“So,” said Ralsei, once the chaos had died down. “You found out we were having a birthday party, and decided to crash it?”

“What?” asked Lancer. “No! I’m bringing your party to you!”

“...You’re doing...my party...?” He’d caught wind of Ralsei trying to plan his party? How?

“Yessaroo, buckaroo!” Lancer beamed, standing proud with his hands on his hips.

The band started up again: HAPPY BIIIRTHDAY TO YOUUU!

Then he looked around. “Hold the tones!” He cried, and held his hand up. His mariachi band silenced at once. He pointed at the banners, the buffet table. Ralsei’s modest cake, decorated to look like Card Castle with help from Top Chef and Swatch. “You’re hosting your OWN birthday party?! Without ME?!”

What? “No, this is your party,” Ralsei said. Helpless but to parrot Lancer in the wake of his confusion, he asked, “You’re throwing your own birthday?”

“No, I told you! This is your party! Keep up!” He snapped his fingers and a Rudinn appeared next to him, unfurling a large banner with Ralsei’s face on it. BIRTHDAY BOY, it declared. It looked, distressingly, like a wanted poster. Lancer waved at it. “See?”

“I can’t believe this,” said Susie, still snickering. “You two dumbasses really had no clue this was happening? You nearly bumped into each other a gazillion fuh—reaking times getting the cake!”

“I expect-a some recognition for my hard work,” sniffed Top Chef, from behind the towering spectacle that was the cake Lancer had brought in. There were sparklers on each glittering tier. “Rush orders are-a difficult as it is, let alone two at once!”

“I had no clue,” said Ralsei. Then, turning to Susie accusingly: “You knew?”

“Uh, duh!” She snorted. “Just about everyone in town knew! Neither of you were sneaky about it.”

“I think I was plenty sneaky,” said Lancer. Kris, who was eyeing the plate of choco diamonds covetously, coughed into their fist and muttered something. He said, “Well, of course I needed to practice!”

“All right, all right, wrap it up,” said Susie. She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. Grinning, gaze trained on the cake, she said, “Let’s get this party started! Hit it, DJ!”

“Sure thing!” chirped K_K, and chucked a CD straight at Lancer, who caught it in his mouth.

He chewed. “Mm, cream cheese! You really went all out with the catering!”

“Heh.” Susie cuffed him on the head and smiled. “Like I’d let him feed us lettuce and grass?”

“But I’ve...never fed you grass...? Ah, wait a moment,” said Ralsei, catching Kris hovering by the cake, knife in hand. “I believe it’s customary to begin festivities with, er, blowing out the candles?” He considered the booming population of candles Lancer had stacked on his cake. “...Let’s just cut the cake first.”

Susie parroted I believe it’s customary... in a low voice before going, “All right, Kris, hand the knife over.” She cracked her knuckles. “I’m going to annihilate that thing.”

“I think it’s supposed to be me or Lancer,” said Ralsei. He thought about it for a moment. “I think I should do it,” he said hastily, and went to take the knife from Kris.

They didn’t let go. “Ah, haha, Kris!” He tried again. They didn’t budge. “You...you can let go, Kris, I’ll get the cake cut and we can get on with things.”

They looked at him. They smirked.

“...If you let me have it, I’ll give you the biggest slice?”

Perched now on Susie’s back, Lancer gasped. “TYRANNY,” cried the Prince-King of Card Kingdom. “CONSPIRACY, UNDER MY NOSE?” Susie paced over to them so Lancer could hang his head over Kris and Ralsei disapprovingly. “Not on my watch,” he sniffed, and yanked the knife from Kris’s willing hand.

Susie watched enraptured as Lancer held the knife high. “Hey, is it possible for darkners to open fountains?” In the instant where Lancer plunged the knife into his behemoth of a cake, Ralsei suffered terrible visions; but of course! Nothing happened.

(Well, this was Lancer. There was always a chance.)

They managed to get through cake distribution without further injury, which Ralsei was thankful for. There was a brief hiccup where Lancer was reluctant to have the Card Castle cake cut, but he was more than happy to plop the little fondant figure of himself into his maw when Ralsei reassured him they could bake another one together. “All right,” chewed Susie, more consonant than conversation. She’d devoured half her plate in one bite. “You know what time it is!”

