“Mr. Wade, was it?” The [Duelist] asked snarkily. “Weren’t you supposed to be a Mr. Tanner?”
“I heard he was supposed to be Frank Bridges,” the woman with a scar running over her left eye said. “And the week before that, Ryan Burns.”
“Okay, okay,” the [Rogue] said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to get called out like that. But you know how it is, right? I’m a professional. Sometimes you need an extra identity.”
“I hate to agree with you,” the final woman said, “But I can’t say you’re wrong. I, myself, have occasionally benefitted from a disguise.”
“‘Occasionally’,” the scarred woman barked out a harsh laugh.
“So what do we call ourselves,” the [Duelist] asked, “If names are, shall we say, disposable?”
“Easy,” the final woman shrugged, pointing to herself. “I’m a [Spellblade]. He’s a [Rogue]. You’re a…what? [Fencer]?”
“[Duelist],” Duelist replied, cottoning on. “We’ll go by class, then. Easy enough. And what about you?” He asked, motioning to the scarred woman.
“I’m a [Profiteer],” she said with a sneer. The group all looked at each other, one by one breaking into a smile.
“What a motley crew we create,” Rogue said. “Though identities aside, I suppose some sort of introductions are in order. I’m rank 6, [Subtly] specialization. You?” He pointed to Duelist.
“High rank 6. If things go well, I hope to get to 7. I’m excellent at 1v1s, but not so good against a pack. I suppose I can tank in a pinch if we absolutely have to fight.”
“Me next,” Spellblade said. “Rank 7. Upgraded from [Red Mage] several years back. I could never get the hang of long-distance casting, so weapon enchantments and melee work seemed right for me. I can cast [Invisibility] in a pinch, but it only works on me. I’ll say it up front; if one of you starts getting reckless and pulls us into something deep, I won’t hesitate to pop it and save myself.”
“That leaves everybody’s favorite [Profiteer]!” The scarred woman cheered. “I steal everything that isn’t nailed down.”
The others blinked at her, but her grin only grew. Eventually, they shrugged. What was done was done. Technically, they weren’t abandoning their posts, but if the guild found out they scouted the dungeon early, they wouldn’t be pleased. Not the least of which was because the guild couldn’t fleece them for anything they brought out of the dungeon if they didn’t have the necessary infrastructure in place.
Though being a [Profiteer] probably had more than a few perks to skirt around those measures, too.
“Right, so let’s get going, shall we?” Duelist said, rubbing his hands. “Adventure awaits.”
“At the mouth of a dark cave,” Spellblade mused. “Didn’t they say this was some sort of theater?"
“The tunnel must be the safe zone,” Rogue said. “Let’s move.”
The four members of the unusual party each took their own measures to mask their presence. Rogue and Profiteer were the only ones capable of full [Stealth], melting into the shadows, while Duelist and Spellblade shared a look. Duelist pulled out his rapier, held it up as if readying for a lunge…but began walking forward cautiously. Spellblade readied her own sword and fell into step right behind him.
Each one of them entered the dungeon for reasons of their own, but a few were shared by all. For some, it was greed and the allure of treasure, and for others, it was the call of the unknown. Regardless, they all decided they should probably do the job they claimed to be doing, since they were professionals and all.
Rogue reached the end of the bend first and held up his hand. Profiteer stopped almost immediately, but Duelist wasn’t used to being on a team with somebody with [Stealth] and nearly collided with the man.
“Easy,” Rogue hissed. “Mob check.”
Duelist straightened himself and narrowed his eyes.
“Passive or aggressive?”
“Passive,” Rogue said. “And just one.”
“Can you see any triggers?” Spellblade asked. Rogue shook his head.
“I can try to sneak around.”
“Do you think the safe zone reaches around the corner?” Duelist asked. Rogue had stopped them right at the edge, and he couldn’t see anything.
“Maybe,” Rogue hissed. “Not sure.”
“Only one way to find out,” Profiteer said. Without waiting for anybody’s input, she slunk along the side of the wall, walking into the open space beyond. “Holy crap.”
“Wait!” Duelist hissed in frustration. From behind him, he could hear that Spellblade shared his thoughts.
“That woman is going to get us all killed,” she groaned.
