Been a while.

In fact, it had been decades since the two of them were truly alone. Sure, they’d occupied the same guest room in Hallmark, but Balinth and Hell had always been so close-by, and Theora had spent most of the time exhausted or asleep. During the journey, Bell and Iso were always just a call away, no hint of true privacy even during a small conversation.

Theora gulped.

With Dema drawing attention to them being alone, she got a little flustered. She only now noticed how much she’d missed it.

“Let’s hug?” she asked in a low voice, almost a whisper. Dema laughed.

“Sure! Yes!” she exclaimed and stepped up, wrapping Theora in her arms, reaching up to pat her head. “There, there. You must be tired. Think you can sleep right now?”

“Sleeping is hard,” Theora said. “I keep having thoughts.”

Dema pulled away and smiled. “Gonna have to banish those thoughts,” she mused. “Any ideas? Oh, let’s take a bath!”

“Let’s not take a bath,” Theora murmured. She wouldn’t make it. She’d dissolve in the water. “Or, let’s do it separately. You can take one now, and I will take one later.”

“Aw! Fine! But I ain’t gonna take a bath until you rest. So, get into sleepy clothes and lie down!”

“It’s noon,” Theora said. “It’s not the time for ‘sleepy clothes’.”

Dema chuckled. “When has that ever stopped you!”

“I am well aware of social contracts and rules,” Theora claimed. “So, during the day, I will go to bed in my day clothes, not my sleepy clothes.”

“Yeah I can see you have a firm grasp on ’em. But! This is your vacation. If you wanna sit around in sleepy clothes all day, you totally can. I’m not gonna judge.”

Theora thought for a while. Going to sleep right now? Could she do that? The others were probably already investigating the quest. What if they ended up needing her? What if the quest was harder than expected?

“Did you [Appraise] the area?” she asked.

“Nah,” Dema replied. “Bell’s job, that. Mine’s to take care of our little rabbit and make sure she’s fast asleep as soon as possible. Not gonna let myself get distracted from that.”

“Alright, fine.” Theora sighed, went over to her travelling cloak and pulled out a simple long nightgown. She didn’t use it for sleeping outside; it had been a gift from Hell, so she wanted it to last for a long time, while still wearing it as much as possible.

A trip to the bathroom later, Theora had washed herself up and put on her ‘sleepy clothes’ in the middle of daylight. When she came back, Dema was sitting on one of the beds, tapping the empty area beside her. “Come lie down!”

Theora tried not to give away how that made her heart lurch, and slowly tapped over the soft floor to plop down on the bed. It was such a soft mattress with velvety sheets, adorned with lime green embroidery. She snuggled herself into the fabrics, half to shield herself from the warm presence Dema exerted as she gazed down with a smile.

“Now, sleep,” that presence then demanded, and Theora had absolutely no way to obey that command. Instead she just looked up into Dema’s eyes for a while like a scared animal, that mischievous grin looming.

“I can’t rest like this,” she pressed out.

“Oh? Why not, little rabbit? What’s the matter?” Dema asked innocently, and then added, “If there is anything I can do to help, you gotta let me know.”

Theora swallowed.

Yes, there was indeed something she imagined Dema could do to help. And, this might be the best chance ever to ask for it. After all, there were a few benefits to being sleepy and exhausted to the point of almost no return; for example, it felt emboldening. Filters that normally would keep her from saying things were less effective, and maybe she could use that to her advantage and ask for something that she would never be able to ask for again.

Theora took a deep breath. The fact that she could think about it this way at all… wasn’t it a bad sign? Didn’t it mean she wasn’t tired enough? She tried to shake off the thought with the beating of her heart, and eventually and finally made for the push.

“You could s—”

She choked on her words immediately. Blood rushed into her head, floodgates open, and she grabbed the blanket a bit tighter, turned her head to face into the pillow, her mouth just free enough to attempt it again.

“You could s-sing,” she almost whispered.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

And with that, Theora braced herself for the inevitable teasing. Just the way Dema had teased her a thousand times before. And Theora would weather that storm valiantly, and maybe be rewarded with a song in the end, if she was lucky. Or, perhaps Dema would act like her heart was fluttering again, or giggle, say something endearing, or—

None of that happened.

Instead, Dema’s slender and gentle fingers started grazing through Theora’s hair, brushing over her head, causing shivers of a kind Theora had never felt before. Not even headpats she’d received in the past could compete with how entirely overwhelming it was, how it froze her, and how she wanted to melt in the touch.

Alright, yes, that was relaxing. Like this, she might be able to rest, Theora thought.

That was before, just a second later, Dema really did start singing.

