Before Elia could go raid the local alcohol storage, she had some stuff to do. Number one priority was finding Karla’s Uncle, this Kasimir fellow, who was her only clue at getting anywhere with the body-merger situation. Then, she’d need to check in on the others, to cash in her rewards, and find out where the heck she could get more of that divine seafood. She’d never been one for culture, but good food was something she was desperate to indulge in. Everything else, well, she’d absorb that through cultural osmosis.
Camille certainly hadn’t impressed upon her as some sort of despotic, Cruella-de-ville type aunt. Then again, maybe she was worse to Karla. Maybe there was some bad blood between the two. Either way, it was time to move.
With no time to lose, she swung to her feet, sauntered over to her gear and found a neatly trimmed letter, wrapped around some heavy metal thing. The letter simply read ‘For you, since yours seems to be defective’, whereas the metal thing inside was apparently a ring.
True ring of humankind
A ring of euphemistic illusions worn by outcasts or those undead who appear too far gone. When worn, retain a complete illusion of humankind. The illusion is physical, convincing even under rigorous touch.
A dreg is not a dreg, as the difference between each one is so pronounced as the one between existence and oblivion. For such creatures who have long since been plagued by the curse, these rings offer their only chance at a normal life.
Interesting. This implied that way back when, some people chose to hide their undeath, and did so successfully. Not everyone would be pleased at a grand quest telling them “come to Loften and do things for us”. Most people wouldn’t be. Elia certainly was split on it. But anyways, Rye would be overjoyed at this loot.
Was this Camille’s way of saying that her dress was not up to code? Was this bribery? Or would taking this count against the credit she already had?
Political shenanigans. Blurgh. The only way to win at politics was to not play the game.
Elia ruffled through her neatly folded gear, finding it right next to the broken sword Karla had unsuccessfully wielded against Rhuna. Her Aunt must have decided that the girl had enough weapons already. In Elia’s reckoning, the girl was plenty dangerous without any weapons.
Her powers towards the end were more than conjuration could explain. It was less blood magic and more a sympathetic kind of curse. Yolon had a greater shard of dreaming. Rhuna’s prisoner had the greater shard of sacrifice. If Karla had one too, did she have the greater shard of blood? Of wounds? What even was a greater shard? And where could she get one of her own? Questions for later.
She counted everything to make sure it was all in order. To her absolute delight, Partlight’s greater soul had an inclusion inside of it, the same dull-brown pottery shard Hall had gained her.
Dentus’ minor Grailshard
Stab yourself to imbue its power within you, increasing your number of boon slots by one and curtailing the influence of undeath from one of your characteristics. Wards against further reductions for that characteristic.
Minor Grailshard of Dentus, saint of teeth. For a greater god, a greater shard is given, and with it dominion over a piece of the world. For a lesser god or divine servant, a shard without personality will suffice.
Apparently Rhuna had stuffed Partlight with someone else’s shard. That she was so rich she could waste them on her dregs spoke measures; that she chose not to ward his mind even more.
‘This could do a lot of good,’ Elia idly thought.
It could heal Lim, give Mouggen back his memories, or maybe even turn a dreg into a human again. On the other hand, she had waited for the moment her body wasn’t that of a cripple for literal years. The soul of the Forlorn giant went a long way in plastering over her faults, but it still felt like the world owed her.
‘I could do more, couldn’t I?’
To her credit, Elia did hesitate. She took it as a great growth of her character that she felt the tiniest bit of regret, afterwards. A stab to her chest and in a single breath, it was done.
You have become more whole
Strength welled in her limbs, fire burning the curse’s impurities and long-lasting damage away. Muscles went taught like steel wires. Her bones turned heavy, then light, then normal. It was likely less amazing than it felt, but it felt good.
“I am so back,” Elia cackled. “You better watch out, gods.”
“Ribbit.”
“No, Quibbles, I haven’t forgotten my quest for revenge. It’s still in the workshopping phase. Any ideas, mister smartfrog?”
Quibbles chose to remain silent. As she reveled in the pure feeling of greatness, Elia threw up her entire status.
Name: Elia (& Rye)
Age: 221 & 22
Soul count: x28,000
Bone shards: [Common] 52, [Uncommon] x28, [Rare] x9, [Epic] x1
Her heart hitched for a beat as she fell through a tumble of emotions. Rye. It still counted them separately, so that was a good sign. It showed her true age as well. Really, over two centuries. She should have felt different. Older. Maybe she was just catching up on all the missed out opportunities to be her now that her life had truly started. Maybe she really had been stuck at 21 forever.
