”There will always be another, just like me. There is always another tragedy.” -new year, theveryworstthing-

_____

Alanna looked up from her phone to the people sitting around in the Attic dungeon with her. “James says he’s fine.” She announced to the group.

”Really?” Sarah asked, doubt coloring her words as she pointed at her girlfriend with one of her french fries. Her doubt wasn’t at Alanna, though, it was at James. “Is he really, or is he doing his best James impression, and covering up his own self-doubt and anxiety?”

“No, she’s right,” Anesh spoke up from where two of him along with Keeka were working on trying to properly pin a cloth ribbon back to the ‘ceiling’ of the increasingly structurally impressive pillow fort that made up a growing biome of Clutter Ascent. They had originally tried to make it look fancy, Anesh drawing on an old skill orb for calligraphy and Keeka seeking to use a new one for interior design in order to make something that looked subtly more artistic than a first glance would expect. But that was, it turned out, hard to do when you were teetering on a stepladder and desperately counting on your boyfriend’s extra arms to get through the process. So they’d given up and were just trying to affix it without any theatrics. “I’m in the same group chat,” Anesh continued as his arms started to ache held over his head, “James was pretty up front about being furious at someone, but optimistic about their search.”

It was actually a bit fun to Anesh. This was, in a way, the first time he was ‘away’ from his boyfriend for a period of time that didn’t involve James being kidnapped or hit by a car or otherwise removed from cell phone access. And he’d found that he really enjoyed the mild stream of updates on things both mundane and tactical as James complained about the investigation or sent pictures of the local scenery or the barbeque chicken that Charlie had made everyone for dinner. It was also how he knew James wasn’t dead, which was a plus. And how he knew that today, his partner wouldn’t be doing anything other than digging through birth records and other ways of tracing family lines from the safety of the rented house they were staying in.

”Mmmmmh…” Sarah grumbled, shifting in her beanbag and carefully wiping her hands on a napkin before setting her lunch plate aside. “And he doesn’t want help?” She was still suspicious. “I would want help.”

“Isn’t that why we sent James in the first place? Because he will need less help?” Keeka asked in his chittering voice.

Alanna barked out a laugh, surprising a nearby group of young stuff animals that were playing with a supply of LEGO that the Order had brought in. As a few of the young dungeon creatures started laughing along with her for no other reason than it seemed fun, Alanna broke off with a wide grin and shook her head at Keeka. “Nah, James is probably gonna need bailing out at some point. But he’s got other help down there. Like your boyfriend!”

Keeka untangled himself from the successfully repaired banner, and clambered down to the floor of the dungeon. Two of his arms reached around one of the tired Anesh, while the other two curled around to point at the captured human. “This one?” He asked, careful to avoid the napping form of Ganesh sitting on the human’s shoulder as Anesh let him maneuver his body slightly.

”…Guys, I’m totally on board with this ever expanding polycule we’ve got going on,” Alanna said flatly, “but we have got to invent better terminology.”

”So not this one.” Keeka nodded his furred triangular head, content that he had deduced this properly.

Sarah shook her head as she stood and stretched, the mostly-raccoon stuff animal that was nesting on her head staying asleep as she moved with an almost inhuman precision to avoid disturbing her passenger. “I’m just saying! Every time James leaves the state, bad things happen! We should be ready!”

”…That’s… hm.” Anesh trailed off, one of him frowning in concentration as the other him looked over at Alanna. “That’s a really terrifying thing she’s said. Should we have stopped James from crossing any borders?”

”You’re all dumbasses.” Alanna said, rolling her eyes and getting an indignant squeak in response. “Yeah, even you Keeks! The whole point is that James is packed to the eyeballs with useful magic, and he’s been spending most of his free time practicing how to be a superhero. Plus, he’s got Zhu and Arrush for backup and comfort. He’ll be fine.”

”Arrush is comfortable.” Keeka said with a distant dreamy look in his crescent formation of eyes. “Does this mean we aren’t allowed to worry, though?” He asked Alanna.

She snorted. “Oh, nah, go ahead. I’ve got a telepad prepped for when this goes to shit anyway.”

”Don’t swear in front of the kids!” Sarah admonished her as the stuff animal on her head stirred slightly. “But I am glad you’re taking it seriously. I’m glad James feels confident and all, but I don’t want him to get hurt again. Last time was bad, and… and…” She sniffed loudly, turning her head and then frantically catching the part-raccoon part-salamander critter that tumbled off as she forgot her posture.

Anesh sighed as the two of him quietly flipped a coin to see which of them was going which direction. One of him waved and got a hug goodbye as he took off to go do Research work, taking Ganesh with him as the little drone had long since set aside his career as a tiny delver, while the other him stuck around. “I’m honestly just hoping he treats it like a vacation. He’s been working too hard lately. And from what I hear, Arrush needs to relax a bit too.”

”He’s terrified!” Keeka nodded energetically. “His time for change is soon. So this is a good distraction! Well…” the ratroach fidgeted and leaned in toward Sarah and Alanna conspiratorially. “…It is good if they are only having sex and not being attacked by monsters.”

”…Tha…” Alanna pressed her thumbs into the side of her nose, trying to process just how blunt that statement was. “And everyone thinks I’m the conversational hurricane.” She muttered. “Anyway, James’ texts didn’t say one way or the other on that front. Also how are you the lewdest person in our group?” Alanna demanded of the ratroach.

”I am very powerful!” Keeka chittered out a giggle, his rounded antenna bobbing as he titled his head away and covered his muzzle with a set of his hands. “Everything feels easier when nothing hurts, and I thought that it would wear off, but it hasn’t yet, so nothing can stop me saying things!”

Sarah shook her head at the antics, depositing the stuff animal in her arms to the floor and letting her run off to join the others that had gone back to joyfully playing with blocks. “Well, it does make sense, but I’m still gonna worry about my friend.” She declared. “But as long as he’s keeping us freed up to work on our own goofy nonsense, I’ve got a cloud that needs brushing so she doesn’t shed too much. And you lot are going exploring, right?”

“Yup!” Alanna said joyously. “Our little Clutter is growing up so fast! Who’s a good dungeon with a fancy swamp? It’s yoooou!” She swept her arms out, spinning around underneath the incandescent lamps that hung from the structurally sound blankets and pillows of the dungeon. A swirling procession of stuff animals abandoned their own game as a few of them rushed over and started racing in circles around Alanna’s feet, drawing another laugh from her. “You know… you know how we spend a lot of our lives in places like this, because of the spells and the upgrades and stuff? I’m gonna tell you all right now, if there were no magic at all, I’d still be taking hikes through this place every week.”

”I know what you mean.” Anesh said with a happy sigh. “Well, Sarah, thanks for lunch and for the introductions to our little friends here. I think it’s about time we set out, huh? We’ll see you later tonight at home?”

”You sure will!” Sarah said. “You guys have fun. Oh, and if anyone figures out why texts work in this dungeon but no other ones, let me know!”

”…I… hm.” Anesh faltered, before Alanna grabbed his shoulders and steered him forward out of the pillow fort. “Wait, no, I really need to think about this!” She heard him say as he was prodded into being a delver. “Also, wait, Alanna! Sarah said she was going to brush a cloud! We can’t just let her say that and…” his voice faded away as the blankets fell back into their form as a door, Keeka trailing behind Anesh and Alanna and giggling the whole way.

Sarah nodded to herself, looking around at the gathered dungeon life and the few human and camraconda caretakers who were on site today. “Okay guys, I’ll be upstairs for a bit. You know where to find me!” She said with bright cheer that she found came a lot more honestly these days. “I’m sure we’ll get at least one silly thing happening back at the Lair today. But it feels like a quiet day! I’ve got a good feeling about it!”

Sarah’s latest hobby was tempting fate. Though she had decided not to think of it that way.

_____

Camille the Azure was currently grounded.

If she hadn’t recently learned that she was, likely, a constructed life form that was less than a few years old, this would have been extremely offensive. Actually, it was probably still offensive. If anyone tried to actually treat her like a child, Cam would have employed her favorite tactic of staring at them silently with ‘badly’ concealed ire until they stopped and left her alone. No, the thing that rankled about the situation was that it was most likely a good idea.

Her sister was in the city. A Crimson, one of what Cam suspected was six or seven total. A not insignificant portion of the Last Line’s force projection, committed to this mostly stable suburban region. There was really only one reason that Crimsons were deployed anywhere on their own, and it was elimination of priority targets. So either Lloyd - she secretly enjoyed the overt disrespect of the nickname - had found someone in the area who needed to die, or, more likely, the Crimson was here for her.

That last one was the obvious deduction, but Camille was, first and foremost, an intelligence operative. Obvious answers weren’t good enough; only correct answers would suffice. Which was why Ben and a few of the more experienced rogues were keeping an eye on the Crimson. Often using the Order of Endless Rooms’ highly illegal access to the nation’s traffic cameras, but also just by employing classic physical surveillance.

Cam kept herself apprised of the situation, even if she was supposed to be taking a break.

In her old life, downtime was spent minimizing activity in order to heal from wounds, or training. There wasn’t even a concept of making herself useful; that wasn’t her role. She followed orders, and ensured that she could follow orders. There was nothing else.

In this life… well. Cam was still worried about how much she had changed. But never did it come into stark focus quite so much when she attempted to confine herself to her quarters, and found that it only took three hours of staring at the ceiling while laying on her decadently comfortable bed before she got bored. The sensation of it was so abrupt that she almost mistook it for a physical pain. Figuring out what was wrong hadn’t been easy either. It was only when Cam had begun to head toward medical to try to get answers that she found herself alleviated from her suffering.

Realizing that she even could get bored had been terrifying. More than the thought of being killed by her sister, more than the reality of being changed to suit the Order, more than any of the maybies or possibilities bouncing around. This was something that had happened, to her, and was going on right now. And she didn’t have any survival tools to deal with it.

