Missy sat in silence, staring at the door Aspen had disappeared behind. Her thoughts were a tangled web of confusion, guilt, and frustration. The conversation with Aspen had shaken her to her core, leaving her feeling once again trapped in an oppressive darkness. She had just started to grasp the intricacies of mortal emotions, and now, after last night's tumultuous exchange, it felt like she hadn't made any progress at all. The weight of her inadequacy pressed down on her, making her question everything she thought she had learned.

When she had possessed her full power, her perception and thoughts had been vastly different, almost alien compared to her current state. The loss of her power felt like losing access to a large portion of her mental faculties, leaving her grasping at shadows of her former self. She had once been capable of processing and comprehending significant amounts of information, her mind vast. But she had also been far more detached, unable to relate to mortals in the way she could now. She wondered, with a mixture of longing and trepidation, if she might have been able to figure out what to do in her former state. But alongside that curiosity came a fear of losing who she had become, the person she was slowly growing into. She liked who she was becoming, even with all the confusion and pain that came with it.

Still, that didn't solve the immediate issue at hand, which loomed large in her mind.

Missy had been so hopeful, so naively optimistic, that simply talking to Aspen would make things better, but now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps that had been foolishly simplistic of her. Mortals, she was learning, were far more complex than she had initially thought, their emotions and motivations a labyrinth she was only beginning to navigate. But at least she knew the source of Aspen's pain now, and Missy could try to help, even if she wasn't sure how. Even if things were awkward and strained for a while, she couldn't just ignore it. The very thought of leaving Aspen to suffer alone made her chest ache.

But how? How did she help Aspen when she didn't even understand what Aspen was going through? She thought of Jezel, her mind latching onto the idea like a lifeline. Would Jezel know what to do? She trusted Jezel, but Missy hesitated, caught in a web of uncertainty. In the books she had been reading, she had seen situations like this come up before, and it seemed mortals had odd, complex ideas about privacy and emotions. Would Aspen be upset if Missy confided in Jezel? Mortals could be strangely particular about that sort of thing, their unwritten rules a maze Missy was still learning to navigate.

Missy sighed heavily, her gaze dropping to the book in her lap. Perhaps if she kept reading, she'd find an answer there, hidden between the lines of mortal stories. She had thought the characters in the stories silly at first, their problems seeming trivial and easily solved. But now, she was beginning to understand how difficult it could be when you were the one caught in the middle of it all.

She would have to risk talking to Jezel, she decided. Aspen might be upset, but Missy didn't think she could handle this alone. The weight of it all was too much to bear by herself. As she thought about confiding in Jezel, a small warmth grew in her chest, spreading outward like tendrils of sunlight. She trusted Jezel more than she had ever expected to trust anyone, mortal or otherwise. She had never imagined she could become this close to a mortal, yet here she was, relying on Jezel to help her navigate emotions that were new, confusing, and often overwhelming.

With a quiet sigh that seemed to carry the weight of worlds, Missy settled back into reading, hoping the pages would offer her some clarity or at least a temporary escape. She lost herself in the fictional world for a while, using it as a refuge from her swirling thoughts and the heavy atmosphere that hung over the shop.

It wasn't long before Aspen reappeared, starting her day with mechanical movements that spoke of exhaustion and inner turmoil. Missy watched her cautiously, noting the dark circles under her eyes. Aspen looked like she hadn't slept, the night's conversation clearly weighing heavily on her.

Aspen caught Missy's gaze and offered a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Can we pretend last night didn't happen?" she asked, her voice fragile, barely above a whisper.

Missy hesitated, her tails twitching with indecision. She was unsure if that was the right thing to do, if sweeping it under the rug would only make things worse in the long run. But without knowing what else to say, she nodded. "Okay," she replied, her own voice soft and uncertain.

"Thanks," Aspen muttered, turning away to finish getting ready for the day. There was an unspoken weight between them now, something that hadn't been there before, a tension that seemed to crackle in the air like static electricity.

The two of them worked in silence, the usual ease between them replaced with an awkward dance of averted gazes and stilted movements. Missy felt her own guilt rising with every moment Aspen avoided looking at her, the emotion threatening to choke her. The first customer of the day entered not long after they opened the shop, and while Aspen usually greeted people with her signature warmth, today she hung back, clearly trying to psych herself up before approaching the customer. Missy watched, her heart aching, as Aspen visibly struggled to put on her usual friendly demeanor.

Eventually, she did approach the customer, but her usual enthusiasm was noticeably dimmed, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. The rest of the day progressed in much the same way. Aspen slowly started to return to her usual self, though the spark she usually had seemed dimmed, like a candle struggling to stay lit in a strong wind. Missy wanted desperately to help, to say something, anything, to make things right, but she felt frozen, uncertain of how to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Every attempt at conversation died on her lips before she could voice it.

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Just as Missy was preparing to head out to help Jezel and Arc at the food truck, hoping the change of scenery might clear her head, the door chimed, and a professionally dressed siren stepped into the shop. Her skin was a shimmering silvery-blue that caught the light beautifully, and delicate scales decorated her face under her eyes and across her nose, almost like freckles. Golden eyes, sharp and intelligent, scanned the room with precision. The siren carried herself with strict professionalism, her posture ramrod straight, her gaze unflinching and slightly intimidating.