“Now’s the best time to back out,” Duelist cautioned. The woman seemed to actually consider it.
“No,” she eventually said. “You?”
Duelist shook his head. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Their little exchange wasn’t exactly lengthy, but it was long enough that something would have happened if Profiteer got caught. Duelist steeled himself, calmed his nerves, and rounded the corner.
Once again, he nearly stumbled, but this time because he almost tripped over his own feet. As soon as he saw the room they were in, it was like his body refused to move.
“What in blazes?” He muttered, eyes going wide and voice full of awe. Spellblade quickly joined him, and her mouth fell open.
“Is this the Horizon Opera house?” she asked, forgetting entirely that they were inside a dungeon. Duelist threw out his hand to stop her from moving any further.
“No,” he hissed. “For one, they don’t employ floating hands.”
With his free arm, he pointed to their right. Several paces away, floating above a podium, was a pair of white gloves.
[Spectral Usher]
Elite
Level: ????
Duelist drew a deep breath.
“Anybody got a level?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve got question marks.”
“Same,” Spellblade said behind him.
“Four question marks,” Rogue hissed. “This is insane.”
“Right,” Duelist agreed, straightening up. “Not worth the risk. I’m good at 1v1, but this is out-”
“Gods, woman, no!” Rogue nearly screamed.
In front of them, slowly circling in a wide arc, Profiteer was very carefully making her way directly toward the monster. She reached forward, activated a skill…and touched the gloves. Somehow, against all odds, the monster did not turn hostile. Duelist felt faint and nearly fell over. The madwoman herself came shuffling back as quickly as she could without breaking [Stealth], grinning from ear to ear.
“If it ain't nailed down~” she said in a sing-song voice. She raised her hand, showcasing four small slips of rough paper. She passed them around and pocketed one for herself.
“Normally, I’d take a bigger cut of my findings, but, you know, I have a hunch we’ll all be needing these.”
[Theater Ticket]
Level: 1
Rarity: Epic
On use: grants admittance to the Audience Chamber inside the Obsidian Mansion’s Theater.
Willcox Wobblefist is proud to present: Humanity’s greatest heroes and greatest folly! For one night only: The House That Death Built! Backstage Pass.
Duelist stared at the ticket in disbelief. What a horrifying first encounter, and they hadn’t technically entered combat. The ticket itself did nothing to ease his fears. He wasn’t an avid reader of Cromwell’s work, but the [Bard]’s stage name, and his plays, were world famous. The House That Death Built was not one he was familiar with. And the fact that Backstage Pass was written in red ink was not comforting either.
Not only had he thought that would never have worked…the thought of trying to [Pickpocket] a pair of floating gloves wouldn’t even have occurred. Surely this wasn’t the only way to get into the theater. If it were, every single party was going to have to hire a [Rogue]. If nothing else, this information would be invaluable to the guild.
“You’re damn lucky that worked,” Rogue fumed. “It could have easily backfired and made it hostile!”
“I think I’m out,” Spellblade shook her head. “This is too rich for my blood.”
“Coward,” Profiteer laughed, throwing her head back. “Fine! More loot for me!”
Perhaps it was fate, or maybe the humor of the gods. Certainly, it was no conscious act on Profiteer’s part, as the look of surprise on her face betrayed her as she suddenly broke [Stealth]. Was she too loud? Gotten too close? There wasn’t any time to consider as she froze, unwilling to move.
But her expected death did not come.
Instead, a cold, hollow voice like pulverized iron locked her in place.
“Tickets…,” was all it said.
Nobody wanted to move, but nobody needed to. Profiteer, the echo of a horrified smile frozen on her face, still had her ticket in her hand. The pair of gloves floated over to her, ran a finger over the pilfered ticket, and clenched into a fist.
“Hmmmmm…,” the ghostly voice ground out, not quite angry, but certainly displeased.
All four adventurers were rooted to the spot. Unwilling or unable; they simply could not move. And yet, the gloves did not attack. They rubbed each other as a person might who was deep in thought, eventually floating back to the podium.
Barely daring to believe they were still alive, the group turned as one and took a step toward the exit. Before their feet could hit the floor, a black metal gate came crashing down inside the rocky tunnel, effectively sealing them off.
“Back…stage…,” the voice of the gloves rang out. “Tickets….”
