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CHAPTER 26: NOT QUITE WHAT I EXPECTED
I have a problem.
.
.
.
Okay. Maybe several.
I have issues. That much I know—or at least that’s what my therapist and mother keeps subtly hinting at by prescribing me a grocery list of antipsychotics every week. Not that I take them. I don’t trust medication, unless there’s an obvious need for them, of course... like with gastroenteritis… but I digress.
My main problem, however, is that I don’t think things through before I act.
I’m smart—let’s not bother with fake modesty here—but I’m not always sure that’s a good thing. It’s not the kind of smarts that help you through life… It’s mostly background processing, you know? Sometimes I just know something’s going to work, but I don’t know why… I guess you could call it instincts? I subconsciously analyse everything I know, see and feel, and my subconscious come to a conclusion my conscious mind isn’t privy to? I can’t really explain it.
People call me crazy, but I can’t always see why. My actions all seems logical to me. I suppose my hierarchy of needs and priorities might not match that of others, but how could I be sure?
I should have studied psychology instead of electro-mechanics, but Mum wasn’t too enthused by it. I wonder why.
…Why am I rambling about this, you ask?
Oh, no reason, really.
Though it might be to distract my mind from the fact that I am currently being flung around like a ragdoll by a whirlpool of souls actively trying to drown me, surrounded only by murky whiteness and unnatural silence, blind, deaf and subjected to a debilitating level of pain by this corrosive spiritual plasma soup?
Turns out, damned souls aren’t friendly, and this river’s composition is overloading my natural resistance. It’s not exactly aggressive soul magic, more like aggressive souls, period, so I suppose it makes sense.
Or I might just be easily sidetracked.
One of the two.
Or both.
Most likely both.
Oh, and apparently, this body can’t swim.
Dammit, Victoria, couldn’t you do any form of exercise? Any at all?
Though, I probably should have checked that before suggesting we jump into a whirlpool of souls who were actively trying to drown me. I feel bad for them. The souls. They really shouldn’t waste all that effort on me. I can drown all by myself like a big girl, though I don’t require as much oxygen as normal humans do, so it’s taking quite a while…
Oh, right. Remember what I just said about instincts and knowing something’s going to work?
Well, sometimes, I'm wrong.
Or problems start when I don’t have a follow-up idea to that conclusion.
Sure, I got us out of an ambush by overpowered monsters… but now what?
I just hope now isn’t one of those times my mistakes get me killed.
The currents separated me from Thena early on. More accurately, I was ripped from her grip. On the positive side, we are both going to the same place anyway. Down.
Unable to swim, I resigned myself to being dragged down by the whirlpool—which I do while maintaining a cross-legged meditative pose. Ommmmmmmmmm. Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Ommmmmm. O-oooooooh!! THAT HURTS!! OH GOD, IT HURTS SO MUCH!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS GAME?!?! AAAAAAH!! –I mean, Ommmmmmmmmm. O? bhur bhuva? sva? tát savitúr váre?ya? bhárgo devásya dhimahi dhíyo yó na? prachodáyat... ihavenoideawhatimsaying.
Ugh! Hinduism is of no help in this situation!!
Gee. Who’d have guessed?
Oh, shut up.
Why do I keep getting myself in those situations?
Because you’ve got a terrible karma.
I thought we agreed not to bring Hinduism into this!!
What about Buddhism?
…I’m not talking to you anymore.
I try to refocus my mind away from the pain to instead ponder on the ethereal bodies flushing past me. It’s a weird feeling, being hugged—read “unsuccessfully ripped apart”—by partially immaterial limbs.
But they are spirits. Why can they touch me at all?
That’s a very good question.
*put on imaginary glasses*
Individually, the spirits cannot touch me. However, the abnormal density of souls associated with the nature of the river which is apparently limiting their instinctive migration to the planes of the afterlife creates a singularity in the form of a spiritual distortion leading to the plasmatic condensation of ectoplasm inside the tri-dimensional physical mortal dimension, otherwise known as “ectoplasm”, which is in its essence a viscous manifestation of the ether with a semblance of remnant post-mortem sentient will, though no sapient awareness.
Truly fascinating.
Can we weaponize it?
Maybe?
And how does anything you’ve just thought make any sense?
It’s spirit science.
Don’t question it.
Well, let’s just say I’m bathing in half-gaseous semi-conscious acid.