“TV TIME,” blurted a Pippins. “...Sorry. Reflex.”

“Time for gifts!” Susie snapped her fingers.

Sweet, Cap’n, and K_K dragged up something draped in dark fabric. “Right,” said Ralsei, watching in confusion as they swept away, Cap’n saluting. He hadn’t asked them to handle his gift, and really it didn’t require so much fanfare, but maybe Susie had wanted to dress up the presentation? She was grinning quite widely... “This was last minute, so if there’s anything you want me to change, just let me know!”

He pulled the cloth away. Lancer exclaimed in pure delight.

Ralsei did, too, but in dismay. It was a motorbike. Pre-heated!

Ralsei frantically beat at the flames with the drape as Lancer darted over to inspect it. Dancing in place, Lancer said, “You even included cup-holders for my nightly milk!”

“Lancer, this isn’t my gift!”

“It’s mine!” Susie swaggered forward, pointing at herself in pride. “Built ‘er all on my own! With a little help from those three.” SCC posed.

At the very back, Rouxls’s face mirrored Ralsei’s own. In plain despair, he said, “Fucke.”

“I will treasure this forever,” said Lancer.

“Wait ‘till you see what Ralsei got you,” said Susie. “I mean, I don’t know what it is but he wouldn’t tell me, so it’s gotta be awesome!”

At his shoulder, a Swatchling manifested, offering his gift wrapped in dark, starry fabric. He took it but hesitated. Lancer was obviously chuffed by Susie’s gift; he was tracing the little spade-shaped speedometer in awe. Perhaps he ought to add, er, chains? Or…change the material to leather?

Lancer waved at him. “Gimme the goods!”

“Ah, Lancer, don’t you want to...take it for a test-drive, first...?” That should be enough time, right?

But Lancer went and plucked the gift from his hands, cheerfully taking it apart. “Let’s see what we have here…!”

Ralsei had chosen to make the track jackets Lancer had proposed when they’d first met; one for each of them in the Lancer Fan Club. By the time Lancer had unfurled his, the rest of the gang had donned their matching jackets.

It was a dark blue that complemented Lancer’s own hue; its inner lining sported a spades pattern; its zipper was worm-shaped. On the left breast was a small insignia of a blue spade wearing a crown, a cursive L superimposed over it.

Lancer examined every inch closely, and looked up with tears streaming rapidly down his face.

Ralsei panicked. Susie panicked. Kris panicked. Near everyone panicked; in particular, Rouxls flailed about for a handkerchief, a nearby Rudinn resorted to fanning the prince-king with its knife, and Queen began Conducting A Search On What To Do If Your Fake Son Cries.

“Lancer!?” Susie rushed over. “Hey, man, what’s wrong?”

“I LOVE IT,” said Lancer, somehow completely coherent even as tears poured from his eyes. He pulled the jacket on and struck a pose. “Aren’t I so cool?”

Ralsei hung behind her, worried about crowding him. “I...so you’re not upset?”

“Uh, no! What made you think I was?”

Kris said, “All the crying, probably.”

“These are tears of joy!” Lancer wiped his tears away and kept beaming. “Uh. But that reminds me! IIIII need to go to the littlekingsroombye!” He dashed off.

Bewildered, Ralsei turned to Kris. “Do you have any idea what that was about?”

They shrugged, equally confused.

“He Might Just Need To Compose Himself,” suggested Queen. “Or Maybe He’s Flushing The Jacket Down The Toilet LOL”

A sparkler sizzled away in her glass of battery acid. Ralsei felt a sudden cold sweat. “Uh, Queen? Would you mind...putting that out?”

“Put What Out”

Preventing imminent catastrophe proved enough distraction that worry for Lancer almost slipped Ralsei’s mind entirely. As time passed, he sat with Seam, Swatch, and Queen, with the latter carrying most of the conversation. Susie and Kris were at the buffet table, throwing cookie crumbs at each other’s mouths in higher and higher arcs.

