There was a palpable sense of relief in the air, as the last exam of the year was written, the last project turned in and the last presentation held. Accord Island, previously filled with anxiety, stress and tears, let out a collective breath, people indulging in an afternoon of relaxation for one last hurrah, before it would be summer break.
As night slowly fell, the atmosphere changed from a relaxed one, into an air of debauchery one could only find in a place where almost everyone was a student, all of whom had suffered during the exam-time and wanted to let off the accumulated steam.
Even I, for whom exams were mostly symbolic, my continued education and future in no way, shape or form dependent on their results, felt relieved that they were over. On an intellectual level, that relief made no sense, the real challenges would come during the summer, working with Technica and attending the Council’s Summit, but those seemed less daunting than the exams had been. I considered it a curious result of the atmosphere and environmental pressure, one that I would remain cognisant off, as instinctual perception was far from reality in this case.
But even knowing that the real challenge was ahead, I had agreed to join the others in letting off steam, to party the night away before going into the summer break. We, along dozens of others, had made our way into one of the clubs on the island, luckily getting in before the venue was filled to capacity. Curiously, despite the overall boisterous atmosphere, things were surprisingly civilised and contained, making me take a glance into the Accord Island monitoring system, searching for the reason. The result brought a grin to my face, realising that the security-personnel was pulling a double-shift, with every able body on duty, patrolling and keeping things under control. They likely had experienced what happened after exams in the past and clearly designed a system to keep control.
Despite my normal dislike for loud music, dancing with Sophia was an activity I would likely never get enough off. Simply being close to her, feel her move against me, the only thing that could make it better would be privacy and far fewer clothes. But that was for later.
“Hey, Diana.” Nisha greeted me, when I went to get something to drink for Sophia and myself. Compared to three weeks before, when Fey had made the charm for her, she looked a lot better, the exhaustion that had worn her down now gone, replaced with joyful exuberance. The long gloves covering her arm, and generally covering goth-fashion made it obvious that she was still using the charm to block the emotions of everyone around her out, but she looked good with her ensemble and it certainly made her stick out. While I was no fan of over-exaggerated make-up, she made the dark, almost brooding look work for her, despite, or maybe because of, the sharp contrast to her demeanor.
“Nisha, hello.” I greeted her, leaning back against the bar-counter to give her some space.
“Thank you.” she suddenly said in a very serious, almost somber, voice, right after giving the barkeeper her order. The non-sequitur threw me for a loop for a moment, before I realised that she was still referring to the charm.
“It was a gift, you know that.” I replied, not wanting her to feel indebted to me, that was not why I had made the deal with Fey. Especially as the deal seemed to have been just what Fey had been looking for, if the messages we had exchanged were anything to go by. Her plans apparently required precisely engraved and manufactured items, with the added difficulty that some of the engraving was supposed to be made on the inner structure of a layered, multi-material rod, something I considered impossible but was willing to try figuring out anyway. Especially as Fey had decided to give me some additional goods as incentive, providing me with a ward set-up similar, though less powerful, to what Technica had installed. From the instructions she had written down, simply placing the items she had provided in the right relation with one-another would create the protected area, though I had yet to try anything with it, due to time-constraints and the simple fact that I already had access to Technica’s perfectly protected lair.
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“And I’ll be grateful for your gift, you know that.” she returned my words to me, along with a wide smile. “So, you won’t say no if I’ll buy you and Sophia some drinks, right? Those would be gifts, afterall:” she added, getting me to roll my eyes, though I did accept her offer with a nod, inviting her back to the table we all had scooped out earlier.
“Thanks, love.” Sophia grinned when I handed her a drink, “I see you brought home a pet.” she added, looking Nisha over.
“Eh, she followed me home, what can I say?” I asked in return, deliberately keeping my voice unexcited and bland, causing both of them to laugh.
“Hey Karen, what are your plans for the break?” Nisha asked, joining into the general conversation. Her question, likely designed as a simple opening for small-talk, had a likely unintended effect, causing Karen’s eyes to flicker to Tanisha, who managed to blush hard enough to make it visible on her dark skin.
“There seems to be a story there.” Sophia teased, studying our friends.
“It seems that way, does it not? Now that I think of it, the two of them have looked very cozy in the last couple of weeks.” I joined in, though my eyes only focused on Karen, as I had a feeling that Tanisha was still trying to find her way.
“I’ll be moral support.” Karen admitted, now openly looking at Tanisha. “Come on, hun, you know everyone here and you know what they know.” she reminded her, speaking in a supportive, encouraging voice.
“I asked Karen to come with me when I visit my parents. The current plan is that she’ll stay for a few days with us, before going home.” she paused, visibly bracing herself. “She’ll be with me, when I tell my parents that I’m lesbian.”
Her admission about being lesbian was no surprise for any of us, thus ellicting no real reaction.
“Are you sure that’s how you gonna play it?” Sophia gently asked, though I could hear some amusement in her voice. “Think about it, what are your parents going to think, if she’s next to you?” she paused, likely for effect, “Their first impression will be that you brought home your girlfriend, is that the message you want to send?”
“You might want to clarify things there, beforehand. But I can’t fault you for wanting to have someone with you, if it bothers you as much as it obviously does.” Nisha nodded, reaching out to gently, and very briefly, squeeze Tanisha’s shoulder. The way she pulled back made me think that even her gloves might have been insufficient to block her empathy on direct contact.
“Think about it.” Sophia suggested, before emptying her glass and dragging me back to the dance-floor. Not that there was a lot of need to drag.
Quite a while later, we returned to the table, only to find our three friends well and truly plastered, leaning against each other in search of support, both structural and moral. The rest of our roommates had apparently abandoned them at some point, leaving them to drink in peace.
“Well, at least they seem cozy.” Sophia laughed, looking at them.
“I had hoped that Tanisha’s drinking problem would abate.” I sighed, idly wondering if they would fall over, like human-sized dominos if we took away one of them. It certainly looked that way.
“How do you think we can get them home?” Sophia asked, unwilling to simply abandon our friends.
“We might be able to find a wheelbarrow?” I half-jokingly asked, while using my connection to the security-system to try finding one in the vicinity. I doubted I would find one and the part of me that was closely linked to Galatea insisted that my cognitive functions were slightly impaired as well, but there was a chance.
“You can carry one, I can carry one. But what do we do with the last one?” Sophia asked, her eyes focused on Nisha, the smallest and lightest of the three of them.
“You might be able to carry her on your back? At least if we can secure her somehow.” I suggested, knowing that Sophia was much stronger than her physical form had any right to be. Remembering that I had some zip-ties, originally purchased as emergency-shackles, stashed in a hidden compartment of my boots, I reached down, pulling some out.
“These should work, right?” I asked, slightly disappointed that Sophia’s eyes were sceptical at my genius idea. I should remind her who the technical genius of the outfit was...