“I don’t think we’re getting out that way,” Duelist sighed.
“I think we’re screwed,” Spellblade moaned.
Rogue, however, looked livid.
“If we make it out of this, I’ll see you expelled from the guild,” he seethed, pointing a finger directly in Profiteer’s face, who still seemed frozen. The small digit nearly impaling her nose seemed to draw her back to reality. Some of her earlier spunk was gone, but the fight wasn’t out of her yet.
“You go ahead and try, Wade,” she hissed. “With that name you so cleverly don’t have.”
“I’ve got your class,” he said, “They’ll find you.”
“How many [Profiteers] do you think the guild has?” she scoffed. “More than one, and that’s enough. Maybe, after all this is done, I need a vacation from Horizon. I hear Oasis is fine this time of year.”
“Oh-?”
“Hey,” Duelist cut them both off. “Arguing is pointless now that we’re locked in. We can all go back to hating each other after we get out, but for now, we need to work together. And you,” he added, pointing to Profiteer, “No more funny business. If you have any plans, either keep them to yourself or ask everyone first. You try something like this again, and I’ll duel you myself.”
The woman glanced at his rapier and scowled, but swallowed her complaints.
“Fine.”
With the exit they came through sealed, the group slowly started making their way around the room. The longer they did, the more they relaxed, but as soon as they realized they were getting careless, they tightened their formation and clumped back together. They started at the [Usher]’s podium and followed the wall, searching for any doors, passages, or hallways, hidden or obvious. But they found nothing. The only doors were at the far end of the hall, guarded by a second pair of gloves, but they didn’t want to risk a second confrontation. Not until every other option had been exhausted.
The room they were in was massive. Simply walking around the perimeter took several minutes. By the time they returned to the original entrance, they were certain no random packs of monsters were going to attack them. There were no patrols, no wandering elites. In fact, there was a grand total of five monsters in the entire room: the ticket gloves, the gloves stationed by the entrance into the theater auditorium, and three pairs of gloves floating behind a concession stand. It was there that the group found themselves after two hours of searching, having finally concluded that they were, in fact, stuck.
“I see you eyeing the snack bar,” Rogue said, glaring at Profiteer. Ever since the ticket incident, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “If you try stealing anything from back there, I’m throwing you to the gloves.”
“What,” the woman scoffed, “You expect me to buy something? As if. But don’t worry, I won’t push my luck.”
“I think I will,” Spellblade said after several seconds. She sighed heavily as if coming to a realization. “They have chocolate. I need chocolate. It only costs a silver, and I’m going to lose it if we die anyway, so I might as well find something that makes me happy.”
The others paused and stared at her before eventually staring off into space, likely looking into their own inventories.
“You didn’t clear yourself out before coming in?” Rogue asked. He was the only one who didn’t need to look for long.
“Only partially,” Spellblade sighed. “Wasn’t actually planning on running a dungeon. I won’t lose a ton, but…that’s more than I’d ever want to in the first place.”
“In that case, buy me some,” Profiteer smirked, but it was clear she was just saying so to get a reaction. It worked; Spellblade flipped her off and stomped over to the counter.
“Okay, so what do we know?” Rogue asked as the four of them stood in a small circle. They were several feet away from the auditorium doors, the only place they hadn’t investigated thoroughly.
“Probably more than any person alive,” Duelist mused, getting a hum of appreciation in return but nothing else. While true, it didn’t help them.
For one, they learned that the gloves were not hostile, but they could only be interacted with in minimal ways. The [Spectral Usher] would only mutter, “Tickets…,” leading them to believe that, one way or another, the only way to advance was through them.
The gloves at the concession stand would only say, “Snacks…?”, but they would take money and give food. The food was, interestingly, very tasty, and provided minor buffs.
The room itself was huge, richly decorated, and empty. There were no secrets in the walls, and the rope barricades leading to the food were solidly attached to the metal posts, which couldn’t be moved.
That left the auditorium doors and the last pair of gloves. Having exhausted every other option, the group formed up and approached.
“Tickets…,” the gloves said, reaching forward, palm out. Duelist closed his eyes, cursed his luck, and handed his ticket over. The gloves took the ticket, held it up to some invisible eye…and tore off the stub.
