“Evalyn! If you’re in here, I already told you to please answer the damn phone when you—”

The man stopped, leaving the door halfway open. His eyes locked on Evalyn’s growing armour. Iris expected him to retreat, taking his sudden pause as fear. Upon first glance, the man appeared like he would sift through society’s eyes, much like she did. No magic, no weapons. Completely Ordinary.

“All right, calm down. It’s my house, too,” the man complained, closing the door behind him. Evalyn’s armour receded instantly, and her wary posture dissipated.

“Elly? Why are you home?”

Evalyn walked up to the man and took the hefty paper bag he was holding, letting him take his shoes off. He stretched like a cat, and as Iris continued to watch, she noticed his movements were sluggish. It was as if weights just heavy enough to be noticeable were strapped to every limb.

“Boss suggested I take my leave early,” he yawned. “There’s a joint exercise happening on the Steel Whale in a week. Some of the Sidosian rookies are training with ours. I have one more day tomorrow to meet them, and then I’m off until then.”

The man’s burdened eyes finally met Iris’s. He stared for a moment in confusion, and Iris grew wary. His eyes were sharper than Evalyn’s, and they stared daggers at her without his expression even suggesting the slightest hint of anger. His actions were sluggish, but Iris sensed those as only temporary hindrances, not traits.

“Who’s this?” he asked. His voice wasn’t threatening, and Iris sensed no magic from him. Nonetheless, he looked dangerous. She thought that maybe he would be a genuine threat in another context.

He walked towards her as Evalyn tried explaining.

“Ah…where do I start? We’re going to be taking care of her. If that’s okay.”

Iris backed up a few steps, looking at Evalyn for a cue to run or fight, but none was given. Evalyn paid little attention, her focus on the groceries rather than Iris’s predicament. Someone like Evalyn would not be so carefree if there was any danger to be wary of, and so Iris calmed, trusting her judgement.

He knelt, his face coming up to her chest as he examined her.

His eyes were piercing, and Iris had trouble looking directly at them. The man outstretched a hand, and Iris prepared for the worst, but all she felt was a hand on her head. It caressed her scalp back and forth; the hardness of his skin made soft sounds against her hair.

“She doesn’t look like you.”

“Of course, she doesn’t. I pick-”

“She doesn’t look like me neither….”

The man began to think. A hand reached his chin as he pondered. The scruffy hair fell just over his eyes. It was dark but gleamed in the soft light of the room. Almost as if it was the polar opposite of Iris’s dull silver.

“Maybe you were pregnant…”

“I was not!”

Evalyn froze up, her body tensed, and her expression soured. Iris couldn’t understand what had gotten into her so suddenly. It was as if the man had attacked. Perhaps he was dangerous after all.

“Yeah, I thought as much. I thought maybe my cooking had finally gotten to you.”

“Wha-!”

The man continued to think as Evalyn’s facial expression only worsened. Vulnerable anger. Another face that Iris had never seen before. She could sense this man, whoever he was, was somehow stronger than Evalyn and had her around his finger.

“She is a bit old, isn’t she…”

“Yeah, of course she is!”

“Secret love child? Didn’t have to take you ten years to tell me now, did it?”

Evalyn’s soured expression twisted and malformed into a sarcastic grin. It was as if it was written on her face. The five words, ‘Do you want to die?’

“Okay, Okay! She’s not yours! Not in front of the child!”

Evalyn’s fingers tapped on the counter, eager to do something violent. She saw Iris in the corner of her eye and gave up, returning back to the groceries while shaking her head in disappointment.

“I found her in Sidos this morning, and she’s going to live with us,” she said, hesitating on her next words. “She’s a Witch, Elly.”

The man stared at her silently, then back at Iris. He approached her once again and kneeled. Iris had begun to get used to his stare, but it was still hard to look at for too long. She sensed curiosity in his eyes. The playful kind. But that was drowned out by the overwhelming shape of them.

“And one was hard enough to deal with.”

“Well, you’ve been at it for ten years; you’re doing pretty well now, aren’t you,” Evalyn sighed.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The man giggled, catching Iris off guard, and he relished the look on her face. He pinched her cheek as his eyes traced over her face as if to memorise it. The man was strange. Playful, but with intent behind every action.

“I have, haven’t I? Your mum’s a tough nut to crack, so I hope you can take care of her, hm?”

“M-mum?!”

He ignored Evalyn, not even giving her the etiquette of a quick glance. Iris had no clue, but the man was just as entranced by Iris as she was by his eyes.

“Elliot Maxwell, combat flight instructor and this klutz’s husband. Nice to meet you.”

As the night dragged on for an hour or two longer, Elliot did not cease to bother Iris. Her inexperienced voice left little room for conversation, so he took charge. Although his stories fascinated Evalyn, Iris paid the most attention to his mannerisms.

His week had been filled with escapades in the skies as he taught students the cruelty of combat, and his time on the air base was rife with growing rivalries and tensions—apparently. He led an exciting life, and Evalyn traded his stories for hers.

However, Iris continued to be most keenly aware of the man’s movements. They were a contradiction that she couldn’t wrap her head around. Sluggish, yet precise. Lacking in conviction yet wasting no movements. He had seen combat, perhaps for much longer than Evalyn had. Even then, he did not look much older than her.