So she wandered. For the first time, going nowhere in particular within the Lair. Not that Cam turned off the part of her attention that mapped the halls, compared her position to the convenient maps the Order had printed out for her, and updated her optimized routes to different parts of the structure. But that was at least something to do.

Finding her way to the artificial underground park that had been created around the apartment complex, Cam had taken time to wander through the curving rows of bamboo and flowering shrubs. She’d known there was a park here, but even during the recent paladin ceremony where there had apparently been some form of ‘garden party’ down here, she had never seen it in person.

It was interesting. Limited lines of sight, but not fully obstructed in many places. Pushing through the bamboo would be rather easy, and judging by how there were small gaps in it, especially toward the ground, it looked like the local children had already figured that out. A fight here would come down to maximizing the use of the concealment, and not the physical barriers.

Boredom faded as Cam began plotting scenarios in her head while she walked idly through the garden, passing stone fountains and benches and a few people who were casually socializing. It wasn’t that she had intentionally sought it out, but this was familiar, if not relaxing.

Eventually, she decided to move on, and circled back toward the central path. This, though, took her past other people, who Cam had a difficult time ignoring.

Partly because she was trying to force herself to use the word “people” and not “humans”. If she was planning to shelter under the Order of Endless Rooms, then she should be prepared to follow their culture, and that meant that, no matter how much it still unsettled her, the ratroaches and camracondas and other things besides were people. The initial hurdle had been easy to clear, but she made sure to reinforce the thoughts over time whenever she had the opportunity, and Cam would place a moderately high chance that she wouldn’t be able to easily revert if she were to leave.

Partly, it was because they were struggling with moving a heavy couch down the smooth walkway. Three humans, two of them somewhere on the edge between children and adolescent, and one camraconda, and they were having a difficult time even with the ability one of them had to freeze matter in place.

Cam ran through options as her even pace took her toward the group. Pretending she was busy was the sort of casual deception she was attempting to avoid with the people here. Flatly ignoring them was socially rude, but she held a unique position where she didn’t need to worry about that. And yet, she could avoid both of those things entirely by simply offering to help.

And… it wasn’t as if she had anything to do otherwise. Camille was bored, after all.

”Hello.” She introduced herself bluntly, blocking their forward progress by coming to a stop.

”Ah, scuse me!” The man supporting one end of the couch on his own gasped out. “Just gotta-“

Cam interrupted, still blunt. “I can help, if you set that down.”

The two kids did so almost right away, the couch’s legs saved only by the camraconda’s quick thinking, letting it drop in increments while the serpent pushed back with their body to bleed off force. The adult sighed and slowly lowered their side, shimmying in an awkward motion before slumping forward on the furnishing. “Alright, a short… a short break.” He sucked in heavy breaths. “I got so excited when I heard the job had free rent, I didn’t consider moving.”

”There are people who would assist with this.” Cam told him as she circled the couch, and the two young boys who were now sprawled dramatically on the smooth concrete floor. “You didn’t need to do this alone.” She was aware of the irony in her words, but she also chose not to think about it right then. “Stand back please.”

“Ah, no break then! Okay, okay. Hi, I’m Bishop, by the way.” He offered her a hand to shake, and Cam paused in her examination before deciding to go for it. “That’s Andy and Patrick over there being drama queens.”

”Dad!” The two yelled at once, before they split off. “It’s too heavy!” “We’re exhausted!”

”See?” He smiled at Cam.

She nodded once, her face still mostly blank. “I’m familiar with this.” She offered. “Where is this couch going?”

”Oh, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “One fifteen? Gotta say, I know the boss covered the whole ‘magic’ thing in the intro, and it’s been a hell of a week, but this…” he trailed off, sweeping an arm toward the apartments.

Cam just nodded, uninterested. Socializing might have been a mistake. Peering under the couch, she gave a tap to the camraconda that was propping it up. “Please let this go in five seconds.” She said, before kneeling and placing her shoulder on the frame. The camraconda hissed an assent at her before lowering itself down further, red and grey cables and a smooth grey camera face somehow expressing gratitude in that simple motion.

”Oh, let me…!”

The man didn’t get any more words out before Cam stood up and took the couch with her. It wasn’t light, but that didn’t matter. She was strong, and the biggest concern was focusing too much force onto part of the frame that couldn’t take it. But this particular seat used a metal crossbar, possibly because it was a folding bed, and so it was robust enough for Cam to shoulder it and start walking with even steps toward the apartment. “Excuse me.” She had to say a couple of times, along with a “Careful please.”

Bishop trailed behind her awkwardly, his sons’ exhaustion forgotten as they raced to keep up and started barraging her with questions. Yes, she was fine, no, this wasn’t some spell, yes, she could probably pick them up too, yes, they could climb onto the couch. Her answers weren’t exactly an expression of her frustration; this was, after all, something to do and solving the problem of her boredom. But Cam was bad at saying no in social circumstances, and it almost unbalanced her when one of the boys pulled himself onto the couch to get a ride as she moved through the mercifully expanded hallways of the compressed apartment block.

”Well thank you.” Bishop said as he let her into their new apartment. “Won’t lie, wasn’t expecting someone your age to be able to do that. Especially as skinny as you are! Do you want a snack or something? I’ve got some leftover lasagna my wife made!”

”No thank you.” Cam kept her voice even. Even the new people here were open to her. It irritated her that James and his cadre picked people so effectively. No one had once expressed concern about her strength, it was both welcoming and infuriating.

She could kill everyone in this entire basement before someone stopped her, and yet none of them treated her as anything except someone who needed a warm meal. Everything she’d been raised with - indoctrinated with - was wrong. She didn’t need to hide, or cloak herself, or conceal what she could do. She just needed to not be afraid. Which was arguably quite a lot more difficult; somehow being bulletproof didn’t make Cam feel as if she was any less vulnerable.

Even admitting that to herself was hard.

She allowed herself a few breaths. “Do you need anything else moved?” She asked Bishop, noting that the living room was empty of furnishings that weren’t what she’d just brought in, and a number of sealed cardboard boxes.

”Oh, no no, we can-“

The camraconda interrupted him. “Thank you Camille there are two shelving units, a bunk bed frame, and three mattresses, please help us.” The red-highlighted serpent sounded desperate despite the limits of their digital voice.

Cam allowed herself a tiny smile. Finally. An objective.

She brushed off attempts at both conversation and feeding her as she ferried materials down into the apartment, slowly transforming it from an empty unit into a place that was something of a cocoon for a home. Incomplete, but with all the resources it needed. And at that point, Cam had nothing else to do. So she employed her particular skills and silently made an exit in a way that would leave everyone uncertain that she’d gone at all for the next few minutes.

Cam continued her directed wandering. When she had empty hallways, she tried to build a tactical habit of checking her Breath and Velocity. Once, and only once, she updated herself on how her Sewer Lesson in ‘earth sciences’ was going, and found that she was still at four out of a hundred points. The idea of self-directed study was something she was vaguely aware of, but hadn’t quite put into action yet, and as no one had advanced this particular Lesson and recorded the results, Cam didn’t have a long term plan for what it took to motivate her.

When she was in populated places, she watched people. Listened to those around her. And tried to find anything that could take her focus as she began to realize that something felt wrong.

It was an insidious sensation, creeping up on her like an assassin and unwilling to announce itself or explain its own motivation. Only that she didn’t like something; about the day, about her situation, about herself, she didn’t even know. There was something out of place though.

”…list of all the things we’ve run through the terrifying machine.” Cam tuned her attention onto one of the Researchers in the woefully insecure laboratory basement she’d walked into. John, she was pretty sure his name was. He was talking to a camraconda that Cam remembered more clearly, Paper-And-Words being one of the ‘newer’ ones. “There’s a few billion suggestions, too.”

”Hyperbole.” The camraconda replied, raising its head up to rest on the edge of the workstation John was sitting at. “Though yes, now we get to know how the potion department experiences life.”

”Mmh. Yeah, I guess we do ask about turning every magical substance into a potion on a regular basis.” The blonde haired human admitted with a nod. “Anyway, Nik assigned me to filter this a bit. So… what don’t we want to upgrade?”

The camraconda irised their lens at their conversation partner while Cam simply stopped nearby and openly eavesdropped. “We want to upgrade everything. That is why there is a list.”

John stared blankly down at the page. “Okay. Okay, thanks. Unhelpful. Let’s start basic. The most value is still in duplications, so no upgrading anything that can’t duplicate, so we at least get a long term return on the coffee, right?”

”Sound assumption. That removes… quite a lot of this. Why would someone recommend upgrading a lamp? How would we do that? The same restrictions in size apply! Do none of our delvers read our careful reports?” Paper-And-Words was righteously indignant.

”Man I work here and I barely read our careful reports.” John admitted with a sigh. “Common orbs we can put on the short list, for obvious reasons. Do we have test results from leveler items anywhere?”

Paper-And-Words looked around, peeling off the desk and searching for physical notes in the area. “I do not… oh, hello Camille.” They focused on her unarmored form as she stood nearby. “Do you require help?”

Cam shook her head once, tightly. “I am… no, I do not need help.” She stated. “Please do not mind me.”

John shrugged, though she could see that he at least tensed slightly in her presence. “Alright. Wanna help us with this? We need to pare down the list of what to use the upgrade machine on first, and we only have a couple uses allocated each week until everyone starts doing regular big delves.”

”I… do not know if I would be useful.” Cam said.

John laughed bitterly, actually relaxing slightly. “Hey, my job here is testing pens and doing wildlife studies on the shells.” He jerked a thumb toward the fenced in pen in the middle of the room full of stepshells and shellaxies. “And I love it, but I’m not good at this, so you can’t hurt the process.”