“Back…stage…,” it said. But unlike the gloves at the podium, these ones were more helpful. They did not open the doors they were stationed next to; instead, they pointed to the left, where a door suddenly appeared at the corner of the room. A door that the group knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was not there moments ago.
“I guess that leads backstage,” Duelist frowned. “Time to find out.”
He led the group to the door, which opened as he approached. Rogue [Stealthed], stepped through first, and motioned for everybody to follow. As soon as all four were through the door, it shut behind them with a snap.
“Only way left is forward,” Rogue said grimly.
Unlike the lobby, this area was obviously not meant for guests' eyes. Gone were the rich carpets, the fine paneled walls, and the fancy chandeliers. The wooden floor was old, warped, and many of the boards didn’t line up properly. It was dark, filled with cobwebs, and crammed with old props. Still, there were no signs of monsters. The group moved forward. They wormed their way around a twisting maze of disorganized logistics and crooked staircases until they finally came across an open room. Light blazed from within, and it was clear that this was going to be a fight. As soon as they entered, that door was going to close behind them. Inside, a nearly invisible silhouette could be seen, sitting at a mirror bordered with lights, but a floating brown wig was incredibly obvious.
[Renaud, Head of Wardrobe]
Boss
Level: ????
“A little on the nose, don’t you think?” Duelist sighed.
But, as expected, once they stepped foot inside, the door behind them snapped shut, and the boss came to life.
“Ah, new volunteers, have we?” the boss boomed, twisting around with a dramatic flair. “Just in time! The show’s about to go live, and we need help with a fitting!”
Strangely, the boss did not immediately attack. However, the shadow under the wig pointed to a curtain, which thrust open dramatically to reveal…!
Costumes. A whole rack of costumes.
Which quickly sprang to life!
Two coats, seemingly picked out at random, were yanked from their hangers, as if some invisible bodies were hastily throwing them on. Before he could really process what was happening, they were floating, all gangly and wafting in the air, directly at Duelist. One coat, a fine, burgundy number made of impressive velvet, reared back…and punched him.
Duelist saw stars as he got knocked off his feet. He skidded to a halt several feet from where he once stood, his body mostly limp and a cold feeling seeping through his body. He couldn’t feel his limbs. He saw, but did not really register, his rapier lying several feet away. He’d never been disarmed so thoroughly, not even by his masters.
All thoughts of his temporary companions forgotten, his vision was entirely focused on the coat reaching towards him. His last thought, wryly, was how he was about to be strangled by a coat.
With the rest of [Sunrise] off doing their own things, it was finally time for Brandy to do something she’d been meaning to do for a long time now.
Relax.
Not that she didn’t enjoy the others’ company, but they weren’t quite friends. They reminded her of her co-workers back at High Octane Entertainment when she first got hired by the studio. People she was comfortable around, but wouldn’t invite over to her house on a Saturday until she got to know them better. Over a round of drinks or a night down at the bowling alley, maybe meet up at a club. Though she was almost 30, the club no longer had the same appeal it once did. Partying in general…seemed like so much effort. How did she manage it in college? Now all she wanted to do when she got off was eat some chicken nuggets on the couch while she lounged around in her underwear, watching old Hallmark movies until she passed out.
Though, this new body of hers was much more vibrant and alive than her real one, which was going to take some getting used to when she eventually got back. Right now, she was full of energy and just so…bouncy. She felt like she could run a mile in a heartbeat. What a difference a world with stats made, and she was only level 157. Melia was 3700, and Brandy couldn’t begin to imagine what that would be like.
But right now, Brandy didn’t want to think about things like stats and levels. She didn’t even really want to think about going home. That line of thought would just lead her back to her current “employer” and the impossible-sounding task in front of her.
No, today was for fun. Her and Melia, just like it once was…and how it always should have been. There wasn’t any specific moment Brandy realized the smaller girl was going to be her best friend; it just sort of happened. One day, she woke up and realized they would be inseparable. Probably be each other’s maid of honor if they ever got married…but life had other plans. Now, Brandy had a chance to fix that, especially since Melia wanted to drag her around visiting old game locations.