Which reminds me of a previous supposition I had. And I was right! Hahaha!! Ectoplasm is corrosive, though I don’t think it affects inanimate objects. I’m not sure. I’m not dumb enough to open my eyes and take a look at the state of my clothes, but so far I’m still feeling the constricting leather against my skin.
Disappointed? Well, stop whining, it’s not that kind of novel.
It worries me when you start talking to people who aren’t there, Nick.
Sorry.
Well, anyway. I don’t take damage because of my [BloodSoul] class. It’s kind of a cheat, isn’t it? Though I guess it only works against Soul magic… and I suppose I’m extremely vulnerable to Light magic… So it balances out? Maybe?
Still, I do feel the pain, and this is draining my blood reserves. I’m getting positively famished now. In boring terms, my Thirst bar is below 10%, which is critical. I’ll really need a snack later.
Note to self: ask Thena about it.
Noted.
Next is… Ah. Right. Apparently, I do need to breathe… damned. Ah! No, don’t open your mouth idiot! Even if I’m immune, drinking vaguely sentient acid can’t be pleasant…
…Can it?
“Sblurp-ack!”
NOOOOOOO!! It can’t! It’s not pleasant!! Not pleasant at all!! Oh, gods, it’s sentient acid! SENTIENT ACID!! Get it out! Get it out! Aaaargh! I can’t open my mouth! NO! Don’t get out through there! You’re immaterial! Go through the stomach! THROUGH THE STOMACH!! AAAAAAH!! DAMN YOU MEEEEE!!!
…sigh. What are you doing?
Aaaaaa… My insides were sullied.
I can’t get married anymore…
That doesn’t quite work that way.
Shut up.
Besides, you were never “clean” in the first place.
I told you to shut up.
“…married…”
Oh, do you have any input?
“…bad…”
Oh! Is that a coherent answer?
“…not … married … bad … blood … kill the maid … daddy angry … locked up … sad …”
Ah… Bad memories? My bad. Let’s skip that subject. Is that alright?
“… … …”
Aaaaaand she’s gone again.
A great conversationalist, she is not.
Indeed… Alalala.
And I’m still drowning aren’t I?
…
……
………
…………
……………what am I doing with my life?
* * *
Eventually, seconds before fainting from asphyxia, stomach ache and a bunch other unpleasant—read “traumatizing”—experiences, I suddenly feel air on my face and hands, the only parts not covered by my leather outfit. I inhale voraciously, open my eyes and take in the sight.
“Ooooh~ It’s a big cave. Echoooo!!”
“Echo… echo… echo… ho… ho… o…”
Hehehe. That was fun.
Oh, and I’m airborne.
And falling.
But let’s put that aside for a second. I need to set the stage.
Before me, spreads a vast cave lit up by a faint white glow without a visible source. An inverted forest of stalactites hangs from the ceiling, mirrored by a good number of stalagmites below. Behind me, the river of souls gushes out of a horizontal chasm in the wall and falls about fifty to sixty feet straight down in a horrendous cascade of struggling spirits, then it flows sinuously to the other extremity of the cave and into a maw-like opening leading to darkness. The dungeon most certainly.
Midway through the cave, an enormous white cocoon lays glued to a giant stalagmite. Tendrils of woven silk are waving around it like the thin tentacles of a beached epileptic octopus. As I watch, one of the tendrils lashes out, stabs into the river, and retracts to the main cocoon with a writhing soul speared on its extremity. The soul is then slowly and mercilessly absorbed into the cocoon, struggling and wailing in deafening silence.
Wow. This thing’s eating habits are nothing to scoff at.
…You proud of yourself?
Quite.
*sigh*
But let’s worry about the problem at hand, shall we? In the fraction of a second, I took in the scenery, I have fallen three-fourths of the way down the spectre-fall.
Time to react.
I focus and voicelessly call to my metamorphosis skill: [Bat Shifting]. The change is almost instantaneous and I spread my leathery wings against the forces of gravity. Don’t ask me where my clothes or all that extra mass goes, it’s magic—although, I feel the need to point out this isn’t like in movies where vampire turn into a tiny bat. I’m one darn big bat. I did some research and… ever heard of the giant golden-crowned flying fox? Well, that, but albino.