Cam almost frowned, but moved to stand closer regardless. “Good!” Paper-And-Words said in the most cheerful voice the camraconda could make. “Oh, even better, you are a combatant, yes? What would be of use to you?”

”I don’t…” Camille almost said that she didn’t use the same magic the Order did, but that wasn’t true anymore, was it? So she turned her thoughts toward evaluation on a tactical level, and gave her best answer. “Anything reusable is of value. Contextual items like the shield bracers, if they could be ‘improved’, would be best. Sewer Lessons offer excessive power to important individuals as well. Does the Order still have the resistance programs? How powerful is the improvement?” She decided to not worry about the logistics; that would be for the experts here, not her.

Paper-And-Words, scanning their notes physically and through their skulljack, provided rapid and professional answers in a way Camille processed with her own rapid appreciation. “Found it. The levelers see improvement in cooldown time, but it fails to copy. The Lessons have restrictions in regards to sharing copies that make it less useful, but that does not rule out testing. Indications so far are that it provides a twenty five percent improvement to things, but that is difficult to measure when it is semi-subjective. And yes, we have the programs. They are on the list, but have not been tested to see if improvements continue to copy.”

”Oh, the orb improvements copy!” John provided, eager to contribute something. He nodded with satisfaction to himself. “Yeah. That’s probably gonna be what we put most of the uses into eventually.”

“My suggestions stand.” Camille said, stepping backward.

”I think we’ve actually got an upgraded brooch and bracer in the vault. We should check those out real quick.” John hummed. “Wanna tag along?” He asked Cam.

She didn’t really want to, but she also didn’t want to go back to having nothing to do, so she gave a sharp nod as the human lazily rose and cracked his finger joints in a show of preparation. Unfortunately, as she followed John and Paper-And-Words toward the secure inventory of magical tools, the sense that something was wrong only intensified through the distraction.

Forcing herself alert as the duo unlocked the door and headed in to check out their testing tools, Cam only got a few steps into following before she froze, eyes landing on something at the end of the long sterile room that she should have seen coming.

The feeling that the world was askew intensified as, sitting on a sealed shelf with a number of orbs and a single tattered book, Cam saw a small pale flame with one of her sister’s names etched on a plate underneath it.

John and Paper-And-Words kept chattering about something that didn’t matter as she stood there, not even trying to process the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her, because she didn’t know how. Didn’t know what the emotion was, didn’t know how to even start to combat it.

But something was wrong.

Cam distantly heard John ask her something, but she was already turning to leave, rapid steps taking her out of the vault as her thoughts raced in circles. She wasn’t meant to be here. Not really. Her presence was putting these people at unnecessary risk, and that was even with her own freedoms being clipped back to what she was used to.

Her focus struck on that one particular thought, and her pace evened out as she headed for the elevators. If they expected her to self-direct, if Nate especially considered her enough of an adult to make her own choices, then she would do so.

But first, she had standing orders to maintain her own health, and she needed lunch.

_____

“Okay, question for the group.” Alanna said as she led their party into the - rather shallow - depths of Clutter Ascent. Keeka kept close to Anesh behind her, both of them nearly getting caught when the obstruction Alanna was pushing away swung back their direction.

Anesh caught the swinging rope, a cable dotted with small red and green Christmas lights, just before it got tangled in Keeka’s antenna. Or would have, if the ratroach hadn’t already deftly dodged past with a lithe twist that reminded Anesh that the person he thought of as a bright softie was also an experienced survivor. “Is it about where the Attic gets its ideas?” He asked.

”I like the ideas!” Keeka said happily as he pushed a teetering cardboard banker’s box back into a secure place so it didn’t topple onto his boyfriend. “They’re cute. This place is cute.”

The place they were in currently was one of what was now three ‘biomes’ of the growing dungeon. It was also the largest of the trio, too. The first real distinctly odd place that Clutter Ascent had made, or at least built on, was the elaborate blanket fort. Now serving as a part time home for the stuff animals when they weren’t in the actual house below, it was like the dream of a child’s perfect bedroom brought to life. It was also rather small, in terms of how much space it really took up. Where they were now was the labyrinth; a mess of sheet-draped furniture, cardboard boxes, stacks of dusty old photo albums, buckets full of tools that grew like weeds, and everywhere, shadows.

The halls of the labyrinth were tight; even though they were actually wide enough to walk without hitting anything, it felt like it was wrong to brush against the old shelves and stacked false memories. And, as the dungeon grew up and learned new tricks, the labyrinth had picked up a ‘fun’ new trait too; it shifted. Not often, not always, and it seemed to only do it when directly observed. But the changes threw off the Order’s maps every week or so now.

And more than that, if you did decide to climb one of the tall shelves or precarious stacks of old empty tomes, there wasn’t a lot to learn from a higher vantage point. Because there was just… another layer of labyrinth. A thin one, a growing one, made up of lattices of badly braced ladders, plywood boards, and sometimes even rope or corded old bedsheets.

The stuff animals loved it. It wasn’t just home to them, though it was that too. It was a playground. A place of shadows and nooks where they could run and scramble as they grew into their sudden lives.

At last estimates, the labyrinth was about a thousand feet to a side, but with how many paths and turns it had within it, that still meant it could take a little while to navigate. Which today seemed to involve Alanna accidentally almost hitting Anesh with a lot of Christmas lights, as he jerked back to avoid a loop of thicker bulbs clattering against the ten foot tall stack of cracked ceramic pots to their right. “If I answer your question will you stop throwing illumination at me?” Anesh asked with a slight huff. He’d toughened up, but he still wasn’t in peak athletic shape like Alanna was, and his girlfriend was setting a brisk pace.

”Oh, shit! Sorry!” Alanna genuinely was apologetic. “Uh… what’s up with all the Christmas lights? Was actually my question. Either of you got anything on that?” She came to a stop briefly at a wooden door with chipped white paint standing at the end of the hall they were on. It was a good landmark to take a left turn after circling around the freestanding structure.

Anesh nudged Keeka away from the door, the ratroach having been about to open it and walk through just to see what would happen. “It’s a convenient little gambit.” He whispered. “The door leads back to earlier in this mess.” As Keeka’s eyes blinked in a fluttering sequence and he hissed at the deceptive door, Anesh raised his voice back to answer Alanna’s question. “So, I’ve lived most of my life in flats.” He told her. “But everyone has a box full of tangled colored lights, right? I must have figured that every American attic would be chock full of the things.”

Freezing as a shadow darted overhead, Alanna didn’t answer right away until she’d tracked where the stuff animal that was trailing them was planning to jump out from. ”Okay, yes.” She said, the sound of plastic scraping on wood sounding as she hooked her foot on a dirt crusted bucket and dragged it aside. “Hi.” Alanna dropped into a crouch to meet the stuff animal’s glowing salamander eyes. “Gotta be sneakier, buddy!” She tapped him on his snout, the stuff animal sputtering and frantically rubbing at the spot with dexterous raccoon paws before scampering away.

”What happens if…” Keeka paused, antenna waving softly as he cocked his head and curled all four arms inward, “…when one of them succeeds?” He asked quietly.

”Then we owe them snacks!” Alanna said with happy confidence.

Anesh patted Keeka on an upper shoulder. “This is why we said it was okay if you wanted to stay behind.” He said with compassionate patience. “They like this game, and… well, we’ve never actually found out what happens if they don’t get snacks. But it’s not like we’re enemies. This is a game.”

”I won’t be startled!” Keeka twisted his muzzle into the air, narrowing his eyes. “They’re… they’re small! They can’t hurt me!” He said as if he was trying to convince himself and not the others. “And besides,” he added more seriously as he dropped to a low crouch to crawl after Anesh and Alanna through a spot where stacked card tables formed a shallow tunnel, “I am…” Keeka chittered as he looked for the word he wanted, “not better, but I won’t hurt them.”

Anesh offered him a hand up on the other side, and held the ratroach’s paw for longer than required once they were all standing. ”That’s… not what we’re worried about.” He muttered. “No one thought that.”

”I thought that!” Alanna unhelpfully offered. “I mean. Well. Sorry, but I do worry about that. But not because I’m afraid of you to be clear, just because I know exactly where that comes from, and it’s actually a good indicator of if you are having a consistently better life.”

Keeka leaned closer to Anesh to stage whisper. “She says things that should make me angry, but I’m not angry. What is happening?”

”I don’t know but I’m a little angry.” Anesh scowled after Alanna as they kept moving, the group rounding a column of cardboard boxes and clear plastic bins, pushing the loose ones back in with strategic motions. “Alanna…”

”No, it is okay.” Keeka muttered, bifurcated tail flicking against Anesh’s legs. “Really. Ask about the lights.”

”…Alright.” Anesh let it drop. “Alanna, tell me why the lights are weird.”

“Okay, so, Fredrick.” Alanna said, realizing that she had shoved her foot into her mouth and eager for the out, trying to pull her Empathy back from the two boys behind her. “The… the guy who owned the house downstairs, not the lil guy. You know Recovery followed up on him, just to make sure he and his family were actually okay? They are, by the way, but like… we got a pretty solid profile of the guy.”

Anesh helped Alanna push a heavy cabinet that was thankfully on rusty wheels out of the way; it would slowly creep back out behind them, but that was fine, they weren’t in a rush. “I mean, good? I like that. I like knowing he didn’t just vanish or something.”

”Right. Right!” Alanna nodded, before wiping sweat off her forehead as they kept moving through the sunset sunbeams and floating dust. “Anyway he and his family are Jewish.” She decided to stop burying the lede.

Anesh nodded. “Okay.” He said. And then, when he caught the connection, added. “Okay, wait, no.”

Keeka looked down from the ‘ceiling’ that was over them right now, a pair of queen sized mattresses layed sideways across some tall metal shelving units. He’d heard the tiny impacts of soft paws overhead, and was tracking their pursuer as they tried to get into position ahead of the party. “I’ve heard that word before!” He told them. “Does a Jewish not have an attic?”