When Brandy thought of “sightseeing,” places in Europe or Hawaii usually came to mind. Paris, Oxford, London. Heck, she’d even settle for New York. Truthfully, the states had plenty of beautiful places to visit if she wanted to…but she never seemed to find the time. She’d taken one ill-fated trip to San Francisco…and it rained the entire time. She spent the entire weekend cooped up in cramped coffee shops and her overpriced boutique room.
When it came to seeing the sights in a fantasy world based on her favorite video game, Brandy was obviously interested. She knew as well as anybody else who played since the beta how much passion went into creating the world. In fact, she half expected Melia to hop onto that giant cat of hers and take them both to the giant tree in the middle of the zone. Technically, it wasn’t a real World Tree, since it failed and stopped growing long ago, but it was supposed to be huge. Brandy wondered whether it was truly as large as the game made it seem, or more like a giant redwood.
What Brandy did not expect was for Melia to head back to the inn and start sniffing around in the basement. The gnome got down on her hands and knees and started creeping around underneath a set of massive storage barrels, the kind that got tipped on their sides and tapped for various brews and alcohol. Brandy stared at her friend with a wry smile, full of patience and long-suffering. Once, she glanced back up at the staircase they snuck down to get here, curious if they’d get caught, but it was pitch black in here. Nobody would ever see them if they didn’t bring their own light.
“You know, Mel, when you said you wanted to see the sights, I thought we’d be doing a little bit more…seeing.”
“Eh?” Melia’s muffled voice floated up from underneath a cask. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think about grabbing a lantern! Are you okay? Do you want me to run back up and get one?”
“No, it’s fine,” Brandy laughed. “These crazy eyes of mine can see pretty well in here, surprisingly. Not as well as yours, I’d guess, since I can only see about a dozen feet in front of me, but that’s better than nothing. Imagine never needing to find the light switch in a closet again.”
“Right?” Melia agreed enthusiastically. “It’s so crazy!”
“So what are we looking for here anyway? I do want to spend the day with you, but I thought we’d be doing more…normal things. Like hanging out.”
“Ahh,” Melia groaned sheepishly. “I know, and you’re right. Just, there used to be a secret entrance under here that…oh! I can’t believe that worked!”
A sharp click rang in the silence before a low rumble and a thin, drawn-out hiss filled the basement.
“Melia?! What did you do?” Brandy instantly panicked, throwing herself on the floor to peer under the nearest rack. Her best friend might have just gone and trapped herself under a several-ton barrel or gotten herself squished. And then she remembered Melia probably didn’t need to worry about stuff like that. Brandy wasn’t sure she would ever get used to a healthy, whole Melia. A strong Melia. It was a very welcome change, but just…so different from what she knew.
“Brandy!” Melia’s excited face popped up inches in front of hers, and Brandy blew an errant strand of hair out of her face with an exasperated huff. “It’s here! It’s actually here! Come see, come see!”
“Hold on, munch, I’m coming,” Brandy mused, crawling forward and caking herself in dust and grime. Despite living in a protective bubble most of her life, Melia was never afraid of a little dirt. Brandy didn’t much look forward to trying to wash the muck of either of their clothes after this…until she remembered that Melia had maids and neither of them ever had to do laundry. Man, this fantasy world had a lot of perks.
It took a couple of minutes, but eventually Brandy belly-crawled her way to the center of an old rack of barrels, where Melia had lifted one of the basement slabs out of place. Instead of a solid foundation, there was a small square hole, maybe two feet wide. Melia crawled up to it and hopped in fearlessly, disappearing entirely from view.
When Brandy reached the hole, she realized it was the entrance to a tunnel. She couldn’t tell if it was man-made or natural, but there was plenty of room to stand up once she slid down and it leveled out. Brandy sucked in a sharp breath. Just because it was a dank old cave didn’t mean it was dark.
Crystal formations filled the tunnel with natural purple light, stretching on as far as the tunnel led. The massive fractals and spiky outcroppings reminded Brandy of snowflakes or icicle growth, but when she went up to touch one, she found they were incredibly hard. Crystal nodes jutted out of every surface; from the ground, the walls, even the ceiling. Most were about the size of a generous dinner plate, which was quite large in Brandy’s opinion, but one or two were enormous, nearly half as tall as she was, filling a good chunk of the tunnel. Melia was at one of these, tapping gently at it with a pickaxe. Brandy peered closely at the closest crystal cluster, marveling at her own surprised face reflected in the glow.
