While most of the attention was on the challenges and the arrival of the Riders of the Ghosthound into the ballroom, the Nemesai found themselves curiously lost in the lurch. After their dramatic entrance, they were generally avoided but accepted as part of the crowd that milled about the ballroom. So they drifted sideways at a group until they arrived at the curious array of food that had been laid out for the party.

The Winged Serpent’s tongue flicked outward. This outcome had been their goal all along, but it felt somewhat bitter to have arrived at this point after being thoroughly suppressed by the Ghosthound. It seems the posturing was unnecessary. Allowing this Ghosthound to dictate the flow is for the best for now…

Its gaze slid sideways to Thea, who calmly picked up a plate and began to ladle various food items out of the large containers. An inefficient and strange custom that seemed to be the norm of behaviors on this world. Humming to itself, the Winged Serpent drifted sideways to ask Thea about this strange human tradition but was stopped by a short man stepping in front of it with his hands raised.

“No cutting in the buffet line,” The man reached up and began to stroke his rather sizable mustache. “We must all wait our turn.”

The Winged Serpent tilted its head to the side at the boldness of this man. Was he not aware that the Winged Serpent was a Nemesis? In addition… a glance around revealed that there were almost a dozen people milling around the area, wandering up to the buffet area freely. Why had this man stopped him…?

“Heh, do you truly want to be like those people?” The man snorted, sending tremors through his voluminous mustache. “No, as it is clear you are an alien from another world, allow me to show you how to utilize the buffet. It’s the least a respectful man can do.”

“Your assistance is not necessary,” The Winged Serpent replied. Behind it, the other Nemesai were snickering to each other by the strange interaction with this man. “Although you humans choose to indulge in food in this manner… it is an unnecessary waste of time. All of the energy I require to live I am able to obtain through Aether. Why bother with food? Your minor customs are a diversion, but not one I need to bother with.”

By the end of his speech, the Winged Serpent made sure to make his tone harsh enough to drive the man away. But contrary to expectations, the mustachioed man didn’t leave. In fact, he simply looked at the Winged Serpent with such a genuine expression of pity to which the Winged Serpent didn’t know how to react.

“Heh, ah, to be young and think you know all the delights of the world,” The man said with a weighty shake of his head. “Humor me, mister snake. Here, try this. This is Filet Mignon, although I don’t think it’s harvested from anything actually related to a cow these days…”

To be young? I’m almost four hundred years old, you foolish human. The Winged Serpent thought sourly. And it was about to open its mouth and say that, but as it breathed in prior to speaking, the scent of the food the man offered it entered the Winged Serpent’s nose. The Winged Serpent sniffed again, slightly suspicious of how… attractive the food seemed.

Its interest was definitely peaked.

“...I suppose there is no harm in trying.” The Winged Serpent hissed as it released another breath. Then its tongue shot out, snatched the food and gulped it down whole. The seasonings and tender juices seeped out of the meat and down the Winged Serpent’s throat as the muscles of its body constricted around the strange morsel.

The sensation of eating was unfamiliar after so long of simply relying on Aether, but not unpleasant.

Quite subconsciously, the Winged Serpent’s tongue flicked out across its lips and gathered up the drops of loose liquid that had been spattered there in the Winged Serpent’s haste to get the experience over with.

The man chortled. “My name’s Ed Dugg. Don’t you worry, I wouldn’t steer you wrong! Follow me, this is what is called leg of lamb with a mint sauce… again I don’t think it’s actually lamb though… some of Kharon’s defenders found some rather meaty spiders, I do believe...”

*****

Both Naffur and Mareen were on the same page from the very beginning. Which disturbed Naffur for some reason. After exchanging a few pleasantries, the two turned without speaking and walked out the back of the bathroom. Naffur led the way through the caterer’s corridors, nodding at Wolfram as they exited the event space and walked onto the lush green lawn. The moon was fat and low overhead, surrounded by a cloak of stars that cast a cool white mantle of light over the grassy ground.

They were alone with the night and a few drifting motes of moss spirits.

Every blade of grass seemed outlined with stark lines of that soft moonlight as Naffur pivoted on one leg, still with two flutes of champagne in his hands, to face Mareen. That same mantle of white light caressed the sharp edges of her silhouette, while her softer interior was draped lightly with shadow. They looked at each other for several seconds, their eyes searching for answers in the serious expressions they made at each other.

Stolen story; please report.

Yet Naffur couldn’t seem to find any answers besides his own confusion. In Naffur’s mind, his heart was still racing with how in sync they seemed to be right now. And sure, he had always thought they had such a connection… but that was back before they had both left the Orchard. When Naffur had painstakingly worked up all his nerve to shop for a flower blossom ornament that he thought that Mareen would like.

