As morning light crept across the manor grounds, the changes from yesterday's chaos became apparent. The garden pond had become a peculiar sight indeed. Where ornamental fish once swam, now a massive gelatinous mass bobbed contentedly, occasionally forming what looked suspiciously like a translucent hand to wave at passing servants. The remaining garden statues had been hastily moved to a safe distance, though the slime showed remarkable restraint - perhaps due to the steady supply of honey drizzling from a Thristle’s dipper.
"You're spoiling it," Seraphina observed, watching as Thristle balanced precariously on the pond's edge, adjusting the honey dispenser. Her arms were crossed, but there was an undeniable hint of amusement in her voice. A sealed letter from Lord Blackbriar was tucked into her apron pocket - her new orders to guide Thristle to Port Briar.
"Not spoiling, training," Thristle corrected, nearly losing her balance. A worried face crossed her features.
"Seraphina... when it finally let me go yesterday, how much exactly was I wearing?"
The maid's professional demeanor cracked slightly as a blush colored her cheeks. "Very little. Just what remained of your tunic and boots."
"And no sign of any pouches?" Thristle asked anxiously, leaning forward to peer into the slime's translucent mass. Her heart skipped as she finally spotted something - deep within the creature's body, partially obscured by floating debris and half-dissolved weapons, she could make out her leather belt, its pouches still miraculously intact. Her knife's handle glinted nearby, but every attempt to reach for it just made the slime playfully shift its mass, moving the items just out of reach.
"No. Though given how the creature preserves some things and dissolves others, perhaps your belongings are still intact somewhere in there." Seraphina studied Thristle's worried expression. "Was there something important in the belt?"
"No! Just, um... normal things. Money and such," Thristle said quickly. She tossed another honey-soaked treat to the slime. The slime rippled appreciatively, forming a series of bubbles that rose to its surface and popped into what could only be described as a gleeful display.
"It's actually quite clever," Thristle continued, reaching into her pocket for another honey-soaked treat.
"Watch this - no eating bushes!" she commanded firmly, tossing the treat. The slime immediately withdrew a pseudopod inching toward a nearby shrub.
Seraphina's raised eyebrow spoke volumes. "Impressive. Though I suspect Lord Blackbriar will be less impressed when he discovers the state of his honey stores."
"Sugar water works fine too, but nothing gets its attention like honey," Thristle said, demonstrating by holding up a honey-drizzled biscuit.
The slime stretched upward, nearly toppling Thristle as it reached for the treat. Seraphina cleared her throat delicately. "Speaking of your impending departure... Lord Blackbriar has instructed me to accompany you." She patted the letter in her apron pocket. "He seems to think you'll need a... shall we say, moderating influence?"
"You're coming with me?" Thristle nearly dropped the biscuit in surprise. The slime took advantage of her distraction to snatch it from her fingers, dissolving it with a satisfied gurgle.
"Perfect!" Thristle brightened, then hesitated. "Though... are you sure about this? Coming with me It's quite a journey, and with this one" She gestured at the slime, which had now managed to envelop her foot, gently tugging her off-balance.
Seraphina's professional mask slipped for just a moment, revealing uncertainty beneath. "Lord Blackbriar's orders are clear. I'm to ensure you reach your destination safely - and preferably with minimal destruction along the way." She straightened her apron with perhaps more attention than necessary. "Besides, someone needs to ensure you don't get lost or cause any more... incidents."
The slime seemed to sense the tension, releasing Thristle's foot only to coil around her waist.
"Though how we're going to explain a traveling slime to any merchants we meet..." Seraphina mused, watching the creature attempt to wrap slimy tentacles around Thristle's ankles.
"Um, I'm an alchemist!" Thristle declared proudly. "Well... we'll call it an exotic specimen from my research. Very rare. Very valuable. From... um... very far away. "
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"A rare specimen?” Seraphina asked, her brow furrowing in an annoyed expression. "I don't think it will convince every innkeeper why their furniture is being dissolved."
"A rare specimen with unique dietary requirements," Thristle corrected primly, then yelped as the slime suddenly lifted her away from the pond's edge. "See? It's already kind of obedient and protective!"
The slime chose that moment to wrap completely around Thristle, who started to thrash and yelp in a most undignified manner, before depositing her - now somewhat disheveled - directly in front of Seraphina. For a moment, the two stared at each other, the air thick with an unexpected tension. Thristle looked at Seraphina with a scowl, silently daring her to comment on her disheveled appearance. She tried to straighten her skirt with an indignant huff, all the while glaring daggers at her traitorous slime.