The loss of souls hurt. Yolon didn’t go down without a price. Her mass of shards were nice to look at, though they would still have to be divided between the group. She did not plan on using any of them until she got the OK.
Undead cursemark Quelled
Slightly diminishes sense and mind.
Vessels:
[Body] Soul of the Forlorn Giant [Uncommon] (Warded)
Your Body is stronger than humanly possible. You have the constitution and strength of a young giant. You have the tenacity of a smiling knight.
There it was, that sweet, sweet strength. The entire soul didn’t make her as strong as the giant, which made sense since otherwise she would just be as strong as her four souls combined. They were a supporting factor, lifting her to new heights and allowing her to break through what was humanly possible.
Integrating a lesser grailshard reset her curse mark progression too. Nice.
She skimmed through the rest of her greater souls, finding only one description she hadn’t focused on too much.
[Spirit/Mind] Soul of a crystallized conjurer [Uncommon]
Your Mind is superior to the average human’s. Your concentration is strong, like a conjurer on inspection day.
“Hah, I guess the people who accidentally summon eldritch monsters would have to pass their OSHA inspection with ten out of ten stars. Heh, stars.”
The silence that answered her was unnerving. She wanted Rye back.
Boons Elia:
1 – [Spirit] Psychometry [Uncommon] [Essence of Ego]
2 – [Body] Left Gauntlet of the Viper [Uncommon]
3 – [Body] Cutting Cutlery [Common] [Essence of Keenness] [Essence of Rending] [Empty Socket]
4 – [Spirit] Watercolor touch [Common]
5 -
Boons Rye:
1 – [Spirit] Dream-haze projection [Rare] [Empty Socket] [Empty Socket]
2 – [Sense] Threat music [Uncommon] [Empty Socket] [Empty Socket]
3 –
It was hard to resist rolling another rare boon right this instant, but she held herself back. Everything was in order, no one had stolen her two greater souls, and probably none of her bone shards either. The purple one was still there after all, and who’d risk discovery for a few grays and greens?
Elia would.
“‘Only commons’. Look at you, Elia, all snobby-like.”
[Cutting Cutlery] was common too, and look what she had made out of it. Elia bet she could do the same thing with Rye’s [Dream-haze projection], maybe even with her [Threat music].
Oh yeah. It was all coming together now.
“Wonder if they have an attendant around here.”
Sarah groaned. “Atten…dant…”
Right. The dreg was still here, politely waiting in silence. Almost made one forget she was there.
“Alright. Sure, let’s take a small detour. Lead the way, miss dreg-guide,” Elia said as she followed after her. “Gods, this is the weirdest zombie apocalypse I’ve ever been in.”
Sarah the dreg was not the best guide. She didn’t talk much and didn’t move all that fast either. Together, their progress was annoyingly slow. However, not having to rush from A to B had its benefits. It let her take in the sights, for one, and what sights they were.
Round arches rimmed by red-leaved vines ringed a theater large enough for hundreds. A distant temple stood atop a hill surrounded by vineyards. All around there was art and stone, all made of marble that was painted so colorfully it made the boring whites of the history museum seem like a lie.
Karla’s home had definitely been made in the Roman part of the city. It was as if someone had plucked the most storied renaissance paintings, statues, temples and building complexes, then artistically stacked them next to or on top of each other like some deranged lego-brick bonanza. It was calm and quiet, the kind of quiet that inevitably came from people who didn’t want their hangover-induced sleep to be disturbed.
Solid stone walls made way for granite pillars, made way for bushes with red berries, and soon enough Elia stumbled over someone who looked like his name was Blognarth the destroyer or something similarly sinister. His evil villain getup was slightly ruined by his two white bunny ears, and the fact that he was being spooned by a large woman dressed like Conan the barbarian. Her face was snuggled into the nook of his neck.
It would have been much cuter if there weren’t so many empty bottles lying around. Elia made a point of not waking that pair.
“At least they don’t discriminate against bekki.” And who would? They were neat. They were fantastical. They were sometimes not to be trusted, but most of the time, they were exactly as good or bad as anyone else. And Elia could claim all that and more with a comfortable sample size of two.