Eventually, he felt a tug on his scarf. He turned to see Lancer still wearing his jacket, hands tucked behind his back. “Lancer! There you are! What’ve you got there?”

“Your gift!” Lancer presented it with a flourish: one of his many mp3 players. “I mixed up some sick tunes for you. Tell me what you think!”

That must have been why he’d run off. “Thank you, Lancer! Which do I play first?”

“Start from the top!”

“All right, let’s see...”

The first few songs caught him off guard. Lancer enjoyed his splat tunes, but Ralsei had known he kept more than those saved. The day Queen had moved in, he’d heard her laughter coming from Lancer’s room, and poked his head in to see Lancer pause the recording and mimic it. But these must have been newer still: Lancer’s attempts at lyrics for tunes Ralsei had idly hummed while working on Castle Town.

He couldn’t help but feel charmed. Even as Lancer rhymed egg with egg in one of them. “Oh, you’re...quite the wordsmith, Lancer!” Perhaps he had learned some of his lyricism from the Puzzle Masters.

“Yeah, I know!” Lancer puffed up his chest in pride. “Skip to the last one! I want to know what you think!”

“Okay...” He wondered what this one would be. A Lancer original?

Not quite. Ralsei stood, shocked, as Lancer’s voice sang out the prophecy...with some key changes. By now the others had drifted closer to listen in as well.

“It started once upon a time
a legend spoke in shadowed rhyme
with Lancer’s help the Roaring ends
Everyone free to be awesome friends!
Susie is cool and very strong
Kris is blue and got my name wrong,”

(Kris shut their eyes tight. “Not my fault,” they hissed, hand twitching.)

“Ralsei the sweet and fluffy prince
join forces with Lancer and wins!”

“Lancer,” Susie said in an undertone. “This is track of the year, dude.”

“Autographs are first come first serve!”

As it ended Lancer had his hands in his jacket pockets, peering at Ralsei. “So? What did you think?”

Ralsei said, “It’s...it’s wonderful.” And it was. The prophecy was draped in such esoteric phrasing, so often Ralsei could forget that The Girl wanted nothing more than to belong, that The Cage was more than the human SOUL they contained, that he, The Prince, was no longer alone in deepest dark. As simple as Lancer’s lyrics were...they were named, they were identified by facets of their friendship, they were loved.

“AWESOME,” said Lancer. “Can I have it back for a moment, I kind of forgot to make a copy.”

“Ah! Yes, here you go.”

Ralsei watched as Susie eagerly lifted Lancer up and danced around with him, Kris at her tail playing a music executive begging Lancer to sign with them. Susie looked back and locked eyes with him, spinning around and calling his name.

I can’t believe how lucky I am, to have this. Smiling, beaming, so happy he could float, he caught up to them.

“So how’s it going so far,” said Kris. “Your first birthday?”

“You know,” said Ralsei, watching as Susie raised Lancer overhead and prepared to throw him at his cake, “I think this might be the best one yet.”

Berdly looked around, then just silently nodded his head and sat down. He set his axe next to him, causing it to disappear, rested his hands in his lap, and looked at Noelle again. She was broken down, fallen to her knees with the rough edge of her mage robe spilling out around her and almost glowing softly in the darkness of the alleyway. Every tear that still fell from her eyes froze to her fur. Her hands were covered in a thin layer of frost. Her eyes, so full of tears, were so devoid of life and color.

He kept his distance, still processing the fact that he really had almost died just then. Even if this was all a really crazy dream, that was still terrifying. Kris had almost made Noelle kill him. Why would they even do that? What would lead to that? Sure, Berdly knew he could be annoying at times, and maybe he hasn’t been the nicest monster to Kris, and yes maybe he did like to mock them and hold his own ever growing friendship with Noelle in front of them like a dollar on a fishline, and he did like to tease them about their grades being low, and sure he–

Okay, maybe there were a lot of reasons that Kris would be upset or dislike him, but them wanting to kill him was still crazy, right? Right?!?

Noelle was staring at him. Maybe he wasn’t the nicest friend to Noelle, either.

She had asked him to stay back, but something was compelling him to get closer. He could do better, surely. He could be better than he had been.

