[Loop: 2]

On most mornings, Izel Ceceya Ashmark preferred to laze about in bed awhile as consciousness returned, together with awareness of the day before her, dreaming or planning as she pleased while she waited for her moondial alarm to go off.

As its quiet pulsing pierced her dreamless sleep and dragged her groggy mind back to the waking world, she dimly recognized that this would not be one of those days. Izel swung her left hand down in front of her as she sat up, opening her Console spell to check her messages, but froze when she saw the time.

“Soot and sulfur,” she cursed,

The alarm signified not that she needed to get up or leave for class, but that she was already supposed to be at her first class. She sighed, pushing down pointless panic. There was no helping it now. She would be late for the first time that semester, and she’d apologize. It would be fine. Fine. Just fine. Izel got out of bed and stumbled towards the coffeemaker as she remembered what had kept her from sleep so long yesterday. Some of the fog cleared from her mind as she recalled endlessly turning things over in her head, nitpicking and criticizing her choice of words when… when…

Izel nodded to herself, She mechanically turned on the coffeemaker with a touch, thoughts beginning to spin.

She’d tried to just get it out there and let it go, telling herself that it was out of her hands. Alas, her fluttering heart had none of it, surging with warmth and making her fret all at once. Even now the moment replayed in her mind, and her wings flushed at how embarrassing it was even as she cringed at some of her inferior word choices. She’d basically told Siofrenne that she was ugly and didn’t deserve her. Sio knew her though, surely she wouldn’t mistake this as some erroneous belief about a person’s worth lying in aesthetics. The more crucial question, though: Was it too pushy to use the word ‘Love’ when Sio wasn’t even ready to think about romance? Was it too direct a word when Izel’s own feelings were so obviously unclear, unstable, volatile, unpredictable, hopeless, worthless, meaningless, worthless, worthless—

“Enough!” she growled at herself, teeth clenched and slamming her cursed right arm into the counter. The topaz spurs on her clenched fist made tiny scratches in the polished wood surface.

Izel breathed long and deep, both hands gripping the countertop as the coffee was dispensed.

Not that she was prejudiced against them, of course. She prided herself on not using such slurs as Squishy and monkey against the so-called lesser races, even if it was fashionable for most to use the official derogatory term. Even some of her friends didn’t seem to take note of the casual racism used by Arkanik society. But... When it came to cogniturgy or enchantment effects, like the sudden urge to hug a Dog when you got close to them, it just didn’t sit right with her. It made her cringe a little inside every time, and she had to simply grin sheepishly and bear their hollow apologies.

She started when she heard movement in the apartment.

Turning, Izel saw Itzcali stepping out of his bedroom and towards the apartment’s bathroom. Her older brother stopped when she turned, addressing her in their native tongue of Nahuatl. “Good morning to you, Izel. It’s rare to see you still here so late. You can have the shower first. If you need it.”

As always, courtesy and tact came easily to Itzcali, even at the early hour.

“Thank you,” she replied, “but I’ll be leaving after I’ve had my coffee. Go right ahead.”

Itzcali nodded and stepped into the bathroom, and the door clicked behind him. Izel knew he had likely seen her tiny episode, but fortunately the two of them knew instinctively by now not to intrude in the other’s affairs. 16 out of 17 times, it was just something to do with their dysfunctional family. If they actually needed help, they’d ask.

But alas, her sister Xihucoatl wasn’t old enough to go out on the little adventures Izel and her friends got up to these days… Even if the middle-schooler was a shoo-in to win any straight fight against herself, Zayne or Siofrenne. The family prodigy, Izel’s father trained Xihucoatl relentlessly, shaping her into his perfect chosen successor. Thanks to their mother’s blood the little girl barely needed sleep, so she was put through a ringer of back-to-back sparring and exercise sessions with multiple full-time trainers. Zayne had jokingly challenged her to a sparring match last year. Siofrenne had been forced to peel his severed arm off the floor before hurriedly reattaching it with her healing magic. He’d claimed he would be up for a rematch, but no one blamed him for not pursuing one.

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Three transparent dots appeared in the middle of Izel’s vision, signaling the arrival of a new message, so she cast Console again with a downward slash of her left hand, reading the new message as she picked up her coffee mug.

she mused happily. It was from Zayne, and it was a long one. Izel began to scan through the message as she sipped the coffee, relishing the clarity given by the bitter and slightly spicy flavors of the coffee grounds and cacao nibs. With her metabolism, she knew it would take almost a quarter hour to affect her and push fully away the last vestiges of fatigue, but at least it was something. On the upside, her glacial metabolism meant that it would last for hours, almost the whole school day. For now, however, she still felt a bit tired and hazy, and it was a bit challenging to focus.

Izel pushed the coffee from her mind and tried to read the message again, from the top. Something she’d seen in her first glance at the message nagged at her, but she knew better than to try reading from the end first.