My winged form grazes the top of the foul river below as I perform a last-second recovery. Ethereal arms reach up from the plasma, but I fly away and they claw the air behind me harmlessly.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
I glide to the shore and return to my humanoid form. I want to make a pose when landing, but the second I stand on my feet—magically clad again—the world lurches around me and I fall onto my royal buttocks. “Owww… Seasick on land? That’s just not fun.” Oh—no, right. I glance at my Thirst bar. It’s sitting at a dangerous 2%. “Bunny bosom. This is bad.” I mumble and try to get to my feet. I succeed at the third attempt. My head is pulsing and my stomach is more upset than that time I ate [Howls of the Damned], a species of mushroom indigenous to the [Forest of Youdontwanttogothere Youreallydont].
In short, this sucks.
“I need—Oh, heck, Thena!” My brain catches up with a shock like being hit by lightning. Blinking the blurriness out of my eyes, with mixed results, I frantically search the side of the river for my blood bag— I mean esteemed orcish comrade.
There! I spot a large armoured form collapsed face down on the rocky shore. I draw a sharp breath. “Thena!” I scream. She’s uncomfortably close to that big pupa thing, but I don’t think about that right now. I stumble in her direction and fall to my knees next to her.
She isn’t moving.
“Thena…?” I try to shake her shoulder, but my weak strength can’t move her dense body, even when she’s not actively opposing me. Still, she doesn’t react. That’s not normal. “Thena? Hey, Thena. Say something. Thena!” I lean against her back, pressing an ear to her plate armour and trying to feel for a breath or a heartbeat. Any movement underneath the cursed metal.
I find nothing.
“Shite, shite, shite.” I bite my lower lip and pull at my hair. The braid came loose during the dive, and locks are framing my head in a tangled mess. I’m trying to think, but this blasted headache combined with exhaustion and sudden near panic makes it hard. “I need to… to… I… what…” Fuck. When did I become a useless bumbling idiot? “Healing spell. Of course. I’ll—Fuck! I don’t know any right now!” Stupid curse. Damn you, Victoria, and damn you, Ambrose.
Especially Ambrose.
“Okay, plan B.” I frantically open my Inventory. I confirm I'm out of resurrection potions—phoenix feathers aren’t that easy to find and I never had much use for them since you need someone to administer them. However, I have a handful of [High Potions] I concocted while waiting in the village. Thena’s breathing and heartbeat are probably just too faint for me to detect through her armour. Right. That has to be it.
I take one out and circle around Thena’s head, trying to get access to her mouth. But that brutish lout managed to collapse exactly on her face! How does anyone do that?! In know orcs have a flatter face than most humans, but still!
I realise I wouldn’t able to make her drink the potions anyway. Even if I would reach her mouth, I would need to flip her over for her to even swallow, and that’s out of the question. I’d need a crane, or a pulley at the very least.
Without other option, I pour the potion on her head. [High Potions] are all-purpose, from curing illness to healing wounds. It can get absorbed through the skin, though I don’t know how much effect it will have. I’m not even sure what Thena is suffering from. Is it asphyxia? Or something more esoteric? Fuck. I have no idea how to care for another person.
I pour a second potion on her, for good measure. The reddish fluid seeps into her hair and soon there is no trace left. A [High Potion] vanishes upon utilisation. Some of it is absorbed into the body and the rest evaporates. It’s actually a very volatile mixture, but it’s also instantaneously effective.
But nothing happens.
The large semi-orc stays as unmoving as before.
I chuckle. “Haha. It’s the cutaneous application, isn’t it? It must have dulled the effect. Right.” I nod and pull a third potion from my inventory, but my hands are shaky. The vial slips through my fingers and shatters on the stone floor, coating my knees in red. My hand drops to my side. “Hahaha.” I punch Thena’s armoured shoulder. It hurts. “Hey, big girl, cut it out. That’s not funny. Hahaha… haha…”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
This wasn’t supposed to happen! The [Soul Defence] should have protected her! And she’s a Shield Bearer, dammit! And a half-orc. She’s tougher than tough.
This isn’t going at all like planned.
…planned? Hahahaha. Planned. Planned?! Right. Yeah. What plan? I have no idea what I’m doing, as always. I’m just acting like I do.
Fuck this shit.
I don’t get it. Why am I even upset? It’s just a game. I know that. I die all the time in this place. I’m convinced I hold the record. She’s fine. I know she is. I should just laugh it off, get up and track down her possible respawn site—oh, and try not to die, but that’s secondary. Start with the westernmost town of the Safe Zone and fan out from there? Right. Sounds like a plan. I should… I could…
I just sit there.