Pressing his eyes closed for a second, Anesh let himself laugh happily, a wide and aching grin stuck on his face. “It’s a cultural religious thing.” He explained as Keeka walked into a hanging tangle of yet more Christmas lights, and Anesh carefully helped him extract his antenna from the wires. “Some people don’t actually celebrate Christmas at all. Also a lot of people who aren’t religious celebrate it anyway. It’s…” He trailed off.

”It’s a mess!” Alanna said, turning back to face the two of them and shrugging helplessly. “I mean, it’s still kinda cool to look at how the culture surrounding it has spread and changed over time, and I do get what James is into when it comes to this sort of anthropology thing. But yeah, my main point is, where did the Ascent learn about Christmas lights when the guy who lived here wouldn’t have owned any?”

There was, Anesh quickly decided, a perfectly reasonable answer. Humans in the United States didn’t seem to be able to own a home without strings of colored lights appearing. Whether they purchased them or not, it didn’t matter. They showed up. Maybe it was for a different celebration, or a Halloween party, or it came from a mystery box at an estate sale, or it just fucking manifested out of thin air like magic. Or just literally magic. Or… did people decorate for Hanukkah? Anesh didn’t actually know, it could be perfectly normal.

Their own apartment had a similar bundle of coiled cord and colored bulbs. And Anesh knew for a fact that none of them had ever bought it. It couldn’t even be chalked up to the antimeme that had taken their friend from them for a while, because Sarah didn’t remember where it came from either. It was just one of those things that occurred constantly enough that it wasn’t surprising to find them here.

He considered saying that, but paused, and instead raised a hand slightly. Next to him, Keeka’s body rippled with a coiling tension as he spotted the same thing Anesh had.

And behind Alanna, the stuff animal lowered itself over the edge of the mattress tunnel, holding itself up with a bushy tail that hid a shocking amount of power.

”What?” Alanna asked, still looking at them. She raised her eyebrows, and turned to look behind her, but picked the wrong side; seeing nothing but the path ahead through Clutter Ascent’s labyrinth. “Guys? You okay? What’s up?” Alanna chuckled as she looked back at them.

Keeka tapped two sets of soft claws on the end of his muzzle, before he decided to quietly point over her other shoulder. Alanna pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and slowly turned her head.

”Sssssssnacks pleasssse!” The stuff animal’s forked tongue danced across their lips as it actually got a sharp intake of breath and a jump out of Alanna, before she started laughing boisterously, leaning over with one hand on her chest. “Yessssss.” The young dungeon creature preened as it finally got the drop on her.

”Alright!” Alanna said, gasping for air through her surprise and laughing as Anesh and Keeka offered absolutely no help, the two just applauding with two different kinds of wide smile. “Yup! Okay! Yup, yup, got me there. Whooooooof.” She let out a very long gust of air as she rose back up and snapped open one of the pouches on the vest she was wearing. “Your prize, good buddy.” Alanna said, bowing slightly as she presented the stuff animal with a crunchy granola bar.

The creature happily snagged it, and closed its eyes back at Alanna with what might have been a respectful dip of the head, though it was hard to tell with it being upside down. Then it hauled itself back up, and this time the skittering of paws across surfaces away from them was much louder.

“I bet James doesn’t have to deal with being ambushed.” Alanna grumbled in good humor.

“Oh don’t say that.” Anesh sighed. “We’ll be called down there any minute now, if you keep doing that.”

“Yes! Saying that makes it happen!” Keeka agreed, and Alanna couldn’t tell if he was serious or kidding. “I’ve seen it!” The addendum didn’t help her figure it out.

They continued on, all of them feeling a little calmer and happier as they closed in on their goal. Almost out of the labyrinth and into something new and wonderful. Alanna couldn’t resist one last bit of snark though, as they doubled back to avoid a whole spider’s web of hanging lights. “No one else in the Order is getting ambushed today.” She said, certain that was true.

_____

For someone who had spent a lot of her known life setting up ambushes, Camille found it was surprisingly easy to be surprised in a social context.

As part of her attempt to keep herself ‘properly fed’ according to the dietary information that Deb had given her, Cam had properly stocked her plate from the lunch buffet that the Order offered today, and was looking for a place to sit. But the entire room was rather full; almost every table was occupied by a colorful collection of humans, infomorphs, camracondas, ratroaches, and even some of the false humans. There was even a heavy paper drake sitting next to one of the tables in a way that would have blocked off half the room if not for the clever layout that left multiple clear paths around.

The trap was sprung before Cam realized that there was a trap possible, as, before she could turn and leave to find somewhere on the roof to eat in peace, a young human girl raised an arm and waved at her. “You can come sit with us!” She called, scooting her chair over and making space at the table she was sharing with a camraconda and… Morgan, Cam remembered the messy haired teenager.

Cam hesitated, and Morgan gave her an apologetic smile, but ultimately she did want to actually eat and a table was useful enough that she could withstand some socialization for it. “Thank you.” Cam said as she took a chair. “Hello again.” She nodded at Morgan.

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”Oh, you’ve met?” The girl tilted her head.

”Yeah, I was trying to say.” Morgan ducked his head. “This is Camille. We sort of talked on the long Climb thing.” He met Cam’s eyes as he slowly worked through what social option he would take. “Oh! This is Liz, and Color-Of-Dawn.” Morgan introduced the other two to her, pointing at them as if she wouldn’t know which one was the biomechanical dungeon construct.

Liz nodded. “That makes sense. Still mad at you for that!”

”Okay, so, I apologized.” Morgan said in the voice someone used when they were performing socially in front of an outsider. Cam recognized it; it was a beneficial way to get information from people, but right now, she just felt like wanted to be somewhere else. “But also I did ask and you can come along next time? There was a lot about training and practice and making sure you don’t die and stuff. And I kinda don’t want you to die, for a lot of reasons.”

”…Less mad.” Liz said, unfolding her arms and smoothing out her dress.

Color-Of-Dawn leaned over toward Camille, mouth full of macaroni salad as it talked. “They are like this.” The camraconda said. “I cannot stop them. I have tried.” Color-Of-Dawn fell silent along with Cam, the two of them eating as Liz and Morgan gradually realized that their small bickering was circular, silly, and tapering off to just wasting valuable lunchtime. “This happens.” The camraconda tried to explain.

”It doesn’t bother me.” Cam looked down at her plate, starting to methodically spear greens with her fork, chewing with mechanical motions as she tried to ignore the flavor. “They don’t act…” she stopped herself.

”Like normal teenagers?” Liz said, smiling as she leaned her head on Morgan’s shoulder, conflict dropped as the two of them went back to lunch and Morgan tried to not drop parts of his burger on Liz’s head. “Yeah, we know.”

”It’s the therapy.” Morgan offered, trying to banter and not quite hitting the rhythm he was looking for. “And the nearly dying. And the other trauma probably. It’s given us superpowers.”

Liz nodded eagerly, picking up the joking tone. “Well, I had superpowers before the trauma. Mostly the immunity thing…” Her voice cracked and went quiet as she said that, before surging back as she pressed on. “But also! Excellent fashion sense.” She said solemnly, sitting upright and casually brushing a hand along her shoulder to show off the frills of her long silver and blue dress.

“That isn’t one of ours.” Camille heard herself say before she could stop the words. This felt too familiar, almost painfully so. Memories of sitting with her sisters, eating what they were provided, discussing operational plans and their next deployments…

Liz caught none of the history. Instead, her face lit up. “Oh! I can help with that!” She offered without a second thought.

Color-Of-Dawn and Morgan looked at Cam with open alarm on their eyes and lens. “Oh. You should flee.” Color-Of-Dawn said, taking another measured bite of macaroni. “This also happens sometimes.”

”Stop being dramatic!” Liz stomped her foot softly under the table. “You two are boring. You’re both wearing exactly the same t-shirt! Dawn didn’t even refit it.” It was true, the camraconda’s shirt still had sleeves for human arms just draped over its back. Liz turned sorrowful doe eyes on Camille. “Color-Of-Dawn won’t even help me make camraconda makeup tutorials. Think of how cool that would be! We could be internet famous!”

”No one says that anymore.” Morgan tried to interject, and was summarily ignored.

Cam wasn’t sure exactly why she felt like she was being included in the conversation, but she found herself participating anyway. Looking down at the plain grey athletic wear that she had on, she raised her eyes to meet Liz’s as she continued to chew on autopilot. “I wear this.” Cam said to Liz’s horror. “Sometimes with full plate. I don’t think I’m meant to be fashionable.”

”Everyone can be fashionable.” Liz adamantly took a stand with the conviction only a teenager could truly possess.

”I… I am not…” Cam blinked, looking up at the ceiling and taking a short huff of breath like she had seen Nate do on multiple occasions when the man needed to center his thoughts. Oddly, it worked, and the words came easier afterward. “I am not human.” She said simply. “Things like nice clothing, or makeup, or adornments, I don’t think they are what I am meant to have.”

The interesting thing, Cam’s analytical mind processed without her consent, was exactly how each of the three reacted. Liz leaned back expressing genuine sadness, Color-Of-Dawn radiated a casual understanding of her situation, but the truly surprising thing was that Morgan flipped from playfully fending off conversational jabs to open and overt anger with such a simple comment.

The teenager set what was left of his sandwich down and swallowed his mouthful of food. ”Why?” He asked, voice hot, and then let the question lie without elaboration.

Camille looked at him like he was stupid. “We spoke about this.” She reminded him. “I am one of the daughters of the Last Line Of Defense. I was created for a purpose. And even if I change, that fact won’t change.”