She stumbled over another empty bottle. “Somehow, I doubt we’ll find anything left in the winery.”
“Wine…ry…” Sarah turned on the spot.
“No! Nono, not towards, um…” Her eyes spotted an impossibility. “Wait one sec. I’ll be right back.”
“One… sec…”
She stormed off, leaving her guide behind. Stumbling over contorted pairs, trios, and piles of people all reeking of various substances, she reached the far wall moments before her target slammed a door and locked it behind them. Elia cursed herself for not taking her entire overfilled bag with her for once. Then again, the one thing people in this world didn’t seem to know how to do was make a good lock.
She summoned her [Left Gauntlet of the Viper] and used its sharp metal fingertips to jimmy the lock open. Within seconds, she was inside. The room smelled of metal, not the kind of rust she was used to, but steel of clean polish, of oil and vinegar. Her eyes adjusted to the dark with agonizing sluggishness.
A person moved in the corner and she power-walked right up to them, eliciting a yelp as she pinned them against the wall.
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“What the fudge are you doing here, Mahdi?”
“I-I don’t know who you mean.” Mahdi, aka the man formerly known as Harris, aka mister bullshit stuttered. “I’m Stultucles Asinus, master armorer, and quartermaster of the pact. I have rank! Y-you can’t just barge in here and touch me with with those strong arms and–”
Elia pressed her forearm further against his neck. “Cut the crap. One time is a coincidence. Twice is a conspiracy.”
Stultucles Asinus aka Mahdi aka the man formerly known as Harris struggled for a brief second, pretended to fall unconscious, then struggled some more when he realized Elia wasn’t an idiot.
“Alright. Alright! I give, I give. Honestly, just my luck to have someone go the exact route I picked so no one would notice.” Sullenly, he ripped off his fake mustache, eyebrows, wig, and a net of fake scars glued to his skin. “What do you want, miss Rye?”
“Who are you really?”
Stultucles Asinus (etc.) squirmed beneath her grip. He really wasn’t very strong at all, and at least that wasn’t an act. “I… Ruthe above, if I tell you this, these words go to no one else, you hear? I am a godservant. A mortal uplifted to accursed immortality, I served under Mercaturia, goddess of trade, who in turn served under Kao-Joo before his demise. I helped out with the little things, logistics, feeling the market and the likes.”
“Fascinating resume.” Her eyes darted to the corner of her vision. Somehow, for some reason, Aurana and Valti were still watching her. But they hadn’t done anything so far, so maybe this was their way of using her to spy on other people. “I’m assuming you don’t work for them anymore, since you wouldn’t be down here and all. What would happen if they found out you were still kicking?”
“Oh, gods above, nothing much, they’re quite dead.” He vigorously shook his head. “Kao-Joo was slain by Ubrus, the mistake and forlorn son, and Mercaturia was taken by Quintus as a spoil of war shortly before drinking poison.”
Elia felt some of the winds leave her sails. Familiar names, unfamiliar names, murder, death and horror. The gods had their own problems preventing them from fixing this big screwed-up world, sure, but apparently even with greater shards they weren’t doing much better than everyone else.
“And every day, the machinery degrades into a new state of decay,” she mumbled. “Still doesn’t explain why you pretended to be a merchant first in Crossroad Temple, then in Clearwater Temple. Now you’re a quartermaster for one of the factions ostensibly fighting over whatever it is they still see in Loften. Care to explain?”
“Gods forbid a man has hobbies!” He cried, then leaned forward in a conspiratorial tone. “In all honesty, the end of the world couldn’t have come at a better time. Immortals in the service of the gods can use the bowls to travel pro bono, which my masters used to get ahead of and control the flow of goods. But where I was bound to eternal service before, now I am free, free to enjoy my unending life and do what I have always wanted to do: become decadently rich. And I have an important role, I get people what they need. I am a valued member of the community.”
Elia opened her mouth, but no more words came to her. She sighed, finally freeing the man from her grip.
“Sorry. I’ve had some bad run-ins; got a lot on my mind.”
“Apology accepted.” He rubbed his neck. “You don’t seem like someone who does that often.”
She dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll keep your little secret. In exchange, I want in on that free transportation.”
He hummed and hawed for a second. Elia flexed her claw-gauntlet. The look on his face was priceless. What a versatile boon.