“There!” Melia eventually said. Brandy looked down and couldn’t tell what Melia had actually done, because the node she was working on didn’t look marred or broken. Then Brandy remembered Melia was a max-level [Miner] and rolled her eyes. Brandy squatted down to take a closer look at the shining crystal in Melia’s tiny hands.
“Cerulean,” Melia said with a sigh. “It wasn’t used in the game at all outside of lore purposes, but I bet I can fashion it into something pretty. I’ve noticed you always wear that necklace. Do you want something to match?”
Brandy instinctively reached up to clutch the goddess’ pendant protectively. No, Melia wasn’t trying to steal it or damage it in any way…and Brandy wondered if she even could. But that was besides the point.
“You want to make something for me?” Brandy asked, surprised.
“Why not?” Melia replied with a tilt of her head. “What’s the point of having all these skills if I never use them?”
“Huh…you know what? Sure. But maybe let’s take a look around town and see if we can come up with any ideas. Do you think they’ll let you keep that?”
“What are they gonna do?” Melia chuckled. “I already have it. Besides, I doubt anybody knows this vein is even here. Something so close to town would be stripped bare.”
“That’s a good point,” Brandy mused as they started walking away from the cellar. Apparently, Melia knew where she was going, and Brandy was going to trust her. But that begged the question, “How did you even know this was here?”
“Would you believe me if I told you pure luck?” Melia laughed. “Do you remember when the devs introduced relics to the game?”
“Do you mean [Archaeology]?”
“Oooh, no, that was fun but something different. I mean, they put in small interactable spots everywhere and linked them to achievements. Some zones had hundreds of them; I think the devs put them in to pad game content. Most relics were like, I don’t know, worthless vendor trash you could sell for a couple of silver. The harder-to-spot or reach ones were sometimes worth more. But also, I’m getting sidetracked, and they aren’t really the point.”
“Which is?” Brandy asked with a lopsided smile.
“I’m getting there! So, I was hunting for relics in the human zones, and I was searching through StoneCairne. Relics were in weird places. It wouldn't be any fun if they were out in the open…except the ones that were, and required jumping puzzles to get to. Anyway! I remembered there were only three different models of ‘human inn,’ and this type had a basement. I didn’t find any relics.”
“But you found this?” Brandy asked with a raised brow. Surely, if something like this were in the game, more people would have talked about it. This tunnel was quite pretty.
“Eh he he,” Melia laughed sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Actually, there wasn’t a secret entrance to the tunnel at all, which was why I was curious if this was actually here. I accidentally clipped through the wall and fell into an unused loading zone. Maybe the devs had plans for a cerulean mine dungeon at one point? I wouldn’t be surprised if it were one of the early quest chains that got cut prematurely. This tunnel only goes on for another…look, see the bend? Just around that.”
Sure enough, after walking for about five minutes, they reached an exit.
As far as a tiny crevice hidden in the overhang of a rocky outcropping could be called an exit. Melia shimmied through it with ease, but it took some doing for Brandy to squeeze and contort her way through the hole. It was a good thing she was very flexible.
“I can see why nobody’s found it,” Brandy said wryly after dusting herself off. She turned around to look back at the rocks they had just crawled out of and she couldn’t see any signs of the hole. They were in a dense clump of trees; this chunk of the hill was covered in brush, and nobody would ever have a reason to look closer. Standing up, Brandy could see the outer edges of StoneCairne’s walls.
“Think we should tell somebody about it?” Melia asked. “A tunnel like that might become a hazard if a monster decides to make a den.”
“I was thinking of a smuggler's run,” Brandy shrugged. “Might as well, if we end up near a city official. But speaking of, why’d you never show me this?”
“I wanted to,” Melia admitted, sounding slightly frustrated, “But I could never get the clip consistently. I didn’t want to make you wait around for hours as I tried to explain how it’s done, and then waste even more time as you tried.”
“Fair enough,” Brandy shrugged. “Though it might have been worth it. So that’s cerulean? It was like walking inside a giant geode.”
“Yeah,” Melia nodded with a smile. “Maybe we can visit the mines.”