He slowly shifted a bit forward, reaching his hand forward to rest on Noelle’s shoulder. He flinched back almost immediately from how cold she was, but he pushed through it. He placed his hand on her shoulder again, bit back and swallowed the cold. This was the least he could do.

“You heard it... Didn’t you?” Noelle’s voice was weak, shaking. He was shocked she wasn’t stuttering on top of that. “Their voice... Tell me you heard it. Tell me I’m not crazy!”

Noelle lifted her head, looking at Berdly almost frantically. Desperate for him to validate whatever she heard.

“Yes, I heard it. Was there something wrong with their voice?”

The words didn’t help at all. Her head fell once again, her entire body drooping closer and closer to the ground. Maybe she had made it all up. Maybe it was all in her head. All the enemies she had frozen, was it her own choice? Almost killing Berdly, was that her own doing?

It all felt so vivid, though. She could hear their voice. The way they whispered into her ear, over and over as they walked the city. Proceed. Proceed. Proceed.

Had she really made it all up? Her hands were so cold. She was so cold. Everything was so cold.

Was any of it real?

Noelle reached for the ring on her finger, yanking it off with a wince and throwing it across the alley. She watched as blood dripped down from where the thorns had barbed their way into her skin.

“Surely, now... Now I can’t hurt anyone. Right?” Her entire body was trembling, even her gaze shaking as she tried to look at Berdly. Everything in her expression pleaded with him to confirm that she was now back to being a harmless deer.

Berdly looked around. He was nervous. She could tell that much. He was scared of her, wasn’t he?

“Well, I...” He stood up, not pulling his axe out now. There was a hesitation, but he stepped forward, his arms stretched out toward her. Berdly really wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew that Noelle needed proof that she wasn’t going to hurt him. This was not something he was used to doing, not something he ever had to do at all, really. He tried to think back on how his mom would comfort him in times of stress. Well, how she comforted him when he got a bad grade or lost at a video game. Which, in retrospect, was a very different level of distress from this situation.

He sat next to Noelle, not touching her, but not too far either. “I feel fine. Don’t you?”

Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

Noelle let out a choked laugh, looking up at the pitch black sky above them.

“Right. Do I feel fine? Should I feel fine? I could’ve been killing people for the past hour for all I know! I may have almost killed you! Is this even real? Is the pain in my hands real? The blood on my finger, the ice and frost on my fur, is any of that real?” Noelle started to fidget with her hands, picking at her nails and the skin around them mindlessly.

“If this is some dream, that means we’re asleep. We’re asleep in the computer lab. Shouldn’t we be working on our project? We’re going to fall behind. We need to wake up now. We need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I want to go home now. We can work on the project tomorrow, right?”

Noelle kept rambling on as her thoughts came and went, her mind running far and wide. Berdly didn’t know what to say. He had never seen anything like this, especially from Noelle. She always seemed so put together, aside from when she was embarrassed about something. Was this a panic attack? Her breathing did seem heavy. How was he supposed to help with that? Should he grab her hands before she made them bleed more, but what if that made it worse? Maybe a distraction?

That was it. A distraction. Berdly was hilarious, he knew this about himself. He could easily make her laugh, and then she would feel much better!

“This is kinda like that scene from that one anime, don't you think?” He interrupted whatever it was she had been saying, grabbing her hands. That was something good to do during a time like this, right? Berdly looked at Noelle, who had completely stopped talking. Her expression was one of extreme bewilderment and confusion.

“I'm... Sorry? What are you talking about?”

Did he even have an anime in mind? He just said that on the spot. Surely one of the countless shows he was a complete expert on must have something relatable to this moment. “Oh, you know...” He had to think of something. He wasn't thinking of anything. How could he, of a people, draw a complete blank in such a crisis? “The Guy Who Was Reincarnated But Actually Wasn't Reincarnated At All, of course!”

Noelle pulled a hand away from him, slowly, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve for a moment. She didn't have the slightest clue what he was talking about. She wasn't sure if that was a show that even existed, but it sounded similar to something she read, so maybe it did exist.