”But that’s not true.” Morgan said, narrowing his eyes in a glare that was only partly meant for her. “I mean, I’m around here a lot. I hear a lot of stuff people maybe don’t mean to tell me. Is it…” he faltered. “Do you mind if I say something personal?” Cam gave a brisk nod, wanting to see where this was going. “Okay, well, the Last Line didn’t make you.” He said. “Right? You’re like Color-Of-Dawn, aren’t you?”

The camraconda hissed out a sudden laugh. “She is much more dangerous than me.”

”Okay, cool, so you’re more of a boss fight then. Whatever. You’re still from a dungeon, even if you don’t remember, and even if you look like a girl our age.” Morgan suddenly realized that he sounded a lot more hostile than he meant, and his shoulders slumped as his voice softened. “Well, Liz and my age. I just mean…” He gnawed at his lip. “I mean… okay. Yeah. You’re like Dawn. And it gets to dress up. All the camracondas do. Even ratroaches have fashion. Especially the ones that’re friends-with-slash-victims-of Liz.” He leaned sideways to bump shoulders with the girl, who gave him a satisfied grin. “I guess…”

”I understand your point.” Camille said, trying to cut him off. “It doesn’t matter.”

But Morgan shook his head, defiantly defending his point. “No, it’s important!” He insisted. “You’re not what you were made to be, right? That’s what we talked about. That’s been true this whole time; you can wear makeup if you want because you’re not the thing you were made to be. You’re the thing you are now.”

”Ooh!” Liz perked up even further. “If you really want, I could give you a makeover?” Camille turned a blankly confused stare on the girl, and Liz pursed her lips, eyes still bright with optimism. “A… short makeover? If you’re busy? All my stuff is downstairs already anyway? We could go right now?”

Color-Of-Dawn swept the last of the food off its plate with a wide bite, and then turned to Camille, digital voice ringing out. “We have crossed the threshold.” It proclaimed. “Liz will be devastated if you say no now. And if you don’t like it, she is actually good at not pressing the issue further.” It added the last part in a quietly reassuring addendum.

Camille’s mouth twisted in a line. She was supposed to be… doing something. But even her- even Nate had made time to humor some of the younger people here. And there wasn’t actually a time limit on her decision. And… she didn’t know why, but something Morgan had said stuck in her chest.

She wasn’t what she was made to be. And that felt wrong. She was wrong; broken, discarded, lost. She wasn’t what she was supposed to be. But also, she was. She was exactly what she had thought she wanted. She was a fighter and an operator and her actions safeguarded humanity. She was exactly what she had been told she was meant for.

But she didn’t feel like Camille. She didn’t know what Camille felt like. Did Camille like wearing makeup and wearing colors that weren’t light grey? How would she know?

”I… I would…” Cam felt like she wanted to scream. This wasn’t right. There was an instinct in her thoughts that told her this was even farther from what she was supposed to be doing than before. And as soon as she identified it, she carved it out, and gave a steady answer. “I accept your proposition.” She said flatly, standing up and moving her effectively emptied plate to the neat pile the others had made of their own dishes. “But I would prefer not to waste time.”

Liz was already on her feet, clapping her hands excitedly and with undisguised delight on her face. “Oh! Yes! This will be fun, you’ll see!” She declared, taking Cam’s hand and realizing as she tried to lead the soldier away that Cam was basically immovable even if she wasn’t draped in two hundred pounds of steel. “Uh…”

”Yes. Lead the way.” Cam said as the other two rose to follow behind them. “And while we do this, Morgan, explain what a ‘boss fight’ is.”

_____

When Anesh, Alanna, and Keeka actually emerged from the labyrinth and into the newest part of Clutter Asecent, their conversation quieted. Not because they suddenly had nothing to talk about - they were in the middle of workshopping a bingo card for James based antics so they could turn the daily texts into a friendly competition - but because very quickly, they realized that most of what they wanted to say in this area was different versions of ‘wow’, and that talking too loudly startled the local wildlife.

The distinction in where one part of the dungeon ended and the next began was clear. Because suddenly, there was water lapping at their shoes; cool and clear, with a layer of dusty silt at the bottom that poofed up with every step, the wood of the floor didn’t seem to be adversely affected by being utterly submerged. A few steps further, past a few last pieces of wooden furniture, and the labyrinth was behind them, and they could see quite a lot farther than they expected.

The water level didn’t rise, so much as the floor sloped downward so softly that it was hard to notice. But while it was clear that the whole place was slightly underwater, it was also easy to see places where there were deeper pools, connected to each other by small streams that wove between the roots.

The roots of dressers and cabinets, the normally thick blocky furnishings showing off rougher and rounder edges here as their legs coiled and sunk into the silt covered wood floor. And they were larger themselves, towering up toward the rafters that stretched overhead as space warped slightly, ten or twenty foot tall living cabinets dominating the view. They had branches, too; not any kind of warped home decor or stored objects that belonged in an attic, just branches. Tree limbs, thin and new but clearly still growing, some of them with a light covering of soft green moss.

Of course, those branches grew strange fruit. On one, nylon grew in a cascade like a pinecone, dozens of ball caps clustered up on each other as a single oddly branded plant. On another, what looked like an ordinary flower - four broad pink petals, a soft yellow core, a few grabbing tendrils holding it to the side of the dresser - turned out to be the source of one of the earthy scents in the air, as it would regularly make a noise like a saw rasping on wood, emitting pollen that tasted of sawdust. Another had spare lightbulbs growing on its side like mushrooms. And everywhere, worn old blankets that looked handmade and well loved even though they must have only been made in the last month grew in scraps and ribbons; a cascade of vines and fronds in the form of fabric.

Shapes moved in the deeper water. Indistinct despite the pure clarity, like little oval shadows that drifted lazily before sometimes flitting to a new spot at high speed. And twitching motions in the upper branches drew Alanna’s eyes too, as she tried to spot if there was anything alive above them. Somewhere, something made a shrill whoop sound that echoed off the pooling water’s surface before being consumed by the foliage.

From high overhead, the light of artificial sunset streamed through two different and opposed mock windows. Most of the illumination was caught on the upper canopy, but enough filtered through in dusty shafts of deep yellow and pale orange light that the whole place was cast into a glimmering twilight.

”Holy shit.” Alanna exhaled the words, feeling like she’d been holding her breath for the last half hour. “How far does this go?”

Anesh did some quick visual calculus. “No more than two, maybe three hundred meters at most.” He paused as he noticed Alanna giving him a look, and sighed dramatically. “A thousand feet, you imperial heathen.”

”When did Clutter have the time to make all of this? Did Sarah know?”

Anesh stepped to the side, his old delving boots splashing in the shallows as he set a hand on the bark of an armoire. ”I’d bet that she encouraged it, somehow. This place is beautiful, though.” He said softly, before looking around. “Wait, where’s Keeka?”

A splash sounded, and Anesh and Alanna whirled with small plops of water at their own feet to see the ratroach heave himself up out of one of the pools. Black skirt, shirt, and fur all soaked through and streaming water as he rose up with a massive luminescent smile on his face. “Look!” He declared, holding up all four arms and the squirming creature he’d captured. “I found a new friend!”

It was one of the shadows from the deeper pools, but when pulled up and exposed, it became clear why they were so hard to see the shape of even through the pure water. It was just a blob. Slightly glittering, crystal clear jelly; it looked like it had impressions in it that gave the indication of eyes or whiskers or a mouth, but it didn’t actually seem to be anything except a single amorphous slime.

Anesh made a strangled sound as he lurched forward, feet getting soaked as he trod through the deepening pool to get to Keeka, flinching slightly as the other aquatic slimes still in the water explored his ankles with darting impacts that didn’t actually hurt or seem hostile at all. By the time Anesh got to the dripping ratroach, Keeka was giggling excitedly as the slime reformed itself and began crawling up his arms, pausing to poke what might be its head at the different spots of cloth, chitin, and fur that it discovered.

Alanna found herself wheezing with laughter as Anesh tried to exfiltrate the slime from Keeka’s person, watching her boyfriend and his boyfriend take entirely different attitudes to their approach to new dungeon life. Leaning against one of the odd trees, she did get a reminder that this was a dungeon, and that meant it was more like the wilderness than it was a playground; there was a cluster of reeds growing out of the water nearby that had iron nails for thorns, she noticed. This was a place that they probably shouldn’t just be playing around in casually, even if the swamp really was beautiful.

A poking sensation on her hand called Alanna’s attention over to where she had placed it on the tree. Turning her head carefully, she saw what looked like one of those bendy silver desk lamp necks, trailing down the towering drawers from five feet up and ending at her hand. Except instead of a lamp at the end, it was an almost perfectly normal snake head. And it was currently trying to bite her.

”Stop that.” Alanna told it, shifting her hand out of range of its fangs. It hadn’t managed to penetrate her skin - she wasn’t so easily stabbed after all - and it also didn’t seem venomous. But this was exactly what she was talking about when she thought this place was still somewhere to be taken a little seriously.

The snake replied by opening its mouth wide, pure silver fangs on display as its beady empty eyes watched her. There was a click, and then a bright beam of light from the snake’s mouth that swept back and forth over Alanna.

It startled her, she’d admit. Because typically, breath attacks from dungeon creatures tended to be problems. But this one was about as strong as an actual normal flashlight; it seemed like the snake was just kind of mildly annoyed at her for not letting it eat her hand. She stared it down, and whether it was intelligent or operating on an animal instinct, the thin silver serpent decided that its best course of action was to slither around the tree and out of sight.

”Alanna, can you help me with this?” Anesh asked from behind her. She turned to see Anesh, pants soaked up to his knees, standing in the water cloudy with disturbed silt, trying to get the almost perfectly shaped RPG slime creature off of Anesh’s head. It was perched on top of his skull, with Keeka’s antenna poking up through it, and seemed to give the impression of looking around. “I don’t want him getting his head eaten by a monster.”