My head is thumping beyond what should be legal for a game, my stomach is twisting like someone is physically gripping my organs and wrenching them, and there’s a vacant smile on my face that creeps out even me. But I don’t care. I’m not even thinking. I’m just observing. My brain is barely responding.
I push against Thena’s shoulder, ineffectively. I chuckle emptily. “Hey. Come on. Big girl. You can’t die now. We still have so many more mortal dangers to get into.” My push turns into a shove. “Dammit. Thena. Get up. That’s not funny!” The shove becomes pummelling. “Thena! Shit, shit, shit. Thena! THENAAA!! GET THE FUCK UP!! NOW!!” I try to stand up and… I don’t know. Kick her, or something? That might work. She hates when I kick her. I don’t know the difference between a kick and a punch? Maybe she thinks feet are dirtier? Or is it a pride thing? She is very prideful. It’s kind of cute in a way.
But all I manage to do is trip and hit my head on a stalactite.
I curl into a ball and grip my head. I swear through gritted teeth. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck.” My vision blurs further, with bloody tears this time. I wipe them off, trying to understand what is coming over me. My gaze falls on Thena’s prone form. She still isn’t moving. “Fuck.” I punch the ground. The pain clears my mind, but only so much. “This is all my fault. My fault… My fault… my fault…” More tears flow out. “I’m sorry.” For a heartbeat, the tall woman in medieval armour sprawled on the floor is replaced in my blurred sight, by a slightly shorter and slimmer silhouette wearing a bright red shirt. “Da—ugh!” My headaches spikes. It’s like someone stabbed a hot poker through my skull. It’s burning. It hurts. I think I hear screaming. Who is screaming?
*tutu*
Warning!!
Your heart-rate is higher than the defined lower safety limit. Discontinue all current action or you will be automatically logged off in 10…
9…
8…
Shut up.
Shut make it stop.
The pain. The screaming. Just make it stop.
I’m sorry.
Just make it stop.
Above the screaming, I hear a sharp breath followed by coughs. “Fuck—cough… Don’t—urgh. Don’t kill me off… just now… albino bitch. And stop screaming. My head already hurts enough. God, that river… those things. Why do I even listen to you? Your plans are shite.”
“Wha…” I blink, returning to my senses. “Thena!!” I throw myself at the semi-orc slowly sitting up. The red lights blinking ominously in my interface quiet down as my breathing does.
“Ouch!” She winces. “Get off me, you crazy woman!”
I ignore her and press my face against her chest plate. “Gods, I was so scared. Don’t do that!” The weirdest thing is, I was. I was scared.
Even though I know that nothing of this is real, that everything here is just one and zeroes, there was something about seeing her unmoving and vulnerable that just felt so wrong. I lightly punch her chest plate. “I mean—hahaha—a death fake-out? Really? Hahaha. What are you, the hero of a DC movie? Stupid, stupid… stupid…” The words come out in an inaudible mumble mixed with nervous chuckles. I wipe some more bloody tears.
“What are you mumbling?” She sighs. I look up and meet her golden eyes looking down at me. Her eyebrows are scrunched up in a complicated mix of confusion and anger and… something else. I don’t know what. I wonder what she’s thinking.
Quickly after, she shakes her head, sighs again and pushes me away. I let her. Not that I could resist. She snorts. Her usual gruff confidence seems to be returning. “I’m not going to die that easily, twerp. I hit my head on a rock when falling from that damn cascade, that’s all. I must have fainted.”
“But your heartbeat… and—”
“Through thick orc hide and heavy metal plating?”
“Uhhh…” Now I feel stupid.
More than usual?
Hush down, you.
Thena sighs with resigned exasperation and stands up. She scans the large cave. “What is this place?”
I discreetly sweep the shards of broken potion vial into the river. The spilt volatile potion already evaporated from the floor. “Inside the boss room of the dungeon, I guess.”
“Did we just… bypass the whole dungeon?” Thena asks, mostly to herself. She frowns, her gaze directed past me, at the cocoon.
I’m not paying attention. My own gaze is locked onto the last pieces of glass as they disappeared soundlessly into the plasma of souls. I covered the evidence by reflex…
What am I doing?