“Your hand, please.” He made a mark with a red stamp on Elia’s hand. It was a nice round one with a symbol she couldn’t quite understand surrounded by entwined twin serpents. “Is that all?”
Elia marveled her new tattoo some more, rubbing at it to make sure it was permanent.
“Well, I’ve got this sword here.” She handed him Partlight’s broken sword. “When other people used it, it shot blades of purple light. Could I get it… I dunno, repaired maybe? It worked, but in the not so far off case that I don't want to drain my entire reservoir for a few shots, it’s kinda missing the… sword-y bit too. Here, maybe this helps.”
Moonlight
One of the thirteen weapons dedicated to the gods, this one was crafted from dragon’s bone and a feather from the great god Erethel, who for his treachery was stripped of all divinity and cast beneath the birthplace of sorcery.
Imbue with your reservoir, so that the sword may glow with stygian frost and cast sickles of pale moonlight.
He stared at the weapon, then did a double-take when he read the description.
“Moonlight? I thought it was lost when one of Filia’s sons fell into the cavity, where Avon and his tar knights fester. One second, I might have just the thing.” He disappeared into the back room, then returned with a scale the size of a shield. It looked ancient, like someone had taken it from a fossil rather than a live animal. “Well, this would work as material for a new blade. You’d need to know a master craftsman though, a smith without compare and… oh right, you found one of those too.”
“Some people say I’m lucky.” She booped the shield-sized scale.
Tarakon Scale
A tarakon scale, used to craft weapons and armor of immense power.
It is commonly known that all dragons serve Worga. When she left on the immortal war, none were left with the ability to tame the whelps that were to hatch from their eggs. Since then, scales of this size have only become rarer.
“How do I transport this?”
“Oh, right.” He tapped the scale once and it shrunk down until it was coin-sized. “To make it bigger, just rub it between your fingers.”
She took the miniature scale, and found that its weight was reduced as well. “Nice boon.”
He nodded vigorously. “Oh, I am so jealous of yours too. I figured the gods still had a [Psychometry] stored in their vaults on the mountain, but I wouldn’t dare let my face be seen there again. Would you sell it to me?”
She shot him a frigid glare and he froze like a deer in headlights. “Ask that again and you’ll need to work out the logistics of sewing your limbs back together without hands.”
“Yes ma’am. Anything else, ma’am?”
“Well, I do have some credit with Camille.” He looked like he had taken a punch to the gut. “Buuut, since I’m not sure what I need right now, I’ll get back to you later.”
“Very well then. A good day then, miss Elia. May you find your peace beneath the sun.”
“Prepare some good essences for me, sir Stultus Asinus.”
With a pep in her step, she hopped outside the gloomy armory and back into the fields of hung-over aristocrats, pages, and other assorted humanfolk. Her smile faded the moment she saw her guide, or rather, her lack thereof.
“Goddammit Sarah, where the heck are you?”
----------------------------------------
Some time later, Elia was thoroughly lost. This place was a maze of tightly stacked palaces, hallways, and the occasional secret tunnel. She couldn’t even find her way back to her room where she could supposedly summon Sarah with just a ring of the bell.
“Maybe she’s around this corner… nope, weird statue again.”
The statue in question was some eclectic mixture of a boar, a cow, and a lizard, thick ivory tusks rimming an otherwise grim face. It was imposing, it was mighty, and probably for some artsy reason, it was both hideous to look at and anatomically correct. As with most of the surrounding area, it was heavily graffitied.
“Home sweet home. Scavenging volunteer’s list. Don’t trust the Rhuna.” She scratched her chin. “Statues move quicker when you’re not looking? Ominous.”
No matter how long she stared at the statue, it didn’t budge. There was more in other languages she recognized but didn’t understand. This area was frequented heavily by outsiders from earth in the past. Nowhere was there a handy sign that said ‘Kasimir, this way’. The longer this was going on, the more likely it was that Elia would have to do the unthinkable. She would have to ask someone for directions.
Grumbling to herself, she picked at the remnants of something between pork and beef on her borrowed plate. No, she was definitely not looking forward to making herself look like a complete idiot. Or a tourist. Her getup was a dead giveaway anyways. It didn’t look evil enough.
“Maybe I should get some fake scars too,” she mumbled.