“I’m a monster! This is a cute frog!” Keeka tried to make the words a joke, and only realized as he was speaking that he hadn’t fully shed his belief in his own lack of worth. And he wasn’t so capable of hiding his emotions that it wasn’t instantly obvious, as Anesh turned a wet lunge into a quiet hug instead.

”Absolutely not.” Alanna said in answer to both what Anesh had asked and what Keeka had stated, giving Keeka a thumbs up that the ratroach shakily returned. “You’re on your own, and that lil guy is adorable.” Even if she in no way believed it was a frog. She cracked her neck, stretching out as she looked around this opening area of the Attic swamp. “Let’s go a little deeper in, huh? Keeka, let us know if your friend gets too heavy. I want to see if there’s anything really weird in here.”

From the looks of just this part, there was a whole lot going on here that Alanna really, really wanted to see. She might not always have the same priorities as her friends and lovers, but she did legitimately love the surprise of the dungeons, and the little magics they drummed up. And she was excited to see if they could find any of those cool surprises here today; whether they were useful or not didn’t matter right now, only that she was in the mood to experience something unique alongside people she liked.

They had the whole day to mess around and explore. And if there wasn’t some massive problem interrupting them, Alanna wanted to spend all of it wading through clear water and seeing if the slimes liked peanuts.

_____

Cam didn’t know what she looked like anymore.

Not in a literal sense. She had seen herself in a mirror before taking her leave and abandoning Morgan and Color-Of-Dawn to their own fates. The two had made a joking show of protest, but Camille wasn’t stupid or socially incompetent despite her dislike for talking; she could see that there was a strangely powerful happiness among them to be spending time being silly together.

For herself, she had ended up learning more than she had ever expected to know about makeup. Elizebeth had told her that she was ‘a winter’, which suited Camille well enough before she knew what that meant. What had followed that was a lot of sitting still - something she was good at - and being given different pieces of outfits to try on - something she was competent enough to do but didn’t care for as much.

And at the end, she hadn’t… recognized the face in the mirror.

It was still her, obviously. But she had never seen this face before. Liz was no expert, despite her sartorial passion, but what she had done had left Camille looking like a version of herself that she’d never have expected.

Her eyes didn’t seem so sunken anymore, and the lightest application of eyeliner made her gaze seem more alive, even when she was meeting her own eyes in the mirror. The harsh angles of her cheekbones were emphasized even further by a thin layer of something Liz had brushed onto her face. But in doing so, paired with a little rosy color on her cheeks, it made her look paradoxically less severe, even when she was glaring at her reflection. It wasn’t perfectly done; again, Liz was no expert. Cam found herself thinking that she looked like someone attempting to look like a valkyrie, instead of actually achieving the goal. But… she looked more whole than she felt.

She looked pretty. Not beautiful or sexy or cute, those may never be modifiers that applied to her, and that suited Camille just fine. But she felt pretty. And that was hard to cope with. Impossible, maybe.

Now, she was standing on the roof of the Lair, late afternoon breeze pushing the sundress that Liz had given her around, the red swirl patterns in the fabric seeming light and airy despite the darker colors. As her own piece of defiance, and what she hoped was a subtle thank you to Morgan, she was also wearing a flat cap he’d given her, which made her look like she fit no particular style that was commonplace among modern humans. At least, as far as she knew.

”I don’t think either version of what I am supposed to be, is supposed to look like this.” She said, voice stretching across the roof.

The camraconda coiled nearby looked over at her, before looking back out toward the treeline adjacent to their property. A minute passed with only the noise of cars passing and children playing in the parking lot before the camraconda sighed, and twisted to face her. “Do you want me to ask?” Watcher-Of-Birds asked.

”What?” Camille looked at them with blank confusion.

”I will ask, if you want. I listen.” Watcher-Of-Birds commented almost idly as he traced the path of a hawk. “Okay. Asking. What versions?”

Camille felt like this wasn’t how conversations were supposed to go, but her life experiences so far had, she was starting to understand, constantly lied to her. “There are two things I was supposed to be.” She said. “Some form of defensive combatant for a dungeon, or, an intelligence operative and combatant for my… for the Last Line.” She looked down at her bare arms; she’d drawn the line at Liz covering her scars, and the lines of old damage showed clearly on her skin now that she wasn’t wearing sleeves. “This doesn’t look like either of those.”

Watcher-Of-Birds made a contemplative chirp, before looking away.

Something about it made Camille want to continue speaking, and she didn’t know why. “I have felt wrong. All day long, all week long. I don’t belong here. I’m not supposed to be this.”

Giving a tiny bobbing nod, Watcher-Of-Birds chirped again, inviting her to continue.

”And now I look… human. She made me look like a person.” Camille couldn’t breathe, and didn’t understand why. She didn’t know what was happening to her, only that it wasn’t right. “It’s not in my nature. Either way I am, it isn’t this. I’m going to ruin it.”

”Residual instincts.” Watcher-Of-Birds commented idly, and Cam’s head snapped to look at him. “Have some too. Happens. Humans have them also. We all work around them. In our own ways.” He made it sound so simple. Like all she had to do was ignore the grim feeling of her past catching up to her.

Camille the Azure shook her head. ”No. It’s more than that.” But part of it wasn’t. Part of it was her, and she was failing to adapt. But that was a skill issue, and she could be better. She twisted her shoulders, straightening her spine and breathing deeply of the air. Trying to smell what the others did when they said it was a beautiful day. Pollen and gasoline fumes and barbeque from the kitchen. It didn’t smell like anything except her new home. But she could do that, at least; she could change in part. “You have been good to me.” Cam said to Watcher-Of-Birds, but speaking about the Order as a whole. “And none of you deserve the problems I would bring to you if I stay. Tell everyone thank you for everything. I am going to find my sister. Tell the others if you wish.”

Watcher-Of-Birds nodded at her. “I do not socialize often.” They said, turning back up to stare at the red tailed hawk flying over the nearby hilly residential area. “Not skilled at it. Do not enjoy talking.” He lowered his head to look at Cam standing next to him, her own gaze still directed upward. “Understand. Owe the Order everything. And you are part of us. Asked for help five minutes ago.”

Cam nodded as the stairwell door to the roof burst open and Ben came running out yelling her name. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. Just shared a silent moment of professional appreciation with the camraconda before she dropped over the side of the building. She hit the pavement with a loud slap, though no fall that short could hurt her when she was prepared, it didn’t matter if she was in mail or a dress. And an instant later, she was off like a sprinter, long bounds eating up ground as she headed to the last rogue sighting of the Crimson that was after her head.

She hated that this dress was easy to run in. It felt like a betrayal, somehow. More than breaking her movement restriction with the Order of Endless Rooms.

That wasn’t a betrayal. Cam didn’t actually think she could betray them at this point. No, that was just her doing what was best for them, because none of them would order her to her death of their own volition. But once she found the Crimson, there was really only one outcome to the ensuing fight. And that would solve every problem neatly.

Unless she won. But that was a problem for later. And she wouldn’t win, anyway.

Getting toward the downtown core of the small city was harder than if she weren’t trying to evade notice by the Order. Camille knew how they kept watch, though, so her path took her down back roads with no traffic cameras, over the rooftops of old warehouse spaces and two story office buildings, and eventually out of a side street with pavement that had grass growing through the cracks to where an invisible line separated the bustling commercial center and the old homes the city had grown around.

They’d find her soon enough. But Crimsons were straightforward and stubborn, and her sister was almost certainly still in the area.

Camille started methodically, flexing her fully charged breacher sense toward the buildings around her. A bank, a cafe, a library, a row of old houses that were probably businesses of some kind now. She didn’t linger or press, only expending three to five points per structure as she looked for the obvious. The one thing among the Saturday crowd of mortal humans that would stop her. But nothing obvious turned up, even from the tall old brick building that was the library, which would have been a good high vantage point for her target to take a post atop.

The most annoying part was that there was a farmer’s market occuring, spread across a wide parking lot and attached park. A crowd of people, not enough to get lost in, but enough to clutter the area. And it wasn’t a structure so Cam couldn’t easily search it. But that was fine. She was dressed like a civilian, and could blend in easily, and that many eyes meant many chances for someone to have spotted her sister.

People in the area were almost annoyingly friendly, and would volunteer information easily if they didn’t think there was a threat. And despite her usual expression, she did fit the profile most humans associated with non-threatening. Female, slim, not currently armed, even her light hair color contributed to a subconscious bias in her favor. Which she intended to make use of before the Order caught up to her.

Cam moved through the crowd, aiming for the ancient trees that ringed the grassy square of the park. She’d skirt the area, before moving on and beginning to circle nearby blocks on foot if she couldn’t find taller vantage points. The process of breaking the world down into tactical components was automatic; something she never really stopped doing even when she was in the Lair. And because she still did so, even when she had changed so much, the surprise attack didn’t actually catch her off guard.

Crimsons had a short life span, in Camille’s experience. Because they were three things: dangerous, reckless, and stupid. They were the ones that had no problem with collateral damage or operating in dense civilian areas. They were also often the strongest sisters physically, though how that occurred no longer made sense to Cam.

This one opened the exchange by simply attempting to swipe her mace through Cam’s head, parallel to the ground in a perfect arc. If it had connected, it probably would have killed her, but Cam had spotted the Crimson approaching from two rows over in the market. It wasn’t even hard, she was wearing armor. Had Camille ever been that foolish? Of course she had. It was how she’d been dressed when she’d met Alanna for the first time, after all.