Message from Zayne Keeningblood, one minute ago:

[ hey Izel, I’ve got some things to tell you. Before you get mad, I want to say that I didn’t think I would ever have the courage to tell you, but you really inspired me last night, if you can trounce your feelings, then I should be able to flatten mine too

so here goes. I kind of have it bad, for you. I guess I’ve thought you were pretty awesome for a while now, but, about three years ago I realized I wanted to be more than just your friend. Izel, I know you have feelings for Siofrenne and I don’t want to get in the way of that. but, I need you to know I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you so badly that it hurts when we are apart. it’s not that I need to you to love me back, but things are just less Aiat when you aren’t around.

that’s all I guess. I know this has got to be overwhelming, coming to you suddenly like a bolt of mage shard to the face and I’m sorry. really I am. if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I’ll leave it be never mention it again and we can still be friends. if you do?

well, it would mean a gift of worlds to me. ]

Izel read over the message twice more just to be sure she understood. Zayne’s people, bloodelves, had their own language which was surprisingly distinct from what was spoken by the high elves they supposedly descended from. Sometimes Zayne’s “Zaynisms” had led to some, ah, misunderstanding. When she was done reading, Izel leaned back on the counter behind her, and let out a growl of frustration as her mind reeled.

Izel’s mind raced and spun as she considered how she wanted to respond. Did she even want to respond right now? Izel tried to take a sip from her mug of coffee, only for her mouth to meet with a frozen, solid surface. Ice. Now that she noticed it, frost covered her hand where it gripped the mug. “Blackened soot and..! Gah!” She turned around and reached for the cupboard. Of course, her ice magic had responded to her shock. Why not? The day wasn’t crazy enough already, might as well throw in another hurdle.

Without warning, Izel’s mind flashed with visions of dancing shadows, the sensations of pain and icy coolness mingling with waves of adrenaline and endorphins. Battle, casting and killing. War, fought in concert with a human ally. Teeth and claws descended on her, and fire filled her vision. For a long moment, she felt... falling... and quiet. Quiet around. Quiet inside. Dead quiet.

Just as suddenly as it came, the vision left her, and she found herself still holding the frozen mug of coffee, cursed right arm still reaching out for a clean mug.

Izel shook her head, and set the block of ice on the counter, retrieving her thermos and firing up the coffeemaker again. Whatever was going on with her head, it could wait. Even if it was some kind of divine vision. She had more important things to worry about right now. She gathered her resolve, and cleared her mind, focusing back on the console message. Sadly, she didn’t get to consider her response for long.

“Hi. Good morning,” said a small, carefully chipper voice to Izel’s left.

The realization came to Izel almost as soon as she heard the words. It couldn’t be the housekeeper either. Sanu wasn’t scheduled to be in today. So who—?

Izel turned her head, thankful that for her race at least, having clear peripheral vision was not a problem.

A tiny colorful snake sat on the counter a ways down from the coffee pot. It made for an odd sight with its scales being a mixture of rich oranges and cerulean blues that traced out the sharply curved serpent-patterns sacred to her people. The snake itself sat in a defensive posture: curled tightly into a rough tepee shape, with its head resting atop its brightly colored coils. Cheerful, overly large eyes, hexagonal ruby gemstones, looked back at Izel as it raised the tip of its tail to wave an anxious greeting.

“Hello again. Good morning.”

Small iridescent feathered feathered wings fanned out behind its body, completing the resemblance to a certain ancient deity. Izel was fairly sure those hadn’t been there before. Then again, neither had been the snake when she was talking to Itzcali earlier. How had it gotten into their apartment?

Izel turned her head a little more, so her facemask was almost directly facing the little snake. Since Obsidian Butterflies—known as Itzcemelle or simply Itz in their language—didn’t have eyes like most other races, Mother and her father had made it clear their children were expected to face their conversation partner dead-on when they were talking to someone belonging to another race. Apparent eye contact was an important way peoples with true eyes signaled the other party had their attention.

“Well, hello there you…?” Izel trailed off. What was the proper term for whatever this little person was? “…H-how did you get in here?”

“Oh. Oh no… You don’t remember.”

Izel didn’t catch what the snake had said there at the end, but something was clearly bothering the snakey-wake. It was so cute! Izel didn’t want the poor thing to be upset. So, how could she help it? Maybe it was someone’s familiar that had gotten lost somehow? Izel didn’t know of any races that looked like this little guy, but she remembered learning from Xihu that some familiar types could speak.

“Are you looking for your master?” Izel asked, trying to take a calming tone. She thought about bringing her spectral wings forward into the creature’s space, but didn’t. Sometimes bringing someone anxious under the calming effects of her wings suddenly only made things worse. She understood that sense of abrupt manipulation far, far too well to be careless.

Before long, the snake’s diminutive voice replied.

“…That’s… The problem. You are—um… There seems to be an error of the—um—temporal variety?”