Tree of Immortal Life, and some found the sole human inhabitant a delightful guide. Some George decided to be this guy's neighbor. To that end, the side characters took care of everything. What a trip in the hippocampus. Whoo.

I took one look at George, the definition of success, and thought about my hero status. Then I started eating bark off a tree in the Forbidden forest. Trust me, more delish than it sounds. Lots of sugary bark. Finished a whole tree off before I reluctantly paused. I'd become a side character for this tree, I thought. Chew this bark for a year or two. Doesn't sound drastic. That was years ago, me being lured by a non-hero tree. Don't hold a thing against the tree, though. It can't manipulate thoughts. My lucky break, I do deeeclare.

I think my daughter got it. Being an MC really isn't hereditary though, it's a real stroke of something or other.

SLAM! The tree I'm in falls. I think I recognize those red gloves. Cloves? Alcove! Nah, let's not "vee" everything. No punchline this time? Hai, hai. Sou desu.

I see a hairline, then a pair of bottomless eyes attached to abs. Wait, there's a face and head. Don't forget the neck. Appendages, as appetizers?

For a stretch of silence, we just stare. At each other, that is.

It's no longer plot police vs. MC. He was definitely chasing something or someone, to the Southwest of the tree I was in (before he had to go and collapse it, of all things! For pity's sake!), who looked a lot like my Lell.

He then gives me a hand up. This complex being keeping the plot going.

I take it.

And he says, "T'ain't you no more." Speeding off in their usual paced gait. Working the usual miracles.