Brandy rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Only you yearn for the mines, Mel. But, you know what? If they’re that pretty, maybe it’s worth a look. But not today. Today is for fun and hanging out. Let’s go back and get changed, then you’re gonna follow me.”
The little escapade into the cellar was amusing, but it did make it abundantly clear that Brandy needed to take charge of sightseeing. After a quick rinse and slipping into a clean dress, Brandy led them down the streets of StoneCairn. Since Whispershade was in a constant state of darkness, the city felt like it was in a constant state of nightlife. The magitech fixtures and the quasi-steampunk gears gave it a feel like a cross between a Disney attraction and one of those fancy, themed casinos on the Las Vegas Strip. Brandy pulled Melia into a trinket shop where the entrance was a door set into the middle of one of those giant gears, constantly whirring and churning.
Brandy didn’t feel the need to buy anything, even if Melia was loaded with cash and offered to pay for anything she so much as glanced at. It was fun, just to browse the aisles and do something as mundane as window shopping. They grabbed a hot drink from a fantasy version of Starbucks and sat outside on a patio and people watched.
“It’s surreal,” Brandy eventually remarked.
“What is?” Melia asked.
“Us. Doing this. Just…shopping.”
“Why shouldn’t we be?” Melia asked, tilting her head.
“I just never imagined we’d get the chance, that’s all,” Brandy said with a firm shake of her head. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m loving it. I just didn’t think it would be possible.”
“I think the last time we went ‘shopping,’ we both relied on our allowance,” Melia laughed. Sitting as she was on a raised stool, her legs were swinging back and forth without a care in the world. "Probably at an ice cream truck at a park. I think I bought a choco taco.”
“Oh God,” Brandy couldn’t stop her grin. “Do you remember all the junk we used to eat?”
“Hey!” Melia laughed and swatted at Brandy ineffectively. “What’s wrong with choco tacos?”
“When you get to be 28?” Brandy said with a wry smile, even as her hand fell subconsciously to her hip. Melia shook her head.
“I eat whole cows,” she said with a lopsided smile. “I think a single ice cream isn’t going to ruin me. Besides, you could always get something else.”
“Yeah, but who goes to the ice cream man and doesn’t get the biggest, fattest scoop of ice cream they can buy?” Brandy countered.
“Hey, we did that too,” Melia said. “Remember those gum sticks that were shaped like cigarettes? And if you blew into them, candy smoke came out the other end?”
“How were those not outlawed?” Brandy laughed. “I swear, marketing teams get away with some real weird crap.”
The girls chatted for a little while, eventually finishing their drinks and moving on. They took turns picking out the next store to enter, with Brandy usually focusing on something novel or local, while Melia tended to swerve towards food. Eventually, they sat down to eat…or at least Melia did, packing away a whole meal by herself while Brandy picked at a few sides as they caught her interest.
“You know,” Brandy began as she sampled something called a “StoneCairne” cracker that looked like a wafer and reminded her of mini crab cakes, “This would go great with a fruity blonde.”
Melia nearly spat out her mouthful.
“A what?”
“You know,” Brandy laughed, watching the gnome dab at her mouth with a napkin. “A blonde ale. This would be a great appetizer at a pub.”
“Oh,” Melia said, her face going through a litany of emotions. “Oh! Oh…oh?”
“You have no idea what booze is, do you?” Brandy laughed.
“Of course I do!” Melia pouted. “I just…don’t think it’s for me.”
“We should totally go drinking,” Brandy grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Get you your first taste.”
“I’ve had wine!” Melia said defensively. “It was…bitter.”
“Pft,” Brandy laughed.
“And it made me a bit funny.”
“Really?” Brandy gasped, nearly doubling over, “You got tipsy off wine? Wow. You must be a lightweight.” Seeing Melia’s determined pout, Brandy hastily waved a hand in front of her. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that! Everybody needs a designated driver. Hey…in your case, a designated flyer? You’ve taken Jessica, I think I’m ready. Next time, I’ll go too.”
“Oooh,” Melia practically squirmed. “Flying is the best! You’ll love it!”
As Melia launched into an impromptu bragfest about how awesome flying was, and, by extension, so was she, Brandy had a sudden thought.
You know, this world might not be so bad.