After five minutes of walking between and around overdressed partygoers, she was back at the anatomically correct cow-lizard-boar.
‘Alright, walking in circles didn’t help. who should I ask? Misses Conan the Barbarian? Sir Return of the Assassin Mummy? Jason 2.0?”
“Hey!” someone called. “Hey, you in the armor.”
‘That could be anyone,’ she thought.
“Hey pretty girl.”
‘Still vague enough.’ She pushed a lock out of her face. ‘Having hair is weird and I don’t know if I hate it or love it. Rye doesn’t have… well, she isn’t lactose intolerant, I think, but I haven’t found any cheese, which is an absolute travesty. Then again, not much place to herd animals around here. Do they get all this meat from hunting? Do they just send hordes of dregs out or–”
A hand touched her shoulder and she twirled around, coming face to face with someone who thought himself overly charming to just go around touching people like that. To be fair, he did look like a handsome vampire, and vampires were generally known for both bravado and fuck-ass levels of charm.
His face was covered in a lizard-y half mask, and he was with another man and woman, who together with their cat and raven masks formed a trio she would describe as ‘troublemakers’, ‘adolescent aristrocrats’, or possibly even ‘the cool kids’.
If Elia had to guess, mister lizard was the leader. And with a smug grin like that, there was no way to worm herself out without going through some trouble.
“Listen here when I talk to you,” he demanded unreasonably, torpedoing her already low expectations for this conversation, sending them into the negatives.
She pointed innocently at herself. “Me?”
“Yes. You. Do you see any other armored female fighters around?”
“Maybe,” she shot a look past him. “There’s probably at least one of them lying around. Have you checked that pile over there?”
“Hey Zane, I think that’s your Mom over there.” The crow-masked man cackled, pointing under a stained banquet table.
“Kyle.”
The cat sneered as she snatched a skewer of colorful vegetables. “Looks like she was indecisive. She’s hogging Mephisto, Jeremia, Miss Vondevolt, and the ambassador of witches to herself.”
“Shut up Vivianne.”
He turned from glaring at them to grinning at her and continued whatever he was doing in one swift breath. “I see you’ve taken a liking to our local symbol of virility. Pretty weird, seeing a grug for the first time, isn’t it? You must be the new girl.”
He slammed his hand against the statue's plinth, pinning her between him and it.
“If no one has welcomed you to our maroon pact, how about I, ah, do you the honors?”
Her heart jumped a beat. Perfect white teeth gleamed between his mask. Was this a mugging? A health inspection? Was she about to be kidnapped by an undead three letter agency? No, this was worse. Her heart beat faster. Of course it would, the traitorous organ because this was exactly the kind of situation she’d googled relentlessly on the internet and ack, why was she remembering this now after two hundred years?
Her mouth formed a constricted O as she realized this was what it felt like to be hit on. Nice, buzzing, terrible and hot, electric, breathless, and downright dreadful.
How could anyone live like this? Why her? Why now?
Elia looked herself down and up. Of course, with the new ring she should have expected someone at least to try their luck. It had filled her hips out, rounded out her too sharp face, and set a gleam to her hair. A thousand little things and more were illusioned away, turning her from childhood-neighbor-cute to so gorgeous, she needed a lethal weapons license to bash her eyelids. And mister lizard – Zane, what a name – looked like he was already lethally wounded but did not know it yet.
Attraction implied attention implied a lot more social interaction than Elia was ready for. And Rye was not here to help her. She was not ready for civilization. Someone ought to throw her out back into the maze, where she at least knew the comfortable solutions to uncomfortable situations.
He cleared his throat. She was keeping him waiting for an awkward while. His two groupies snickered in the background.
Elia pinched her thigh. Focus. If she was reacting like this, then the merge was going deep. She needed to deal with this situation, perhaps with Zane as a concept, then find a way to Karla’s uncle and hope he had her fix.
Still. She had no idea how to even react. Instead, she did what she always did and let instinct guide her.
She leaned in, close enough that he could hopefully smell the hints of blood that weren’t cleaned off her armor. “I have a spoon.”
He blinked, twice.
“Is that some sort of… codeword?” He looked down to where she was holding her spoon against his neck. He didn’t realize the danger of the situation. “Of course, if you’re implying I’m dessert, then by all means, take a bite”
Dammit, that was smooth! This wasn’t good. Elia needed to steer this into waters she understood to navigate.