She laughed a little at the ridiculousness of the title, wondering how Berdly could have possibly made the connection of... whatever this situation was, to a random anime he had watched. If he had watched it. If it was real.

If any of this was real.

There wasn't much she could do about it, though. Whether it was real or not, she had to get back to the library. She had to finish her homework.

“Let's just... go find where our homework is. I don't want to get a late notice. My mom will flip.”

“Of course not! We shall go now, brave mage!” Berdly stood up quickly, saluting briefly before starting to walk back down the alleyway.

Noelle could only follow after, wondering if he was still trying to play into that reincarnation anime he was talking about...

Power on. Battleground. Audience.

Soundtrack silent.

The battlefield is empty.

The Lightners have escaped.

It’s not the end of the world, but it damn well feels like it. Tenna feels himself launch straight back into showman presentation, empty promises, bribes, desperation, begging for the deed to be undone. He can already feel that it’s not working. They’re not coming back. And - angel, and he’d tried so hard to be everything they wanted, because his only job was to keep them entertained until the signal came - and it hasn’t worked and it isn’t enough and they’re running away from him.

So, okay. New tactic. All hands on deck.

They’re not getting away again. Plan A: get the Zappers on the case. This should be easy - their infrared scanners should spot the Lightners’ heat signal in the dust and the dim of backstage, and before they know it they’ll be right back in his care again. But the Zappers can’t do their damn jobs, and some Shadowguy comes wailing that they don’t want to capture the Lightners, and he’s baring his fangs before he knows it.

“What do you MEAN you don’t want to fight them!? Read the %FINE PRINT% in your CONTRACT, buddy! Now QUIT complaining and %GO%”

Tenna rallies the charge, running out into the night. His employees scatter to the winds in his wake.

It should be easy, shouldn’t it? Even without his increasingly useless employee cohort? Screens line the walls of every hallway in TV World with his smile. He’s got ears everywhere, or at least enough nose to sniff out his targets. It should not pose a problem to get the kids back in their balls and back on board with regularly scheduled programming.

Something shifts, though. Some break in the signal.

The first sign of trouble is Ramb.

“Slight complication, mate.”

“What!?”

“Toriel’s not looking too hot. Started tossin’ and turnin’ in there.”

“She %ROLLED% OVER in her SLEEP!?”

“S’what I said, yeah.”

“Did you try the CLASSICAL MUSIC CHANNEL like I SAID!?”

“Look, Tenna, I’m doin’ what I can -”

“You know she’ll be in %GRAVE DANGER% if she’s AWAKE for this, right!?”

“You think I don’t try?!” says Ramb, crackly but clearly mad. "Ugh - y’know what? Don’t care. I quit. Sort yourself out."

Tenna yells, and keeps yelling, even as the line cuts, even as he’s left alone in a cardboard corridor with no company but his own voice echoing off the flimsy walls. His whole body’s trembling with rage and anxiety in equal part. Damn good-for-nothing layabout son-of-a-gun! Doesn’t he know who he’s talking to? Tenna is TV! He’s the real deal, the chassis of the whole operation! And what’s Ramb, some chewed-up cable stuck behind the couch? Just because he’s not the one who’ll be unplugged if all of this goes sour -

Doesn’t matter! What matters is the Lightners, who are still AWOL, who need to be brought back in line like the rest of this angel-forsaken place. They’re not safe if they’re not contained. What happens next is better off avoided; Kris has made that more than clear. Now if they’d only practice what they preached and keep their little friends in line...

Plan B, then: bargaining. Surely he’s got something kicking about in the secret bonus zone that the kids will like! That is, if he hadn’t poked his head in to find a gamble of twenty-odd Pippins digging through the chests for extra POINTs and draining the prize pool out from under him. Have these people no shame?!

(Admittedly, he did cut off everybody’s POINT supply until they find the Lightners. But can you blame him? Clearly things aren’t getting done around here!)

“Alright! ALRIGHT, you little ripoff artists!!! You think you can take MY cookies!? Might I remind you, you signed a little, ahem, %TELEVSION CONTRACT%

... These aren’t their contracts. Where the hell are their contracts???