Aspen's face, however, paled the moment she laid eyes on the siren. It was like she had been sucker-punched, all the color draining from her cheeks in an instant. Missy couldn't help but wonder why Aspen looked so distressed, her mind racing with possibilities. Was this siren someone from Aspen's past? Someone connected to her family?

The siren's golden eyes landed on Missy, and without hesitation, she crossed the room toward her with purposeful strides. "Are you Missy?" she asked, her voice lilting and musical, with a faint hint of magic woven into her words.

"Yes," Missy replied, confused by the sudden attention and acutely aware of Aspen's discomfort behind her.

"I'm one of Rinale's assistants," the siren explained, eyeing Missy curiously, her gaze seeming to take in every detail. "I'm here about your scheduled date."

Missy blinked in surprise, her tails twitching with excitement despite the tension in the room. "Oh, that's great!" she exclaimed, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten in the face of this news. "Did she decide on a time?"

The siren nodded briskly, her movements crisp and efficient. "Yes, she has an opening in her schedule two days from now at 6:00 in the evening. Does that time work for you?"

Missy could barely contain her growing excitement, her tails swishing back and forth with barely contained energy. "Yes, that works for me," she replied, her voice betraying her eagerness.

"Very well," the siren said with a curt nod, her expression remaining neutral. "I'll inform her of your acceptance. Good day."

With that, the siren turned and left, her exit as abrupt as her arrival, leaving a wake of conflicting emotions behind her.

As the door closed behind her with a soft chime, Missy found herself buzzing with anticipation, her mind already racing ahead to the upcoming date. But as she turned, her excitement faltered as she spotted Aspen still clearly distressed, her eyes fixed on the door the siren had just exited through. Missy felt her earlier guilt and confusion come rushing back. She stood there, caught between her excitement for the future and her concern for her friend, unsure of how to navigate the complex web of emotions that surrounded them both.

Missy watched Aspen for a moment, unsure how to proceed. After last night's awkward conversation, she felt uncertain whether prodding further would make things worse. But she couldn't just ignore the thick tension that hung in the room like a heavy fog. Aspen had always been strong, capable, and cheerful, a beacon of positivity in Missy's life. Seeing her like this—so clearly distressed and withdrawn—made Missy's stomach twist with concern and a deep sense of helplessness.

Summoning her courage, Missy approached her friend, her footsteps hesitant on the worn floorboards. "Aspen," she began gently, her voice soft and filled with genuine worry, "what's wrong? Please, talk to me."

Aspen sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion and a hint of frustration. "Sorry, I just... it's nothing. Really." She turned away, her fingers picking up random objects on the counter—a wrench, a small gadget, a scrap of paper—only to put them back down in a nervous, almost restless, fidget. The clatter of metal against glass punctuated the tense silence.

Missy hesitated but pressed on, her heart aching to help. "Aspen, I'm here for you. Whatever it is, I want to help."

Aspen shook her head, a bitter smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Her eyes, usually bright with warmth, now seemed dull and distant. "This isn't really something you can help with, Missy. It's... complicated." She paused for a moment, her voice faltering as she continued, each word seeming to cost her. "After last night... seeing someone who has everything I've ever wanted, just throwing it away, it sucks. She has every right to live her life however she wants, but it doesn't change the fact that it makes me a little resentful." She glanced at Missy, her eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions—pain, envy, and a touch of shame. "Don't worry about it. I'm just being petty."

Missy could hear the pain beneath Aspen's words, the weight of years of unspoken frustration pressing down on her friend like an invisible weight. She didn't know how to respond, didn't know how to fix this deep-seated hurt, but she wanted to more than anything. Aspen had done so much for her, had been her guide and friend since the beginning, a constant source of support and wisdom. Missy wanted desperately to return that support, to ease Aspen's pain, but this was something deeper, something rooted in a lifetime of struggles Missy couldn't fully understand or easily remedy.

Aspen attempted a weak smile, though it didn't reach her eyes, which remained shadowed with unspoken sorrow. "Run along," she said, her voice lighter, though the heaviness still lingered beneath the forced cheerfulness. "And don't forget my part of the spoils—I really could use some comfort food."

Missy hesitated, But she knew that sometimes people needed space, even from those who cared about them. Sometimes, even those you loved needed time to work through their pain alone, to process and heal in their own way. She would give Aspen that space for now, though it pained her to do so.

"Okay," Missy said softly, her ears drooping slightly, betraying her concern and reluctance to leave. "I'll bring you back something good. And Aspen? I'm here when you're ready to talk. Always."

With a final glance at Aspen, taking in her slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, Missy turned and left the shop. The cheerful chime of the bell above the door seemed almost mocking in the face of the heavy atmosphere. As she stepped out into the bustling street, Missy's mind swirled with a mix of concern and helplessness. She didn't know how to fix this, she just hoped Jezel and Arc would have some insight. They were mortals, after all, with a lifetime of human experiences to draw from. Perhaps they could shed some light on this complex tangle of emotions, help her understand and support Aspen better. Missy set off, her steps purposeful as she navigated the crowded sidewalk.