And when he had given it to her, she had reacted with such joy that Naffur had practically floated away from their meeting on golden clouds.

Yet later, he had watched as Mareen returned the gift he had gotten for her to the seller. It was a practical action, but one that seemed deeply meaningful to his eyes. A hole had opened in his chest that drove him to run away from the Orchard without any sort of plan. Which ended up working out well for him in the end, but that sensation of listlessness really hadn’t dislodged itself from his heart since then.

That hole still existed. Sometimes it felt like it would always exist.

Which was why, when Mareen had messaged a few months ago and asked why they hadn’t talked in so long, Naffur hadn’t been able to find the words to reply. All of them were lost in that hole. Because he didn’t want to just talk in the way that it seemed like Mareen wanted to talk. The difference between what he had felt and what she currently wanted grated at him in a way he couldn’t stand.

So he had run away. And now he stood in a moonlit meadow. More moss spirits drifted curiously downward, ringing their intimate silence.

“...so you…” Mareen blinked and twisted. She looked around at the surrounding area, to the grassy slope and the distance line of birch trees behind the ballroom, and then her gaze came back to Naffur. “...you’re a big drinker these days?”

“What? Oh, no, I… there were just two left on the plate, so…” Naffur mumbled as he lifted the flutes uncertainly.

Mareen giggled and something in the silence between them cracked. Naffur was able to chuckle at himself and shrugged. Their eyes met again and both held more warmth in their looks.

Then Mareen spun on her heel and looked away from Naffur, standing with her back to him. “It’s… it’s probably weird right? We were... just friends and I sent you that crazy message out of the blue… I guess… I just was thinking of you and…”

Naffur looked at the curve of her neck. She was wearing a light blue dress with a skirt that flared outward with white accents. His mouth was extremely dry. “I…”

I’m the acting head of the Order Ducis… so why is this so hard…?

And strangely, as Mareen’s nervous words faded into silence and Naffur stared at her back, something clicked inside his head. Suddenly he could see why Randidly Ghosthound never took a break. Why he pushed himself to bleed in every training session and threw himself toward danger at every opportunity. Why the people that Randidly had slowly drawn into his orbit, even Naffur himself, seemed to catch that urgency that they couldn’t shake.

Because this sense of helplessness felt like a wound on Naffur’s soul. Any sort of training would be worth it in order to avoid feeling this ever again. It was the sound of air and light vanishing down that hole in Naffur’s heart, disappearing forever.

Gritting his teeth, Naffur took several steps forward as the moss spirits began to drift even closer. When had so many appeared...? “Mareen-!”

“Yes?” She spun around to quickly that she seemed to have been jolted by the sound his voice. They were only a meter away from each other, and Naffur was abruptly aware of the swirling whirlpool of moss spirits that had gathered. Their emerald light played off the soft edge of Mareen’s cheekbones in a way that made him unable to look away.

She was the prettiest thing Naffur had ever seen and his nerve deserted him like nightmares before the cleansing power of sunlight. “Ah… would you... like a drink?”

He offered her the flute that he hadn’t drunk from. Mareen smiled in a regretful way, but she nodded. “...yea, I’d like that.” She took the glass and that helplessness had once more seized Naffur’s heart with its cold and bony fingers. Yet he couldn’t-

“I really liked the flower you got me, by the way,” She breathed it out softly and her shoulders slumped as her face turned down to the glass she had taken from him. “I’d waited for something like that for a long time.”

And that was the opening that Naffur’s wounded heart needed to finally shudder and reveal itself. “...then why did you return it?”

Mareen blinked. Then she sucked in a breath as if she realized something. She brought her hand up to her chest… and suddenly she was looking at Naffur with a sour expression. “You… have you been acting so distant because you thought that I didn’t like the gift you gave me?”

“I… well no. But you-” Naffur shook his head wildly. “You just always talked about those flowers so- I figured maybe because it was me that gave it-”

“Naffur, the one I returned was one I had bought myself that morning. Because it was the perfect gift. It was… what I had wanted for a long time. From you. I loved it. And I thought-”

They were both leaning toward each other and Mareen’s words skittered to a stop. Blushing, she looked to the ground. And as Naffur teetered on the uncertain edge of his feelings, he felt a warm hand press against his back.

He took a half step forward and Mareen looked sharply upward at the same moment. Their lips met.

Their front teeth knocked against each other with a jarring solidity.

Naffur sprung back, horrified. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“I guess that’s for making me wait a year,” Mareen giggled. Then she stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. “And this is for giving me exactly the gift I wanted… with one year’s worth of interest.”

They kissed again. Very pleased with themselves, the moss spirits swirled even more tightly around the couple.