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69. After Party
🕑 Added 2021-06-23 20:01:00 +0000 UTCGirls crowded them immediately, despite having changed back to their ordinary clothes. Fell waved from a corner, and the two of them fought their way to him.
“Mouse, you have to! How often do you see another moon elf outside your country? And he’s cute! Go on!”
Cel stumbled into Twain’s way. The two made eye contact. Cel grinned awkwardly. Twain subtly waved his hand, and both their faces blurred slightly, just enough to make it hard to tell the details. Most these girls are already drunk. No way they’ll notice.
“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” Spar chuckled. He patted Twain on the shoulder and pushed by to a knot of gorgeous human and demon girls, who made room as he wiggled his way in.
“Uh, hey,” Cel said, awkward.
Twain smiled back, matching her expression. “Hey.”
“Listen, I told you, I tried to—”
“You two look alike.”
They whirled. Gawain crouched on the bar, discarded shirt twisted in her knobbly hands. She pointed at Twain, then Cel. “You two look like each other.”
“A coincidence,” Twain said, at the same time that Cel interjected, “That’s racist.”
They glanced at each other.
Gawain narrowed her eyes. “Why’re your faces blurry?”
“The alcohol. Go drink some more, and we’ll start looking hot, too,” Cel said.
Gawain nodded thoughtfully and scurried off over the bar, searching for drink.
“What happened to escaping?” Cel grit out. “I thought you were making a break out the back, not—doing a costume change!”
“Look. It sounded like fun. The castle is boring as hell, at least let me enjoy myself a little.”
“Can you do that somewhere everyone isn’t?” Cel hissed.
“If you stayed in your room and convinced Eleda not to go out, we wouldn’t be in this scenario either!” Twain hissed back.
Cel scowled.
Sighing, Twain waved his hand. “Look, we both wanted to have fun. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? No point blaming each other. We had fun, and nobody noticed.”
A pair of mugs full of cool ale materialized on the bar. The geriatric old man bounded from one side of the bar to the other, suddenly full of life. Twain grabbed his mug and took a long draw. “Next time, we need to coordinate better. Let me know with the earring if something’s going sideways, okay? Even if you think it’s got nothing to do with me.”
Cel nodded. Quietly, she sighed. “You aren’t firing me, then?”
Twain stared. “No, no. Why would I do that?”
“Well, I… I failed, and you caught me… some would consider it derelict in my duty, going to a bar with the princesses.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to fire you, Cel. Look. We’re both somewhere we don’t want to be, doing something we don’t want to do. I understand if you’re a little derelict.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed. “But only a little.”
“Yes, sir!” Cel snapped a salute.
A wolf whistle rang in his ear. He glanced over and found Eleda pumping her fist, a wide grin on her face. Beside her, Clarita blushed and cast them sideways glances.
Twain patted Cel. “You’d better get going before Eleda decides she’s found you a husband.”
Cel pressed her lips together and shot a glare at Eleda. “Dammit. Last thing we need is rumors.”
“Could be worse. The Arena’s bad, Cel. There’s serious shit going down in there.”
Her ears perked. “Like what?”
He pushed her at Eleda. “Gonna have to wait to find out. Hurry, get back to the other princesses before we become a couple in their minds!”
Cel sighed and peeled away.
She was only gone a moment before another person filled her spot. Twain turned suavely, putting on all the charm. “Like the show?”
Fell nodded back at him. “It was fun.”
Twain sighed. Damn, I go to a bar full of women and get picked up by my bodyguard and my teammate? This is ridiculous. Fighting to keep the disappointment from his voice, he said, “Hey, Fell. How’s it going?”
Fell nodded nervously and sipped some ale, pillowcase rolled up above his mouth. A girl came up beside him and tapped his shoulder, and he flinched away. She sighed, shook her head, and sauntered away, hips swinging.
“What, are you scared of women or something?” Twain asked.
“Not scared, but… I’ve never seen them so ferocious.”
Twain laughed. “It’s all dainty princesses for our Fell, huh?”
Fell jolted. “I… I never said that!”
“No, no, of course not. Are you from the country?”
Hesitation. Fell nodded.
“Me too. Kind of. Compared to this city, anyways.” Twain sighed. He finished off the ale and tapped it on the bar for another. This time, the bartender hustled to fill his drink. “It’s all so strange. The races, freely commingling. The clothes, the stalls on the streets, the stench… I never realized how small, how remote Soanna is until I got here.”
Fell put a hand on Twain’s shoulder and nodded. Twain smiled. “Same for you, huh?”
“I… I grew up on a farm. I only came to the city when… when I realized I had aptitude for magic. It’s still overwhelming, most of the time. I don’t know what to do. How to act. Everyone wants me to do everything, fix the whole country, but I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be.”
Twain poked Fell’s chest, right over the heart. “You are who you are. Even if that’s a country bumpkin, even if they make fun of you for it, don’t let the city folk take that from you. That’s what you’ve got to remember, no matter what.”
Fell nodded, embarrassed, and tossed back his ale.
“That’s right! Let’s drink the night away. Have fun for once,” Twain cheered. He joined Fell in tossing back his ale and raised his glass for more.