“Is the old Squadron still doing well?” Evalyn asked from the dinner table, her feet on one chair as she slouched in the other. Her voice competed with the searing pops and crackles of Elliot’s frying pan. He was no magic user, but he controlled the Aether of each utensil as well as Evalyn had controlled her armour.

“Yeah, they’re still all healthy, if not getting a little old for flying. Vaundrie’s daughter Violet, you remember her?”

“I think I met her once?”

“She’s grown up a fair bit, and he still treats her like a four-year-old.”

“How’s Francis?”

“He’s doing well. He’s not flying as much as he used to, but he did stop refusing promotions, so he’s quite high-ranking now. I saw him the other day in his office. Paperwork up to his gills.”

“Hell, I say.”

“That’s very true.”

Their chatter subsided as a telephone from a far room began to beg for attention. Evalyn sighed and relucted to get out of her seat, going so far as to use her magic to turn it into a wheelchair. A pair of golden wheels propped the legs off the ground and slowly wheeled themselves across the room.

“It’s my office; I’ll get it.”

Elliot watched helplessly as Iris attempted to replicate Evalyn’s bad habits, only failing to form the shapes so precisely. “You’re both useless,” he sighed.

“Hello, Excala International PI; how can I help?”

Elliot cut the magic to the stove, and the simmering died, giving way to an uncomfortable silence.

“I see. Well, I’ll be in my office tomorrow afternoon…I’m sorry to hear that…I’m sure we can resolve it…yes. I understand.”

Iris walked over to the kitchen, where Elliot had begun dividing his cooking into several plates, wrapping each in aluminium foil.

“Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

Iris stood on her seat to get a better view of Evalyn. The phone had long gone silent, but the whispers of Evalyn’s anxiety permeated through the receiver, and she couldn’t bear to put it down. Her hand slumped as she brought the phone together once again.

That night, Iris’s eyes wouldn’t close. No matter how comfortable she was, the night was loud in her mind, and the sounds from outside the window were even louder. A soft chatter from her bedside table attempted to lull her conscience away, but Iris could only focus on each word instead.

"-a misconception that morals or morality are universal is held by many. However, as the ‘correct’ pitch a singer should sing at differs from culture to culture, morality differs from person to person. Past experiences dictate what one values over other things; however, similar one’s morals are to someone else’s, they can never be completely identical. This is division. A primal division that one-”

Iris’s door was not fully closed, and the light emanating from the sliver practically seared her eyes every time she looked in its direction. She felt her hair dissipating as a small spindle of purple reached for the door handle, but she couldn’t close it. A crumb of the conversation outside reached her ear, and she instead inched the door open, using her arm to turn the Pattern Reader off.

“The Aetherologist said that he isn’t sure if it’s brain development or something to do with her magic, but she’s unstable. She could be a lot quicker to violence because of it.”

“No different from you, then?”

“I’m not joking, Elly.”

The two fell quiet, and Iris slowly got out of bed. The cool breeze stifled her momentarily, but she was determined to hear what was being said, if only to catch one or two words at the most.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? It’s all so sudden, and I know she’ll be such a handful.”

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

“But-”

“And you’re here to protect me, aren’t you?”

Iris’s eye found the gap in the doorway. Elliot was lying on the couch, and Evalyn was lying on top of him. Only their heads were visible past the back of the furniture.

“You can be happy. You’ve said you wanted to have a kid for so long.”

She giggled. “Have I?”

“I’ll never forget all the nights you would wail about the dumb rules they had in place for you. You went to sleep crying one night because of it.”

“Yeah, I think I did. I understand why they have those now.”

“And a year later, you didn’t even want to adopt one.”

“…By then, I realised how bad of a mother I would have been.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I mean, I’m not the most fortunate when it comes to parents, am I? That’s more your department. I’ve had Marie, but not for the first eighteen years of my life.”

Elliot thought momentarily, taking his time with his sentences and sinking deeper into the couch.

“I’ve always thought you’d make a good mother. You would have been a tough one, but a good one. Maybe with no idea how to parent from a mother of your own, you would’ve followed your ideal. That in itself is beautiful. You can’t deny that.”

Evalyn’s head bobbed as she turned around, head perhaps on his chest now.

“I’m too soft. I’d teach hard lessons then cry for forgiveness five minutes later.” She sighed. “Seeing you at the end of every week is the only thing that keeps me going sometimes.”

“Teach her right, and you’ll have family wherever you go. I’m assuming she’s going to work for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll look into her identity, and she’ll work in exchange.”

“Is that the cover story?”

“Yeah. The one catch to having her released is to have her abilities under control and for me to always be near her until she can do so. Well, that and also having her do the mercenary work.”

“Do you think that’ll be good for her?”

“…no. Of course not. But no one in the world besides us can see her as anything but a weapon; there’s no helping it. If she can’t protect herself, she’s as good as dead.”

“…I think you like her.”

“Of course I do,” Evalyn chuckled. “She’s adorable. And she’s like me.”

A final intermission in their conversation permeated Iris’s mind, and she patiently waited for the following sentence. The two barely moved until Elliot shifted uncomfortably.

“What if she ever comes against you? If ever you’re unable to prevent it.

“…Then I’d have no choice. I have things to protect besides her as well. So, she’d better eat her vegetables.”