A low, raspy voice, quietly swallowed by the room, just for Theora’s tingling ears, a lullaby she didn’t know. In fact, it became clear quite soon that Dema was making the song up as she went along, singing a random melody with lyrics she pulled out of thin air. Something about two bunnies on a meadow, who soon became three, and then four — like a typical children’s good-night song, except she managed to occasionally weave in dubious jokes and impish comments.

And yet, it felt so incredibly good. Overwhelming, yes, but good.

By no known measures on the planet was Dema a good singer. She wasn’t a good poet, either. But Theora didn’t want her to ever stop. She didn’t want this moment to ever end, she’d give anything to have this voice accompany her to the end of time.

And with these thoughts circling around in her mind, Theora, eventually, dozed off.

It wasn’t true sleep. She could feel Dema’s presence through the haze, her shifting positions, changing hands to caress Theora’s head. Eventually, after ten minutes or ten hours, Dema left, saying a gentle goodbye Theora’s mind was too tired to parse.

Occasionally, distant sounds poked through the fog of her drowsiness. Feet stepped through the corridors, doors slid open and shut, echoes of subdued little shouts of joy rang out, clearly breaking the inn’s code of conduct. There were some sounds Theora couldn’t place or recognise; like distant oscillating clicks, and something like deep and subdued wheezing, although these breaths took too long to originate from a person. And, some kind of scratching.

Scratch, scratch, it kept going, every now and then.

Theora wondered if she was slipping into nightmares again, trying to brush away the fatigue clouding her mind. On the other hand, she was supposed to rest. That was the entire point of this, so maybe a nightmare was an adequate trade-off for a bit of deep sleep.

Where had Dema gone? Maybe she’d taken a bath? Maybe she’d gone to play with Kara.

Either was likely; bathing in hot water or playing with a mischievous child sounded like something she’d very much enjoy. There was also a good chance she’d run off to play pranks on the staff or other guests. Theora smiled a little.

But the smile vanished just as quickly. Dema and Theora had spent so much time apart in Hallmark, and really, Theora had no idea how that time had gone for her. Had Dema enjoyed herself, in those four decades?

Hopefully. She definitely needed to ask, next time she’d have the chance. She opened her tired eyes to stare out the window. It was dark by now, but a few stars glittered between the trees.

I really hope she had a good time there, Theora thought.

[Head in the Clouds].

Answer: Of course she did. Otherwise, she’d have complained to no end.

Theora blinked. Had her Skill just activated itself?

[Head in the Clouds].

Answer: Oh, sorry. I’m just getting bored since you haven’t talked to me in so long.

[Head in the Clouds] advanced to Level 3!

Theora closed her eyes. No more staring into the sky.

So apparently, her Skills were levelling up themselves now. Well, with how much she’d neglected them, this was almost bound to happen. Or was it? Theora couldn’t tell.

She definitely needed to work on [im//possibility] at some point too… The only issue was that no situation ever felt adequate to use it in, since the Skill’s description sounded like it could literally mess with anything. Maybe Theora would find herself in a desert one day, away from other people and society and nature. Deserts were a part of nature though, so perhaps doing it outside of reality was a better option. That said, any information she’d learn about the Skill there would potentially not even translate to this world, so even that didn’t seem like a perfect option.

On the other hand, maybe she was overthinking again. Maybe the Skill wasn’t that bad. Maybe it wouldn’t cause true harm and just mildly annoy her. That pretty much sounded in-theme with [Stargazer].

Theora sighed softly. Overthinking again, yes. Remember the rule.

She did her best to replay Dema’s lullaby in her mind. Imagined Dema still sitting next to her, feeling fingers stroke through her hair, and the soft humming of her low voice. Instantly, tension she didn’t realise she’d been holding ebbed out from the muscles of her body, and she melted further into blankets and mattress and pillow in yearning.

Some lanterns from the outside shone tiny rays into the room, slow dust whirls reflected against the darkness. A gentle wind howled through the building, making the wooden beams ache ever so slightly. Cicada noises echoed from the forest. Dema had left one window slightly open, letting a fresh breeze of air slip into the room.

Yes, this was good. Dema had made a good choice in having them come here. She was out there relaxing, and Bell and Iso could save that person. Meanwhile, Theora could lie here, for as long as she wanted, and simply let go of all her burdens. She could wait for Dema to come back to ask for another hug, or maybe another song, even, and perhaps, if Theora turned out to be the most blessed person in the world, Dema would even comply.

The only thing Theora felt maybe a little unhappy about was the scratching.

The scratching from beneath her that made it a bit hard to truly fall asleep. It wasn’t continuous; it just scraped at some surface every now and then, and pulled her out of her slumber.

Scratch, scratch, it woke her up again.

This time, half-asleep, she dragged up her tired muscles, and heaved herself to the edge of her mattress, letting her head dangle down. As her hair grazed the floor, she took a peek.

Embedded in the gap, darkness stared back with frizzly red eyes.

There was a monster under her bed.