This is stupid.
“Thena I—” I look up, only to find the semi-orc lunging at me. My mouth snap shut as my eyes widen. I ready myself for the blow but the punch I half-expected doesn’t come. Her hand pushes me—still rather brutally, but nowhere as much as it could have. I tumble out of the way just as a thick tendril of silk spears through where the place my head used to be.
The woven lance strikes Thena’s chest instead. She grunts and takes a step back under the condensed impact, but the silk threads making up the tendril scatter against her cursed armour. A sigh of relief dies in my throat, however, when the threads instead wrap around the Shield Bearer. My eyes turn to saucers when the heavy mass of semi-orc and metal abruptly flies past me like horizontal bungee-jumping.
For an instant, I can only stare dumbly at the place Thena was a second ago.
“…What?” Recovering from my momentary confusion, I spin around.
Pressed against the giant cocoon—which at second glance is more sickly yellowish than white—Athena is struggling against tendrils trying to wrap around her. Two in-game years of ingrained reflexes take over, and I squint at the space slightly above the monster to get a sense of what we're up against.
[Putrid Cocoon of the Soul Eater (Boss)]
Well, isn’t that fucking charming?
A strange yelp from causes me to refocus my attention on the semi-orc… and despite everything, I can’t help the unsound smile that creeps on my face. In my head, I hear my inner companion give an appreciative whistle.
The pupa monster visibly failed at breaking the [Cursed Chimera Armour] and is now trying to invade through the interstices in the plating. But the few tendrils that manage to infiltrate the suit of armour lack the strength to crush Thena’s though body. This resulted in the tall armoured woman being held up in wriggling tentacles of silk, and I bet there is more to her flushed cheeks than her usual anger.
Where is a good bag of popcorn when you need one?
And that is why I always have been a fan of the Himekishi series…
Oh, shut up…
But my mental rebuke lacks strength and I involuntarily lick my fangs.
*ting*
New Skill: [Sadism] Type: Passive Level: Beginner 1 Description: The despicable aroused delight you feel in witnessing the sufferings of others has reflected on your ability to cause pain and on the inner workings of your own depraved mind. Effects: Your attacks will cause 10% more pain. Inflicting pain onto others may relieve you from negative mental statuses, including but not limited to [Confusion] and [Fear]. Efficiency depends on the pain felt by the target. Ratio will increase with level.
“Uwhaaat?!”
*ting*
New Title: [High Pervert] Conditions: Unlock both the skills [Masochism] and [Sadism]. Effects: Your sick mind protects you from external influences: +5% resistance to negative mental statuses. Like-minded NPCs will be better disposed towards you while those possessing the most basic moral decency will be inclined to scorn you.
What?! How? When? Who—Wait. When did I unlock [Masochism]?! I don’t agree with that ruling!!
I’m rather wondering how you didn’t get that title sooner.
Hey!
Just wondering.
“OH!! VICKY! A little help?!”
Ah, right.
I dismiss the windows and take another look at the tall woman. She is now almost entirely covered in mummy bandages and blushing heavily. From my perspective, her reddish tone harmoniously combines with her eyes and hair colour, as well as the murderous glare she is directing at me. “Aaaaw… I don’t know… Say ‘please’?” I respond teasingly.
But apparently, she isn’t in the mood.
“WHAT?! This is your fault in the first place! YOU BACKSTABBING BITCH!!! GET YOUR FUCKING BUTT OVER HERE AND FREE ME FROM THIS OBSCENE SHIT!!” She screams and rips a tendril of silk trying to cover her mouth and more. “IF I DIE HERE, I SWEAR I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND PERSONALLY SQUASH YOUR SICK BRAIN TO A PASTE!! YOU HEAR ME, YOU ALBINO CUNT EXHIBITIONIST TWO-FACED FREAK!!!”
“…wow.”
If you’ve finished your Keanu Reeves impression, maybe we should do something.
Oh. Right. Certainly.
“VICKY!!”
“Oh, for fudge’s sake! COMING! COMING!!”
Please say that again?
Oh, shut up.
Keeping a watchful eye on the monster’s numerous silken appendages, and fighting against light-headedness, I prudently make my way across the cave. Thankfully, the boss has his tentacles full with the irate semi-orc and doesn’t seem to have room to worry about little ol’ me. I almost reach the centre of the room before it reacts.
