-Confucius-

This was all very puzzling and nice.

Confucius had never been part of a celebration before. To be fair, he had only been born a few days ago, but it was very different from the few days he had experienced. The slimes, instead of philosophizing or practicing aesthetical balance at the Jungle Gym (and why was it named that, anyways?), were happily riding the dungeon currents with the snake-worms. Snake-worms who, picking up on the festive mood, were not attacking anyone!

That on its own was a massive surprise, Confucius had been forced to respawn by them at least ten times in his short lifespan.

It didn’t end there, though. Slender and Undine were dancing (and wasn’t that a wonderous sight! Gleaming water twisting and bending in the arms of a long, delicate dancer. They teleported through any obstacles, keeping unwavering time to the dipluran choir; sparkling like the core itself), Atalanta had hitched a ride on Mr. Wriggles (who bucked only playfully), and Puck had bodily thrown Duchess at Van Gogh in the least subtle attempt at matchmaking possible.

The specters weren’t the only one’s dancing. Mum had let the delvers into their grotto, and they had joined the celebrations with varying levels of enthusiasm. Dungeon-touched Celio (that was what his status said, at least) had grabbed Paladin Ira by the hand—that had ended with Celio tossed into a nearby pool, but he seemed happy nonetheless—and Felix had thrown Astrid over his shoulder like a sack of dirt and was running around yelling at the top of his lungs for no clear reason.

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Confucius sat in the corner with Arachne, not sure what to do with all the noise.

[Are you alright?] the quiet faerie asked.

He nodded. [This is fun. I’m just not sure where I fit.]

Arachne hummed thoughtfully. [A good question.] She played with mum’s aura, a habit more than an intentional thing. [Where would you like to fit?]

[Well…] Confucius had started as a plant. He wasn’t used to wanting things beyond sustenance. And now he didn’t even need sustenance.

She shrugged. [You don’t have to answer right away. Some questions require more thought than others.]

He nodded, watching Undine and Slenderman sparkle through a jet of water that supported the grotto like a load-bearing pillar.

His older sister, Astrid, was laughing. She’d escaped Felix and was toting Nova on her own shoulder, fruitlessly chased by Septimus.

Achilles shyly approached Arachne and him. It was surprising, for the reckless faerie to be shy, but he was always that way around Arachne.

[It would be nice to dance.] He told Arachne.

She shrugged. [Then you should find someone to dance with.]

He shifted uncomfortably. [I…]

[Yes?] Arachne shot him a haughty look.

[I would like to dance with you, please.]

The diplurans changed songs, switching from jazz to a waltz.

Sighing coquettishly, Arachne took Achilles’ hand, leaving Confucius alone in his corner.

He watched the crowd celebrating. Ghost Rider had lit his head on fire and was chasing the High Priestess Aurelia around, much to High Priest Silas’ amusement. The two teenage delvers, Clara and Acacias, had taken off their shoes to dangle bare feet in cool water. Chomp-chomp nipped at Clara’s toes playfully, drawing a surprised yelp from the girl and jiggling laughter from the slimes.

Where did Confucius belong, really? After a long moment of thought, he finally retreated to the garden he’d been born in.

He’d figure it out later.