She pivoted to the side, avoiding the abrupt downswing that would have broken either her collarbone or knee depending, and let the Crimson shatter the glittering white stone of the park’s walkway. It split under the simple swing with a rocky crack, a few startled yells coming from the humans around them, before some of those people noticed that someone with an actual weapon was trying to kill someone else, and a few yells escalated to shouts of concern and fear. Cam ignored them, and let a spray of broken rock bounce off her face as her sister tried to trip her while closing in for a closer brawl. The approach didn’t work; Camille just leapt the swing and kicked herself backward, landing twenty feet away and sliding into an unsuspecting child. The boy was knocked supine and started crying, and Cam ignored that too except to begin striding at an oblique angle so that there would be fewer civilians in the line of the fight. A challenge, there were so many humans around.

”You’ve been compromised sister!” The Crimson yelled at her, voice applying a heavy pressure to the air that made her heard by everyone within a hundred feet over the sounds of music and conversation and cars.

”I know.” The Azure replied flatly, fixing her sister with a dead stare as she circled, hands out, unarmed. “I don’t care.”

”Come back now.” The Crimson declared, beginning to stride across the grass toward Cam, mace held out at a casual angle. “Father can fix you! This isn’t the only way.”

Camille blinked. That was such a monumentally stupid thing to say, that she actually felt something. Something unfamiliar and new and wrong, maybe, but also something she knew was true, and knew was hers, and suddenly, she felt the whole world pivot.

Irritation. And the desire to be rude.

”I need to thank them later.” Camille stated, and her sister paused in her approach to start circling her, looking for an attack opening. “James, Nate, Morgan, Keeka. For being so patient with me. Because when you say things like that, it makes me think that I’ve said things like that, and I cannot imagine how much someone would have wanted to stab me after hearing that.”

The Crimson didn’t even tip her head or smile at her or show any unneeded emotion. ”Sister-“ she started to say, all the condescension packed into that one word.

”I will not be returning with you!” Camille yelled, drawing stares from everyone who hadn’t noticed the altercation already. “Not to be fixed, which is a euphemism for killed in case your idiot Crimson brain didn’t realize that yet. Not to be returned to the flock!” She slashed a hand through the air between them, punctuating her words with emotion she wasn’t sure the source of. “Walk away, now! Tell the thing that calls itself our father that I am done with him! Because if you come near me again, I am going to kill you.”

Camille’s tactical mind processed that there were four armed police officers closing in on the site, but they were moving from the other side of the market, and this was about to boil over. When Daughters fought, it didn’t tend to stay in one place, so that wasn’t a concern. What was a concern was the man that stepped between them as the Crimson started to move, raising his hands like he could placate them.

”Woah, hey, looks like this is a little heated.” The human said as he tried to interpose himself between them, though he was definitely watching the armed Crimson more than her. “How about we-“

The Crimson rammed through him, shoulder checking him aside like he was about as much of an obstacle as dry grass. He screamed as her armored boot incidentally crushed his arm into the ground, and then the Crimson was on her and she didn’t have time to focus on anything that wasn’t the incoming strikes. Screams and running humans faded away as Camille dodged the mace and took an offhand uppercut in the gut. She tried to shift her weight but felt her feet leave the ground as the Crimson hit her hard enough to send her flying thirty feet and into the side of a delivery van.

Cam made it out without too much damage, but the van was going to need someone to get the sunken dent out of the side.

She was back on her feet and in a crouch before the mace hit the van over her head and punched a hole in it with a metallic scream. There was someone down between her and the Crimson; that hadn’t just hit the truck, it might have killed a bystander.

Reckless. Stupid.

And stronger than her. The Crimson moved faster than any human could, which wasn’t a surprise, but she also moved faster than any given Azure could too. Camille made a dodge and a deflection, before she attempted a counterattack and got her arm caught in response. The Crimson flinging her across the park in the other direction and directly into the traffic between the weekend market and the brick building of the library.

She hit the hood of a sedan, demolishing moving parts and sending the vehicle sideways to slam into another car that in turn crumpled a cyclist on the side of the road. Blinking spots out of her eyes, Camille came to the conclusion that she was going to lose this fight, and that her analysis on her odds had been largely correct.

She still got up though. Walking forward with staggering steps as the horns and yells of the people who were staggering out of their damaged vehicles echoed around her. The Crimson shot toward her as a blur, disabling two people who tried to restrain her on the way before slamming into Cam again. This exchange, Cam tried to fight back, and landed several rapid jabs on the Crimson’s head before a gauntleted fist took her in the throat and a snapped kick sent her flying sideways to ruin another car windshield and another insurance policy. None of the blows that could have killed or crippled an unmodified human hurt the Crimson, and the impact on Cam’s side wasn’t enough to do more than knock the air from her lungs. But that was how these fights started; testing, and eroding stamina and defenses and options.

”Stay down, sister!” The Crimson yelled, still without heat or malice. She was, Cam thought as she coughed and rolled out of the broken glass, exactly the worst kind of fanatic that the rogues learned about in their training. Real. Dedicated and full of conviction. “You’re not strong enough to fight me, and you shouldn’t have betrayed our father.”

”Your father.” Cam breathed out as bits of safety glass fell out of her borrowed dress. “And not even then.” She spat blood onto the asphalt to mix with leaking oil and antifreeze.

The Crimson approached again, at an almost leisurely pace. She’d left her mace behind, because she didn’t need it for this. Not just for the Azure. “The others said that you would do this eventually. But I didn’t believe them.” Cam flicked glass off her face as she stood again and faced her sister, letting her talk to buy time. “We were a family. Who could betray their family? And why? Especially when you knew this would happen.”

”You believed them because you are a fool.” Camille said before she could stop the words. “Because the Last Line of Defense lies to us. Because if he is our father, he is a bad father. I left because I needed to.” Something flickered in her memory, and she softened her words. “You can leave too.” She whispered, knowing the Crimson would hear. “It isn’t even that bad. Just the hardest thing you’ll ever do in your life.”

”Idiot.” The Crimson’s fist caught her off guard and sent her into the brick of the library. Camille rolled right, feeling her dress catch on a bush and rip slightly as the Crimson’s next three strikes shattered craters in the old building. “Idiot!” Her sister screamed at her as she kicked Cam out of the line of shrubbery and into a park bench that experienced complete structural failure under the impact. “Azures are not strong enough to just leave!”

Cam, laying on her back under an ancient oak tree and looking up at the summer sky through its branches, blinked. What an interesting thing to say, she thought to herself as she listened for the Crimson’s approach. It wasn’t just a Crimson thing to say either, it was a Camille thing. That mental trap that she’d been feeling all day, suddenly, she could see the whole shape of it. Like a cage around her thoughts. Not magical, probably, not even especially hostile. It was a prison that she reinforced with her constant failure to adapt, and it was her own fault in a way.

Of course her sister thought Camille wasn’t strong enough. Because there was a right way for the world to be, and anything outside of that narrow band felt wrong, and therefore, wasn’t explored. Was shied away from. Things like the smudged makeup on her face, or the idea of being friendly with a camraconda, or the nature of strength and how to develop it, these were things that felt wrong because they weren’t ‘supposed to be happening’.

But they had happened. And Camille hadn’t died, or broken from it.

She stood up, turning to face where her sister was circling her like a shark again as people having a picnic on the lawn backed off in terror, abandoning their lunch entirely. “I am not an Azure.” Camille said. She smiled, and it felt wrong, and she embraced that with every fiber of her self. Maybe the blunt trauma to her skull had knocked something loose. Maybe that wasn’t the end of the world.

When the Crimson moved in, Camille exhaled Breath, and thought about the impromptu lesson Morgan and Color-Of-Dawn had given her while she was learning about complexion and eyeliner. The idea that boss fights in games were meant to be tests, not actual combat. An interesting philosophical distinction that she would like to talk more about later. But also, she learned, boss fights had one important factor.

Camilles did not recover Breath fast, she had learned. But she hadn’t been casting many Climb spells, and she had a very deep pool from her time in that particular dungeon. And also, Camilles didn’t need to be warm, or to breathe that deeply.

So she let the wings rip out of her back as the cast of Altitude Adept poured out of her and into reality, heavy scaled limbs and a dense leathery membrane punching neat holes through her flesh and the gaps already present in her borrowed dress. Thirty feet in span, Camille folded her new limbs in around herself in a heavy beat as she forced the air to move to her command and sent herself away from her startled sister’s punch. And Camille embraced her nature - what she was before and what she was now - and turned it into her boss fight’s second phase. And unlike a game, she had no intent on being a fair test.

The Crimson took it in stride, rushing her again without any further comment, but Camille froze the air around her and manifested a duplicate of her right wing out of ice, the broad sheet of false flesh taking the hit and slowing it even as it shattered into frozen shrapnel. Then her own left hook slammed into her sister’s jaw at a slight downward angle, and Camille forced a salvo of Paves down the channel at the same time.

Pave was such an odd magic. People described it as ‘like a punch’, and what she hadn’t realized was that it was like one of her punches. Her best punch, at the exact right moment.

The Crimson slammed into the sod, leaving a trail of mud and shredded lawn thirty feet long as Camille pursued, silently breaking into a sprint with her wings instinctively angled for aerodynamics. She grabbed the kick aimed at her from the dirt and silently Separated Alloy, ripping the armor into nothing before her hand both flesh and ice bit into the Crimson’s leg and started to pull.

But her sister was no victim. She was a combatant, and Camille caught a strike to her temple from the other leg that dazed her. The Crimson flipped up, wheeling with momentum to hit Camille again but being deflected by a flap of the heavy wing. The extra limbs could let her fly, possibly, but flying was counterproductive. The intent was to kill this enemy, and so Camille used them as extra - very long - arms. Abusing the fact that she would be far, far harder to damage thanks to a number of purple orbs than even her armored sister.