“Zane, was it? Cute name, but sorry, I like my men how I like my pork.”
“What’s a pork?”
“… I challenge you to a duel.”
He barely batted an eye. “Oh? What do you demand if you win?”
“Directions. I’d like to be elsewhere and I’m in a hurry.”
“Alright, a duel then. Undead rules, everything allowed besides killing. And if I win, you’ll tell me a bit more about you. Where you come from, what your favorite position is, if you’re a spy or not.”
“A what?”
A feral glint betrayed the moment a shadowy hand went for her throat. She ducked, twirled, and countered in one breath, surprised both at how little he hesitated and how much resistance she had felt with her boon when she struck him.
“Really, I’m sorry for the late revelation, but nobody has beaten me in a duel since–” Zane the maybe-vampire looked to where his left hand was hanging loosely, connected only by his clothing at the wrist. “The f– you bitch!”
He jerked back, then suddenly propelled himself forward unnaturally. Black mist shot out the back of his feet, but Elia didn’t let the boon-empowered move shock her as she stepped aside, parried an ethereal smoke-knife with her spoon, then went on the attack.
Another riposte and reversal later, his other hand fell to the floor, completely severed. A pit formed in her stomach. “Hey, it’s a bit late for first blood, but you can stop whenever.”
“Goddammit!” he yelled and went for a kick. “Where is that freaking music coming from!?”
“I’m serious, you can give up already,” Elia said somewhat shakily as she didn’t immediately cut through his knee.
“No!”
“Also, doesn’t that hurt?”
“Yes it fucking does!” Ah, so he was used to it. Just like her. They had something in common – NO! Focus! Cut him up, politely.
She ducked under a flying kick, then surprisingly felt it connect from behind. A swarm of his black mist surrounded her, many tiny fluttering things turning the day into near night. In between the mist, she thought she hit a foot, but it dissolved into tiny, fly-sized bats.
“Holy shit, you really are a vampire.” Elia lowered her stance as she turned for the next blow. It didn’t come from a predictable angle this time and she staggered on one knee as he kicked the other out from him. The threat music was a jitter of violins, peaking only at the moment another kick landed in her side. “Ow! You bit me!”
Hot.
“Rye?” He got another lick in her blindspot. “Hey, you could’ve won this if you’d hit me in the head.”
“I would never stoop so low and hit a girl,” he said, with an emphasis like a stereotypical eighties’ jock.
“I’m quite alright, thank you.” She backed away until she felt the plinth at her back. The next kick came low, from a predictable angle. Elia caught his leg, cut through his ankle, then barreled him over as he lost concentration and materialized. She sat on top of him, her [Left Gauntlet of the Viper] closed around his throat. “Well? Pretty good for a girl, no?”
The Cat and Raven cooed. The surprise written on his face gave her the tingliest satisfaction. “I win.”
He snarled, struggling one last time against her weight, but eventually gave it up. He just lay there under her feet, one arm draped across his eyes to hide his shame.
Score! One thousand points to Elia. This romance stuff was fun.
No! No romance. Never. Never because… because why? She wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon, not permanently at least. There was no reason to act like her life was a timer and therefore any commitment was a waste of time. Not having the sex-appeal of a red-headed Gollum was going to force her out there one way or another. Then again, there was no rush. Getting a new body was likely to happen soon. Until then she could just admire herself, Rye’s self, and take care of it in her absence. Even just looking at her fingertips was mesmerizing.
She turned to Zane’s two companions.
“Look, I appreciate the reception, but I’ve got as little bit of a soul-spirit emergency going on.”
“Ah, you’ll want to talk to Kasimir then.” The raven nodded. “Right down that road, then third right. Can’t rightly miss it, unless you're particularly dense or blind.”
She looked down the alley she’d traveled down two times, nodded once without acknowledging the guy she was standing on, then stepped off him and hopefully towards salvation. Fewer partygoers were lying around on the way there at least.
Maybe it was the lowered expectations, but Elia didn’t feel all that bad about the start of her day. “This place is so whack, Rye. I guess this is what counts for civilized society nowadays. I wish you were here.”
There was only silence, accompanied by the quiet croaking of Quibbles.
“You’re right, who needs romance when I have you? Who’s my best little boi? Who’s so chunky and round and cute like a button? You!”