Seraphina took a precise step backward and smoothed her already immaculate apron. "I'll make the necessary arrangements. Try to keep your… speciment from eating anything else important or yourself until tomorrow?"
"No promises," Thristle called after her retreating form, making another attempt to straighten her now-rumpled clothes. "But I'll do my best!"
---
Thristle swatted away another probing tendril - the third such attempt that morning - as she tugged at her coarse new breeches. The slime bobbed in the pond, its surface rippling with what might have been interest in her unfamiliar attire. Even with the honey dripper in place, she hadn't quite forgotten how quickly it could move when it wanted to. Just a few days ago, poor Rose from the village had seen it chasing her through the forest and running screaming for help. At least the guards had informed her friend of Thristle's safety, though she'd need to send a proper letter before departing. Rose deserved more than secondhand reassurances, especially after everything she'd witnessed.
A ripple passed through the creature's surface, and Thristle instinctively stepped back from the edge. The motion only drew attention to how strangely the new clothes moved against her skin. They weren't exactly what she'd expected when Seraphina had presented them at dawn.
"Stop fidgeting with those clothes." Seraphina's voice cut through her thoughts, making her jump. The slime's surface tensed in response, like a cat about to pounce. "You'll wrinkle them before we even leave the grounds."
"They're already wrinkled," Thristle muttered, though she let her hands drop to her sides. "And they're not exactly what I expected. I thought perhaps a traveling tunic, or at least something more..." she gestured vaguely at herself. "Oh, and I need to write that letter to Rose before we leave, by the way. She's probably beside herself after seeing me with this thing." She glanced at the slime, which was now lazily dissolving a fallen leaf.
"Yes, the healer from the village," Seraphina nodded, her expression softening slightly. "A personal letter would be more reassuring than the guard's message. We can have it delivered tomorrow." Her fingers worried at her apron strings - a rare tell from the usually composed woman. "But first, these clothes. His lordship was quite specific about the wardrobe requirements. These clothes are practical, sturdy, and most importantly..." she paused, adjusting Thristle's jacket collar with practiced efficiency, "they'll help you blend in where we're going. A young gentleman draws far less attention than a lady traveler."
The slime, evidently disapproving of the divided attention, began methodically tugging at Thristle's new outfit as if trying to pull her back toward the pond. "Stop that," she commanded, reaching for the honey dipper. "These clothes have to last, and I doubt Seraphina would appreciate explaining to his lordship why I arrived dressed in rags. Or worse, not dressed at all."
"That creature... is a separate problem entirely," Seraphina said, her lips thinning. "One which his lordship and I already discussed at length. But for now, your attire is what we're addressing." She stepped back, examining Thristle with a critical eye that somehow made the elf more nervous than the slime's attention. "The clothes suit you better than you think. Though we'll need to do something about your hair."
"My hair?" Thristle's hand flew protectively to her head, fingers tangling in the wild strands that had escaped their earlier brushing. "What's wrong with my hair?"
"Nothing's wrong with it," Seraphina said, reaching into her apron pocket and producing a length of black ribbon. "But if you're to pass with the disguise, we'll need to tie it back properly. More scholarly, less..." She waved her hand, searching for the word, "windblown."
"Blackbriar himself suggested this arrangement?" Thristle asked as Seraphina began gathering her hair back with gentle fingers that betrayed her businesslike demeanor. She tried to ignore how the slime had gone unnaturally still, its surface seeming to focus on their interaction.
"His lordship believes that the journey to Port Briar will be... complicated enough without adding the scrutiny that typically follows a traveling young lady." Seraphina's eyes flickered briefly to the pond. "The clothes are part of your cover, nothing more."
"And you agree with him?" Thristle tried to keep her voice neutral, though something in her tone made Seraphina's hands pause in their work, lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary against her neck.
"I agree," Seraphina said carefully, "that Lord Blackbriar rarely does anything without good reason. And I agree that the fewer questions asked about our journey, the better." She finished tying the ribbon with a decisive tug. "Especially given our unusual traveling companion."
The slime's surface began to change, its tranquil blue darkening to a deep, pulsing purple that spread like spilled wine. Each wave of color rippled outward, accompanied by an undulation that seemed almost like... laughter? But there was something in that rhythmic movement that made Thristle's skin prickle with goosebumps.
"Well," she said, tugging at her jacket with exaggerated nonchalance, "Those clothes fit perfectly. Even if they do make me look like some overdressed errand boy." She tried for a light tone, but her voice wavered as the slime's strange transformation continued. "Oh, stop that," she snapped, though she couldn't quite keep the tremor from her voice. "You're not helping."