Understanding why, exactly, everyone is turning coat against him doesn’t make it any easier to handle. Tenna tries to think of a workable Plan C, or D, or X-Y-Z, but it’s no good changing channels when the signal’s been disrupted. Every corner he turns it seems like there are fewer guards patrolling, more empty halls for him to scan and see no signs of Susie or Kris. Worse, the audience seem to be gradually changing their favour - cheers for his arrival turn to gasps, turn to oohs of anticipation and unrest.

“GUYS!” he calls their attention - “WHY are you DAWDLING like this?!”

“Uhm,” one of the Zappers tugs a nonexistent collar, “didn’t you hears, boss? Or, uh, ex-boss? We’s off the clock now. Forever.”

“H-huh!?”

Contracts are all gone, riffs a Shadowguy.

“So, what, you’re GIVING UP? You can’t do that! What about the %SHOW%”

Seems like a lost cause to me -

“- Maybes the Lightners just don’t wanna tunes in no more,” another Zapper shrugs.

“What?! You’re KIDDING! They wouldn’t just run off in the middle of a %BATTLE% and then NOT COME BACK! I just need to - I’ve just gotta -”

Boss, I think you have to face the music.

Ridiculous! Laudable! Tenna’s laughing at it right now! It’s gonna be fine, of course it’s gonna be fine! He’s TV! He’s everything a Lightner could ever want! Why would they wanna run AWAY?

Hey - “H-hey, stop!!” The Darkners, too, are starting to back away from him one by one and slip into the shadows. “Don't go...!!”

But they do, and they already have, before he’s even finished talking.

Thus falls the house of cards: with one swift blow to its foundations, the whole damn thing caves in. Ramb’s gone. The staff are gone. Lanino and Elnina give each other nervous looks, like they’re thinking what a weirdo, and then they back off as well, into the night.

Everything’s changing so fast. At least he’s got the reliable constant of...

“M... Mike? You’re leaving too?”

Spotlight. Wastelands. Alone. Soundtrack silent.

The lights go down on Mr Tenna, and he feels something in him break.

He’s shaking again, undone. Everyone is gone. Everyone. The Lightners don’t want him; the Darkners can’t stand him. Mike’s leaving too.

The floor is unsympathetic to his screams. There is no audience.

He struggles to his feet, stumbles somewhere cold. That’s it, then. There’s nothing left for it. If everybody else in this dark world is on Kris’ side, then Tenna’s just going to have to play the villain. (Like he hasn’t been doing that just fine already.)

And, mark his words, this is gonna be a midnight showing that they won’t forget.

They’re in the closet now. Right, Alphys wanted them to retrieve it together? Susie wants to crunch chalk to elicit a reaction from her silent companion. She opts for a quick verbal jab instead.

“Now that we’re alone, wanna confess anything? Like how you might think green looks bad on you, and I dunno, maybe a color like purple would be better?”

Nothing. Kris gives her a little glance, a reddish brown glint under their choppy bangs. She’ll take that as a win.

Susie walks forward, Kris behind her—

—she falls. For a while. Way longer than she likes.

When she stumbles up, she’s able to avoid the spikes on her wrists. She doesn’t remember wearing anything like that today. Susie turns to Kris to gauge their reaction, and instead she’s the one who blinks. Kris’s skin is a stark sky blue now, and their sweater is replaced with silvery armor.

Susie chortles. “Seems like this world knows how to dress you better.”

No response. She frowns. Kris gestures in a general direction, and Susie peers at the dark abyss. It seems like their only path now was forward, through the crusted muted purple ruins and creepy pockets that looked closer to bleeding eyes than tiny caves.

Eventually, the place opens up a little into an area that feels more urban, sans the fact that there’s nobody in sight. Susie frowns for a moment, then switches it into a boisterous, roaring laugh. “We’re nervous for no reason, huh? This world’s emptier than Temmie’s brain.”

Kris gives her a side look through their bangs, the first real modicum of emotion they’ve expressed probably ever today, and it’s one that Susie can kinda read as, are you serious? Or, you were nervous? Either way, it sort of pisses and delights Susie at the same time.