I duck under a stabbing tendril with a girly yelp, then evade another, and another. I strain my limited motor skills jumping around. Dammit! I don’t want to become hentai material! I watch porn, I don’t want to act in it! “Leave me alone, you… stupid… disgusting… perverted… turd!”
Thena must have noticed me—thank gods—because she roars something and the monster starts focusing entirely on her again. Saved! A taunting skill no doubt. I’d forgotten about those. I really need to get used to working with a tank, or relearn how to act in a party.
Although to be honest, even back when I was partied with Dan and Yas, tanking never really came up. We—how to say… We had more of an all-DPS thing going on.
That’s… one way to put it.
Well, Dan was kind of the rogue-assassin. I’d guess you’d call him a ninja? But his insistence to behave honourably and disdain for sneak attacks completely defied the purpose of his skill-set.
Yas… Yas mostly just punched whatever looked strong or looked at her funny. We’d generously dubbed her “Brawler” to her face, and called her “Trouble” when she wasn’t within earshot. I didn’t think “Thug” was a typical position in an MMO party, but she had that role down to a T.
And last, but not least, your servitor, I, then known as Elric Walker. I… err… I—well, technically, I suppose, I was the tank. I had the heavy armour and was the one with the largest health pool. However, Yasmin had a knack for aggroing OP monsters fifty level above ours which could one-shot any of us, so my role was less “tanking” and more “dodging a lot and running away cursing”.
And because I wore heavy armour, I always ran slower than the other two…
…bastards.
Well, I guess, in a roundabout way, I did fulfil my role as a tank. I did protect my teammate from death.
After all, most monsters had to pause in their pursuit to eat me.
Canned food is hard to eat without opposable thumbs.
But those were sombre days, before meeting Cookie, our healer. After that, things went much better… sort of.
By the time I finish reminiscing, I have reached Thena. Without pausing, I press my hands against the silk restraining her. I’m glad I remembered to relearn that spell. “We had our fun, painful and hot. But your wife is here, untie those knots. [End of Bondage]!”
.
.
.
…I want to make very clear I am not the one who came up with that incantation, or that name.
Archmages are weird people.
The silken restraints unravel. Athena falls on the ground with her usual unexpected grace. She immediately grabs me, throws me on her shoulder and begins running backwards away from the boss while simultaneously pulling off the last sticky threads still stuck to her armour. The monster wails in anger—something it manages somehow without any oral orifice—and a flurry of tendrils are launched after us. Thena parries a few with her shield and I burn the rest with well-timed [Fireballs] from atop Thena’s shoulder.
Somehow, I became Toto’s replacement. I’m not sure how to feel about that.
Thankfully, the sticky silk tentacles burned very well. Unfortunately, the [Putrid Cocoon of the Soul Eater (Boss)] can discard its tentacles as easily as it formed them, thus the flames never made it back to the main turd.
Eventually, we make out of the range of the tentacles. Past a certain distance, the tendrils can’t extend anymore. They retreat back to the cocoon and wriggle in a way I like to think of as frustrated. I stick out my tongue at the thing. Hahaha! Can’t beat the ultimate half duo!
Doesn’t that make one person?
Ugh! You know what I mean! She’s a half. I’m a half. We’re the Half Duo!
Still don’t get it.
Ughhhhh!
Hehehehe.
I hate you.
Thena sets me down. Her attention doesn’t leave our enemy. I give her a wry smile. “You backstabbing bitch? You sure know how to talk to a blood-sucking maiden, Thena.”
“Oh, please,” Athena growls. “If you’re a maiden, then I’m a horse. And don’t think we won’t talk about your attitude later.”
I kick a pebble. “Whatever, Mum.”
She shots me a glance but quickly look back to the cocoon. After keeping up the sulking act for another second, I come to stand next to her. We both face the tentacular mummified turd in the centre of the cave.
“Round two?” she asks.
“Round two,” I nod.
And thus we both stand, side by side, partners, comrades, equals, compadres in the face of dang—
“You’re in the back.”
“……”
“……”
*jiiiiii*
“What? What did I say? I’m the tank. It makes sense that I’m in the front.”
*jiiiiiiiiiiii*
“Seriously! Victoria, stop staring at me like that, it’s creepy.”
*jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii*
“VICTORIA!! YOU’RE FREAKING ME OUT!!!”
*jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii*
* * * * *