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SP-22 | Waiting for Rain


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[quest: Night about the Galactic Lake]

Tanabata, night four.

Call her a woman fond of devouring every pleasure that comes her way, but even she would not perpetually be in the midst of all the merrymaking.

The mirth which accompanied their system-generated festivities (what wonderful irony) shone like a bright beacon in one corner of her eye, and empty log cabins on the opposite bank — a quieter nook in the hamlet, left behind by their artificial dwellers whenever their scripts demanded that Tanabata's nighttime activities resume — painted an image of stark contrast to her right. Arabelle had lost interest in either. But the night was still young, and the woman's red eyes traced the grass-covered path that ran along the stream until a part of it curved off to connect the rest of Coral with its idler quadrant.

She stopped at the end of a small footbridge, an amused expression lighting up her face.

"What are you doing here?"

Of course the shadowed figure she'd spotted moments ago hadn't been a figment of her imagination; Arabelle hardly dreamt while she was awake. A few steps ahead, Claude pulled back from the railing, turning to greet her with faint surprise -- then a tiny hint of a smile.

"Waiting for the inevitable invasion."

 

3.2.2._stat_block_icon_2_resized..png

 Arabelle (LEVEL 35: 121 SP)
  | HP: 700 | EN: 70 | DMG: 20
  | MIT: 22 | ACC: 4
  | LD: 7 | Prosp.: 3

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"And I suppose that entails coming fully dressed in a yukata."

"It's part of the dress code," said Claude. "Any supposed transgressors are mobbed by that one group of extra-vigilant NPCs. They claim their traditions should be respected, and their scripts are set to this annoying loop of patrolling the main streets without break. Like prefects. You'd understand if you weren't homeschooled."

She knew it wasn't in his personality to lie— not to her, anyway. 

"You. Afraid of getting mobbed."

"It's dangerous for my heart."

Arabelle opened her mouth. Then she closed it.

"Even in a safe zone?" she said instead.

"Artificial or not, have you ever had a stranger glare at you in absolute disapproval? Now make it three. And have it take place in the middle of a crowded street where you also happen to stick out like a sore thumb."

Arabelle tried her hardest to glare. It didn't work.

"But it builds character."

She thought, past that mildly flustered expression, he was smirking. Like he was proud of himself. Like his reasoning was bulletproof. Like that same way of deflecting The Point wasn't familiar to her. Or maybe that was his play all along. Or maybe maybe they were already so far beyond this sort of thing that it really didn't need to be thought too much about. Which led to—

"Alright, Ara," Claude laughed. A part of her thought it sounded a little awkward. Strained. He hadn't been expecting her to take it as seriously. Which she really shouldn't have. Oopsie daisy. "I promise I really wasn't up to no good. Just trust me."

Because the only night they were supposed to visit Tanabata was on the fifth — with his adorable little cousin in tow.

"But— I don't think I've heard anything from you yet." He rested one arm on the railing, kitsune mask shrouding one side of his face in shadow. A single gray eye appraised her. Her new yukata was red, a pattern of graceful white lilies sewn into its fabric; and a similar flower served as the centerpiece of the ornament holding up her hair. "You're suspicious too, you know."

"In what way?"

Arabelle waited.

And waited.

"Claude."

He ducked his head, casting his mismatched gaze back to the gentle stream below.

"...You look too well-put-together for a casual stroll."

Arabelle smiled innocently.

"Oh, thank you! I think you look natural in blue."

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—Because after all, everything was fine.

She'd set the tips of her index and middle fingers atop the railing, walking them up the curve of the parapet until she came within an inch of touching his sleeve.

"So what else did your most accomplished private school prefects traumatize you from? Smoking in public?" She 'marched' her fingers back, tapping the surface of a small black box. A hollow sound: opened; half empty; and Arabelle had a suspicion one of its contents was in the hand he'd kept hidden from her. "I think it's awfully attractive when it isn't damaging, but I doubt that's the case."

"It really isn't," Claude replied noncommittally. "Have you seen it yet? Look downstream."

She did.

Coral's myriad lights had cast a prominent shadow on the narrow waters of the stream running just along the outskirts of its central and in the dimness of it, a spot of light that couldn't be larger than her hand sailed further and further away.

"There was this festival." When she lost interest in it, he slid the pack over to his side and returned it to his inventory with a quick touch of a menu. "Happens around August on the other side. I wouldn't call it as exciting as Tanabata, actually, and I haven't thought about it at all until recently, but it was beautiful."

//internal screaming in 'WIP.'

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  • 2 weeks later...

//explode catapult on everything.

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//boy, i do hope i got these roman numerals right otherwise this is gonna be embarrassing-

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//praying to the dice gods.

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//no roll.

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//...or i'll roll later if they don't fool around too much.

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//funky stats guy...? he's functionally just standing there,

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//...

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//catapult everything.

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//oh shit moment.

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//aaand back to explode catapulting.

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//...

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//...

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//~~

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