There’s a shorter figure in front of them, framed by a lonely castle. Their face is obscured by a wide brimmed hat. They bluster underneath their pink scarf, not quite dissimilar to Kris’s cape. Something else ticks Susie, though. What is it...?

Oh. They’re cloaked in green.

Damn it.

RALSEI (IN GENERAL)

The green dude, as Susie would like to call him, is named Ralsei.

He’s alright. He’s kind of annoying in the way he’s always yes-maning people. But over the course of their adventures in the Dark World, she’s warmed up to him. Unfortunately. She’s comfortable enough with him now that she’s able to walk behind him, tap him on the shoulder, and blurt out, “can I...learn?”

“Learn what?” He cocks his head. Susie snatches his shoulders and jostles him a little.

“The...green stuff.” She doesn’t want to say it. In the corner of her eye, she can see Kris bring a hand up to their mouth to either cough or laugh. “Fine! The healing thing you do. How’d you do it?”

Ralsei doesn’t laugh at her. Instead, he grabs her hands (she has to let go of his shoulders first) and smiles.

There is that same pushback she felt with Kris now as Ralsei gingerly cups her hands in between his own and coaxes some asspull power of friendship method to generate green light. It bobs gently, just like Ralsei—almost ethereal, so transparent that she’s afraid it’ll blow away. Then it blooms. Bright. Unapologetic, so unlike Ralsei.

A curl of annoyance flickers in Susie. I want to be able to do that, she thinks, and then almost automatically, the next thought strikes: I can do that.

Ralsei’s releasing her hands and yammering about something possibly important, but Susie’s too focused on the warmth that’s beginning to jet from her heart and pool into the palms of her hands. It’s not the razor edge of adrenaline that warps her fists into weapons that greets her, but the abstract warmth she feels when she’d messed around in the church with Kris, when she’s traveling with Ralsei and Kris, when she did shenanigans with Lancer…

For all that emotion, though, there’s only a tiny spark that jets out like a firework. Her teeth grind into her tongue. Not good enough.

But Ralsei’s grinning in that wide endearing way of his, and even Kris is giving her a lukewarm thumbs up that translates to high merriment in Kris terms. Susie cracks a smile of her own.

Not good enough, but a start.

THE OLD MAN (GERSON)

If Ralsei has an endearing smile, then Gerson has a toothy, bold one. Not overzealous or arrogant, but a kind of one that has an air of free abandon. He almost glows, even as Susie is dodging another round of his spears.

“Do you feel it? That pattern? Do you have that will to push through?”

Even as Susie is foiling his attack patterns, he’s still joyously expectant, looking at her. As if he’s happy that she’s seeing through him. For an old man, too, he’s got moves. The hammer is more a blur than a glint as he rotates it around his body with unusual precision. She wishes she’s the same, though; right now, there’s various bruises and wounds beginning to weigh her down, and she can actively feel her reaction time slowing.

Fine. She’ll try that again.

How did Ralsei do it? Susie gathers her claws into a bowl shape and thinks. She thinks of the small, green spark that jumped out of her palms when Ralsei taught her. She thinks of the dark emerald hue of the cactus, the scent of the soil when she watered it. Susie thinks of Kris and how their sweater cloaks them, washes them out into the same colors as Hometown. Of Ralsei and his green hat, the vibrant pink scarf against the pine green ensemble. Even Gerson, who curiously grins at her as a familiar green light finishes washing over her body.

The cuts seal up. Her bones slide against each other like a well oiled machine. Susie’s heart feels like it’s been kickstarted again, seething, roaring, a furnace to the machinations of her body.

“Ready?” Gerson asks, but by the way he’s readying his weapon, Susie knows he knows her answer already.

She laughs, almost giddily, and props her axe up. “Thought you’d never ask, old man.”

~

She wins. And this time, it doesn’t feel like it’s her loss.

“You are...” He looks off, almost vacantly for a moment. “The dragon.”

Susie blinks. “Oh yeah?” She crosses her arms. “Well, it better not be a green one.”

He laughs in that throaty har-har-har way of his and claps his hand against her back. “Maybe that’ll be up to you.”