Their exchanges became more focused, neither of them speaking now, just tearing into each other with fists or whatever came to hand. The Crimson was thrown against the street, but before Camille could seal her in asphalt, had bolted to her feet, ripped a stop sign from its place, and bit the metal edge into Cam’s wing and torso. Cam apologized rapidly and politely to the proprietor of one of the market stalls before smashing the Crimson through it, coating the woman in shattered mason jars full of honey before her enemy flipped the entire table on her. The next stall got no apology before it was crashed through, nor the next, produce and folding chairs scattered into the now fully panicking crowd.

She tried to steer the fight away from people, their skirmish taking them back across the thin strip of road in a flurry of matched blows. And for her trouble Camille was punted through one of the library’s plate glass front windows, recovered in time to avoid destroying someone’s glasswork sculpture that was on display, and took the opportunity to divest the library of a piece of metal railing that she bent around her sister’s skull in a stunning impact. The Crimson in return had broken through the purple orb protection and also several of Cam’s ribs, before throwing her through a secondary window deeper into the building and through a bookshelf, to the protesting yells of the librarians.

Two minutes of bloody attempts to murder each other later, Camille had to admit something. She was stronger than she’d ever been. She was different than she’d ever been. But she was going to lose this fight.

If she’d opened at her full might, without letting the Crimson damage and exhaust her first, maybe. If she’d been smarter and opened with high caliber sniper fire using proper ammunition, then maybe. But she had failed to learn fast enough, and this was her price. Being thrown from the third floor of an old red brick library into a traffic light that arrested her fall only slightly before she hit the ground and the Crimson leapt after her like a cannonball.

Cam felt so tired. She’d tried. She really had. She thought that she’d even made some progress, too. But at least, after this, there wouldn’t be a problem for the Order. She hoped Nate wouldn’t be too mad about it.

The Crimson closed in, and Cam closed her eyes. And was rather surprised when she was still alive to hear the impact of armor grinding and clattering on pavement.

“It was so fucking easy.” Nate’s voice sounded in her ears as she cracked her eyes open, one of them painfully swollen and bloodshot, to see the heavy man standing over her. “Stay inside. How fucking hard is that? Cam? How hard is that?” Her sister was lying in the road to the side, looking confused as she pulled herself up. A bleeding gash across her face, cutting across her nose and left eye. “Stay the fuck down asshole!” Nate shouted, pointing at her with the claymore he was holding in a single handed grip.

Cam had a lot of concerns, many of them about how angry Nate sounded, but primary among them was why Nate was carrying a sword. “Why do you have a sword.” She said, voice only mildly slurred by repeated blows to the head and oxygen deprivation.

”Because of this you fucking idiot.” He told her bluntly. “You stay down too.” Nate ignored her attempts to rise and approached the Crimson with steady steps. “Alright kid, you fought good. Surrender, and you’ll be treated with courtesy and shit.” He told her.

Because Crimsons were stupid, she ignored him, and Cam tried to shout a warning as the enemy daughter lunged for her- for Nate.

She didn’t need to bother. The entire road seemed to buckle as the asphalt swallowed her from all directions. Even then, she snapped through pieces of it before it could fully form, getting almost close enough to tear Nate’s head off, before the chest piece of her armor was ripped in two directions as someone else with separate alloy took care of that, and Nate stabbed her through one of her lungs. The blade slipped into the exposed rail-thin frame of the immobilized Crimson so easily, it was like her body was made of cake and not magically armored flesh.

The Crimson looked down at the sharpened metal planted in her body as the restraints took hold, almost confused about what had just happened. She tried to say something, but it just came out as a bloody cough, before she slumped forward.

”That gonna kill her?” Nate asked.

”Probably not.” Camille said as she approached, intent on correcting that.

Nate turned and slammed a hand onto her shoulder where the joint of her draconic wing met her arm, steering her away in a move that she could have resisted but chose not to. “Great. Ben, Bea, you got this?” He spoke into the open channel he was on. “Good. We’re getting out of here. Make sure to get names for Recovery to work with.”

He led Cam out of the road as the distinct sound of ambulance and fire truck sirens started to close in. “Why do you have a sword.” She repeated, not sure if this was a hallucination between her injury and final death.

”Because a friend of mine owes me a favor - owed me a favor - and I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Nate told her. “Well, not hurt me. Might hurt you. Don’t touch that one.” He pulled a telepad and held out a hand to her, not looking her in the eye as she fumbled to get a numb and abraded hand to meet his. “If you ever pull some shit like this again, I’m going to be so fucking angry, you have no goddamn idea.”

”You’re not angry now?” Camille felt like she should have taken Nate’s commonly given advice and shut the fuck up.

”I’m goddamn nuclear with fury right now.” Nate told her, his face red enough that she believed that might not be hyperbole. “But that can wait until you’re not bleeding.” He pulled the telepad, and the sound of chaos vanished from around them. And as soon as her feet were back on the floor of the Lair, Camille felt everything else vanishing from her perception too, her mind and body deciding abruptly that it was time for a nap. Blissful darkness took her before she hit the floor, leaving Nate standing there with a half ton mass of unconscious problem that he didn’t think the two knights running to assist were going to be able to help him move. “God dammit.” Was the last irate thing Camille heard before she was well and truly out of it.

_____

”I’m not saying I hate it.” Alanna was trying to explain to Anesh as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. “Like, it feels really cool.”

He pushed open the front door of the Lair, letting her get past him as he tried to escape for at least a moment. “You, six seconds ago, said you kinda hated it.”

”The color.” Alanna protested. “And I only said that because I’m incapable of not being an asshole lately and I kinda hate myself, okay?!”

Keeka passed by behind her, two hands trailing through Anesh’s hair as he passed, trying out this whole ‘casual physical contact’ thing and finding he enjoyed it. ”I like the color…” he chittered.

”I mean, I think it just doesn’t go with my skin, though I guess I can fix that, and also I think it makes me look like an anime character.” Anesh said as he flicked a thick spire of his newly emerald green hair. “And, knowing how dungeons work, it might actually make me an anime character. What does green hair mean? A little abrasive and expendable, right? Maybe I take that back.” He chuckled. “Also, Alanna… are you doing okay? I’m not mad at you. I know you’re just playing, and you’re not being mean. You’ve been weird all day.”

”It’s true!” Keeka added. “You seem…” he paused as Alanna turned to face them, leaning on the wall across from the lockers as Anesh opened one up to store a handful of relationsticks in. “You’re acting like me…” he whispered, trying not to falter.

Alanna’s eyes softened and started to water as she unconsciously stepped forward to start to give Keeka a hug. Which to her surprise, he leaned into before she could break away, before Anesh joined them a second later with a humored smile on his face. “Aw, man, I’m sorry. I’ve just… I leveled up my Empathy the other day.” She sighed, her breath catching. “And it’s really, really hard. I’m feeling too deep in people now, and I’m noticing all the shit I do that no one likes, and I just… I actually am starting to hate myself, you know?”

”I know.” Keeka said instantly. “But do you know?”

”…Know what?” Alanna asked.

”That you don’t have to.” Keeka said authoritatively as he leaned his head back into Anesh’s chest, looking up at his new partner’s green hair and calm smile. “But that’s hard to hear. So you get hugs.”

Anesh leaned over Keeka, smushing the ratroach slightly so that he could rise to his toes and give Alanna a kiss on her cheek. “Sometimes I think he’s the one with the magical Empathy.” Anesh confided in her.

”Yeah, it’s impressive shit.” Alanna nodded as she caught her breath and smiled back. “I’ll try to remember though.” She let them both go and turned to head deeper into the Lair. “Anyway, I’m gonna head to meet Sarah for the podcast thing and also ask her about the raincloud yes Anesh. You good giving our report to Research?”

”Yeah, yeah. They’ll love ‘magical hot spring pools’, I’m sure. Wait, hang on, I just said that out loud. That is an anime thing, isn’t it. Like a specific one.” Anesh didn’t so much ask as he stated it with utter confidence. “Bugger me am I going to turn into an animal when I get kissed? Is that this one? Did we show the Attic romantic comedy anime?”

Keeka kissed him as Alanna walked away laughing boisterously to herself and anyone else in the front lobby. “No, still you.” He said. “Can… can we watch that anime? It sounds fun…”

”Absolutely.” Anesh agreed, without knowing exactly what he was agreeing to at all. “You feeling a bit better?”

“I am.” Keeka nodded as he followed his boyfriend past the recently stabilized wall of reptile tanks and the ring of beanbags around them. The black furred ratroach, still damp and in need of an actual bath after the Ascent’s swamp adventures, paused and let Anesh trail ahead of him as he noticed who was sitting on about half the beanbags.

Eyes closed, scaled leathery wings taking up a hefty profile of space, bruised arms folded over her chest, bloodstains on her face and ripped clothing, Camille lay limply in the Lair’s lobby pretending to nap. Because once she woke up, there would be a lot of questions and yelling, and she didn’t know if she could handle that.

But as Keeka stared at her, she cracked her good eye open, and looked up at him.

”I like your dress.” Keeka said out loud. He had a dozen overlapping thoughts; about how she didn’t look like a monster, about how she seemed different, about how something had changed, about how worried he was about her wounds, about how something in her eyes made him feel like she needed to talk and that he didn’t know how to be there for her.

Camille’s mouth twitched into the smallest happy line. “I like your skirt.” She replied awkwardly. She wanted to tell Keeka that she was wrong about what made a monster, both in him and herself, wrong about what she was supposed to be, wrong about how she was wrong, and that she didn’t know how to say anything.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

”Do… do you want to see the frog I caught?” Keeka asked, holding up a pair of paws cradling a teardrop crystal slime that was the furthest possible thing from a frog Camille had ever seen.

”…Okay.” She said, shifting her intact wing to make room for him to sit next to her.

Anesh, watching as he waited for Keeka to catch up to him, gave his boyfriend a grin and a small wave. He’d catch up later, he decided. That seemed more important than filing a report and updating their delver files right now.

He did kinda wonder why Cam had wings though. He should ask later.